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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78579-0.txt b/78579-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b93ad5 --- /dev/null +++ b/78579-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14908 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78579 *** + + + + + [Transcription note: Obvious typographical errors and some spelling + inconsistencies have been silently corrected. The translator writes + consistently Livri and Vichi instead of Livry and Vichy: we have + respected this choice, but we have corrected “Usèz” into “Uzès”. + + Footnotes have been numbered and placed after the corresponding + paragraph. + + The portrait of Madame de Sévigné on the cover was borrowed + from our publication of her Letters in French, PG ebook 43901. + It belongs to the public domain. + + A Table of Contents has been added.] + + + + + THE LETTERS + + OF + + MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ + + TO + + HER DAUGHTER AND FRIENDS. + + EDITED BY + MRS. HALE, + AUTHORESS OF “WOMAN’S RECORD,” “NORTHWOOD,” “VIGIL OF LOVE,” + “MANNERS,” ETC. + + “There is none + In all this cold and hollow world, no fount + Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within + A mother’s heart.”--MRS. HEMANS. + + REVISED EDITION. + + BOSTON: + ROBERTS BROTHERS. + 1878. + + + + + Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by + + ROBERTS BROTHERS, + + In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District + of Massachusetts. + + CAMBRIDGE: + PRESSWORK BY JOHN WILSON AND SON. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION. + + +The Editress has set forth so fully, in the introductory sketch of +Madame de Sévigné’s Life and Times, her object in offering this book to +the American public, that any further prologue may seem superfluous; +yet there are one or two things to be said which seem to find their +most proper expression in a Preface. Since the date of the first +edition, the changes in the manners and feelings of the time have been +rapid and continuous; and they have operated in a twofold manner. + +In the first place, we have become as a nation more thoroughly +acquainted with French literature, and better able to appreciate +that world of the past in which the great letter-writer lived. +Madame de Sévigné was a woman who lived in and for others,--for her +daughter, her friends, and, at a greater distance, for the brilliant +circle of distinguished men and women of which she herself was so +important a figure. Her letters are made up of incident, of meetings, +of conversations: they are full of references to the topics then +uppermost; they draw half their charm from the personality of the +writer. Literature of this sort cannot stand alone. To enjoy it to +the full we must know with some minuteness the history of the times +in which it was written, and of the people to whom it was written. +The knowledge of these things is now spreading wider every year, +as we become familiar, through originals or translations, with the +masterpieces of foreign languages. For instance, probably the best +French sketch of Madame de Sévigné is from the pen of M. Sainte-Beuve, +the great critic whom Mr. Arnold acknowledges for his master. This +sketch has been translated by Miss Preston, and published within the +last year.[1] Our limits forbid quotation; but to every one who can +enjoy a criticism at once delicate and profound, we recommend this +incomparable study. + + [1] Sainte-Beuve’s Portraits of Celebrated Women. + +Again, the times themselves in which we live call for the exercise of +just such an influence upon the mind and style as might be wielded by +these letters. We in America are almost all educated up to a certain +point; few of us, unfortunately, are educated beyond it. The national +character is pushing, energetic, ambitious; setting great value upon +money and material luxuries, but without appreciation of the refined +enjoyments that consist with a moderate purse, or the delicacy of +feeling that marks a sensitive but well-balanced mind. The vortex of +politics or of business draws into it all our energies; we have nothing +to spare for reflection, for the observances of friendship, for the +amenities of social intercourse. A life so vulgarizing alike to the +mind and to the style, finds its best antidote in the letters of Madame +de Sévigné. Here is a beautiful existence centred in home and friends; +here are thoughts occupied by love for the dear ones around, and by +sympathy with their joys and sorrows. The tumult of the outer world is +heard faintly. The writer’s mind is busied in a calmer sphere, and the +exquisite tenderness of her heart gives that transparent grace to her +style that has been the wonder and the despair of two centuries. + +We are a letter-writing people; and no better models for letters exist +than Madame de Sévigné’s. We are a practical and energetic people; +and no better complement to such virtues can be found than the tender +affection and delicate refinement of Madame de Sévigné. + + PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 26, 1868. + + + + +MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ AND HER TIMES. + + +An honorable celebrity has been universally accorded to Madame +de Sévigné. For nearly two centuries her “Letters” have been the +admiration of all lovers of elegant literature. The natural grace, the +“_curiosa felicitas_” of these epistles have rendered them remarkable +as to style, and the artist-like pictures of manners, the lively +accounts of cotemporaneous incidents give them very great value as aids +to the study of history. Then they are trustworthy documents; every +word, every circumstance is read with particular satisfaction, because +the character and position of the writer assure us of her perfect +intent to communicate truth. + +Madame de Sévigné lived in what the French consider their Augustan +Age. Great men in arts, in arms, in literature gave glory to the most +splendid monarch that ever sat on the throne of France. At the same +time the position of women was both active and brilliant. The social +existence of the women of the higher classes was one that gave scope +to talent and opportunity to energy. In those days the great dame was +occupied with the administration of her property and the exaltation of +her family. Far from being absorbed in a narrow routine of personality, +she considered the sacrifice of private feelings to family greatness a +positive duty, and the sacrifice of family greatness to the king--that +is, the state--a still more imperative obligation. + +As our views of moral responsibility extend, the intellectual horizon +enlarges. The woman who was accustomed to dwell upon considerations +beyond mere fireside comforts or fashionable display, who went from +the individual to the family, and from the family to the state, must +of necessity have enlarged her understanding in proportion to the +elevation and extent of her views. It is only by a just development of +the intellectual faculties that the heart can be properly regulated, +and nowhere is this truth more strikingly illustrated than in the life +of Madame de Sévigné. + +Her passionate love for her daughter was always made to yield to the +dictates of a wise prudence and just propriety. Though born with +excessive sensibility, great vivacity, amiable instincts, and warm +imagination, that is to say, with the qualities and feelings most +likely to lead their possessor astray or into indiscretions, yet this +youthful widow managed her estate and her children with admirable +wisdom, and so regulated her own conduct as to be above the slightest +censure in a court of relaxed morals and of many temptations. This +was accomplished because her brilliant qualities rested on the solid +basis of serious and valuable acquirements, a practical knowledge of +business, and a trusting and sincere piety. + +To make the example of this excellent woman more widely and familiarly +known in America is the main object of this volume. As a model in +private life, her conduct and character deserve to be studied. Her +“Letters” are referred to by the best authorities, as the most charming +specimens of epistolary art extant, yet no edition has ever been issued +in this country. Nor would one be profitable, because the complete work +is too large. Still it is desirable to have access to this treasury +of beautiful sentiments and entertaining sketches; and we have here +selected such portions of her correspondence as will make her virtues +known and give those lessons of practical goodness her life so happily +illustrated. + +In order to do this we have arranged the correspondence on a new plan. +Hitherto the “Letters” have been thrown together according to date, and +the reader was compelled to change from one correspondent to another, +even on the same page, often finding similar details in several +consecutive epistles. In this volume each person addressed has his or +her own department--thus the Letters to Madame de Grignan, the soul of +the correspondence, form one unbroken series. Much care has been taken +to keep the fine and often sparkling threads of narrative inwoven in +the Letters continuous, and errors in the only English translation +we have seen (published in London, in 1811) have been corrected by +comparing it with the best French editions of the “Letters.”[2] And now +we will endeavor to sketch the life of this lovely and lovable woman, +though the events are in no wise remarkable, and the truest portrait of +her character and genius must be sought in her letters. + + [2] The explanatory notes, which afford useful particulars + concerning personages and events mentioned in the Letters, are + partly from the French, and partly by the English translator and + the present Editor. + + +MARIE DE RABUTIN-CHANTAL + +was born February 5th, 1627, in the ancestral château of Bourbilly, +between Semur and Epoisses. Her father was Celse-Bénigne de Rabutin, +Baron of Chantal; her mother, Marie de Coulanges, was daughter of a +Secretary of State, and belonged to a family celebrated for wit, and, +generally, remarkable for integrity. The baron was slain during the +siege of Rochelle, fighting against the English in their descent on +the island of Rhé; and it was thought he was killed by the hand of +Cromwell. The little Marie was then but eighteen months old, and soon +afterward was, by the death of her mother, left an orphan indeed. The +Baroness de Chantal, her grandmother, seemed the person naturally +destined to have the guardianship of the child, but that lady was +occupied in religious duties (she was afterward a canonized saint, and +known as the “Blessed Mother of Chantal,” and seems to have deserved +the distinction, according to the feeling of those days, as she +founded eighty-seven religious houses), and, therefore, permitted her +granddaughter to pass into the hands of her mother’s relations. She was +first taken by her grandfather, M. de Coulanges; when he died, shortly +afterward, the orphan, then about nine years of age, passed into the +family of her uncle, Christophe de Coulanges, Abbé de Livry. This was +a fortunate event for the young girl. She was brought up and educated +with her cousin, Philippe Emanuel de Coulanges, enjoying the advantages +of the most intellectual society of the age; her learned uncle was +her companion, and encouraged her to cultivate her talents. This +last advantage can hardly be estimated now, when feminine education +is common and popular; but then the instruction of young ladies was +usually limited to the accomplishments of reading, writing, dancing, +and embroidery. Marie de Rabutin had the _entrée_ to her uncle’s +library and his encouragement, if not personal instruction, in her +literary pursuits. She was taught Latin, Italian, and Spanish; her +instructors were Menage and Chapelain, and other professors of polite +literature. The result is before the world--that the woman’s mind is +as susceptible of cultivation as that of the man’s, and that she is +made happier, better, more lovely, and more capable of doing good by a +liberal and careful cultivation of her intellectual powers. + +In person and manners Mademoiselle de Rabutin is represented as very +attractive, if not positively beautiful. M. Ph. A. Gourville, her French +biographer, thus describes her: + +“An exact portrait of her person would savor of romance, and would +be out of place; we may, however, represent the young Rabutin to +our imagination as a truly handsome woman, with more character of +countenance than beauty; with features more expressive than commanding; +an easy figure, a stature rather tall than short, a redundancy of fine +light hair, excellent health, a fine color, a brilliant complexion, +eyes, the vivacity of which gave additional animation to her language +and agility to her movements, a pleasing voice, as much knowledge of +music as existed in those days, and of dancing, in which she excelled +for the times. This is the idea that her portraits, her friends, or +herself give of her. And certainly her nose, tending a little toward +the square, which she herself ridicules, could not spoil her whole +appearance as much as the age of eighteen embellished it, when, in +1644, she married Henry, Marquis de Sévigné, of an ancient family of +Brittany. To this appendage of merit and charms she added a dower of a +hundred thousand crowns, which, at that period, were not of less value +than seven hundred thousand francs.” + +The Marquis de Sévigné was also rich, moreover he was young, handsome, +and gay. Her good uncle doubtless believed he had secured the happiness +of his niece by this connection; but the sequel proved otherwise. +The marquis soon showed himself to be weak, vain, extravagant, and, +finally, a profligate. Though he always admitted the charms and merits +of his wife, yet, after a year or two, he began to neglect her for +unworthy associates. The siren of that age, Ninon de l’Enclos, drew +him to her side, and for that wanton the happiness of his home was +sacrificed. + +Bussy de Rabutin, cousin of Madame de Sévigné’s father, an unprincipled +man, but distinguished for wit and talent, had always admired and +loved, or pretended to be in love with his fascinating cousin, and +she had always laughed at his flattery and rejected his suit. He took +advantage of her husband’s infidelity to offer an insulting proposal, +that she should take her revenge. He was reproved in such terms of cold +and calm severity as put a final repulse to his gallantry toward her. +Though their intercourse continued friendly through life, yet, judging +from the tone of her letters to him, always constrained, and confined +chiefly to his own affairs, we feel that, though she acknowledged their +relationship, she never esteemed the man. + +Her husband was killed in a duel, about seven years after marriage, +and Madame de Sévigné, at the age of twenty-five, was left a widow, +with two children, the eldest, her son, the youngest, that idolized +daughter, who made the light of her mother’s life. + +In spite of the faults and vices of the Marquis de Sévigné, his sudden +and shocking death greatly afflicted his wife. She was, for a time, +nearly overwhelmed with sorrow, but soon found devolving upon her the +hard and painful duty of endeavoring to extricate her estate from utter +ruin. The follies and waste of her husband came near making her and +the children penniless. She retired to the country, and, aided by the +counsel and encouragement of her uncle the abbé, entered on her new +duties. We quote from one of her French biographers, who seems to have +searched out her history with great care: + +“Madame de Sévigné’s good sense, natural rectitude, and laudable pride, +gave her a taste for economy, and the advice of her uncle taught her to +understand it. Her mind, notwithstanding the habit of sacrificing to +the Graces, had no repugnance to business. She well knew how to sell or +let estates, receive her rents, direct her workmen, etc. She did not +trust to her beauty alone for gaining law-suits. Ménage relates, that +one day, recommending an affair with great ease and simplicity to the +President de Bellièvre, she felt herself at last a little embarrassed +with the terms to be used, when she said, ‘At least, sir, I know the +air perfectly, but I forget the words.’ + +“With regard to education, not only do the merit of her son and +daughter, as well as their virtues, show the extent of her capacity in +this respect, but it would be easy to extract from her letters a series +of maxims upon the subject, by which it would be seen that, far from +adhering to the false methods in vogue in her days, she had foretold +many of the improvements of which we are justly vain in ours.” + +Though she devoted herself seduously to the duties of her family, yet +Madame de Sévigné did not long live a recluse. She saved her property, +returned to society, and passed much of her time in Paris, where she +was the idol of her circle, people of the first rank in letters and +worth of character, as well as stars in the fashionable world. She was +also a frequent visitor at court, where the king, Louis XIV, always +received her with respect. + +Madame de Sévigné had many adorers, among whom were the Seigneur +Turenne and the Prince de Conti, and her friends were most +devoted--Fouquet was one of them, and she was true to him in his great +misfortune, as her letters show. But she appears never to have had +the least intention of a second marriage; to promote the happiness of +her children and the enjoyment of her friends, was the object of her +life. Her son, the Marquis de Sévigné, who entered the army, was very +frivolous, weak, and dissipated in his youth; his mother’s watchful +care and patient forbearance saved him from utter degradation. About +middle age he married an amiable wife of noble family, left the army, +and cultivated a taste for literature. To effect this marriage, and +thus secure the reformation of her son, Madame de Sévigné gave up +to him so large a portion of her estate that she was afterward in +comparatively straitened circumstances. + +But the daughter, Margaret Frances, was her mother’s glory, the idol +that seemed to claim the worship of the mother’s soul. Passion rather +than affection possessed Madame de Sévigné when writing to or of her +“infinitely dear child.” That the daughter did not reciprocate this +love in its full flow has been urged to prove that Madame de Grignan +was cold in temperament or selfish in feeling. We do not find evidences +to support this charge. The mother, ambitious for her daughter, and +wishing to keep her in Paris had married her to the Count de Grignan, +who was rich, and of the high nobility, and had a place at court. But +he was also Lieutenant-Governor of Provence, and ordered, soon after +his marriage, to his government. His wife had to follow him; she seems +to have loved and respected her husband, as was her duty. She had +children; she was at the head of a great establishment, and she could +not give the whole of her heart, thoughts, and time to her mother, as +the latter did to her daughter. + +The separation was a terrible privation to Madame de Sévigné, but +it was the cause of her moral and literary improvement, as well as +of the series of “Letters to Madame de Grignan,” which, of their +kind, are unequaled in any language. The mother’s genius lives in +this correspondence; her pen gives importance to the most trifling +occurrences, and makes hard facts as interesting as fairy stories. + +Among other advantages of life, Madame de Sévigné retained her good +looks, as she did her cheerful disposition, to the last; hence the +name of _Mère Beauté_ (Mother Beauty) given her by M. de Coulanges. +Her constitution was good, and she managed it with great judgment. +In thirty years the only disorder she had known was rheumatism. +Happy all her life by the exercise of natural affections, Madame de +Sévigné thought less of the ravages of time; and when death terminated +her existence in 1696, her illness, the result of the fatigue and +uneasiness she had endured for some months on her daughter’s account, +took her by surprise, and was announced by no symptom. It was short. +In her last moments she was resigned, and perfectly calm. Thus died +Madame de Sévigné, aged about seventy years, and was interred in the +Collegiate Church of Grignan, leaving to posterity in the record of her +blameless life, as in her exquisite writings, the brightest and purest +model which her age affords. + + S. J. H. + + + + +LETTERS OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ, + +FROM 1655 TO 1669. + + +ADDRESSED TO THE COUNT DE BUSSY.[3] + + [3] The Count Bussy de Rabutin, first cousin to the father of + Madame de Sévigné, was, on account of his relationship, always on + terms of intimacy with her. He was a famous wit and satirist, as + his Letters and Memoirs show, but not of principles or character + to excite love or esteem in the soul of such a woman as Madame + de Sévigné. However, they were cousins, and though she refused + his suit, she seems to have felt a deep interest in his welfare. + She corresponded with him occasionally till her death, but her + letters to him have less interest than those she wrote to others, + especially to her daughter. We give a few of her first and best + letters to Count de Bussy, as preliminary to the real work of her + heart and mind, her correspondence with Madame de Grignan. + + +LETTER I. + + IN THE COUNTRY, June 26, 1655. + +I had no doubt that you would take some opportunity of bidding me +adieu, either at my own house or from the camp at Landrecy. As I am not +a woman of ceremony, I am content with the latter; and have not even +thought of being angry, that you failed in coming to me before you set +out. + +I have not stirred from this desert, since your departure; and, to +speak frankly, I am not much afflicted to find that you are with the +army. I should be an unworthy cousin of so brave a cousin, if I were +sorry to see you, during the present campaign, at the head of the +finest regiment in France, and in so glorious a post as the one you +hold. I dare say you would disown any sentiments less worthy than +these; I leave weaker and more tender feelings to the true bagnio +gentry. Every one loves in his own way. I profess to be heroic as well +as you, and am proud to boast of these sentiments. Some women, perhaps, +would think this a little in the old Roman style, and _would thank God +they were not Romans_,[4] that they might still preserve some feelings +of humanity. But on this subject I can assure them I am not so inhuman +as they suppose; and, with all my heroism, I wish your safe return as +passionately as they can do. I trust, my dear cousin, you will not +doubt the truth of this, nor that I fervently pray your life may be +spared. This is the adieu you would have received from me in person, +and which I now beg you to accept from hence, as I have accepted yours +from Landrecy. + + [4] Verse from Corneille’s tragedy of the Horatii. + + +LETTER II. + + PARIS, July 14, 1655. + +Will you always disgrace your relations? Will you never be weary of +making yourself the subject of conversation in every campaign? Do +you imagine it can give us pleasure to hear that M. de Turenne has +sent word to court that you have done nothing worthy of notice at +Landrecy?[5] This is really very mortifying to us, and you may easily +comprehend how deeply I feel the affronts you bring upon your family. +But I know not why I thus amuse myself, for I have no leisure to carry +on the jest. I must tell you, therefore, that I am delighted with the +success which has attended your exploits. I wrote you a long letter +from the country, which I fear you have not received. I should be sorry +it were lost, for you would laugh heartily at its contents. + + [5] Mere jesting. Bussy had merited and obtained the praises of + Turenne. + +I was yesterday at Madame de Montglas’s; she had just received a letter +from you, as also had Madame de ----. I expected one likewise, but was +disappointed. I suppose you were unwilling to effect too many wonders +at once. I am not sorry, however, and shall some day claim a whole +cargo for myself. Adieu, my cousin. The gazette speaks of you but +slightly, which has given offense to many, and to me especially, for no +one can be so much interested in your affairs as myself. + + +LETTER III. + + PARIS, July 19, 1655. + +This is the third time I have written to you since you left Paris, +a sufficient proof that I have nothing upon my mind against you. I +received your farewell letter from Landrecy while I was in the country, +and answered it immediately. I see plainly that my letter has never +reached you, and I am extremely vexed at it; for, besides its being +written with becoming affection, it was in my opinion a very pretty +composition; and as it was designed for you only, I am wroth that +another should have the pleasure of reading it. I have since written +to you by the servant you dispatched hither with letters to some of +your favorites. I did not amuse myself by quarreling with you for +not remembering me at the same time, but wrote you a line or two +at full speed, which, however incoherent, would inform you of the +pleasure I received from the success of your regiment at Landrecy. +This intelligence came to us in the most acceptable manner possible, +by some of the court, who assured us that Cardinal Mazarin had spoken +very handsomely of you to the king, who afterward joined with the whole +court in extolling your conduct. You may conceive that my joy was not +inconsiderable at hearing all this; but to return to my story. This was +the subject of my second letter, and five or six days after I received +one from you, full of complaints against me. You see, however, my poor +cousin, with how little justice you complain; and hence I draw this +fine moral reflection, that we should never condemn a person unheard. +This is my justification. Another, perhaps, would have expressed the +same thing in fewer words. You must bear with my imperfections, in +consideration of my friendship. Every one has his peculiar style; mine, +as you see, is by no means laconic. + + +LETTER IV. + + PARIS, November 25, 1655. + +You affect great things, M. le Comte: under the pretense that you write +like a second Cicero, you think yourself entitled to ridicule people. +The passage you remarked, in reality, made me laugh heartily; but I +am astonished that you found no other equally ludicrous; for, in the +way I wrote to you, it is a miracle that you comprehended my meaning; +and I see plainly that either you have a greater share of wit, or that +my letter is better, than I imagined. I am glad, however, you have +profited by my advice. + +I am told that you have asked leave to stay at the frontiers. As you +know, my poor count, that mine is a blunt and honest sort of love, I +am desirous your request may be granted. This is the road, it is said, +to preferment, and you know how interested I am in your welfare; but I +shall be pleased either way. If you remain, true friendship shall find +its account; if you return, affectionate friendship shall be satisfied. + +Madame de Roquelaure is returned so handsome that she yesterday +completely challenged the Louvre; this kindled such jealousy in the +beauties that were present, that they have resolved, out of spite, she +shall not be a party at any of the _after-suppers_, and you know how +gay and pleasant they are. Madame de Fiennes would have retained her +there yesterday, but it was understood by the queen’s answer that her +presence would be dispensed with. + +Adieu, my dear cousin; believe me to be the most faithful friend you +have in the world. + + +LETTER V. + + PARIS, May 20, 1667. + +I received a letter from you, my dear cousin, when I was in Brittany, +in which you talked of our ancestors, the Rabutins, and of the beauty +of Bourbilly. But as I had heard from Paris that you were expected +there, and as I had hoped myself to arrive much sooner, I deferred +writing to you; and now I find you are not coming at all. You know that +nothing is now talked of but war. The whole court is at camp, and the +whole camp is at court; and every place being a desert, I prefer the +desert of Livri forest, where I shall pass the summer, + + En attendant que nos guerriers + Reviennent couverts de lauriers.[6] + + [6] Waiting the return of our warriors covered with laurels. + +There are two lines for you, but I do not know whether I have heard +them before, or have just made them. As it is a matter of no great +importance, I shall resume the thread of my prose. My heart has been +very favorably inclined toward you, since I have seen so many people +eager to begin, or rather to revive, a business in which you acquired +so much honor during the time you were able to engage in it. It is a +sad thing for a man of courage to be confined at home when there are +such great doings in Flanders.[7] As you feel, no doubt, all that a +man of spirit and valor can feel, it is imprudent in me to revive so +painful a subject. I hope you will forgive me, in consideration of the +great interest I take in your affairs. + + [7] Bussy was exiled to his estates. + +It is said you have written to the king. Send me a copy of your letter, +and give me a little information respecting your mode of life, what +sort of things amuse you, and whether the alterations you are making in +your house do not contribute a good deal toward it. I have spent the +winter in Brittany, where I have planted a great number of trees, and +a labyrinth, that will require Ariadne’s clew to find the way out of +it. I have also purchased some land, to which I have said, as usual, “I +shall convert you into a park.” I have extended my walks at a trifling +expense. My daughter sends you a thousand remembrances. I beg mine to +all your family. + + +LETTER VI. + + PARIS, June 3, 1668. + +I wrote to you the last; why have you not answered my letter? I have +been expecting to hear from you, and have at length found the Italian +proverb true: _chi offende non perdona_--the offender never pardons. + +Madame d’Assigny has informed me that part of a cornice has fallen upon +your head, and hurt you considerably. If you were well, and I dared +exercise a little wicked wit upon the occasion, I should tell you that +they are not trifling ornaments like these that injure the heads of +husbands in general; and that it would be a fortunate circumstance for +them if they met with no worse evil than the fall of a cornice. But I +will not talk nonsense; I will first know how you are, and assure you +that the same reason which made me languid when you were bled, gives me +the headache from your accident. The ties of relationship can not, I +think, be carried further than this. + +My daughter was on the point of marriage. The affair is broken off, +I hardly know why. She kisses your hand; I do the same to your whole +family. Have you done any thing yet with regard to the court? Pray let +me know how you stand there. + + +LETTER VII. + + PARIS, July 26, 1668. + +I begin by thanking you, my dear cousin, for your letters to the king. +They would afford me pleasure even if they were written by a stranger. +They have awakened in me sentiments of pity, and I should think they +must produce the same effect on our sovereign. It is true, he does not +bear the name of Rabutin, as I do. + +The prettiest girl in France sends her compliments to you. This title +is due to her; I am, however, weary of doing the honors of it. She is +more worthy than ever of your esteem and friendship. + +You do not know, I believe, that my son is gone to Candia with M. de +Roannes, and the Count de Saint Paul. He consulted M. de Turenne, +Cardinal du Retz, and M. de Rochefoucault upon this: most important +personages! and they all approved it so highly that it was fixed upon, +and rumored abroad, before I knew any thing of the matter. In short, +he is gone. I have wept bitterly, for it is a source of great grief to +me. I shall not have a moment’s rest during his voyage. I see all its +dangers, and terrify myself to death; but alas, I am wholly out of the +question; for, in things of this nature, mothers have no voice. Adieu. + + +LETTER VIII. + + PARIS, September 4, 1668. + +Rise, count; I will not kill you while prostrate at my feet, and +take your sword to resume the combat. But it is better that I should +give you life, and that we should live in peace.[8] I exact but one +condition: that you own the thing as it has happened. This is a very +generous proceeding on my part; you can no longer call me a little +brute. + + [8] Bussy and his cousin had frequent quarrels: the reason has + before been given. The new difference to which she alludes seems + to have been a slight one. + +M. de Montausier has just been appointed governor to the Dauphin. + + Je t’ai comblé de biens, je t’en veux accabler.[9] + + [9] I have loaded thee with favors, I will add to the burden. + +Adieu, count. Now I have conquered you, I shall every where proclaim +that you are the bravest man in France; and whenever extraordinary +duels are mentioned, I shall relate ours. My daughter sends her +compliments. The idea you express of her good fortune in the late +affair is some consolation to us. + + +LETTER IX. + + PARIS, December 4, 1668. + +Have you not received the letter, sir, in which I gave you life, +disdaining to kill you at my feet? I expected an answer to this +noble action; but you have thought it unworthy your notice: you have +contented yourself with rising from the ground, and taking your sword +as I commanded you. I hope you will never again employ it against me. + +I must tell you a piece of news that will, I am sure, give you +pleasure. It is, that the prettiest girl in France is going to be +married, not to the handsomest youth, but to one of the worthiest men +in the kingdom--to M. de Grignan, whom you have long known. All his +wives died to give place to your cousin; and, through extraordinary +kindness, even his father and mother died too; so that knowing him to +be richer than ever, and finding him besides, by birth, situation, +and good qualities, every thing we could wish, we have not trafficked +with him, as is customary, on the occasion, but confided in the two +families that have gone before us. He seems very well pleased with the +alliance, and, as soon as we have heard from his uncle, the Archbishop +of Arles, his other uncle, the Archbishop of Uzès, being on the spot, +the business will be finished--probably before the end of the year. +As I am a lover of decorum, I could not fail asking your advice and +approbation. The public seem pleased. This is a great deal, for we are +such fools as to be almost always governed by its opinion. + + +LETTER X. + + PARIS, January 7, 1669. + +It is as true that I did not receive an answer to the letter in which +I gave you life, as that I was in pain, lest, with the best intention +possible to pardon you, I had unintentionally killed you, being little +accustomed to wield a sword. This was the only good reason I could +assign to myself for your silence. In the mean time you had written, +though your letter had never reached me. Allow me still to regret the +circumstance. You always write pleasantly; and if I had wished to +lose any portion of your correspondence, it would not have been that +letter. I am glad you approve of the marriage with M. de Grignan; he +is a very good man, and very gentlemanly--has wealth, rank, holds a +high office, and is much esteemed and respected by the world. What more +is necessary? I think we are fortunate, and as you are of the same +opinion, sign the deed I sent you; and be assured, my dear cousin, that +if it depended on me, you should be first at the entertainment. How +admirably well you would act your part! Since you left us, I have heard +no wit equal to yours, and I have said to myself a thousand times, +“Good heavens, what a difference!” War[10] is talked of, and it is said +the king will take the field in person. + + [10] It was a vague report. No idea was yet entertained of + breaking the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, concluded only seven + months before. But it was in contemplation to interfere in the + quarrel between the Count Palatin and the Duke of Lorraine, and + force the latter to lay down his arms. + + + + +LETTERS TO MADAME DE GRIGNAN[11] + +FROM 1671 TO 1690. + + [11] Margaret de Sévigné, only daughter of Madame de Sévigné, + was born in 1649, a short time before her father was killed. + The education and happiness of this “lovely and infinitely + dear child,” was the occupation, delight, and anxiety of the + mother’s long life. For her, Madame de Sévigné thought, read, + observed, and wrote. The following letters are not only charming + as specimens of epistolary style, but also full of interest and + instruction to those who would study the human mind in its most + sacred development of maternal love. + + +LETTER I. + + PARIS, Monday, February 9, 1671. + +I receive your letters in the same way in which you received my ring. +I am in tears while I read them. My heart seems ready to burst. +Bystanders would think that you had treated me ill in your letters, +or were sick, or that some accident had happened to you; whereas +every thing is the reverse. You love me, my dear child; you love me, +and you tell me so in a manner that makes my tears flow in torrents. +You continue your journey without any disagreeable accident.[12] To +know this, is the thing I could the most desire; and yet am I in this +deplorable condition! And do you then take a pleasure in thinking +of me? in talking of me? and have more satisfaction in writing your +sentiments to me than in telling them? In whatever way they come, they +meet with a reception, the warmth of which can only be known to those +who love as I do. In expressing yourself thus, you make me feel the +greatest tenderness for you that is possible to be felt; and if you +think of me, be assured that I, on my side, am continually thinking of +you. Mine is what the devotees call an habitual thought; it is what we +ought to have for the Divine Being, were we to do our duty. Nothing +is capable of diverting me from it. I see your carriage continually +driving on, never, never to come nearer to me; I fancy myself on the +road, and am always in apprehensions of the carriage overturning. I am +almost distracted at the violent rains we have had the last three days, +and am frightened to death at the thoughts of the Rhône. I have at this +instant a map before me; I know every place you sleep at. To-night you +are at Nevers, Sunday you will be at Lyons, where you will receive this +letter. I could only write to you at Moulins by Madame de Guenegaud. +I have had but two letters from you; perhaps a third is on the road; +they are my only comfort. I ask for no other. I am utterly incapable of +seeing much company at a time; I may recover the feeling hereafter, but +it is out of the question now. The Duchesses of Verneuil and Arpajon +have used all their endeavors to divert me, for which I am much obliged +to them. Never, surely, were there better people than in this country. +I was all the day on Saturday at Madame de Villars,[13] talking of you, +and weeping; she takes a great share in my sorrow. Yesterday I heard +Monsieur d’Agen[14] preach, and was at Madame de Puisieux and Madame du +Pui-du-Fou’s, who both send you a thousand remembrances. This evening I +shall sup _tête-à-tête_[15] in the Fauxbourgs. These are my carnivals. I +have a mass said for you every day. This is no superstitious devotion. +I have seen Adhémar[16] but for a moment; I am going to write to him +and thank him for his bed, for which I am more obliged to him even than +you are. If you would give me real pleasure, take care of your health, +sleep in that little snug bed, eat broth, and exert that courage which +I want. Continue to write to me. The friendships you left behind you +here are all increased, and I should never have done with compliments +if I were to tell you how much every one is concerned about your health. + + [12] In January, 1670, this idolized daughter of Madame + de Sévigné was married to the Count de Grignan, who was + Lieutenant-General of the Government of Provence, where he found + it necessary to reside. The separation of mother and daughter, + which took place early the following year, was the occasion for + the world-renowned correspondence, which has immortalized the + genius of one, and the names of both. + + [13] Marie de Bellefond, Marchioness of Villars, mother to the + late marshal of that name. + + [14] Claude Joli, a celebrated preacher, afterward Bishop of Agen. + + [15] With Madame de la Fayette. + + [16] Joseph Adhémar de Monteil, brother to M. de Grignan, + known at first by the name of Adhémar, was, after the death + of Charles Philip d’Adhémar, his brother, which happened the + 6th of February, 1672, called the Chevalier de Grignan; but + being afterward married to N*** d’Oraison, he resumed the name + of Count Adhémar. In 1675 he was colonel to a regiment of + horse, at the head of which he signalized himself on several + occasions, particularly at the battle of Altenheim. He was + made field-marshal in 1688, and, had not repeated attacks of + the gout prevented him from continuing in the service, he + would, doubtless, from his reputation, merit, and illustrious + birth, have obtained the most considerable military honors. He + died without issue the 19th of November, 1713, at the age of + sixty-nine. + + +LETTER II. + + PARIS, Wednesday, February 11, 1671. + +I have received but three of those delightful letters that so affect +my heart. One is still on the road. If I were not so fond of them, and +loth to lose any thing that you write me, I should not think I had +lost much; for nothing can be wished for beyond what I find in those +I have already received. In the first place, they are well written, +and are besides so tender, so natural, that it is impossible not to +believe every thing contained in them. Distrust itself would here +stand convinced. They wear that air of truth which, as I have always +maintained, carries authority with it; while falsehood and lies skulk +under a load of words, without having the power of persuasion; the +more they attempt to show themselves, the more they are entangled. +Your expressions are sincere, and they appear so; they are used only +to explain your meaning, and receive an irresistible force from their +noble simplicity. Such, my dear child, do your letters appear to me. As +for me, I appear to myself quite divested of every thing that made me +agreeable; I am ashamed to appear in society; and notwithstanding the +endeavors that have been used to bring me back to it, I have latterly +been like one just come out of the woods; nor could I be otherwise. Few +are worthy of understanding what I feel; I have sought those chosen +few, and avoided all others. I fancy you are at Moulins to-day; if so, +you will receive one of my letters. I did not write to you at Briare; +if I had, it must have been on that cruel Wednesday, the very day you +set off; and I was so overwhelmed with grief that I was incapable +even of tasting the consolation of writing to you. This is the third +letter; my second is at Lyons. Be sure you let me know if you receive +them. When at a distance, we no longer laugh at a letter beginning +with, “I received yours,” etc. The thought of your going still further +and further from me, and of seeing the carriage continually driving +on, is what harrows me most. You are always going on, and at last, +as you say, you will find yourself at two hundred leagues’ distance +from me; resolved, therefore, not to suffer such injustice without +repaying it in my turn, I shall set myself about removing further off, +too, and shall do it so effectually as to make it three hundred. A +very pretty distance you will say. And would it not be a step highly +worthy the love I have for you, to undertake to traverse all France to +find you out? I am delighted at the reconciliation between you and the +coadjutor; you know how necessary I always thought it to the happiness +of your life. Preserve this treasure with care. You own yourself +charmed with his goodness: let him see you are not ungrateful. I shall +soon finish my letter; perhaps when you get to Lyons you will be so +giddy with the honors you will receive there, that you will not find +time to read it; find enough, however, I beseech you, to let me hear of +you, and whether you embark upon that horrible Rhône. + + + Wednesday night. + +I have this moment received yours from Nogent; it was given me by a +very honest fellow, whom I questioned as much as I could; but your +letter is worth more than any thing that could have been told me. +It was but justice, my dear, that you should be the first to make +me smile, after having caused me so many tears. What you tell me of +Monsieur Busche is quite original; it is what may be called a genuine +stroke of eloquence. I did laugh then, I own, and I should have been +ashamed of it had I done any thing else than cry for this week past. +I met this Monsieur Busche in the street, when he was bringing your +horses for you to set out; I stopped him, and all in tears asked him +his name, which he told me. “Monsieur Busche,” said I, sobbing all the +while, “I recommend my daughter to your care; do not, dear Monsieur +Busche, do not overturn her; and when you have taken her safely to +Lyons, if you will call upon me with the agreeable news, I will give +you something to drink.” I shall, therefore, certainly do so. What you +say of him has greatly added to the respect I had for him before. + + +LETTER III. + + PARIS, Thursday, February 12, 1671. + +This is only a line precursory, for I shall not write to you till +to-morrow; but I wish you to know what I have just heard. + +Yesterday the president, Amelot, after having made a great number of +visits, toward night found himself a good deal out of order, and was +soon afterward seized with a violent apoplectic fit, of which he died +about eight o’clock this morning. I would have you write to his wife; +the whole family are in the greatest affliction. + +The Duchess de la Vallière sent a letter to the king, the contents +of which have not transpired, and then a message by the Marshal de +Bellefond, to say, “that she would have quitted the court, after having +lost the honor of his good opinion had she been able to prevail with +herself to see him no more, but that her weakness on that head had been +so great that she was scarcely capable, even now, of making a sacrifice +of it to her God; she was resolved, however, that the remains of the +passion she had felt for him should constitute part of her penance, +and, as she had devoted her youth to him, it could not be thought much +if the rest of her life were spent in cares for her own salvation.” +The king wept bitterly, and sent Monsieur Colbert to Chaillot, to beg +her to come directly to Versailles, that he might speak to her once +more. Monsieur Colbert accordingly conducted her thither. The king had +a whole hour’s conversation with her, and wept a great deal. Madame de +Montespan ran with open arms, and tears in her eyes, to receive her. +We do not rightly understand all this. Some say she will remain at +Versailles, and continue about the court; others that she will return +to Chaillot. We shall see. + + +LETTER IV. + + PARIS, Tuesday, March 3, 1671. + +If you were here, my dear child, you would certainly laugh at me. I am +set down to write beforehand, but from a very different reason to that +which I once gave you for writing to a person two days before I could +send my letter: it was a matter of indifference to me, when I wrote, as +I knew I should have no more to say to him at the two days’ end than I +had then. But here the case is otherwise. I do it now from the regard +I have for you, and to satisfy the pleasure I take in writing to you +every moment, which is the sole comfort I have now left. To-day I am +shut up by myself in my room, through excess of ill-humor. I am weary +of every thing. I took a pleasure in dining here, and still a greater +one in writing to you out of season. Alas! you have none of these +leisure moments! I write quite at my ease, but can hardly suppose you +will be able to read what I write in the same manner. I do not see how +it is possible for you to be a minute by yourself. On one side I behold +a husband who adores you, who is never tired of being with you, and who +scarcely knows the end of his happiness; on the other side, harangues, +compliments, visits, and honors paid you without end; all this must be +answered. Indeed, you have enough upon your hands. I could not bear it +myself in my little circle. But what became of your favorite Indolence +amid all this noise and bustle? It suffers now; it retires into a +corner, just dead with apprehension of losing its place in your heart +forever; it seeks some vacant moment to put you in remembrance, and +just drop a word to you by the by. “Alas!” it says, “and have you then +forgotten me? Remember, I am your oldest acquaintance; the friend that +has never abandoned you; the faithful companion of your happy hours, +who made you amends for the want of every pleasure, and for whose sake +you have sometimes hated them. It was I that prevented your dying of +the vapors while you were in Brittany. Sometimes, indeed, your mother +would break in upon our joys, but then I knew where to have you again. +Now I know not what will become of me. These shows, all this pageantry, +will be my death, unless you take some care of me.” Methinks I hear +you speak a kind word to it as you go by; you give it some hopes of +possessing you when at Grignan; but you are gone in an instant, and +can not find time to say more. Duty and reason are with you, and allow +you not a moment’s repose; I, who have always so highly honored these +personages, am now quite out with them, and they with me. How then will +they permit you to waste your time in reading such trifles as these? +I assure you, my dear child, I am continually thinking of you; and I +experience every day the truth of what you once told me, that there are +certain thoughts which are not to be dwelt upon, but passed over as +lightly as possible, unless we would be forever in tears. This is my +case: for there is not a place in the house which does not give a stab +to my heart when I see it; but your room especially deals a deadly blow +from every part of it. I have placed a screen in the middle of it, that +I may at least take something from the prospect. As for the window from +which I saw you get into D’Hacqueville’s coach, and then called you +back again, I shudder every time I think how near I was throwing myself +out of it after you. I was likely enough to have done it, for at times +I am not in my senses. The closet where I held you last in my arms, +without knowing what I did; the Capuchins, where I used to go to mass; +the tears that fell so fast from my eyes that they wetted the ground, +as if water had been thrown on it; Saint Mary’s, Madame de la Fayette, +my return to the house, your room, that night, the next morning, your +first letter, and every one since, and still every day, and every +conversation of those who feel with me, are so many remembrancers of my +loss. Poor D’Hacqueville holds the first rank; I shall never forget the +compassion he showed me. These are the thoughts incessantly uppermost; +yet these are to be passed over, it seems; we are not to abandon our +selves to our thoughts, and the emotions of our heart. I had rather, +however, continue my reveries on the kind of life you are leading. It +occasions a sort of diversion, without making me abandon my principal, +my beloved object. I do then think of you. I am always wishing for +letters from you. One wish of this nature, when gratified, is followed +by another continually. I am in this state of expectation now, and +shall go on with my letter when I have received one from you. + + +LETTER V. + + PARIS, Wednesday, March 18, 1671. + +I have received two packets at once, which have been delayed for a +considerable time. By these I am at length informed from yourself, +of your entry into Aix, but you do not mention whether your husband +was with you, or in what manner Vardes honored your triumph; but +you describe the triumph itself very humorously, as well as the +embarrassment you were under, and your many misplaced civilities. I +wish that I had been with you; not that I should have done better than +yourself, for I have not so good a gift of fixing names upon faces--on +the contrary, I daily commit a thousand blunders in that way--but I +think I could have been of some assistance to you, at least I should +have made courtesies enough. It is true, that such a multiplicity of +ceremonies and attentions is very tiresome. You should, nevertheless, +endeavor not to be deficient in any of these points, but accommodate +yourself, as much as possible, to the customs and the manners of those +among whom you are to live. + +An event has just taken place, which engrosses the whole conversation +of Paris. The king has ordered Monsieur de S---- to resign his post, +and to quit Paris immediately. Can you guess the reason? For having +cheated at play, and won upward of five hundred thousand crowns with +false cards! The man who made these cards was examined by the king +himself; he denied the fact at first; but, upon his majesty’s promising +him a pardon, he confessed that he had followed the trade for a long +time. It is said that the affair will not stop here, for that there +are several houses which he used to furnish with these cards. It was +some time before the king could prevail upon himself to disgrace a man +of Monsieur de S----’s quality; but as, for several months past, every +body that had played with him had been in a manner ruined, he thought +he could not in conscience do less than bring such a scene of villainy +to light. S---- was so perfectly master of his adversaries’ game, that +he always made _sept et le va_ upon the queen of spades, because he +knew the spades lay all in the other packs. The king as constantly lost +one-and-thirty upon clubs, and used to say, clubs never win against +spades in this country. This man had given thirty pistoles to Madame +de la Vallière’s _valets de chambre_ to throw all the cards they had +in the house into the river, in the pretense that they were not good, +and had introduced his own card-maker. He was first led into this fine +way of life by one Pradier, who has since disappeared. Had S---- known +himself innocent, he would immediately have delivered himself up, and +insisted upon taking his trial; but, instead of this, he took the road +to Languedoc, as the surest way of the two; many, however, advised him +to take a journey to La Trappe,[17] after such a misfortune. + + [17] _La Trappe_ is a society of religious monks, remarkable for + the austerity of their lives, and the severe discipline practiced + among them. + +Madame d’Humieres has charged me with a thousand good wishes for you. +She is going to Lille, where she will receive as many honors as you +did at Aix. Marshal Bellefond, through a pure motive of piety, has +settled with his creditors. He has given up to them the principal part +of his property, besides half the profits of his post,[18] to complete +the payment of the arrears. This is a noble action, and shows that his +visits to La Trappe have not been without effect. I went the other day +to see the Duchess of Ventadour; she was as handsome as an angel. The +Duchess of Nevers came in, with her head dressed very ridiculously. You +may believe me, for you know I am an admirer of fashion. Martin had +cropped her to the very extremity of the mode. + + [18] That of chief maître d’hôtel, or master of the household, to + the king. + +Your brother is at St. Germain; he divides his time with Ninon, a young +actress,[19] and, to crown the whole, Despréaux. We lead him a sad life. + + [19] Called la Champêlée. + + +LETTER VI. + + PARIS, Friday, April 1, 1671. + +I returned yesterday from St. Germain with Madame d’Arpajon. Every +one at court inquired after you; among the rest, it will not be +amiss, I think, to distinguish the queen, who accosted me, and asked +how my daughter was after her affair upon the Rhône. I returned her +majesty thanks for the honor she did you in remembering you. She then +desired me to tell her in what manner you had like to have been lost; +I accordingly gave her an account of your crossing the river in a +storm of wind, and that a sudden gust had thrown you under an arch, +within an inch of one of the piles, which if you had once touched, +all the world could not have saved you. But, says the queen, “Was her +husband with her?” “Yes, madam, and the coadjutor too.” “Really,” said +she, “they were greatly to blame.” She gave two or three alasses! +while I was talking to her, and said many obliging things of you. +Afterward a number of ladies came in, and among the rest the young +Duchess of Ventadour, very fine and very handsome; it was some time +before they brought her the divine tabouret;[20] “Ah,” said I, turning +to the grand master,[21] “why do they not give it to her, she has +purchased it dearly enough?”[22] He was of my opinion. In the midst +of a silence in the circle, the queen turned to me, and asked me who +my granddaughter was like? “M. de Grignan, madam,” replied I. Upon +which her majesty exclaimed, “Indeed! I am sorry for it;” and added, +in a low tone of voice, “She had better have resembled her mother or +grandmother.” So you see how much I am indebted to you in making my +court. Marshal Bellefond made me promise to distinguish him from the +crowd. I made your compliments to Monsieur and Madame Duras, and to +Messieurs de Charôt and Montausier, and _tutti quanti_, not to forget +the dauphin and mademoiselle, who both talked a great deal to me about +you. I likewise saw Madame de Ludre; she accosted me with an excess +of civility and kindness that surprised me, and talked in the most +affectionate manner of you, when all on a sudden, as I was going to +make her a suitable answer, I found she was not attending to me, and +saw her fine eyes wandering round the room. I presently perceived it, +and those who saw I took notice of it were pleased with me, and could +not help laughing. + + [20] The tabouret is a stool to sit on in the presence of the + queen, a privilege never enjoyed but by ladies of the first + quality. + + [21] The Count de Lude, grand master of the artillery. + + [22] Monsieur de Ventadour was not only very ugly and deformed, + but, at the same time, a great debauchee. + +I have been extremely diverted with our hurly-burly headdresses; some +of them looked as if you could have blown them off their shoulders. +Ninon[23] said that La Choiseul was as like the flaunting hostess of +an inn, as one drop of water to another; a most excellent simile! But +that Ninon is a dangerous creature; if you only knew how she argues +upon religion it would make you shudder. Her zeal to pervert the minds +of young people is much the same as that of a certain gentleman of +St. Germain, that we saw once at Livri. She says your brother has all +the simplicity of the dove, that he is just like his mother; but that +Madame de Grignan has all the fire of the family, and has more sense +than to be so docile. A certain person would have taken your part, and +put her out of conceit with you on that head, but she bid him hold +his tongue, and told him that she knew more of the matter than he +did. What a depravity of taste! Because she knows you to be handsome +and witty, she must needs saddle you with the other qualification, +without which, according to her rule, there is no being perfect. I am +greatly concerned for the harm she does my son in this point; but do +not take any notice of it to him. Madame de la Fayette and I use all +our endeavors to disengage him from so dangerous an attachment. Besides +her, he has a little actress,[24] and all the players of the town +upon his hands, to whom he gives suppers; in short, he is perfectly +infatuated. You know what a joke he makes of Mascaron. I fancy your +Minim[25] would suit him. I never read any thing more diverting than +what you wrote to me about that man; I read it to Monsieur de la +Rochefoucault, who laughed heartily at it. He desires me to tell you, +that there is a certain apostle who is running up and down after his +rib, which he would fain appropriate to himself, as a part of his goods +and chattels; but, unluckily for him, he is not clever at enterprise. I +fancy Mellusina is fallen into some pit, we do not hear a single word +about her. M. de la Rochefoucault says besides, that if he was only +thirty years younger, he should certainly have a great inclination for +M. de Grignan’s third rib.[26] That part of your letter, where you say +he has already had two of his ribs broken, made him laugh heartily; we +always wish for some oddity or other to divert you, but we very much +doubt whether this has not turned out rather more to your satisfaction +than ours. After all, we pity you extremely, in not having the word +of God preached in a suitable manner. Ah, that Bourdaloüe! his sermon +on the Passion was, they say, the most perfect thing of the kind that +can be imagined; it was the same he preached last year, but revised +and altered with the assistance of some of his friends, that it might +be wholly inimitable; how can one love God, if one never hears him +properly spoken of? you must really possess a greater portion of grace +than others. We went the other day to hear the Abbé Montmort;[27] I +never heard a prettier sermon for so young a beginner. I wish you had +such a one in the room of your Minim. He made the sign of the cross, +and gave out his text; he did not anathematize his audience, he did +not load us with abuse; he told us not to be under any apprehensions +concerning death, since it was the only passage we had to a glorious +resurrection with Jesus Christ. We agreed with him in this, and every +one went away contented. He has nothing offensive in his manner; +he imitates Monsieur d’Agen without copying him; he has a modest +confidence, is learned, and pious. In short, I was highly pleased with +him. + + [23] Ninon de l’Enclos, famous for her wit and free-thinking. + + [24] La Champêlée. + + [25] The priest who preached at Grignan. + + [26] That is, to Mme. de Grignan, who was M. de Grignan’s third + wife. + + [27] Afterward Bishop of Bayonne. + + +LETTER VII. + + PARIS, Friday, April 10, 1671. + +I wrote to you on Wednesday by the post, yesterday by Magalotti, and +to-day again by the post; but last night I lost a charming opportunity. +I went to walk at Vincennes, _en Troche_,[28] and by the way met with +a string of galley-slaves; they were going to Marseilles, and will be +there in about a month. Nothing could have been surer than this mode +of conveyance, but another thought came into my head, which was to go +with them myself. There was one Duval among them, who appeared to be a +conversible man. You will see them when they come in, and I suppose you +would have been agreeably surprised to have seen me in the midst of the +crowd of women that accompany them. I wish you knew of what importance +the words Provence, Marseilles, Aix, are become to me; even the Rhône, +that devilish Rhône, and Lyons, are something to me. Brittany and +Burgundy appear like places under the pole, in which I take no sort +of interest. I may say with Coulanges, “O, the surprising power of my +orvietan!” Really, my child, it was admirable in you to desire the +abbé[29] to prevent my sending you any more presents! What nonsense! +Do I in reality make you any? You call the newspapers I send you by +that name. You never can divest me of the desire of thus giving; it is +the most sensible pleasure I can enjoy. You should rather rejoice with +me, if I indulged myself more frequently in it. The method you took of +thanking me was highly pleasing to me. + + [28] With her friend, Madame de la Troche. + + [29] The Abbé de Coulanges, who lived with his niece, Madame de + Sévigné. + +Your letters are excellent; one might venture to say they were not +dictated by the good ladies of the country where you reside. I find +that M. de Grignan, to his other connections with you, adds that of +being your companion; he seems to me the only one who understands you. +Be careful to preserve the happiness of his heart by the tenderness of +yours, and consider that if you do not both love me, each according to +your proper degree of estimation, you will be the most ungrateful of +beings. The new opinion, that there is no such thing as ingratitude in +the world, appears to me, for the reasons which we have so frequently +discussed, like the philosophy of Descartes, and the contrary one +like that of Aristotle. You know the deference I always paid to the +authority of the latter; it is the same with respect to my opinion of +ingratitude. I should pronounce you then, my child, to be a little +ungrateful wretch; but, happily, and the idea constitutes all my +comfort, I know you to be incapable of such conduct, and I therefore +yield without reserve to the feelings of my heart. Adieu, my dearest +love, I am going to close this letter. I shall write you another +to-night, in which I shall give you an account of the occurrences of +the day. We are every day in hopes of letting your house; you may +suppose I can forget nothing that relates to you; I am as interested in +your affairs as the most selfish being ever was in his own. + + +LETTER VIII. + + Friday night, April 10, 1671. + +I make up my packet at Monsieur de la Rochefoucault’s, who embraces you +very heartily; he is delighted with your answer about the canons and +Father Desmares. There is some pleasure in sending you these trifles, +you answer them so prettily. He begs you to be assured that you still +live strongly in his remembrance, and that if he hears any thing worth +your notice he will certainly communicate it to you. He is at his Hôtel +de Rochefoucault, having no longer any hopes of recovering the use of +his feet; he talks of going to the waters; I am for sending him to +Digne, others to Bourbon. I dined _en Bavardin_[30] and in so complete +a style that I thought we should have died. We did not talk, merely, as +we used to do; we did nothing but chatter. + + [30] That is, at Madame de Lavardin’s, who was extremely fond of + news. + +Brancas was overturned the other day into a ditch, where he found +himself so much at his ease, that he asked those who came to help +him out if they had any occasion for his services. His glasses were +all broken, and his head would have been so, too, if he had not been +more lucky than wise; but all this did not seem to have destroyed his +reverie in the least. I wrote this morning to let him know he had been +overturned, and was very near breaking his neck, as I supposed he was +the only person in Paris who was ignorant of it; and that I took the +opportunity of expressing the concern it gave me. I expect his answer. + + +LETTER IX. + + From MONSIEUR DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT’S, + Friday evening, April 24, 1671. + +Here, then, I make up my packet. I had intended to tell you that +the king arrived yesterday evening at Chantilly: he hunted a stag +by moonlight; the lamps did wonders; the fire-works were a little +eclipsed by the brightness of our serene friend, the moon; but the +evening, the supper, and the entertainment, went off admirably well. +The weather we had yesterday gave us hopes of an end worthy of so +fine a beginning. But what do you think I learned when I came here? I +am not yet recovered, and hardly know what I write. Vatel, the great +Vatel, late maître-d’hôtel to M. Fouquet, and in that capacity with +the prince, a man so eminently distinguished for taste, and whose +abilities were equal to the government of a state--this man, whom I +knew so well, finding, at eight o’clock this morning, that the fish he +had sent for did not come at the time he expected it, and unable to +bear the disgrace that he thought would inevitably attach to him, ran +himself through with his own sword. Guess what confusion so shocking +an accident must have occasioned. Think, too, that perhaps the fish +might come in just as he was expiring. I know no more of the affair +at present, and I suppose you think this enough. I make no doubt the +consternation was general; it must be very disagreeable to have so +fatal an event break in upon an entertainment that cost fifty thousand +crowns. + +Monsieur De Menars is to be married to Mademoiselle De la +Grange-Neuville; but I do not know how I can have the heart to speak to +you about any thing but Vatel. + + +LETTER X. + + PARIS, Sunday, April 26, 1671. + +This is Sunday, April 26th, and this letter will not go out till +Wednesday; but it is not so much a letter as a narrative that I +have just learned from Moreuil, of what passed at Chantilly with +regard to poor Vatel. I wrote to you last Friday that he had stabbed +himself--these are the particulars of the affair: The king arrived +there on Thursday night; the walk, and the collation, which was served +in a place set apart for the purpose, and strewed with jonquils, were +just as they should be. Supper was served, but there was no roast meat +at one or two of the tables, on account of Vatel’s having been obliged +to provide several dinners more than were expected. This affected +his spirits, and he was heard to say, several times: “I have lost my +honor! I can not bear this disgrace!” “My head is quite bewildered,” +said he to Gourville. “I have not had a wink of sleep these twelve +nights; I wish you would assist me in giving orders.” Gourville did +all he could to comfort and assist him; but the failure of the roast +meat (which, however, did not happen at the king’s table, but at some +of the other twenty-five), was always uppermost with him. Gourville +mentioned it to the prince, who went directly to Vatel’s apartment, and +said to him: “Every thing is extremely well conducted, Vatel; nothing +could be more admirable than his majesty’s supper.” “Your highness’s +goodness,” replied he, “overwhelms me; I am sensible that there was a +deficiency of roast meat at two tables.” “Not at all,” said the prince; +“do not perplex yourself, and all will go well.” Midnight came: the +fire-works did not succeed, they were covered with a thick cloud; they +cost sixteen thousand francs. At four o’clock in the morning Vatel went +round and found every body asleep; he met one of the under-purveyors, +who was just come in with only two loads of fish. “What!” said he, +“is this all?” “Yes, sir,” said the man, not knowing that Vatel had +dispatched other people to all the sea-ports around. Vatel waited +for some time; the other purveyors did not arrive; his head grew +distracted; he thought there was no more fish to be had. He flew to +Gourville: “Sir,” said he, “I can not outlive this disgrace.” Gourville +laughed at him. Vatel, however, went to his apartment, and setting the +hilt of his sword against the door, after two ineffectual attempts, +succeeded in the third, in forcing his sword through his heart. At +that instant the carriers arrived with the fish; Vatel was inquired +after to distribute it. They ran to his apartment, knocked at the +door, but received no answer, upon which they broke it open, and found +him weltering in his blood. A messenger was immediately dispatched +to acquaint the prince with what had happened, who was like a man in +despair. The duke wept, for his Burgundy journey depended upon Vatel. +The prince related the whole affair to his majesty with an expression +of great concern; it was considered as the consequence of too nice a +sense of honor; some blamed, others praised him for his courage. The +king said he had put off this excursion for more than five years, +because he was aware that it would be attended with infinite trouble, +and told the prince that he ought to have had but two tables, and not +have been at the expense of so many, and declared he would never suffer +him to do so again; but all this was too late for poor Vatel. However, +Gourville attempted to supply the loss of Vatel, which he did in great +measure. The dinner was elegant, the collation was the same. They +supped, they walked, they hunted; all was perfumed with jonquils, all +was enchantment. Yesterday, which was Saturday, the same entertainments +were renewed, and in the evening the king set out for Liancourt, +where he had ordered a _media-noche_;[31] he is to stay there three +days. This is what Moreuil has told me, hoping I should acquaint you +with it. I wash my hands of the rest, for I know nothing about it. M. +D’Hacqueville, who was present at the scene, will, no doubt, give you a +faithful account of all that passed; but, because his hand-writing is +not quite so legible as mine, I write too; if I am circumstantial, it +is because, on such an occasion, I should like circumstantiality myself. + + [31] _Media-noche_ is a flesh-meal just after midnight, among the + Roman Catholics. + + +LETTER XI. + + Monday, May 18, 1671 + Just going to set out. + +At last, my dear child, I am just ready to step into my carriage: +there!--I am in--adieu! I never shall use that word to you without real +grief. I am now on my way for Brittany. Is it possible that any thing +can increase the distance between us, when we are already separated +from each other more than two hundred leagues? But so it is; I have +found a way to complete it; and as you thought your town of Aix not +quite far enough from me, I also, look upon Paris as too much in your +neighborhood. You went to Marseilles to fly me, and I, to pay you in +your own coin, am going to Vitré. But to be serious, my dear, our +correspondence will suffer by this; it used to be a great source of +consolation and amusement to me. Alas! what shall I have to say to +you from the midst of my woods? I shall have nothing to entertain you +with but accounts of Mademoiselle du Plessis and Jaquine;[32] charming +subjects these! I am very happy in what you tell me of your health, +but, in the name of God, if you have any love for me, take care of +yourself; do not dance, do not fall, take a good deal of rest, and, +above all things, arrange your plans so as to lie-in at Aix, where +you may have the best and the most timely assistance. You know how +expeditious you are on those occasions; be sure to have every thing +ready rather too soon than too late. Good Heavens! what shall I not +suffer at that period! + + [32] A pretty servant girl of Madame de Sévigné’s at her house in + Brittany. + +You relate the dispute you had with our friend Vivonne very agreeably. +I think the fault lies entirely on his side. You laid a famous trap in +which you caught him completely. His confusion made me sweat for him, +and he did so himself, I dare say; but in the end you made it up and +embraced him! a great[33] undertaking that, for one in your situation. +If your quarrels must end thus, you ought to have no quarrels nor +enemies upon your hands. + + [33] Monsieur de Vivonne was remarkable for his great bulk. + + +LETTER XII. + + FROM THE ROCKS,[34] Sunday, May 31, 1671. + + [34] The name of Madame de Sévigné’s estate in Brittany. + +At last, my child, I am at the Rocks. Can I behold these walks, can I +view these ornaments, this little closet, these books, these rooms, and +not die with grief? Some recollections are agreeable, but there are +others again so lively and so tender that they are hardly supportable; +such are mine with respect to you. And you may easily guess the effect +this is likely to produce in a heart like mine. + +If you continue pretty well, my dear child, I believe I shall not come +to you till next year. Brittany and Provence are not very compatible; +long journeys are strange things. If we were always to continue in +the same mind we are in at the end of a journey, we should never stir +from the place we were then in; but Providence, in kindness to us, +causes us to forget it. It is much the same with lying-in women. Heaven +permits this forgetfulness that the world may be peopled, and that +folks may take journeys to Provence. Mine, therefore, will afford me +the greatest joy I ever received in my life, but how cruel a thought +is it to see no end to your stay there! I more and more admire and +applaud your prudence, though, to tell you the truth, I am greatly +affected with this impossibility; but I hope time will make us see +things in a different light. We must always live in hope; without that +consolation there would be no living. I sometimes pass such melancholy +moments in the woods, that I return as changed as one just out of a +fever. I fancy you pass your time pretty well at Marseilles. Do not +fail to tell me how you were received at Grignan. The people here had +designed to make a kind of triumphal entry for my son; Vaillant had +drawn out near fifteen hundred men under arms, very well dressed, with +new ribbons round their necks, and had marched them within a league of +the Rocks. But guess what happened! Our abbé had written word that we +should be there on Tuesday, and afterward forgot to mention it to us. +Accordingly these poor people were waiting under arms the whole day +till ten o’clock at night, when they returned home very much chagrined +at their disappointment; and behold the next day, which was Wednesday, +we came in as quiet and peaceable as lambs, without dreaming that a +little army had been drawn out to receive us! We were a good deal +vexed at this mistake, but there was no remedy; so much for our first +setting out. Mademoiselle du Plessis is just as you left her. She has +formed a new acquaintance at Vitré that she plumes herself mightily +upon, because she is a great genius, has read all the romances, and, +more than that, has had two letters from the Princess de Tarante. I +was wicked enough to set Vaillant upon telling her that I was jealous +of this new friend of hers, and that, when I heard of their intimacy, +it had given me the greatest uneasiness, though I had taken no notice +of it to her. It requires the pen of a Molière to describe all she +says upon the occasion; and it is highly amusing to see how artfully +she manages me, and with what care she avoids speaking of my supposed +rival before my face; I too play my part very well. My little trees +are grown surprisingly; Pilois[35] is raising their stately heads to +the clouds. In short, nothing can be more beautiful than these walks, +which you first saw planted. You may remember I once gave you a little +device which was thought very suitable. Here is a motto I wrote the +other day upon a tree, which I intend for my son, who is just returned +from Candia. _Vago di fama_.[36] Is it not pretty, notwithstanding +its conciseness? Yesterday I had another inscribed in honor of the +idlers, _Bella cosa far niente!_[37] Ah! my dear child, what a wild +romantic air my letters have! What is become of the time when I used +to talk of Paris like other people? Now you will hear of nothing but +myself; and, to show you what confidence I have in your affection, I am +persuaded this will be the most agreeable intelligence I can give you. +I am highly pleased with my company here. Our abbé is at all times an +excellent companion. La Mousse and my son are satisfied with me, and +I with them. We always seek one another; and if business at any time +takes me from them, they are at their wit’s end, and think it very odd +in me to prefer a farmer’s account to a tale of La Fontaine’s. They +are all passionately in love with you. I fancy you will hear from them +soon. I choose however to be beforehand with them, for I do not love +talking to you in a crowd. My dearest child, will you always love me? +my life depends upon your affection! That, as I told you the other day, +constitutes all my joy and all my sorrow. + + [35] The gardener at the Rocks. + + [36] Anxious for fame. + + [37] What a fine thing it is to do nothing. + + +LETTER XIII. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 10, 1671. + +I am going to entertain you to-day, my dear child, with what is called +rain and fine weather. I had not your letters till Friday, and I +answered them the Sunday following. I begin then with the rain, for +fair weather is out of the question. For this week past it has rained +incessantly; I say incessantly--for the rain has only been interrupted +by storms. I can not stir abroad, my workmen are all dispersed, and I +am devoured with melancholy; La Mousse, too, is very low-spirited. We +read, indeed, and that just keeps us alive. My son is gone to Rennes, +whither we thought it necessary to send him, to pay a visit to the +first president, and several other friends that I have there; if he +has time, I shall prevail on him to go and see Monsieur de Coëtquen; +he is old enough now for these things. There was a ball at Vitré again +on Sunday. I very much fear that my son will become too fond of the +company of ten or a dozen men that supped with him the other night +at the castle of Sévigné; they may be borne with, but he should be +very cautious of forming too great an intimacy with them. A dispute +arose between two of the party about some trifle or other; the lie was +given; to it they went; the company endeavored to part them; there +was a great deal of talk and very little sense; however, monsieur le +marquis[38] had the honor of making up the difference, and afterward +set out for Rennes. There have been great cabals at Vitré: Mademoiselle +de Croqueoison complains that, at a ball the other day, Mademoiselle du +Cerni did not offer her part of some oranges she had. We must hear what +Mademoiselle du Plessis and the Launayes have to say on this subject, +as they know all the circumstances relating to it. As to Mademoiselle +du Plessis, she lets all her affairs at Vitré run to ruin, because she +will not stir in them, from the fear of making me jealous on account +of her new friend; and it was but the other day that, to make me quite +easy, she said as many ill-natured things of her as she could. When it +is fine weather, this nonsense makes me laugh, but when it is bad and +gloomy, I could give her a box on the ear, as you once did. Madame de +Coulanges writes me word that she has heard nothing of Brancas, except +that out of his six coach-horses he has only one left, and that he was +the last person to discover it. I hear no news. Our little Alégre is at +her mother’s, and it is thought that M. de Seignelai is to be married +to her. I suppose you are in want of persons to furnish you with +intelligence; for my part, I despise trivial occurrences; I am only +for those that surprise and astonish; such a one I met with this very +morning while the abbé and I were in his study together. We found, in +reckoning with those counters of his which are so good, that with all +that has fallen to me, I ought to be worth 530,000 livres.[39] Do you +know that what our dear abbé has left me will not amount to less than +80,000 francs? And do you think I am not impatient to be in possession? +And 100,000 francs from Burgundy; this has come since you were married, +the rest, viz.: 100,000 crowns by my marriage; 100,000 crowns since by +M. de Chalons, and 20,000 francs, in little legacies, from one or two +of my uncles; but do you not wonder whither my pen is running with me? +I should do much better to tell you what I suffer every day, when I +reflect in what places Providence has destined us to pass our lives. +This is a continual source of uneasiness to me, but let it not be so +to you; you have not the same reason; you are with a husband that +adores you, and in the midst of honors and splendor; but endeavor, if +possible, to work some miracle in your affairs, so that your return +to Paris may be retarded only by the duties of your post, and not +from necessity. It is very easy to talk thus; I wish it was as easily +carried into execution, and wishes are not forbidden us. They write +me word that Madame de Valavoire is at Paris, and that she is forever +talking of your beauty, politeness, wit, talents, and, in short, of the +new head-dress you have invented, which it seems you have executed in +as good a style as if you had been in the midst of the court. Madame de +la Troche and I have at least the honor of having described it so well +as to put you in the way of performing these wonders. She is at Paris +still, that La Troche. She is going to her own house about the latter +end of this month. As for me, I do not know what the States intend +doing; but I fancy I shall run away for fear of being ruined. It is a +mighty pretty thing to put myself to the expense of near a thousand +crowns in dinners and suppers, and all for the honor of keeping a +summer-house for M. and Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Rohan, M. de +Lavardin, and half Brittany, who, without knowing any thing of me, +will, to be in the fashion, honor me with their company. Well, we shall +see how it will turn out. I shall only regret leaving M. d’Harroüis +and this house, before I have half finished my business. But, my dear +child, the greatest inclination I have at present is to be a little +religious. I plague La Mousse about it every day. I belong neither to +God nor to the devil. I am quite weary of such a situation, though, +between you and me, I look upon it as the most natural one in the +world. I am not the devil’s, because I fear God, and have at the bottom +a principle of religion; then, on the other hand, I am not properly +God’s, because his law appears hard and irksome to me, and I can not +bring myself to acts of self-denial; so that altogether I am one of +those called lukewarm Christians, the great number of which does not +in the least surprise me, for I perfectly understand their sentiments +and the reasons that influence them. However, we are told that this +is a state highly displeasing to God; if so, we must get out of it. +Alas! this is the difficulty. Was ever any thing so mad as I am, to be +thus eternally pestering you with my rhapsodies? My dear child, _I ask +excuse_, as they say here; but I must chat with you, it is so truly +delightful to me. Be sure, however, not to return me an answer, only +let me hear of your health, with a little spice of your sentiments, +that I may see that you are happy, and that you like Grignan; that is +all. Love me; though we have turned the world into ridicule, it is +natural, it is good. + + [38] Meaning her son, the Marquis of Sévigné. + + [39] Upward of 20,000_l._ sterling, reckoning a livre at 10_d._ + halfpenny. + + +LETTER XIV. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, June 28, 1671. + +You have amply made up to me my late losses; I have received two +letters from you which have filled me with transports of joy. The +pleasure I take in reading them is beyond all imagination. If I have +in any way contributed to the improvement of your style, I did it in +the thought I was laboring for the pleasure of others, not for my own. +But Providence, who has seen fit to separate us so often, and to place +us at such immense distances from each other, has repaid me a little +for the privations in the charms of your correspondence, and still +more in the satisfaction you express in your situation, and the beauty +of your castle; you represent it to me with an air of grandeur and +magnificence that enchants me. I once saw a similar account of it by +the first Madame de Grignan; but I little thought, at that time, that +all these beauties were one day to be at your command. I am very much +obliged to you for having given me so particular an account of it. If +I could be tired in reading your letters, it would not only betray a +very bad taste in me, but would likewise show that I could have very +little love or friendship for you. Divest yourself of the dislike you +have taken to circumstantial details. I have often told you, and you +ought yourself to feel the truth of this remark, that they are as dear +to us from those we love, as they are tedious and disagreeable from +others. If they are displeasing to us, it is only from the indifference +we feel for those who write them. Admitting this observation to be +true, I leave you to judge what pleasure yours afford me. It is a fine +thing, truly, to play the great lady, as you do at present. I perfectly +comprehend Monsieur de Grignan’s feelings in seeing you so much admire +his castle; had you appeared insensible, or even indifferent, on the +occasion, it would have given him a chagrin that I can conceive better +perhaps than any other; and I share in the pleasure he has in seeing +you pleased. There are some hearts which sympathize for each other +so truly, that they judge by themselves what others feel. You do not +mention Vardes[40] often enough to me, nor poor Corbinelli. Was it not +very agreeable to you to be able to speak their language? How goes +on Vardes’ love for the fair T----? Tell me whether he is much hurt +by the infinite length of his banishment, or whether his philosophy, +and a little dash of misanthropy, can support his heart against these +vicissitudes of love and fortune. The books you read are well chosen. +Petrarch must certainly give you a good deal of pleasure, especially +with the notes you have. Those of Mademoiselle de Scuderi on some of +his sonnets, rendered them very agreeable. As for Tacitus, you know +how much I was charmed with it, when we read it together here; and how +often I used to interrupt you, to make you observe the periods, where +I thought the harmony particularly striking. But if you stop half way +I shall scold you; it will be doing great injustice to the dignity of +the subject, and I shall say to you, as a certain prelate did to the +queen mother, “This is history; you know what stories are already.” A +reluctance, in this respect, is only pardonable in romances, which I +know you do not like. We read Tasso with pleasure, and I am a pretty +good proficient in the language, from the excellent masters I have had. +My son makes La Mousse read Cleopatra,[41] and I listen to him, whether +I will or not, and am amused. My son is going to Lorraine; we shall be +very dull in his absence. You know how it vexes me to see the breaking +up of an agreeable party, and how transported I am when I see a train +of carriages driving off that have wearied me to death for a whole day; +upon which we made this just observation, that bad company is more +desirable than good. I recollect all the odd things we used to say when +you were here, and all you said yourself, and all you did; your idea +never leaves me; and then again, on a sudden, I think where you are; my +imagination represents to me an immense space, and a great distance; +on a sudden your castle bounds the prospect, and I am displeased at +the walls that inclose your mall. Ours is surprisingly beautiful, and +the young nursery is delightful. I take pleasure in rearing their +little heads to the clouds, and frequently, without considering +consequences or my own interest, cut down large trees, because their +shade incommodes my young ones. My son views all these proceedings, +but I do not allow him to interfere. Pilois[42] continues to be a very +great favorite with me, and I prefer his conversation to that of many +who have the title of chevalier in the parliament of Rennes. I am grown +rather more negligent than you; for the other day I let a coachful +of the Fouesnelle family go home through a tremendous rain, for want +of pressing them with a good grace to stay; but I could not get the +compliment to pass my lips. It was not the two young women, but the +mother, and an old woman from Rennes, and the two sons. Mademoiselle +du Plessis is exactly as you represent her, only if possible, more +impertinent. What she says and does every day to keep me from being +jealous, is perfectly original, and I am quite provoked, sometimes, +that I have nobody to laugh at it with me. Her sister-in-law is very +pretty, without being ridiculous, and speaks Gascon in the midst of +Brittany. I think you are very happy in having Madame de Simiane[43] +with you; she has a fund of knowledge that will relieve you from all +kinds of restraint; this is a great deal. You will have, too, a very +agreeable companion in her. + + [40] The Marquis de Vardes was banished to Provence in 1665, for + having been concerned in some court intrigues, and remained in + exile till the year 1682. He was a man of amiable manners. + + [41] A famous romance of La Calprenede’s. + + [42] The gardener. + + [43] Magdelen Hai-du-Châtelet, wife to Charles Louis, Marquis of + Simiane; she was afterward mother-in-law to Paulina de Grignan. + +I now return to you, that is, to the divine fountain of Vaucluse! +How beautiful! Well might Petrarch make such frequent mention of +it! But, remember, I shall some day see all these wonders with my +own eyes; I, who have such a veneration for antiquities. I shall +certainly be transported with them, and the magnificence of Grignan. +The abbé will find employment enough there. After the Doric orders and +splendid titles of your house, nothing is wanting but the order you +are going to establish there; for, let me tell you, without something +substantial at the bottom, all is bitterness and anxiety. I have great +pity for those who ruin themselves; it is the only affliction in life +that is felt alike by all, and which is increased, instead of being +diminished, by time. I have frequent conversations on this subject +with a certain friend of ours. If he has a mind to benefit by them, +he has had opportunity enough to lay in a good stock, and of such a +nature he need not forget them. I am glad that you are to have two of +your brothers-in-law with you this autumn. I think you have planned +your journey well. We can travel a great way without being fatigued, +provided we have something to amuse us by the way, and do not lose our +courage. The return of fine weather has brought all my workmen back +again, which is a great amusement to me. When I have company, I work at +that fine altar-piece you saw me drawing when you were at Paris; when +I am alone, I read, I write, or am with the abbé in his closet upon +business. I wish him with you sometimes, but it is for two or three +days only. + +I consent to the commerce of wit which you propose. The other day I +made a maxim off-hand, without once thinking of it, and I liked it so +well that I fancied I had taken it out of M. de la Rochefoucault’s. +Pray tell me whether it is so or not, for in that case my memory is +more to be praised than my judgment. I said, with all the ease in the +world, that “ingratitude begets reproach, as acknowledgment begets new +favors.” Pray where did this come from? Have I read it? did I dream +it? is it my own idea? Nothing can be truer than the thing itself, +nor than that I am totally ignorant how I came by it. I found it +properly arranged in my brain, and at the end of my tongue. As for that +sentence, “_bella cosa far niente_,” you will not think it so dull when +I tell you it is intended for your brother: remember last winter’s +disaster. Adieu, my dearest child; take care of yourself, continue +handsome, dress well, amuse yourself, and take proper exercise. I +have just been writing to Vivonne,[44] about a captain of a troop of +Bohemians, whose confinement I have begged him to render as easy as +possible, without detriment to the king’s service. You must know that +there was among the troop of Bohemians[45] that I was mentioning to +you the other day, a young girl who danced extremely well, and put me +very much in mind of your manner. I was pleased with her. She begged +me to write to Provence in favor of her grandfather. “Where is he?” +said I. “He is at Marseilles,” said she, with as much composure and +unconcern as if she had said, “He is at Vincennes.” He was a man of +singular merit, it seems, in his way;[46] in short, I promised her +to write about him; I immediately thought of Vivonne. I send you my +letter; if you are not sufficiently upon terms with him to allow of +my jesting with him, you may burn it; if it is an ill-written letter +you may burn it; but if you are friendly with his corpulency, and my +letter will save you the trouble of writing one, seal it and send it +to him. I could not refuse this request to the poor girl, and to the +best-danced minuet that I have seen since the days of Mademoiselle de +Sévigné. She had just your air, was about your height, has good teeth, +and fine eyes. Here is a letter of so enormous a length that I can +easily forgive your not reading it through. Monsieur de Grignan can +not conceive how one can possibly read such long letters; but, in good +earnest, can you read them in a day? + + [44] General of the galleys. + + [45] Gipseys. + + [46] And had been condemned to the galleys for having + distinguished himself rather too much in his Bohemian faculty. + + +LETTER XV. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, July 5, 1671. + +It is a great proof of your love, my dear child, that you can bear +with all the nonsense I send you from hence. You defend Mademoiselle +de Croqueoison extremely well. In return, I assure you there is not +a single word in your letters that is not dear to me. I am afraid +to read them for fear of ending them, and if it were not for the +consolation that I can read them over as often as I please, I should +make them last much longer; but then, on the other hand, my impatience +makes me ready to devour them. What should I do if your writing was +as illegible as D’Hacqueville’s? Would the greatness of my affection +help me to decipher it? Really, I am afraid not; but I have heard of +such instances. In short, I greatly esteem D’Hacqueville, and yet I can +not accustom myself to his handwriting; I never can read his letters; +I hunt out word by word; I puzzle myself with guessing at them; I say +one word for another, and at last, when I can make neither head nor +tail of it, away I fling the letter in a rage. But I tell you this as +a secret, for I would not have him know that his letters give me all +this trouble. He thinks, poor man, his hand is like print; but you, who +know the contrary, tell me how you manage. My son set out yesterday, +greatly concerned at parting with us. I endeavored to inspire him with +every good, just, and noble sentiment that I was mistress of, and to +confirm all the good qualities I had remarked in him. He received my +advice with all imaginable sweetness and marks of approbation; but +you know the weakness of human nature; I leave him, therefore, in the +hands of Providence, reserving to myself the comfort of having nothing +to reproach myself with in regard to him. As he has a fund of wit and +humor, we shall necessarily miss him extremely. We are going to begin a +moral treatise of Nicole’s. If I were at Paris I would send it to you; +I am sure you would admire it. We continue to read Tasso with pleasure. +I am almost afraid to tell you that I am returned to Cleopatra; and, +by good fortune, the short memory I have makes it still pleasing to +me. I have a bad taste, you will say; but you know I can not affect a +prudery which is not natural to me, and as I am not yet arrived at a +time of life that forbids the reading such works, I suffer myself to be +amused with them, under the pretense that my son brought me into it. He +used to read us some chapters, too, out of Rabelais, which were enough +to make us die with laughing; in return, he seemed to take a good +deal of pleasure in talking with me; and, if he is to be believed, he +will remember what I have said to him. I know him well, and can often +discern good sentiments through all the levity of his conversation. If +he is dismissed this autumn, we shall have him again. + +I have mentioned Launaye to you; she was bedaubed the other day like +a twelfth-day taper; we thought she resembled the second volume of a +sorry romance, or the Romance of the Rose, exactly. Mademoiselle du +Plessis is always at my elbow; when I read the kind things you say of +her, I am as red as fire. The other day La Biglesse played Tartuffe to +the life. Being at table, she happened to tell a fib about some trifle +or other, which I noticed, and told her of it; she cast her eyes to the +ground, and with a very demure air, “Yes, indeed, madam,” said she, “I +am the greatest liar in the world; I am very much obliged to you for +telling me of it.” We all burst out a-laughing, for it was exactly the +tone of Tartuffe: “Yes, brother, I am a wretch, a vessel of iniquity.” +She attempts sometimes to be sententious, and gives herself airs of +understanding which sit still worse upon her than her own natural way. +There! I think you know every thing about the Rocks. + + +LETTER XVI. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, July 12, 1671. + +I have received but one letter from you, my dear child, which vexes me; +I used generally to have two. It is a bad thing to use one’s self to +such dear and tender cares as yours; there is no being happy without +them. If M. de Grignan’s brothers come to you this summer, they will +be good company for you. The coadjutor has been a little indisposed, +but is now perfectly recovered; he is incredibly lazy, and is the more +to blame, as he can write extremely well when he sets about it. He +has a great regard for you, and intends visiting you about the middle +of August--he can not before. He protests, but I believe it is false, +that he has no branch to rest upon, which hinders him from writing, and +makes his eyes ache. This is all I know about Seigneur Corbeau. How odd +it is of me to tell you all this, when I do not know myself how I stand +with him! If you should know any thing of the matter, pray inform me. +I reflect every hour of the day upon the times when I used to see you +always about me, and am perpetually regretting the loss of those happy +moments. Not that I can reproach my heart with having been insensible +of the pleasure of your company; for I solemnly protest to you, I never +looked on you with the indifference or coolness that grows upon long +acquaintance; no, I can not reproach myself with that. What I regret +is, that I did not see you so constantly as I could now wish I had, +but suffered cruel business sometimes to tear me from you. It would +be a fine thing to fill my letters with what fills my heart; alas! as +you say, we should glide over many thoughts, without seeming to regard +them. Here then I rest, and conjure you, if I am at all dear to you, to +be particularly careful of your health. Amuse yourself, do not study +too much, carry yourself safely through your pregnancy; after that, +if M. de Grignan really loves you, and is resolved not to kill you +outright, I know what he will do, or rather what he will not do. + +Have you cruelty enough not to finish Tacitus? Can you leave Germanicus +in the midst of his conquests? If you really intend to serve him so +paltry a trick, let me know where you leave off, and I will finish +for you, which is all I can do to serve you at present. We have gone +through Tasso, and with a great deal of pleasure; we found beauties in +him, that are unknown to those who are only half read in the language. +We have begun our _morality_,[47] it is of much the same nature as +Pascal’s. Talking of Pascal, I have taken into my head to almost adore +those gentlemen, the postillions who are incessantly carrying our +letters backward and forward. There is not a day in the week, but they +bring one either to you or to me; there is one every day, and every +hour of the day, upon the road. Kind-hearted people, how obliging it is +of them! What a charming invention is the post, and what a happy effect +of Providence is the desire of gain! I sometimes think of writing to +them to show my gratitude; and I believe I should have done it before, +had I not remembered that chapter in Pascal, and been afraid that they +might have perhaps thought proper to thank me for writing to them, +as I thanked them for carrying my letters. Here is a fine digression +for you. But to return to our reading. It was without prejudice to +Cleopatra that I laid a wager I would read it through; you know how +I support my wagers. I often wonder how I could like such ridiculous +stuff; I can hardly comprehend it. You may perhaps remember enough of +me to know how much a bad style displeases me; that I have some taste +for a good one, and that no person is more sensible to the charms +of eloquence. I well know how wretched La Calprenedre’s style is in +many places, on account of its long-winded periods, and bad choice of +words. I wrote a letter to your brother in that style the other day, +which was pleasant enough. However, though I find such glaring faults +in Calprenedre, though I know how detestable that way of writing is, +yet I can not leave it. The beauty of the sentiments, the violence +of the passions, and the miraculous success of their redoubtable +swords, entices me away like a child; I become a party in all their +designs, and if I had not the example of M. de la Rochefoucault and +D’Hacqueville to comfort me, I should be ready to hang myself for being +guilty of such a weakness. You appear before me, and cry “Shame!” yet +still I go on. I shall have great honor in being intrusted by you with +the care of preserving you in the abbé’s friendship. He loves you +tenderly; you are often the subject of our conversation, with your +state, your grandeur, and so forth. He would not willingly die without +having first taken a trip to Provence, and rendered you some service. +I am told, that poor Madame de Montluet is on the point of losing her +senses; she has been raving hitherto without once shedding a tear, +but now she has a violent fever, and begins to cry. She says she will +be damned, since her dear husband is inevitably so. We go on with our +chapel. The weather is very hot; but the mornings and evenings are +delightful in the woods, and under the shade of the trees before the +house. My apartment is extremely cool. I am afraid you suffer from the +heat in Provence. + + [47] M. Nicole’s Moral Essays. + + +LETTER XVII. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, August 19, 1671. + +You describe very humorously the disorder my perfumed paper occasioned +you. Those who saw you read my letters must have thought I was dead, +and could never imagine that they contained nothing but chit-chat. I +am very far from correcting myself in the way you imagined. I shall +always run into extremes in what is for your good, if it depends on me. +I already began to think that my paper might do you harm, but I did not +intend to change it till about November. However, I begin from this +day, and for the future you will have nothing to guard against but the +smell. + +You have a tolerable number of the Grignans with you; the Lord +deliver you from the aunt,[48] I feel her troublesome even here. The +chevalier’s sleeves must have had a curious effect at table; but though +they draw every thing along with them, I much question whether they +would draw me; fond as I am of fashion, I have a great aversion to +slovenliness. Vitré would be a famous place for him. I think I never +saw such profusion before. There is not a table at court that can come +up to the meanest of the twelve or fifteen that are constantly kept up +here; and, indeed, there is occasion for all this, for there are no +less than three hundred people to be provided for, who have nowhere +else to eat. I left this good town last Monday, after having made your +compliments to Mme. de Chaulnes and Mme. de Murinais. Nothing could +be more cordially received, or more warmly returned. All Brittany was +drunk on that day. We dined apart. Forty gentlemen dined in a lower +room, each of whom drank forty toasts; the king’s was the first, and +then the glasses were broken. All this was done under pretense of +extreme joy and gratitude for a hundred thousand crowns which his +majesty had remitted out of the free gift the province had made him, as +a recompense for their having so cheerfully complied with his request. +So now there is only two millions two hundred thousand livres, instead +of five hundred thousand. The king, too, has written a letter with +his own hand, full of the kindest expressions to his good province of +Brittany. This letter the governor read to the States assembled, and +a copy of it was registered. Upon this they shouted _Vive le roi!_ +and immediately fell to drinking; and drink they did, God knows! M. +de Chaulnes did not forget the gouvernante of Provence; and a Breton +gentleman going to toast you by your name, and not well remembering +it, got up, and, in a loud voice, exclaimed, “Here is to Madame de +_Carignan_.” This ridiculous mistake made M. de Chaulnes laugh till the +tears came into his eyes. The Bretons drank it, thinking it was right; +and, for a week to come, you will be nothing but Madame de Carignan; +some called you the Countess of Carignan. This was the state of things +when I left them. + + [48] Ann d’Ornano, Countess of Harcourt, aunt to M. de Grignan. + +I have shown Pomenars what you say of him. He is highly delighted with +it; but I assure you he is so hardened and impudent, that once or twice +in a day he makes the first president leave the room, to whom he is a +mortal enemy, as well as to the procurator-general. Madame de Coëtquen +had just received the news of the death of her little girl, and fainted +away. She is in great affliction, and says she shall never have so +pretty a one. Her husband is quite inconsolable; he is just returned +from Paris, after having made matters up with Le Bordage. This was a +most extraordinary affair; he has transferred all his resentments to +M. de Turenne.[49] I suppose you know nothing of this, but it fell +unintentionally from my pen. There was a pretty ball on Sunday. We saw +a girl of Lower Brittany who, they said, bore away the palm. She was +the most ridiculous creature I ever saw, and threw herself into such +attitudes as made us die with laughing. But there were other dancers, +both men and women, that were really admirable. + + [49] Glory, which is the last passion of the sage, was not the + only passion of Turenne; for, at the age of sixty, he was in love + with Madame de Coëtquen. + +If you ask me how I like my Rocks after all this hurry, I shall tell +you that I am delighted to be here again. I shall stay for a week or +ten days at least, in spite of their endeavors to get me back. I want +rest more than I can describe to you. I want to sleep; I want to eat, +for I am starved at these fêtes. I want the fresh air; I want silence, +for I was attacked on all sides, and my lungs were almost worn out with +talking. In short, my dear, I found our abbé, La Mousse, my dog, my +mall, Philois, and my masons, all as I left them, and they are the only +things that can do me any good in my present condition. + + +LETTER XVIII. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, August 23, 1671. + +You were with the president of Charme’s lady, then, when you wrote to +me. Her husband was the intimate friend of Monsieur Fouquet. Am I right +in this? In short, my dear, you were not alone; and M. de Grignan acted +wisely in making you leave your closet to entertain your company. He +might, however, have spared his capuchin’s beard, though he did not +appear much the worse for it in your eyes, for when he was at Livri, +with _his bushy tuft_,[50] you thought him handsomer than Adonis. I +often repeat these four verses with admiration. It is surprising what +an impression the remembrance of any particular time makes upon the +mind, whether good or bad. Sometimes I think of that delicious autumn; +and then again, when I reflect on the latter part of it, I sweat with +horror;[51] yet we ought to be thankful to Providence, who delivered +you out of the danger you were in. + + [50] _Sa touffe ébouriffée_. Part of a _bout rimé_, filled up by + Madame de Grignan. + + [51] On account of a miscarriage that Madame de Grignan had at + Livri, the 4th November, 1669. + +Your reflections upon the death of M. de Guise are admirable; they have +made me plow up my mall with my eyes; for it is there I meditate with +most pleasure. Poor La Mousse has been afflicted with the tooth-ache, +so that for a long time I have walked alone till night, and thought +of--God knows what I have not thought of. Do not be under apprehensions +of my growing weary of solitude: set aside the ills that arise from +my own heart, and against which I have not strength to struggle, and +I am not to be pitied in any respect. I am of a happy temper; I can +accommodate myself to, and be pleased with any thing; and I prefer my +retirement here to all the noise and pageantry of Vitré. I have been +here a week, and the tranquillity I have enjoyed has cured me of a +dreadful cold. I have drank nothing but water; have talked very little; +have left off suppers; and by this method, without having shortened my +walks, I am quite well again. Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Murinais, +Madame Fourché, and a very fine girl from Nantes, came here last +Thursday. Madame de Chaulnes told me, as she came into my room, that +she could exist no longer without seeing me; that she had the weight of +all Brittany upon her shoulders, and should die with fatigue. She then +flung herself upon my bed; we sat round her, and she was fast asleep in +a minute, from mere fatigue, though we continued talking. At last she +awoke, highly charmed with the ease and freedom we enjoy at the Rocks. +We then took a walk. Afterward she and I sat down to rest ourselves in +the center of the wood, and while the rest were diverting themselves +at mall, I made her tell me how she came to marry M. de Chaulnes; for +I always love to fish out something by way of amusement; but in the +midst of our entertainment there came on just so treacherous a shower +like the one you may remember at Livri, that we were nearly drowned. +The water ran from our clothes in streams; it came through the trees in +a moment, and we were instantly wet to the skin. We ran as fast as we +could, some screaming, others sliding, others falling. At last we got +in, a roaring fire was made, we changed our dress from head to foot, I +furnishing the whole wardrobe. We dried our shoes, and were ready to +die with laughing all the while. In this manner was the gouvernante +of Brittany treated in her own government. After this we had a slight +repast, and then the poor woman left us, more vexed, I dare say, at the +part she had to play when she got home, than at the affront she had +received here. She made me promise to relate this adventure to you, and +to come and assist her to-morrow in entertaining the States, which will +break up in about a week. I engaged to do both; of the one I now acquit +myself, and of the other I shall acquit myself to-morrow, as I can not +help showing her this civility. + + +LETTER XIX. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, September 16, 1671. + +I am wicked to-day, my child. I am just in the same humor as when you +used to say, “_You are wicked_.” I am very dull and spiritless: I have +not heard from you. “Warm affections are never tranquil;” _a maxim_. +It rains; we are quite alone; in short, I wish you a pleasanter day +than I am likely to have. What greatly perplexes the abbé, La Mousse, +and the rest of my party, is, that there is no remedy for the evil. +I want it to be Friday, that I may have a letter from you, and it is +but Wednesday. This puzzles them. They do not know what to do for me +in this case, for if, in the excess of their friendship, they were to +assure me it was Friday, that would be still worse; for if I had not +a letter from you then, I should be lost to all reason. I am obliged +to have patience; though patience, you know, is a virtue that I am not +much in the habit of practising; but I shall be easy before three days +have passed. I am very anxious to know how you are after your alarm. +These alarms are my aversion; for though I am not with child myself, +they make me become so, that is, they put me in a condition that +entirely destroys my health. However, my uneasiness does not at present +reach so far; for I am persuaded you have been prudent enough to keep +your bed, and that will have set all matters right again. Do not tell +me, that you will not let me know any thing about your health; that +would make me desperate, and having no longer any confidence in what +you say, I should be always in the way I am in at present. We are, it +must be owned, at a fine distance from each other, and if either of us +had any thing upon the mind that required immediate relief, we should +have plenty of time to hang ourselves in. + +I thought it necessary yesterday to take a small dose of morality, +and I found myself a great deal the better for it; and still more so +for a little criticism on the Bérénice of Racine, which I thought +very diverting and ingenious. It is by the author[52] of the sylphs, +gnomes, and salamanders. There are a few words which are not quite so +good as they should be, and even unbecoming a man who knows the world; +these grate the ear; but, as they occur only here and there, they +ought not to prejudice us against the whole, which, I assure you, upon +examination, I found a very well-written critique. As I fancied this +trifle would have diverted you, I heartily wished for you by my side in +the closet, provided you could return again to your magnificent castle +as soon as you had read it. And yet I own I should have felt some pain +in letting you go so soon. I know too well what the last parting cost +me. It would partake of the humor I have just been complaining of. I +can not think of it even now without shuddering; but you are safe from +this inconvenience. I hope this letter will find you cheerful; if so, +I beg you will burn it directly, for it would be very extraordinary if +it should be agreeable to you, considering the horrid humor I write it +in. It is very happy for the coadjutor that I do not answer his letter +to-day. + + [52] The Abbé Villars, author of the Count de Gabalis. + +I have a great inclination to ask you a thousand questions by way of +finishing this performance worthily. Have you many grapes? you tell +me only of figs. Is the weather very hot? you do not say a word about +it. Have you such charming cattle as we have at Paris? Has your aunt +D’Harcourt been with you long? You see that, having lost so many of +your letters, I am quite ignorant how matters stand, and have entirely +lost the thread of your discourse. Ah! how I long to beat somebody! +and how much I should be obliged to any Breton that would come and say +something very silly, to put me in a passion! You told me the other day +that you were glad I was returned to my solitude that I might think +of you. Very pretty that! as if I did not think sufficiently of you +in every other place. Farewell, my dear--this is the best part of my +letter. I finish, because I think I talk foolishly, and I must preserve +my credit. + + +LETTER XX. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, Sept. 30, 1671. + +I believe the _Leonic_ opinion is now the most ascertained. He +understands the subject completely, can tell whether matter reasons or +not, what kind of intelligence God has given to the brute creation, +with other subjects that occupied his thoughts. You may perceive by +this that I suppose him in heaven, _O che spero!_[53] He died on Monday +morning; I was then at Vitré and saw him, but I wish I had not seen +him. His brother seems inconsolable; I invited him to my woods that he +might weep at liberty, but he told me he was too deeply afflicted to +seek consolation. The poor bishop was only five and thirty years of +age; he was well provided for, and had an admirable taste for science; +this was, in fact, the cause of his death, as it was of Pascal’s--he +wore himself out with study. You are not much interested in this +detail; but it is the news of the place, and you must, therefore, bear +with it. Death, in my opinion, is the concern of every one, and its +consequences strike home to our bosoms. + + [53] O, how I wish it! + +I read M. Nicole with a degree of pleasure that lifts me above the +earth. I am particularly charmed with his third treatise on the +means of preserving peace and harmony among mankind. Read it, I +beseech you, and with attention; you will see how clearly he develops +the intricacies of the human heart, in which every sect is alike +included--philosophers, Jansenists, Molinists, in short, all mankind: +this may truly be called searching to the bottom of the heart with a +lantern. He discovers to us sensations that we feel daily, but which we +have neither the wit to comprehend nor the sincerity to acknowledge. +In a word, I never read any thing like it, except Pascal. Were it not +for the amusement of our books we should be moped to death for want +of employment. It rains incessantly. I need say no more to make you +conceive how dull our situation is. But you who enjoy a sunshine which +is so much the object of my envy, how do I pity you to be torn from +Grignan, while the weather is delightful, in the middle of autumn, and +from an agreeable society, and all this to be shut up in a little dirty +town! I can not bear the idea. Could not M. de Grignan have put off the +assembly a little longer? Is he not master in this respect? And poor +Coulanges, what will become of him? Our recluse mode of life has so +turned our brains that we make matters of consequence of every thing. +Receiving and answering letters takes up some of our time, indeed, but +we have always enough left upon our hands. You make our abbé proud +by the kind things you say of him in your letters. I am satisfied +with him on your account. As for La Mousse, he catechises Sundays and +holidays; he is resolved to go to heaven. I tell him it is only out of +curiosity, to see whether the sun is a heap of dust, continually in +motion, or a globe of fire. The other day he assembled all the children +of the village about him, and was catechising them, but after several +questions they had so confounded things, that when he asked them who +the Blessed Virgin was, they all with one accord answered, “The Creator +of heaven and earth.” His faith was not shaken by the children, but +finding the men and women, and even the old people, all in the same +story, he began to doubt, and at length joined in the opinion; in +short, he did not know what he was about, and if I had not luckily come +to his aid he would never have got out of the scrape. This new opinion +would certainly have been productive of more mischief than that of the +motion of atoms. Farewell, my dear child, you see we tickle ourselves +in order to laugh, to so low an ebb are we reduced. + + +LETTER XXI. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, October, 7, 1671. + +You know I am always carried away by what I read, so that it is for +the interest of those I converse with, that I should read none but the +best books. I can think of nothing at present but M. Nicole’s Moral +Reflections. His treatise on the means of preserving peace among men, +delights me. I never met with any thing so truly practical, yet so full +of fire and imagination. If you have not yet read it, I beg you will. +If you have read it, read it again with additional attention. For my +part, I think all mankind are included in it. I am persuaded it was +made for me, and hope to profit by it; at least I shall endeavor to do +so. You know I could never bear the old saying, “I am too old to mend;” +I could much sooner pardon the young for saying, I am too young. Youth +is in itself so amiable, that were the soul as perfect as the body, +we could not forbear adoring it; but when youth is past, it is then +we ought to think of improvements, and endeavor to supply the loss of +personal charms by the graces and perfections of the mind. I have long +made this the subject of meditation, and am determined to work every +day at my mind, my soul, my heart, and my sentiments. I am full of +this at present, and therefore fill my letter with it, having besides +nothing of greater consequence to tell you. + +I suppose you are at Lambesc, but I can not see you clearly from hence; +there is a mist about my imagination that conceals you from my sight. I +had formed an idea of Grignan, I saw your apartment, used to walk upon +your terrace, and went to mass at your beautiful church. But now I am +quite at a loss; I wait with great impatience for intelligence from +your new quarters. I will write no more to-day, though I have a great +deal of time upon my hands; for I have nothing but trifles to tell +you, which would be an affront to the lady-lieutenant of a province, +who is holding the States, and, consequently, has weighty affairs upon +her hands. It may do well enough when you are in your little palace +of Apollo. Our abbé and La Mousse are very much yours; and I, my dear +child, need I tell you what I am, or what you are to me? + + +LETTER XXII. + + THE ROCKS. Wednesday, November 4, 1671. + +Let us talk of M. Nicole, it is a long time since we have said a +word about him. There is a great deal of justice in your observation +respecting the indifference he requires us to show to the opinion of +the world; I think with you, that philosophy will hardly be found +sufficient of itself, without the assistance of grace. He lays so great +a stress on preserving peace and good fellowship with our neighbor, +and recommends so many things to us in order to attain these, that it +is next to an impossibility, after this, to be indifferent to what +the world thinks of us. Guess what I am doing; I am beginning this +treatise again--methinks I could wish to swallow it, like Ezekiel’s +roll. I am delighted with what he says on the subject of pride and +self-love, which enter into all disputes, under the feigned name of the +love of truth. In short, this treatise will apply to more than one in +the world; but I can not help thinking that he had me principally in +view when he wrote it. He says, eloquence, and a flow of words, give a +_luster_ to the thoughts. I greatly admire that expression; I thought +it beautiful and new. The word _luster_ is extremely apposite there, do +you not think so? We must read this book together at Grignan. I pass +my time in having masses said for you every day, and in a multitude +of disagreeable thoughts, which can be of no service to you, but +which, however, it is impossible to avoid. I have at present ten or +twelve workmen in the air, raising the timbers of our chapel. They run +backward and forward upon the outside of it like so many rats; they +hold by nothing, and are every instant in danger of breaking their +necks, and make my back ache with endeavoring to help them below. One +can not but admire the wonderful effects of Providence in the desire of +gain, and be thankful such people are created, who are willing to do +for a shilling what others would not do for a hundred thousand pounds. +“O, thrice happy they who plant cabbages! when they have one foot on +the ground, the other is not far off.” I have this from a very good +author.[54] We have planters too with us, who are forming new avenues. +I hold the young trees myself while they set them in the ground, unless +it rains so that there is no being abroad; but the weather almost +drives me to despair, and makes me wish for a sylph to transport me +to Paris. Madame de la Fayette says, that since you tell the story of +Auger in so serious a manner, she is persuaded nothing can be more +true, and that you are by no means jesting with me. She thought at +first that it had been a joke of Coulanges’, and it looks very like it. +If you write to him upon the subject, pray let it be in that style. + + [54] Panurge, in Rabelais. + + +LETTER XXIII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Jan. 13, 1672. + +For Heaven’s sake, my dear child, what do you mean? What pleasure can +you take in thus abusing your person and understanding, vilifying your +conduct, and saying, that one must have great good-nature to think of +you sometimes? Though I am certain you can not believe all you say, yet +it hurts me to hear it; you really make me angry with you; and though, +perhaps, I ought not to answer seriously things that are only said in +jest, yet I can not help scolding you before I go any further. You are +excellent again, when you say you are afraid of wits. Alas! if you knew +how insignificant they are when you are by, and how encumbered they +are with their own dear persons, you would not value them at all. Do +you remember how you used to be deceived in them sometimes? Do not let +distance magnify objects too much; but it is one of its common effects. + +We sup every evening at Madame Scarron’s; she has a most engaging wit, +and an understanding surprisingly just and clear. It is a pleasure to +hear her sometimes reason upon the horrid confusion and distractions of +a country with which she is very well acquainted. The vexations that +Heudicourt undergoes in a place that appears so dazzling and glorious; +the continual rage of Lauzun; the gloomy chagrin and cares of the court +ladies, from which the most envied are not always exempt; are things +which she describes in the most agreeable and entertaining manner. Such +conversations as these lead us insensibly from one moral reflection to +another, sometimes of a religious, sometimes of a political kind. You +are frequently one of our subjects; she admires your wit and manners; +and, whenever you return hither, you are sure of being highly in favor. + +But let me give you an instance of the king’s goodness and generosity, +to show you what a pleasure it is to serve so amiable a master: He +sent for Marshal Bellefond into his closet the other day, and thus +accosted him: “Monsieur le maréchal, I insist upon knowing your reasons +for quitting my service. Is it through a principle of devotion? Is it +from an inclination to retire? Or is it on account of your debts? If +it be the latter, I myself will take charge of them, and inform myself +of the state of your affairs.” The marshal was sensibly affected with +this goodness: “Sire,” said he, “it is my debts; I am overwhelmed +with them, and can not bear to see some of my friends, who assisted +me with their fortunes, likely to suffer on my account, without +having it in my power to satisfy them.” “Well, then,” said the king, +“they shall have security for what is owing to them: I now give you a +hundred thousand francs on your house at Versailles, and a grant of +four hundred thousand more, as a security in case of your death. The +hundred thousand francs will enable you to pay off the arrears, and so +now you remain in my service.” That heart must be insensible indeed, +that could refuse the most implicit obedience to such a master, who +enters with so much goodness and condescension into the interest of his +servants. Accordingly the marshal made no further resistance; he is now +reinstated in his place, and loaded with favors. This is all strictly +true. + +Not a night passes at St. Germain without balls, plays, or masquerades. +The king shows an assiduity to divert this madame that he never did for +the other. Racine has brought out a new piece called Bajazet, which +they say carries every thing before it: indeed it does not go _in +emperando_, as the others did. Monsieur de Tallard says, that it as +much exceeds the best piece of Corneille’s, as Corneille’s does one of +Boyer’s; this now is what you may call praising by the lump; there is +nothing like telling truth; however, our eyes and ears will inform us +more fully; for + + Du bruit de Bajazet mon âme importunée[55] + +obliges me to go immediately to the play; we shall see what it is. + + [55] A line in Despréaux. + +I have been at Livri. Ah, my dear child, how well did I keep my word +with you, and how many tender thoughts of you filled my breast! It was +delightful weather, though very cold; but the sun shone finely, and +every tree was hung with pearls and crystals, that formed a pleasing +diversity of colors. I walked a great deal. The next day I dined at +Pomponne. It would not be an easy matter to recount all that passed +during a stay of five hours; however, I was not at all tired with my +visit. Monsieur de Pomponne will be here in three or four days. I +should be very much vexed if I was obliged to apply to him about your +Provence affairs; I am persuaded he will not hear me. You see I give +myself airs of knowledge. But really nothing comes up to M. d’Uzès; I +never saw a man of better understanding, nor one more capable of giving +sound advice. I wait to see him, that I may inform you of what he has +done at St. Germain. + +You desire me to write you long letters; I think you have now +sufficient reason to be contented; I am sometimes frightened at the +length of them myself; and were it not for your agreeable flattery, I +should never think of venturing them out of my hands. Madame de Brissac +is excellently provided for the winter, in M. de Longueville and the +Count de Guiche; but nothing is meant but what is fair and honorable, +only she takes a pleasure in being adored. La Marans is never seen +now, either at Madame de la Fayette’s or at M. de la Rochefoucault’s; +we can not find out what she is doing; we are apt to judge a little +rashly now and then; she took it into her head this summer, that she +should be ravished, as if she wished it; but I am of opinion that she +is in no great danger. Good Heavens, what a mad creature she is, and +how long have I looked on her in the same light as you do now! But now +let me tell you, my dear, it is not my fault that I do not see Madame +de la Valavoire.[56] I am sure there is no occasion to bid me go and +see her, it is enough that she has seen you, for me to run after her; +but then she is running after somebody else; for I might forever desire +her to wait at home for me; I can not get her to do me that favor. +Your jest applies admirably to M. le Grand, and a very good one it is. +Poor Châtillon is every day teasing us with the most wretched ones +imaginable. + + [56] A lady of quality in Provence, who was just then come to + Paris. + + +LETTER XXIV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, June 20, 1672. + +I send you M. de Rochefoucault’s Maxims, revised and corrected, with +additions; it is a present to you from himself. Some of them I can make +shift to guess the meaning of; but there are others that, to my shame +be it spoken, I can not understand at all. God knows how it will be +with you. There is a dispute between the archbishop of Paris and the +archbishop of Rheims about a point of ceremony: Paris will have Rheims +ask leave of him, as his superior, to officiate, which Rheims will not +consent to. It is said that these two right reverends will never agree +till they are thirty or forty leagues asunder; if that is the case, +they are both of them likely to continue as they are. The ceremony +it relates to is the canonization of one Borgia, a Jesuit. The whole +opera band is to exert itself on the occasion; the streets will be +illuminated, even to the Rue St. Antoine; the people are all mad about +it: old Mérinville, however, has died without having seen it. + +Do not deceive yourself, my child, by entertaining too good an +opinion of my letters. The other day an impertinent fellow, seeing +the monstrous length of a letter I was writing to you, asked me very +seriously, if I thought any body could possibly read it all: I trembled +at the thought of it, but without any intention of amendment; for the +correspondence I have with you is my existence, the sole pleasure +of my life; and every other consideration is but mean, when put in +competition with it. I am uneasy about your brother; poor fellow! The +weather is very cold: he lies in camp, and is still on the march to +Cologne, for the Lord knows how long! I was in hopes of seeing him this +winter, and see where he is now! After all, I find little Mademoiselle +Adhémar must be the comfort of my old age: I wish you could but see +how fond she is of me; how she cries after me, and hangs about me. She +is not a beauty, but she is very pleasing--has a delightful voice, and +a skin as clear and white ... In short, I doat on her. You, it seems, +doat on your boy; I am very glad of it; we can not have too many things +to amuse us; real or imaginary, it does not signify. + +To-morrow there is to be a ball at Madame’s. I saw a heap of jewels +tossing about at mademoiselle’s, which put me in mind of past troubles: +and yet, would to Heaven we were at the same work again! For how can I +be unhappy while you are with me? Alas! my whole life is one continued +scene of sorrow and disappointment. Dear Monsieur Nicole! have pity +on me; and teach me to bear, with patience, the dispensations of +Providence. Farewell, my dearest child, I dare not say I adore you; but +I can not conceive any degree of love superior to mine: the kind and +pleasing assurances you give me of yours, at once lighten and increase +my sorrows. + + +LETTER XXV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, March 16, 1672. + +You talk to me of my departure: alas! my dear, I languish in the +pleasing hope of it; nothing now stops me, but my poor aunt,[57] who +is dying with violent pain and dropsy: it breaks my heart to see her +sufferings, and to hear the tender and affecting manner in which she +talks to me: her courage, patience, and resignation, are all together +admirable. M. d’Hacqueville and I observe her distemper from day to +day; he sees my inmost heart, and knows what grief it is to me not to +be at liberty at present: I am entirely guided by him, and we shall +see, between this and Easter, whether her disorder increases as much +as it has done since I came hither; if it does, she will die in our +arms; but if she receives any relief, and is likely to languish for any +length of time, I shall then set out as soon as M. de Coulanges comes +back. Our poor abbé is as vexed at this as myself; but we shall be able +to judge how it will turn out by next month. I can think of nothing +else: you can not wish to see me so much as I do to embrace you; so put +some bounds to your ambition, and do not hope ever to equal me in that +respect. + + [57] Henrietta de Coulanges, Marchioness de la Trousse. + +My son tells me, they lead a wretched life in Germany, and are working +all in the dark. He was greatly concerned at the death of the poor +chevalier. You ask me if I am as fond of life as ever: I must own +to you that I experience mortifications, and severe ones too; but I +am still unhappy at the thoughts of death: I consider it so great a +misfortune to see the termination of all my pursuits, that I should +desire nothing better, if it were practicable, than to begin life +again. I find myself engaged in a scene of confusion and trouble: I +was embarked in life without my own consent, and know I must leave it +again: that distracts me; for how shall I leave it? in what manner? by +what door? at what time? in what disposition? Am I to suffer a thousand +pains and torments that will make me die in a state of despair? Shall I +lose my senses? Am I to die by some sudden accident? How shall I stand +with God? What shall I have to offer to him? Will fear and necessity +make my peace with him? Shall I have no other sentiment, but that of +fear? What have I to hope? Am I worthy of heaven? or have I deserved +the torments of hell? Dreadful alternative! Alarming uncertainty! +Can there be greater madness than to place our eternal salvation in +uncertainty? Yet what is more natural, or can be more easily accounted +for, than the foolish manner in which I have spent my life? I am +frequently buried in thoughts of this nature, and then death appears +so dreadful to me that I hate life more for leading me to it, than I +do for all the thorns that are strewed in its way. You will ask me +then, if I would wish to live forever? Far from it; but if I had been +consulted, I would very gladly have died in my nurse’s arms; it would +have spared me many vexations, and would have insured heaven to me at a +very easy rate: but let us talk of something else. + +I am quite provoked that you have received Bajazet from any hand but +mine; that fellow Barbin[58] has served me this trick, out of spite, +because I do not write Princesses of Clèves and Montpensier.[59] You +form a very just and true judgment of Bajazet, and you will find that +I am of your opinion: I wish I could send you Champmêlée to enliven +it a little. The character of Bajazet wants life, and the manners of +the Turks are ill preserved: their marriages have less ceremony; the +plot is badly managed; and we are at a loss to account for so much +slaughter: the piece has doubtless its beauties; but there is nothing +superlative; nothing perfect; none of those fine strokes, that, like +Corneille’s, make one tremble. Let us be cautious how we compare Racine +with him; the difference between them is great: the pieces of the +latter are in many places cold and feeble; nor will he ever be able to +surpass his Alexander and Andromache. Many persons consider Bajazet as +inferior to both these, and it is my opinion also, if I may be allowed +to give it. Racine’s plays are written for Champmêlée, and not for +posterity;[60] whenever he grows old and ceases to be in love, it will +be seen whether I am mistaken or not. Long live then our old friend +Corneille; let us forgive the bad lines we occasionally meet with for +the sake of those divine sallies that so often transport us, those +masterly strokes that bid defiance to imitation. Despréaux has said as +much before me; and it is in general the opinion of every one of good +taste; let us therefore maintain it. + + [58] A famous bookseller of that name. + + [59] Two romances written by Madame de la Fayette, by which + Barbin got a great deal of money. + + [60] The event has proved, by Mithridates, Phædra, and Athaliah, + that Madame de Sévigné’s judgment partook of the prejudice of the + times in which she wrote. + +I send you a witticism of Madame de Cornuel’s, which has highly +diverted the crowd. Young M. Tombonneau has quitted the long robe, +and taken to the jacket and trowsers: in short, he is resolved to go +to sea; I do not know in what way the land has offended him; however, +somebody told Madame de Cornuel that he was going to sea. “Lord bless +the man!” said she, “has he been bitten by a mad dog?” As this was said +off hand, it raised a great laugh. + + +LETTER XXVI. + + PARIS, Wednesday, May 4, 1672. + +It is impossible, my dear child, to tell you how much I pity, how much +I praise, and how much I admire you: thus I divide my discourse into +three heads. First, _I pity you_ in being so subject to the vapors and +low spirits, as they will certainly do you much harm. Secondly, _I +praise you_ for subduing them when there is occasion, especially on M. +de Grignan’s account, whom they must make very uneasy; it is a pleasing +proof of the regard and consideration you have for him. Thirdly and +lastly, _I admire you_ for suppressing your natural inclination, to +appear what you are not: this is really heroic, and the fruit of your +philosophy: you have ample matter in yourself to call it into exercise. +We were saying the other day that there is no real evil in life, except +great pain; all the rest is merely imaginary, and depends on the light +in which we view things. All other evils are curable either by time, +moderation in our wishes, or strength of mind; and may be lightened +by reflection, religion, or philosophy. But pain tyrannizes over both +soul and body. Confidence in God may indeed enable us to bear it with +patience, and turn it to our advantage, but it will not diminish it. + +This seems to savor of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain,[61] but it +comes from my poor aunt’s apartment, where I was the leader of the +conversation. The subject arose naturally from her extreme sufferings, +which, she maintains, are infinitely superior to every evil that life +is subject to. M. de la Rochefoucault is of the same opinion: he is +still tormented with the gout; he has lost his true mother,[62] and he +lamented her death so tenderly and affectionately that I almost adored +him: she was a woman of extraordinary merit, and was the only person +in the world, he said, who was unchangeable in her love to him. Fail +not to write to him; both you and M. de Grignan. M. de Rochefoucault’s +affection for his family is unparalleled: he maintains that it is one +of the chains that attach us to one another. We have discovered, and +related, and reconciled many things relative to his foolish mother +(Madame de Marans), which explain to us clearly what you once said, +that it was not what we thought, but quite another thing; yes truly it +was quite another thing, or perhaps better still, it was this and that +too; one was without prejudice to the other; she wedded the lute to the +voice, and spiritual things to coarseness and indelicacy. My child, we +have found a good vein, and one which explains the mystery of a quarrel +you once had in the council-chamber of Madame de la Fayette. I will +tell you the rest in Provence. + + [61] That is, from Madame de la Fayette, at whose house M. de + Rochefoucault, and some of the most select company in Paris, + used to meet. + + [62] Gabrielle du Plessis Liancourt. + +My aunt is in a state which does not seem likely to terminate. Your +journey is exceedingly well-timed, perhaps ours may tally with it. We +have a great desire to pass some part of our Whitsuntide on the road, +either at Moulins or at Lyons. The abbé wishes it no less than myself. +There is not a man of quality (of the sword I mean) in Paris. I went +on Sunday to hear mass at the Minims. “We shall find our poor Minims +quite deserted,” said I to Mademoiselle de la Trousse, “we shall not +find a creature there, except the Marquis d’Alluye.”[63] Well, we went +into the church, where the first and only creature we saw was the +Marquis d’Alluye: I could not help laughing till I fairly cried at the +oddity of the thing; in short he is left behind, and is going to his +government on the sea-coast. The coast must be guarded, you know. + + [63] Paul d’Escloubleau, Marquis d’Alluye and de Sourdis, + governor of the city and country of Orleans, and of the Pays + Chartrain. + +The lover of her whom you style _the incomparable_,[64] did not meet +her at the first stage, but on the road, in a house of Sanguin’s, a +little beyond that which you know; he remained there two hours. It is +thought he then saw the children for the first time. The fair one stays +there, attended by a guard and a female friend; she is to be there for +four or five months. Madame de la Vallière is at St. Germain. Madame +de Thianges is here with her father; I saw her daughter the other day, +she is beautiful beyond all imagination. Some people pretend that the +king went straight to Nanteuil, but it is certain that the fair one is +at the house called Genitoi. I tell you nothing but the truth; there is +nothing I have a greater aversion and contempt for than idle stories. + + [64] The king and Madame de Montespan. + +You have taken your departure, then, my dear. Well, I will live in the +hope of hearing from you at every stage. I shall not be behindhand on +my side. I have managed so well as to find a friend at the post-office, +who is very careful of our letters. I have for these several days past +been occupied in adorning my cottage; Saint Aubin has effected wonders. +I shall sleep there to-morrow. I swear to you that the reason I like +it so well is because it is intended for you. You will be very well +accommodated in my apartment, and I shall not be less so. I will tell +you how charmingly every thing is contrived. I am extremely uneasy +about your poor brother; this terrible war makes us tremble for those +we love; whenever I think of it it fills me with horror; but then, +again, I comfort myself with the thought that it may not be so bad as I +apprehend, for I have remarked that things seldom happen as we expect +them to do. + +Pray let me know what has happened between the Princess Harcourt and +you.[65] Brancas is dreadfully chagrined that you do not love his +daughter. M. d’Uzès has promised to re-establish peace between all +parties: I should be glad to know what has occasioned the coolness +between you. + + [65] Frances de Brancas, wife of Alphonso Henry Chartres, of + Lorrain, Prince of Harcourt, and daughter of Charles de Brancas, + gentleman of honor to Queen Anne of Austria. + +You tell me of your son, that his beauty grows less, and his merit +increases: I am sorry for the loss of his beauty, and I am rejoiced +to find that he loves wine; this is a little spice of Brittany and +Burgundy together, which will produce a charming effect with the +prudence of the Grignans. As for your daughter, she is quite the +reverse; her beauty increases, and her merit lessens. I assure you, +she is very pretty, but as obstinate as a demon; she has her little +wills and little designs of her own; she diverts us extremely; she has +a beautiful complexion, blue eyes, black hair, a nose neither handsome +nor ugly; her chin, her cheeks, and the turn of her face are faultless. +I shall say nothing of her mouth, it will do very well. She has a very +sweet voice: Madame de Coulanges thinks it suits her mouth admirably. + +I fancy, my dear child, that I shall at last be a convert to your +opinion. I meet with vexations in life that are insupportable, and +find, notwithstanding my fine reasoning at the beginning of this +letter, there are many evils which, though less severe than bodily +pain, are nevertheless equally to be dreaded. + + +LETTER XXVII. + + PARIS, Friday, May 30, 1672. + +I had no letter from you yesterday, my poor child. Your journey to +Monaco had put you quite out of sorts. I was afraid some little +disaster of this kind would befall me. I now send you news from M. de +Pomponne; the fashion of being wounded is already begun; my heart is +very heavy with the fears of this campaign. My son writes by every +opportunity; he is at present in good health. + +My aunt is still in a deplorable state, and yet we have the courage to +think of appointing a day for our departure, assuming a hope which in +reality we can not entertain. I can not help thinking that many of the +events of life are ill-arranged; they are, as it were, rugged stones +lying across our way, too unwieldy to be removed, and which we must +get over as well as we can, though not without pain and difficulty. Is +not the comparison just? I shall not bring my little girl with me; she +goes on very well at Livri, and is to stay there during the summer. You +never saw Livri in such perfection as it is at present; the trees are +beautifully green, and the honeysuckles are every where in profusion. +I am not yet tired of their perfume. But you despise our shrubberies +since you have been accustomed to your groves of orange-trees. + +I have a very tragical history to communicate to you from Livri. Do +you remember that pretended devotee, who walked so steadily without +turning his head that you would have thought he was carrying a glass +of water upon it? His devotion has turned his brain. One night he gave +himself five or six stabs with a knife, and fell on his knees in his +cell, naked, and weltering in his blood. On entering, he was found in +this posture. “Good God! brother, what have you done? Who has treated +you thus?” He replied, very calmly, “Father, I am doing penance.” He +fainted away; he was put to bed; his wounds, which were found very +dangerous, were dressed; with uncommon care and attention he recovered +at the end of three months, and was sent back to his friends. + +If you do not think such a head sufficiently disordered, tell me +so, and you shall have the story of Madame Paul,[66] who is fallen +desperately in love with a great booby of five or six and twenty, whom +she had taken to be her gardener. The lady has managed her affairs +admirably; she has married him. The fellow is a mere brute, and has +not common sense; he will beat her soon, he has already threatened to +do it; no matter, she was resolved to have him. I have never seen such +violent love; there is all the extravagance of sentiments imaginable, +were they but rightly applied; but they are like a rough sketch of +an ill painting; all the colors are there, they want only to be +properly disposed. It is extremely amusing to me to meditate on the +caprices of love. I feel frightened for myself when I see such things! +What insolence, to attack Mme. Paul--that is to say, austere, old, +straight-laced virtue herself! + + [66] Widow to the gardener at Livri. + + +LETTER XXVIII. + + PARIS, Monday, June 20, 1672. + +I can not reflect upon the situation you have been in, without great +emotion; and though I know you are out of danger, yet I can not turn my +eyes on what has passed without a horror that distracts me. Alas, how +much was I in the dark about a health that was so dear to me! If any +one had told me that my daughter was in greater danger than if she had +been in the army, how little should I have believed it! Must I suffer +this useless grief in addition to so many other sorrows that afflict +my heart? The extreme danger my son is in; the war, which rages every +day with greater violence; the couriers, who bring no other news but +the death of some friend or acquaintance, and may bring accounts more +fatal; the fear of hearing ill news, and yet the curiosity of knowing +it; the desolation of those who are in excess of grief, and with whom +I pass a great part of my time; the strange state of health my aunt is +in, and my extreme desire of seeing you; all this afflicts and consumes +me, and forces me to lead a life so contrary to my inclination, that I +have need of more than a common share of health to support it. + +You have never seen Paris as it is at present; all the world is in +tears, or fears to be so. Poor Madame de Nogent is almost beside +herself. Madame de Longueville pierces every heart with her complaints. +I have not seen her indeed, but this is what I am told. Mademoiselle de +Vertus returned two days since from Port-Royal, where she resides. They +sent for her and M. Arnauld, to impart to Madame de Longueville the +terrible news. The very sight of Mademoiselle de Vertus was sufficient; +her sudden return was too sure a sign that some fatal accident had +happened. As soon therefore as she appeared--“Ah! mademoiselle, how +is it with my brother?”[67] She did not dare, even in thought, to +inquire further. “Madam, he is recovered of his wound--there has been +a battle--” “And my son?” No answer was made. “Ah! mademoiselle, my +son, my dear child! answer me; is he dead?” “I have no words to answer +you, madam.” “Oh, my dear son! Was he killed on the spot? Had he not +a single moment? Oh, God! what a sacrifice is this!” And she threw +herself upon the bed, and by expressions of the most lively sorrow, by +fainting-fits, by convulsions, by the silence of despair, by stifled +cries, by sudden bursts of passion, by floods of bitter tears, by eyes +uplifted to heaven, and by heart-rending complaints, she exhibited all +the various emotions of grief. She sees a few friends; and, in pure +submission to Providence, consents to receive such nourishment as is +just sufficient to keep life and soul together. She takes no rest; +her health, before in a declining state, is visibly altered for the +worse. For my part, I wish her death earnestly, as I can not think +she can survive such a loss. There is a certain gentleman[68] who is +scarcely less affected. I can not help thinking, that if they had met, +in the first moments of their grief, and had been alone together, all +other sentiments would have given place to sighs and tears, redoubled +without intermission; there would have been a dumb scene of sorrow, a +dialogue of inarticulate sighs and groans. This is a mere thought of my +own. But, my dear, how great affliction is this! The very mistresses +of poor De Longueville do not constrain themselves; his domestics are +disconsolate; and his gentleman, who came yesterday with the ill news, +scarcely appears a reasonable creature. This death effaces the thoughts +of all others. + + [67] The Prince of Condé. + + [68] M. de la Rochefoucault. + +A courier, who arrived yesterday evening, brings an account of the +death of the Count du Plessis,[69] who was killed by a cannon-shot, as +he was giving directions for making a bridge. Arnheim is besieged by M. +Turenne. They did not attack the fort of Skeing, as it was defended by +eight thousand men. Alas! these successful beginnings will be followed +with a tragical end for a great number of families. May Heaven preserve +my poor son! He was not upon this expedition; but the campaign is not +yet finished. + + [69] Alexander de Choiseul, Count du Plessis, son of Cæsar de + Choiseul, Marshal of France. + +In the midst of our afflictions, the description you have given me of +Madame Colonna and her sister,[70] is really divine; it rouses one +under the most melancholy circumstances. It is an admirable picture. +The Countess de Soissons, and Madame de Bouillon,[71] are quite in +a rage with these fools, and say they ought to be confined. It is +thought that the king will not disoblige the constable[72] (Colonna), +who is certainly one of the greatest men in Rome. In the mean time we +are in expectation of seeing them arrive here like Mademoiselle de +l’Etoile;[73] this comparison is good. + + [70] Hortensia Mancini, Duchess of Mazarin. + + [71] Sisters to Mesdames de Colonna and Mazarin. + + [72] The father of these ladies, and of one of the most powerful + families in Rome. + + [73] In Scarron’s comic romance. + +The accounts I send you are from the best authority; you will find by +all you receive, that M. de Longueville has been the cause of his own +death, as well as of the death of many others; and that the prince +has showed himself, through the whole of this expedition, more like +a father than the general of an army. I said yesterday, and others +agreed with me, that if the war continues, the duke[74] will certainly +occasion the death of the prince. His love for him surpasses every +other consideration. + + [74] Henry Juliers de Bourbon, son of the prince. + +La Marans affects to appear overwhelmed with grief. She says that she +sees very plainly there is something in the news from the army which is +concealed from her; and that the prince and the duke are dead, as well +as M. de Longueville. She conjures people, by all that is sacred, to +speak out, and not to spare her; and tells them, that in her deplorable +situation, it is in vain to hide any thing from her. If it were +possible to laugh under these circumstances, we should laugh at her. +Alas! if she knew how little any of us think of concealing any thing +from her, and how much every one is taken up with his own griefs and +his own fears, she would not have the vanity to believe we paid so much +attention to her as to deceive her. + +The news I send you comes, as I before said, from good authority; I +had it from Gourville, who was with Madame de Longueville when she +heard of her son’s death. All the couriers come straight to him. M. +de Longueville had made his will before he set out. He leaves a great +part of his property to a son he has, who, as I believe, will take the +title of Chevalier d’Orleans,[75] without expense to his relations. +Have you heard how the body of M. de Longueville was disposed of? +It was laid in the same boat in which he passed the river two hours +before. The prince, who was wounded, ordered him to be placed near +him, covered with a cloak, and, with several others who were wounded, +repassed the Rhine to a town on this side of the river, where they came +to have their wounds dressed. It was the most melancholy sight in the +world. They say the Chevalier de Monchevreuil, who was attached to M. +de Longueville, will not have a wound dressed which he received as he +stood next to him. + + [75] He appeared under the name of the Chevalier de Longueville, + and was accidentally killed at Philipsbourg in 1688, by a + soldier, who was shooting at a snipe. See the letter of the 8th + of July following. + +I have received a letter from my son: he is very much grieved at the +death of M. de Longueville. He was not in this expedition, but he is +to be in another. What safety can be hoped for in such a profession? +I advise you to write to M. de la Rochefoucault, on the death of the +chevalier, and the wound of M. de Marsillac. This fatal event has given +me an opportunity of seeing his heart without disguise: for constancy, +worth, tenderness, and good sense, he infinitely surpasses any one I +have ever met with; his wit and humor are nothing in comparison. I will +not amuse myself at present with telling you how much I love you. I +embrace M. de Grignan, and the coadjutor. + + The same evening, at 10 o’clock. + +I made up my packet two hours ago, and on my return to town I +found a letter for me, with the news that a peace was concluded +with Holland. It may easily be imagined that the Dutch are in the +greatest consternation, and glad to submit to any terms; the king’s +success is beyond all that has ever been known. We shall once more +breathe again; but what a cruel addition must this be to the grief +of Madame de Longueville, and all those who have lost children +and near relations! I have seen Marshal du Plessis; he is greatly +afflicted, but demeans himself like a brave soldier. His lady[76] +weeps bitterly; the countess[77] is only disconcerted at not being +a duchess. I think, my dear child, that if it had not been for +the rashness of M. de Longueville, we should have gained Holland +without losing a man. + + [76] Columba de Charron. + + [77] Maria Louisa le Loup de Bellenave. + + +LETTER XXIX. + + PARIS, Friday, Dec. 8, 1673. + +I must begin, my dear child, by telling you of the death of the Count +de Guiche: this is the chief subject of conversation at present. The +poor youth died of sickness and fatigue in M. de Turenne’s army; the +news came on Tuesday morning. Father Bourdaloüe went to acquaint the +Marshal de Grammont with it; who feared it the moment he saw him, +knowing the declining state of his son. He made every one go out of +his chamber, which was a little apartment near the convent of the +Capuchins, and as soon as he found himself alone with Bourdaloüe, he +threw himself upon his neck, saying, that he guessed but too well what +he had to tell him; that it was his death-stroke, and that he received +it as such from the hand of God; that he lost the true, the only object +of his tenderness and natural affection; that he had never experienced +any real joy, or violent grief, but through his son, who was not a +common character. He threw himself on a bed, unable to support his +grief, but without weeping, for this is a situation that denies the +relief of tears. Bourdaloüe wept, but had not yet spoken a word. +At last he began to comfort him with religious discourse, in which +he employed his well-known zeal and eloquence. They were six hours +together; after which Bourdaloüe, to induce him to make a complete +sacrifice, led him to the church of these good Capuchins, where vigils +were said for his son. He entered the church fainting and trembling, +supported more by the crowd that pressed round him on every side, than +by his feet; his face was so much disfigured with grief, that he could +scarcely be known. The duke saw him in this lamentable condition, +and related it to us at Madame de la Fayette’s, with tears. The poor +marshal returned at last to his little apartment, where he remains +like a man under sentence of death. The king has written to him. No +one is admitted to see him. Madame de Monaco[78] is inconsolable, and +refuses to see company. Madame de Louvigny[79] is likewise incapable of +receiving comfort; but it is only because she is not at all grieved. Do +not you wonder at her good fortune? She is in a moment become Duchess +of Grammont. The chancellor’s lady[80] is transported with joy: the +Countess de Guiche[81] behaves admirably well; she weeps when they +tell her all the kind things her husband said, and the excuses he made +to her when he was dying. “He was a very amiable man,” she says; “I +should have loved him passionately, if he had loved me in the slightest +degree; I suffered his contempt with grief, and his death affects me +with pity; I always hoped he would change his sentiments with regard +to me.” This is certainly true; there is not the least fiction in it. +Madame de Verneuil[82] feels real concern on this occasion. I believe +it will be sufficient, if you only desire me to make your compliments +to her; so you need only write to the Countess de Guiche, to Madame de +Monaco, and Madame de Louvigny. The good D’Hacqueville has been desired +to go to Frasé, thirty leagues from hence, to tell the news to Madame +de Grammont, and to carry her a letter written by the poor youth a +little before he died. He made a full confession of the faults of his +past life, asked pardon publicly, and sent to tell Vardes a great many +things which may benefit him. In a word, he ended the comedy well, and +has left a rich and a happy widow.[83] The chancellor’s lady is so +fully sensible, she says, of the little happiness this poor lady must +have had in her marriage, that she thinks of nothing but repairing +this misfortune. We are at a loss for a proper match for her. You will +perhaps name for her M. de Marsillac, as we did; but they do not like +each other: the other dukes are too young. M. de Foix is destined for +Mademoiselle de Roquelaure. Think a little for us, for the affair is +pressing. I have sent you, my dear child, a tedious account, but you +sometimes tell me you like minuteness. + + [78] Catherine Charlotte de Grammont, sister to the Count de + Guiche. + + [79] Maria Charlotte de Castelnau, sister-in-law to the Count. + + [80] Relict of the late Chancellor Seguier, and grandmother to + the Countess de Guiche. + + [81] Margaret Louisa Susan de Bethune Sulli. + + [82] Charlotte de Seguier, mother to the Countess de Guiche: she + first married the Duke de Sulli, and afterward Henry de Bourbon, + Duke de Verneuil. + + [83] She was married afterward to the Duke de Lude, in 1688. The + Count de Guiche had been the lover of Henrietta of England. He + also entered into the intrigues of M. de Vardes. He had made a + brilliant campaign in Poland, and to him was owed the passage of + the Rhine. He was as handsome and witty as he was brave. + + +LETTER XXX. + + PARIS, Monday, Dec. 11, 1673. + +I am just returned from St. Germain, where I have been two whole days +with Madame de Coulanges at M. de la Rochefoucault’s. In the evening +we went to pay our court to the queen, who said a thousand obliging +things to me of you; but if I were to enumerate all the how-d’ ye-do’s +and compliments that I had, both from men and women, old and young, who +crowd about me to inquire after you, I should have to name the whole +court. “And how does Madame de Grignan do? and when will she return?” +and so on. In short, only figure me to yourself in the midst of a crowd +of idle people, who, having nothing else to do, would every one ask me +some question, so that I was frequently obliged to answer twenty at +once. I dined with Madame de Louvois: it was who should be the first +to invite me. I would have returned yesterday, but we were stopped by +force to sup with M. Marsillac in his enchanted apartments with Madame +de Thianges, Madame Scarron, the duke, M. de la Rochefoucault, M. de +Vivonne, and a band of heavenly music. This morning, with much ado, we +got away. + +A quarrel of a singular nature is the news of the day at St. Germain. +The Chevalier de Vendôme, and M. de Vivonne are the humble servants +of Madame de Ludre. The chevalier expressed a wish of compelling M. +de Vivonne to resign his pretensions. But on what grounds? he was +asked. Why, he would fight M. de Vivonne. They laughed at him. It was, +however, no joke, he said, he would fight him; and he mounted his +horse to take the field. But the best of the story was Vivonne’s reply +to the person who brought him the challenge. He was confined to his +room by a wound in his arm, and, receiving the condolence of the whole +court, ignorant of the threat of his rival: “I, gentlemen,” said he, +“I fight! He may fight if he pleases, but I defy him to make me fight. +Let him get his shoulder broken, let the surgeon make twenty incisions +in his arm, and then”--it was thought he was going to say, _we will +fight_--“and then,” said he, “perhaps we may be friends. But the man +must be jesting to think of firing at me! A pretty project, truly! +He might as well fire at the door of a house.[84] I repent, however, +having saved his life in crossing the Rhine, and will do no more such +generous actions till I have the nativity cast of those I intend to +assist. Would any one have thought, when I was remounting this fellow +on his horse, that a few weeks afterward he would want to shoot me +through the head for my kindness?” This speech, from the tone and +manner in which it was delivered, had so droll an effect, that nothing +else is talked of at St. Germain. + + [84] M. de Vivonne was remarkably corpulent. + +I found your siege of Orange very much magnified at court. The king +had spoken of it very agreeably, and it was thought highly honorable +to M. de Grignan, that, without the king’s order, and merely to follow +him, seven hundred gentlemen should have assembled upon the occasion; +for the king having said _seven hundred_, every one else said _seven +hundred_; it was added, with a laugh, that two hundred litters also +followed him. But it is thought, seriously, that few governors could +have obtained such a retinue. + +I have had two hours’ conversation at two different times with M. de +Pomponne. He exceeds my most sanguine hopes. Mademoiselle de Lavocat +is in our confidence: she is a very amiable girl. She knows all our +affairs--the business of the syndic, of the procurator, our gratuity, +opposition, deliberation, etc., as well as she does the map of the +empire and the interest of princes; that is, she has them at her +finger’s end. We call her the _little minister_. We have interludes in +our conversation, which M. de Pomponne calls flashes of rhetoric to +secure the good humor of the audience. There are some points in your +letters I can not reply to; we often answer ridiculously when we write +from such a distance. You know how grieved we once were at the loss of +some town, when they had been rejoicing for ten days at Paris because +the Prince of Orange had raised the siege; but this is one of the evils +of distance. Adieu, my beloved child; I embrace you very affectionately. + + +LETTER XXXI. + + PARIS, Friday, Dec. 22, 1673. + +A piece of political news is just come into my head, and, contrary to +my custom, I shall give it you. You know the King of Poland[85] is +dead. The grand marshal,[86] the husband of Mademoiselle d’Arquien, +is at the head of an army against the Turks; he has lately gained so +complete a victory over them, that fifteen thousand were left dead on +the field of battle, two bashaws are taken prisoners, and he himself +occupies their general’s tent. After so distinguished a victory, it is +not in the least doubted that he will be declared king, especially as +he is at the head of such an army, and that fortune generally declares +in favor of numerous battalions. This piece of news has given me +pleasure. + + [85] Michael Koribert Wiesnowieski, who died November 1673. + + [86] John Sobieski, elected King of Poland, May 20, 1674. He + married the grand-daughter of Marshal d’Arquien, who, after his + death, returned to France. The victory Sobieski gained in 1685, + under the walls of Vienna, and which saved the emperor and the + empire, is still more celebrated than that which is here spoken + of. + +I never now see the Chevalier de Buous. He is enraged at not being made +a _chef d’escadre_.[87] He is at St. Germain, and I am in hopes he will +manage his affairs so well as to obtain his desire at last: I sincerely +wish it. The Archbishop (of Arles) has written to assure me of the +joy the affair of Orange has given him, and that he hopes that of the +Syndicate will end no less happily. He finds himself obliged to own, by +the event, that your vigor was of more service than his prudence, and +that from your example he is become a perfect bravo. This has rejoiced +me exceedingly. + + [87] A rank somewhat inferior to that of rear-admiral. + +And now, my dear child, when I picture you to myself, pale and thin, +when I think of the agitations you endure, and that the slightest +degree of fever endangers your life, I suffer night and day from +apprehensions for you. What happiness would it be to have you with me, +in a less destructive climate, in your native air, which would again +restore you to health and vigor! I am surprised that loving you as the +Provençals do, they do not urge this remedy to you. I consider you as +having been so useful till now, and as having relieved M. de Grignan +so much in all his affairs, that I dare not regret I did not bring +you with me; but when every thing is finished, why not give me this +satisfaction? Adieu, my dearest child, I am very impatient to hear from +you. You would throw yourself into the fire, you say, to convince me +of your love: my child, I have no doubt of your affection, and without +this extraordinary proof of it, you may give me a much more pleasing +and a much more convincing one. + + +LETTER XXXII. + + PARIS, Friday, December 29, 1673. + +M. de Luxembourg is a little pressed near Maestricht, by the army of +M. de Monterei[88] and the Prince of Orange; he dares not venture to +remove his camp, and he must perish where he is, unless they send him +speedy and effectual succor. The prince is to set out four days hence +with the duke and M. de Turenne; the latter is to serve under the two +princes, and there is a perfectly good understanding between the three. +They have twenty thousand foot, and ten thousand horse; the volunteers +and those companies which are not to march, do not go, but all the rest +do. La Trousse and my son, who arrived here yesterday, are to be of +the number; they have scarcely had time to pull off their boots before +they are in the mud again. The rendezvous is appointed at Charleroi, +on the 16th of January. D’Hacqueville has written you word of this, +but you will read it more distinctly in my letter.[89] It is certainly +very important news, and has occasioned a great bustle every where. +We know not what to do for money. It is certain M. de Turenne is not +on terms with M. de Louvois, but it is not generally known; and while +he continues to keep in with M. Colbert, there will be nothing said +about it. This afternoon I had some great folks with me, who desired +their compliments to M. de Grignan, and to _Grignan’s wife_. They were +the grand-master, and the _charmer_.[90] I had besides, Brancas, the +Archbishop of Rheims, Charôt, La Trousse, etc., who all in like manner +desired to be remembered to you. They talk of nothing but war. The +_charmer_ knows all our affairs, and enters admirably into our little +perplexities. He is governor of a province, which is sufficient to give +him an idea of our feelings on those subjects. Adieu, my dearest child. +I participate in all the joys of your conquests. + + [88] Governor of the Spanish Low Countries. + + [89] M. d’Hacqueville wrote a hand very difficult to be read. + + [90] The Count de Lude and the Duke de Villeroi. + + +LETTER XXXIII. + + PARIS, Monday, New Year’s Day, 1674. + +I wish you a happy year, my child; and in this wish I comprehend so +many things, that I should never have done if I were to enumerate them. +I have not yet asked leave for you to return to Paris, as you feared; +but I wish you had heard what La Garde said of the necessity of your +coming hither, that you may not lose your five thousand francs, and of +what he thinks proper for M. de Grignan to say to the king. If it were +a suit which you were obliged to solicit against any one who designed +to injure you, you would doubtless come to solicit it; but as it is +to come to a place where you have a thousand other affairs, you are +both guilty of the greatest indolence. Ah, what an enchanting thing +is indolence! you feel its power too much; read La Garde upon this +subject, chapter the first. Consider, in the mean time, that you would +have the pleasure of seeing the king, and receiving his approbation. + +The edicts are revoked which gave us so much uneasiness in our +province. The day that M. de Chaulnes declared it to the States, +there was a cry of “Long live the king!” which made every one present +weep for joy. They embraced each other, broke out into the highest +expressions of rapture, ordered Te Deum to be sung, made bonfires; and +the thanks of the public were given to M. de Chaulnes. But do you know +what we are to give the king as a mark of our gratitude? six hundred +thousand livres, and as much more by way of a voluntary gratuity. What +think you of this little sum? You may judge by this of the favor that +has been done us, in taking off the burden of these edicts. + +My poor son has arrived here, as you know; he is to return on Thursday, +with many others. M. de Monterei is a very clever fellow; he disturbs +the whole world, he fatigues the army, and puts it out of condition to +take the field, and begin the campaign, till the end of the spring. The +troops were all at ease in winter-quarters; and when, after a tedious +march, they are arrived at Charleroi, he has only a single step to +take to make good his retreat--till when, M. de Luxembourg can not be +extricated. By appearances, the king will not set out so soon as he +did last year. If, when in the field, we had to make an attack on some +great town, or the enemy would come out and oppose our two heroes, as +we should probably beat him, peace might almost be depended upon. This +is what is said by persons of the profession. It is certain that M. de +Turenne is out of favor with M. de Louvois; but as he is in favor with +the king and M. Colbert, it has not made much noise. + +Five ladies of the palace are appointed: Madame de Soubise, Madame +de Chevreuse, the Princess d’Harcourt, Madame d’Albret, and Madame +de Rochefort. The maids of honor are to serve no more, and Madame de +Richelieu as a lady of honor, is also discharged. There are to be only +the gentlemen in waiting, and the maîtres-d’hôtel, as formerly. But +that the queen may not be without women, Madame de Richelieu and four +other ladies are to wait constantly behind her chair. Brancas is in +raptures that his daughter[91] is so well provided for. + + [91] The Princess d’Harcourt. + +The Grand Marshal of Poland has sent a letter to the king, in which +he tells his majesty, that if he has any person in view to raise to +the crown of Poland, he will assist him with all the forces under +his command; and if not, requests his protection and assistance for +himself. The king has promised it to him. However, it is imagined he +will not get himself elected, because he is not of the established +religion of the nation. + + +LETTER XXXIV. + + PARIS, Friday, Jan. 5, 1674. + +It is a year ago this very day since we supped with the archbishop: at +this moment perhaps you are supping with the intendant: I am afraid, +my dear child, your mirth is feigned. All you say on this subject +to me, and to Corbinelli, is admirable. My heart thanks you for the +good opinion you have of me, in believing I hold in abhorrence all +villainous proceedings. You are not deceived. + +M. de Grignan tells you true; Madame de Thiange has left off paint, and +covers her neck; you would hardly know her in this disguise. She is +frequently with Madame de Longueville, and is the very pink of modish +devotion. But she is still good company, and has not at all the air +of a recluse. I dined with her the other day; a servant brought her a +glass of liquor; she turned to me and said, “The fellow does not know +that I am become a devotee;” this made us all laugh. She spoke very +naturally of her intentions, and of her change. She is very cautious of +saying any thing that may injure the reputation of her neighbor, and +stops short when any thing of that nature escapes her; for my part, I +think her more agreeable than ever. Wagers are laid that the Princess +d’Harcourt will not turn nun these twelve months, now she is become a +lady of the palace, and paints again: this rouge is the law and the +prophets; it is the great point that our new devotion turns upon. As +for the Duchess d’Aumont, her taste is burying the dead.[92] They +say the Duchess de Charost kills people for her, with ill-compounded +medicines, and then buries them in a religious retreat. The Marchioness +d’Huxelles is very good; but La Marans is more than good. Madame de +Schomberg tells me very seriously that she is of the first order for +seclusion and penitence, not admitting any society, and refusing even +the amusements of devotion; in a word, she is a penitent in the true +sense of the word, and in all the simplicity of the primitive church. + + [92] If we may believe Bussy, she rendered a service of a + different kind to the living. The Duchess of Charost was the + daughter of the Superintendent Fouquet. She apparently had her + recipe from her grandmother, by whom we have a printed collection + in two volumes, under the title of _Family Recipes by Madame + Fouquet_. + +The ladies of the palace are kept in great subjection. The king has +explained himself upon this subject, and will have the queen always +attended by them. Madame de Richelieu, though she does not serve any +longer at table, is always present when the queen dines, with four +ladies, who wait by turns. The Countess d’Ayen[93] is the sixth: +she does not like the confinement of this attendance, and of being +constantly at vespers, sermons, and other religious ceremonies; but +there is no perfect happiness in this world. The Marchioness de +Castelnau is fair, blooming, and perfectly recovered from her grief. +_L’Eclair_, they say, has only changed her apartment at court, not very +much to her satisfaction. Madame de Louvigny does not seem sufficiently +delighted at her good fortune. She is thought unpardonable for not +adoring her husband in the same manner as when she was first married; +this is the first time the public was ever offended at a thing of +this nature. Madame de Brissac is beautiful, and follows the Princess +of Conti like her shadow. La Coëtquen is still the same as ever. She +has a petticoat of black velvet, embroidered with gold and silver, +and a brocade cloak. This dress cost her an immense sum; and when she +thought she made the most splendid figure imaginable, every one said +she was dressed like an actress; and she has been so much rallied in +consequence, that she has thrown it aside. La Manierosa[94] is a little +vexed at not being a lady of the palace. Madame de Duras, who would not +accept this honor, laughs at her. La Troche is, as usual, very much +interested in your affairs; but I can not express how strongly Madame +de la Fayette and M. de la Rochefoucault have your interest at heart. + + [93] A feigned name. + + [94] Mary Frances de Bournouville, afterward Marchioness de + Noailles. + +Madame de la Fayette and I went to see M. de Turenne a few days ago; +he has a slight fit of the gout. He received us with great civility, +and talked much of you. The Chevalier de Grignan has given him an +account of your victories; he would have offered you his sword if there +had been any occasion for it. He intends to set out in three days. My +son went yesterday very much out of humor: I was not less so, at this +ill-judged and in every respect disagreeable journey. + +The dauphin saw Madame Schomberg the other day; they told him his +grandfather had been in love with her: he asked in a whisper, “How many +children has she had by him?” They informed him of the manners[95] of +that time. + + [95] Madame de Schomberg who is here spoken of, mother of the + marshal then living, captivated Louis XIII. when she was only + a maid of honor, by the name of Mademoiselle d’Hautefort. The + king’s gallantry exacted so little, that she even jested upon the + subject, and said he talked to her of nothing but dogs, horses, + and hunting. She was handsome and discreet. She attached herself + to Queen Anne of Austria, and shared her disgrace during the + life of Louis XIII. She afterward quarreled with her during the + regency, for having spoken too freely against Cardinal Mazarin. + +The Duke du Maine[96] has been seen at court, but he has not yet +visited the queen: he was in a coach, and saw only his father and +mother. + + [96] The king’s eldest son by Madame de Montespan. + +The Chevalier de Châtillon has no longer any thing to seek for; his +fortune is made. Monsieur chose rather to give him the office of +captain of his guards, than Mademoiselle de Grancey that of lady of +the wardrobe. This young man therefore has the post of Vaillac, and +is well provided for: they say Vaillac is to have D’Albon’s, and that +D’Albon is discarded. I told you how our States ended, and that they +repurchased the edicts at two millions six hundred thousand livres, and +gave the same sum as a gratuitous gift, making together five million +two hundred thousand livres; that the air was rent with cries of “Long +live the king!” that we had bonfires, and sung _Te Deum_, because his +majesty was kind enough to accept it. Poor Sanzei is ill with the +measles; it is a disorder that soon passes, but is alarming from its +violence. + +I see no reason to ask the king’s pardon for the humane gentleman who +was guilty of assassination; the crime is of too black a nature. The +criminals who were pardoned at Rouen were not of this stamp; it is the +only crime the king refuses to pardon. So Beavron has mentioned it to +the Abbé de Grignan. + +I have heard the ladies at the palace spoken of in a way that made me +laugh. I said with Montaigne, “Let us avenge ourselves, by slandering +them.” It is, however, true that they are under extreme subjection. + +The report still prevails, that the prince sets out on Monday. The same +day M. de Saint Luc is to espouse Mademoiselle de Pompadour; about this +I am quite indifferent. + +Adieu, my dear; this letter is growing too long; I conclude it for +no other reason but because every thing must have an end. I embrace +Grignan, and beg him to forgive me for opening Madame de Guise’s +letter; I was very desirous to see her style: my curiosity is satisfied +forever. + +Guilleragues said yesterday, that Pelisson abused the permission men +have to be ugly.[97] + + [97] An expression that is become common, but which was new at + that time, or it would not have been worth noticing. + + +LETTER XXXV. + + PARIS, Friday, Jan. 12, 1674. + +Well, your peace is then concluded at last. The Archbishop of Rheims +and Brancas received their letters before I did mine; M. de Pomponne +sent to inform me of this important event from St. Germain; I was +ignorant, however, of the particulars, but now I know all. I advise +you, my child, to regulate your conduct by circumstances; and since it +is the king’s will that you should be friendly with the bishop,[98] +endeavor to obey him. But to return to St. Germain: I was there three +days ago; I went first to M. de Pomponne’s, who had not yet applied for +your leave of absence, but is to send for it to-day. From thence we +went to the queen’s; I was with Madame de Chaulnes; there was nobody +to talk but me, and you may be sure I was not deficient. The queen +said without hesitation that you had been absent for more than three +years, and that it was time for your return. From court we went to +Madame de Colbert’s, who is extremely civil and well bred. Mademoiselle +de Blois[99] danced; she is very pleasing and graceful. Desairs says +she is the only one who reminds him of you: he asked me what I thought +of her dancing, for my applause was required, and I gave it with the +greatest readiness. The Duchess de la Vallière was there; she calls +her little daughter _mademoiselle_, and the young princess in return +calls her _pretty mamma_. M. de Vermandois was there too. No other +children have yet made their appearance. We afterward went to pay our +respects to monsieur and madame; the former has not forgotten you, and +I never fail to present your dutiful acknowledgments to him. I met +Vivonne there, who accosted me with, “_Little mamma_, I beg you will +embrace the Governor of Champagne.”[100]--“And pray who is he?” said +I.--“Myself,” replied he.--“You!” said I; “pray who told you so?”--“The +king has just informed me of it.” I instantly congratulated him. The +Countess de Soissons was in hopes of getting this post for her son. + + [98] Of Marseilles. + + [99] She had been educated by Madame Colbert. + + [100] This government was vacated by the death of Eugene Maurice, + of Saxony, Count de Soissons, which happened June 7, 1673. + +There is no talk of taking the seals from the chancellor;[101] the good +man was so surprised at this additional honor, that he began to fear a +snake in the grass, and could not comprehend the reason of being thus +loaded with dignities: “Sire,” said he to the king, “does your majesty +intend to take the seals from me?”--“No, no, chancellor,” replied the +king, “go, sleep in peace.” And, indeed, they say he is almost always +asleep; there are many wise conjectures on the subject, and people can +not understand the reason of this augmentation of favors. + + [101] Stephen d’Aligre was keeper of the seals in 1672, upon the + death of Chancellor Seguier, who was made Chancellor of France in + 1674. + +The prince set out the day before yesterday, and M. de Turenne is to +follow to-day. Write to Brancas to congratulate him on his daughter’s +being in the queen’s household, for he is very proud of it. La Troche +returns you many thanks for your kind remembrance of her. Her son +has still nose enough to lose half of it at the next siege, without +the loss being very apparent. It is said that the _Dew_[102] begins +to be less friendly with the _Torrent_, and that after the siege of +Maestricht, they entered into a league of mutual confidence, and saw +the _Fire_ and the _Snow_ every day of their lives. You know all this +could not last long without occasioning great tumult, nor without +being discovered. The _Hail_[103] seems to me, with respect to the +reconciliation between you and him, like a man who goes to confession, +and keeps one great sin upon his conscience--by what other name can you +call the trick he has played you? Still the wise heads say you must +speak, you must ask, you have time, and that is sufficient; but do not +wonder at the faggoting of my letters. I leave one subject, you think +I have done with it, and suddenly I resume it again, _versi sciolti_. +Do you know that the Marquis de Sessac is here, that he will have a +situation in the army, and will probably soon be presented to the king? +This is manifestly predestination. + + [102] The _Dew_, the _Torrent_, the _Fire_, and the _Snow_, etc., + are ciphers between the mother and daughter. These ciphers do not + always mean the same persons. In this place, it seems that Madame + de Montespan is the _Torrent_, Madame de Vallière the _Dew_, the + king is the _Fire_, and the _Snow_ represents the queen. + + [103] Apparently the Bishop of Marseilles. + +Corbinelli and I talk of Providence every day, and we say, as you know, +from day to day and hour to hour, that your journey is determined. +You are very glad that you have not to answer for this affair, for a +resolution is a wonderful thing for you, quite a wild beast. I have +seen you a long time deciding on a color: it is a proof of a too +enlightened mind, which, seeing at one glance all the difficulties, +remains suspended, as it were, like Mohammed’s tomb: such was M. +Bignon, the greatest wit of the age; I, who am the least of the present +age, hate uncertainty, and love decision. M. de Pomponne informs me you +received your leave of absence to-day; I am consequently ready to do +every thing you wish, and to follow, or not to follow, the advice of +your friends. + +It is said here that M. de Turenne has not yet begun his march, and +that there is no further occasion for it, because M. de Monterei has at +last retreated, and M. de Luxembourg is freed, with the assistance of +five or six thousand men, whom M. de Schomberg assembled, and with whom +he so extremely harassed M. de Monterei, that he was obliged to retire +with his troops. The prince is to be recalled and all our poor friends +with him. This is the news of the day. + +The ball was dull, and ended at half past eleven. The king led out +the queen; the dauphin, madame; monsieur, mademoiselle; the Prince de +Condé, the great mademoiselle; the Count de Roche-sur-Yon, Mademoiselle +de Blois, handsome as an angel, dressed in black velvet, with a +profusion of diamonds, and an apron and stomacher of point lace. The +Princess d’Harcourt was as pale as the Commandeur in the play Du Festin +de Pierre. M. de Pomponne has desired me to dine with him to-morrow, to +meet Despréaux, who is to read his Art of Poetry. + + +LETTER XXXVI. + + PARIS, Monday, January 15, 1674. + +Saturday last I dined with M. de Pomponne, as I told you, and was there +till five o’clock, enchanted, transported, enraptured with the beauties +of Despréaux’s Art of Poetry. D’Hacqueville was there, we often talked +of the pleasure you would have received from it. M. de Pomponne +recollected that one day when you were a very little girl at your Uncle +de Sévigné’s, you got behind a large window with your brother, and +said you were a prisoner, a poor unfortunate princess driven from your +father’s house; your brother, who was as handsome as yourself, and you +were as handsome as an angel played his part extremely well. You were +nine years of age. He made me remember the day perfectly. He never +forgets one moment that he has seen you, and promises himself great +pleasure in seeing you again, which is very gratifying to me. I own to +you, my dear, that my heart is bursting with joy, but I shall conceal +it till I know your resolution. + +M. de Villars is returned home from Spain, and has given us a thousand +amusing anecdotes respecting the Spaniards. I have at length seen +La Marans in her cell, for it is nothing else. I found her quite in +dishabille, not a single hair to be seen, with a coarse coif of old +Venice point, a black handkerchief on her neck, a faded gray gown, +and an old petticoat. She seemed very glad to see me; we embraced +each other tenderly. She does not seem at all changed. We began the +conversation by talking of you; she appears to love you as well as she +ever did, and seemed so humble that it is impossible to help loving +her. We then talked of the religious life she had lately embraced. She +assured me it was true that God had vouchsafed her a great portion +of grace, of which she had the most grateful sense; that this grace +consists in great faith, profound love of God, horror of the world +and its vanities, and a thorough distrust of herself, adding, that +if she were to go abroad for only an hour, this divine spirit would +evaporate. In short, she seems to preserve it carefully in her solitude +like a bottle of fine perfume; she believes the world would make her +lose this precious liquor, and she even fears the parade of devotion +might spill it. Madame de Schomberg says she is not to be compared to +Madame de Marans. Her savage disposition is softened into a passion for +retirement; the disposition does not change; she is even exempt from +the folly common to most women, to love their confessor; she does not +approve this tie, and never speaks to him but at confession. She goes +on foot to her parish church, reads all our books of religion, works, +prays, has a fixed time for every thing, takes all her meals in her +own room, sees Madame de Schomberg at a certain hour, hates news as +much as she used to like it, is as charitable to others as she used to +slander them, and loves the Creator as much as she loved the creature. +We laughed a good deal at her former manners, and turned them into +ridicule. She has not the least air of the Collette sisters. She speaks +very sincerely and very agreeably of her situation. I was two hours +with her without being at all dull. She reproached herself even for +this pleasure, but without the least affectation; in short, she is much +more amiable than she ever was. I do not think, my dear child, you can +complain that I have not been particular enough. + +I have just received your letter of the 7th. I own to you, my dearest, +that the joy it has given me is so lively that my heart can scarcely +contain it. You know how strongly it feels, and I should hate myself +if I were so warmly interested in my own affairs as in yours. At last, +my child, you are coming; this is the most delightful to me of all. +But I am going to tell you something you do not expect, which is, +that I solemnly swear to you that if M. de la Garde had not deemed +your journey expedient, and that if it really were not so for your +own affairs, I would not have taken into consideration, at least for +this year, the ardent desire I have to see you, nor what you owe +to my infinite affection. I know how to keep within the bounds of +reason, whatever it cost me, and I have sometimes as much strength +in my weakness as those who are wiser. After this sincere confession +I can not conceal from you that I am penetrated with joy, and that, +reason concurring with my wishes, I am, at the moment I write to you, +perfectly satisfied, so that I think of nothing now but of receiving +you. Do you know, the best thing after yourself and M. de Grignan, +would be to bring the coadjutor? You will not perhaps always have La +Garde; and if he fails you, you well know M. de Grignan is not so +zealous in his own affairs as in those of the king, his master. He has +a religious care of those, which can only be compared to his negligence +with regard to his own. When he will take the trouble to speak, no one +does it better, and we can not therefore but wish it. You are not like +Madame de Cauvisson, to act alone; you must wait eight or ten years. +But M. de Grignan, you, and the coadjutor, would do admirably together. +Cardinal de Retz is just arrived, and will be delighted to see you. +What joy, my dear child, will your return occasion! but, above all +things, come prudently. It is to M. de Grignan I give this charge, and +I expect him to be accountable to me. I have written to the coadjutor, +to entreat him to accompany you. He will facilitate our audience +with the two ministers, and will support his brother’s interest. The +coadjutor is bold and fortunate, and you will mutually heighten each +other’s consequence. I could talk till this time to-morrow upon the +subject. I have written to the archbishop. Gain my point with the +coadjutor, and give him my letter. + +The prince has come back, after having been thirty leagues on his +journey. M. de Turenne did not go. M. de Monterei has withdrawn +his forces, and M. de Luxembourg is now at liberty. Within these +twenty-four hours the chapel at St. Germain has been robbed of a silver +lamp, worth seventy thousand francs, and six candlesticks of the same +metal, each of them taller than I am. This is a daring insolence.[104] +The ropes they made use of to get in were found by the Richelieu +gallery. No one can conceive how the robbery could have been committed, +for there are guards continually going that way, and patrolling about +all night. + + [104] The Duke of Saint-Simon relates a still more extraordinary + robbery that took place at Versailles. In one night all the gold + ornaments and fringes were stolen from the state apartment, from + the gallery to the chapel. Whatever inquiries were made, no trace + could be found of the robber. But five or six days after, the + king being at supper, an enormous packet fell suddenly upon the + table at some distance from him; it contained the stolen fringes, + with a note fastened to it with these words, “Bontems, take thy + fringes again, the pleasure pays not half the pain.” Saint-Simon + was a witness of this. + +Do you know that peace is talked of? M. de Chaulnes is since come from +Brittany, and is to set out again immediately for Cologne. + + +LETTER XXXVII. + + PARIS, Monday, February 5, 1674. + +It is many years ago, to-day, that there came into the world a creature +destined to love you beyond every other thing in existence.[105] I beg +you not to suffer your imagination to wander either to the right hand +or to the left:--_Cet homme-là, sire, c’était moi-même._[106] + + [105] She refers to her birth-day, 5th February, 1626. + + [106] A line of Marot, in an epistle to Francis I. _This man, + sire, was myself._ + +It was yesterday three years that I felt the most poignant grief of my +whole life. You set out at that time for Provence, and you remain there +still. My letter would be very long, if I attempted to express all the +sorrow I then felt, and what I have since felt, in consequence of this +separation. But to leave this melancholy digression. I have received +no letters from you to-day. I know not whether I am to expect any, +and I fear not, as it is so late; I have, however, expected them with +impatience; I wanted to hear of your departure from Aix, and to be able +to compute, with some exactness, the time of your return. Every one +teases me, and I know not what to answer. I think but of you and your +journey. If I receive any letters from you after this is sent away, you +may make yourself perfectly easy; for I will certainly take care to do +whatever you desire me. + +I write to-day a little earlier than usual. M. Corbinelli, and +Mademoiselle de Méri, are here, and have dined with me. I am going to a +little opera of Molière’s, that is to be sung at Jellison’s. It is an +excellent composition; the prince, the duke, and the duchess, will be +there. I shall, perhaps, sup at Gourville’s, with Madame de la Fayette, +the duke, Madame de Thianges, and M. de Vivonne, of whom we are to take +our leave, as he sets out from hence to-morrow. If this party is broken +up, I shall, perhaps, go to Madame de Chaulnes, where I am earnestly +invited, as well by the mistress of the house as by Cardinals de Retz +and Bouillon, who made me promise them. The first of these is very +impatient to see you; he loves you dearly. + +It was apprehended that Mademoiselle de Blois had the small-pox, but it +does not prove so. There is not a word said of the news from England; +this makes me conclude there is nothing good from thence. There has +been only a ball or two at Paris during the whole carnival; there were +masques at noon, but not many. It is a very dull season. The assemblies +at St. Germain are mortifications for the king, and only show the +falling off of the carnival. + +Father Bourdaloüe preached a sermon on the purification of our Lady, +which transported every body. There was such energy in his discourse +as made the courtiers tremble. Never did preacher enforce with so much +authority, and in so noble a manner, the great truths of the Gospel. +His design was to show that every power ought to be subject to the law, +from the example of our Lord, who was presented at the temple. This was +insisted on with all the strength and clearness imaginable; and certain +points were urged with a force worthy of St. Paul himself. + +The Archbishop of Rheims, as he returned yesterday from St. Germain, +met with a curious adventure. He drove at his usual rate, like a +whirlwind. If he thinks himself a great man, his servants think him +still greater. They passed through Nanterre, when they met a man on +horseback, and in an insolent tone bid him clear the way. The poor man +used his utmost endeavors to avoid the danger that threatened him, but +his horse proved unmanageable. To make short of it, the coach and six +turned them both topsy-turvy; but at the same time the coach too was +completely overturned. In an instant the horse and the man, instead +of amusing themselves with having their limbs broken, rose almost +miraculously; the man remounted, and galloped away, and is galloping +still for aught I know; while the servants, the archbishop’s coachman, +and the archbishop himself at the head of them, cried out, “Stop that +villain, stop him; thrash him soundly.” The rage of the archbishop was +so great, that afterward, in relating the adventure, he said, “if he +could have caught the rascal, he would have broke all his bones, and +cut off both his ears.” + +Adieu, my dear, delightful child, I can not express my eagerness to +see you. I shall direct this letter to Lyons; it is the third; the two +first were to be left with the _chamarier_. You must be got thither by +this time or never. + + +LETTER XXXVIII. + + PARIS, Friday, May 31, 1675. + +I have received only your first letter yet, my dear child; but that +is invaluable. I have seen nothing since your absence, and every +fresh person reminds me of it; they talk to me of you; they pity me; +they----but stop; is it not such thoughts as these we should pass +lightly over? Let us then do so. + +I was yesterday at Madame de Verneuil’s in my way from St. Maur, +where I had been with Cardinal de Retz. At the Hôtel de Sully, I met +Mademoiselle de Launoi,[107] who is just married to the old Count de +Montrevel; the wedding was kept there; you never saw a bride so pert; +she bustles about the house, and calls _husband_, as if she had been +married for twenty years. This same husband of hers, you must know, is +very much troubled with the ague; he expected his fit the day after +he was married, but missed it; upon which Fieubet said, “We have +found a remedy for the ague, but who can tell us the dose?” Mesdames +des Castelnau, Louvigny, Sulli, and Fiesque, were there. I leave you +to guess what these charming women said to me. My friends are too +solicitous about me; they harass me; but I do not lose a single moment +that I can spend with our dear cardinal. These letters will inform you +of the arrival of the coadjutor; I saw and embraced him this morning. +He is to have a conference this evening with his eminence and M. +d’Hacqueville on the steps he is to take. He has hitherto remained +incog. + + [107] Adriana-Philippa-Theresa de Launoi, who had been maid + of honor to the queen, was married to James-Mary de la Baume + Montrevel in 1675, and not in 1672, as it is said by mistake in + the history of the great officers of the crown. + +The Duchess has lost Mademoiselle d’Enghien; one of her sons is going +to die besides; her mother is ill; Madame de Langeron is already under +ground; the prince and the duke in the army; ample subjects for tears, +and, as I am told, she is not sparing of them. I leave D’Hacqueville to +tell you the news of the war; and the Grignans to write to you about +the chevalier; if he should return hither, I will take as much care of +him as of my own son. I imagine you are now upon the tranquil Saône; +our minds ought to resemble this calm view, but our hearts perpetually +seduce them; mine is wholly with my daughter. I have already told you, +that my greatest difficulty is to divert my thoughts from you, for they +all tend to the same point. + + +LETTER XXXIX. + + PARIS, Wednesday, June 5, 1675. + +I have not received any of your letters since that from Sens; you will +therefore easily conceive how anxious I am to be informed of your +health and safety. I am fully persuaded you have written to me, and +complain of nothing but the management, or rather mismanagement of the +post. According to the calculations of your friends here, you should be +by this time at Grignan, unless you were detained at Lyons during the +holidays. In short, my dear child, I have accompanied you step by step +all the way, and am in hopes the Rhône behaved with proper respect to +you. I have been at Livri with Corbinelli; but returned here with all +the haste I could, that I might not lose a moment in seeing our dear +cardinal. The great affection he has for you, and the long friendship +which has subsisted between him and me, have attached me to him very +sincerely; I see him every evening from eight till ten, and I think he +is very glad to have me with him till his bed-time. Our conversation +is constantly about you; this is a subject we are fond of expatiating +upon, and indeed it seems the master-sentiment of both hearts. He is +for coming hither, but I can not bear this house when you are not in it. + +The nuncio informed him yesterday that he had just learned by a courier +from Rome that he was appointed to a cardinalship. The pope[108] +has lately made a promotion of his creatures, as it is called. The +crowns are put off for these five or six years, and consequently M. de +Marseilles.[109] The nuncio told Bonvoulour, who went to congratulate +him on his promotion, that he hoped his holiness would not now accept +Cardinal de Retz’s resignation of his hat; that he should use all his +endeavors to dissuade his holiness from doing so, as he had the honor +of being his colleague: so now we have another cardinal, Cardinal de +Spada. Cardinal de Retz sets out on Tuesday; I dread the day; for I +shall suffer extremely in losing so valuable a friend: his courage +seems to increase in proportion as that of his friend diminishes. + + [108] Clement X. + + [109] Toussaint de Forbin-Janson, Bishop of Marseilles, and + afterward Bishop of Beauvois, was not made cardinal till 1690, at + the promotion by Alexander VIII. + +The Duchess de la Vallière pronounced her vows yesterday.[110] Madame +de Villars promised to take me to see it; but by some misunderstanding +we thought we should not get places. Nothing more, however, was +necessary than to present ourselves at the door, though the queen had +given out that the admission should not be general; and, after all, we +did not go. Madame de Villars was very much vexed at it. The beautiful +duchess performed this action like every other of her life, in the +most charming manner possible: she is surprisingly handsome: but you +will be astonished to hear that M. de Condom’s (Bossuet’s) sermon was +not so good as was expected. The coadjutor was there; he will tell you +how well the affair goes on with respect to M. de Paris and M. de St. +Paul; but he finds the shade of M. de Toulon and the spirit of M. de +Marseilles every where. + + [110] For more than three years she had only received at court + insults from her rival and unkindness from the king. She remained + there, she said, merely from a spirit of penitence, and added, + “When the life of a Carmelite appears to me too severe, I have + only to call to mind what those persons made me suffer,” pointing + to the king and to Madame de Montespan. + +Madame de Coulanges goes from hence on Monday with Corbinelli: this +deprives me of my companions. You know how good Corbinelli is to me, +and how kindly he enters into all my sentiments. I am convinced of his +friendship, and feel his absence; but, my child, after having lost you, +of what else can I complain? It is true that you are interested in my +complaints, because he is one of those with whom I most enjoyed the +consolation of speaking of you; for you must not imagine, that those to +whom I can not speak freely are as agreeable to me as those who enter +into my feelings. You seem to me to be apprehensive that I make myself +ridiculous, and that I am too apt to divulge my sentiments on this +pleasing subject. No, no, my dear, fear nothing; I am able to govern +the torrent. Trust to me, and let me love you, till it shall please God +to take you out of my heart, in order to place himself there; for you +can yield to none but him. In short, my heart is so entirely occupied +with, and so full of you, that finding myself incapable of any other +thought, I have been restrained from performing the devotions of the +season. Adieu, my dear child, for the present. I shall finish my letter +this evening. + +I have just received a letter from Macon; I can not yet read it +without the fountain playing its old tricks: my heart is so extremely +sensible that the least thing that affects it quite overcomes me. You +may imagine that, with this fine disposition, I frequently meet with +opportunities to try it; but, pray, have no fears for my health. I can +never forget the philosophy you inspired me with the evening before we +parted; I improve by it as much as I can; but I have such an habitual +weakness, that in spite of your good lessons, I often yield to my +emotion. + +Our cardinal will have left me before you receive this; it will be +a melancholy day to me, for I am extremely attached to his person, +his merit, his conversation, which I enjoy as much as I can, and the +friendship he expresses for me. His soul is of so superior an order +that it is not to be expected that his life should be attended with +only common events. He that makes it a law to himself, to do always +what is most great and heroic, must place his retreat in some proper +part of his life, like a shade beautifully disposed in a piece of +painting, and leave his friends to lament it. + +How facetious you are, my child, with the newspaper in your hand! +What! can you derive amusement from it already? I did expect that you +would at least have waited till you had crossed the vile Durance. +The conversation between the king and the prince appears to me very +humorous; I think you would have been entertained with it even here. +I have just received a letter from the chevalier, who is well; he is +with the army, and has only had five attacks of the ague: this is one +subject of uneasiness less; but his letter which is full of friendship, +is in the true German style; for he will not believe a syllable of +the retreat of Cardinal de Retz: he desires me to tell him the truth, +which I shall not fail to do. I shall distribute all your compliments, +and I am sure, they will be well received; every body thinks it an +honor to be remembered by you; M. de Coulanges was quite proud of it. +The coadjutor will relate to you the success of his journey; but he +will not boast that he was on the point of being stifled at Madame +de Louvois’ by twenty women, who each supposed they had a right to +embrace him: this occasioned a confusion, an oppression, a suffocation, +of which the bare idea almost suffocates me, accompanied by the most +high-flown, reiterated, and affected compliments that it is possible to +conceive: Madame de Coulanges describes the scene very drolly. I wish +you may have the company at Grignan you mention. My son is well; he +sends you a thousand remembrances. M. de Grignan will be very willing +for me to embrace him, now that he is no longer occupied with the +bustle of the boat. + + +LETTER XL. + + PARIS, Friday, June 14, 1675. + +Instead of visiting you in your apartment, my dear child, I sit down +to converse with you by letter; when I am so unfortunate as not to +have you with me, the most natural consolation I can find is to write +to you, to receive your letters, to speak of you, or to take some step +in your affairs. I passed the afternoon yesterday with Cardinal de +Retz; you can not possibly guess what we talk of when we are together. +I always begin by telling you that you can not love him too well, and +that I think you happy in having so firmly fixed the kindness and +affection he before felt for you. Let me know how you bear the air at +Grignan, and whether it has already begun to prey upon you; how you +enjoy your health and how you look. Your picture is very pleasing, but +far less so than your person, without reckoning that it wants the power +of speech. Be not uneasy about my health; the rule I observe at present +is, to be irregular; I am not sensible of any indisposition; I dine +alone; stay at home till five or six o’clock, and go in the evening, +when I have no business of importance to keep me within, to the house +of one of my friends. I walk or ride according to the distance, but +I make every thing yield to the pleasure of being with our cardinal. +I lose not a moment he can spare me, and he is very obliging in this +respect. I shall feel more sensibly his departure and his absence; +but this does not prevent my indulging myself in the pleasure of his +conversation; I never think of sparing myself; after having endured the +pangs of parting with you, I have nothing to fear from any less tender +attachment. Were it not for him, and for your affairs, I should go a +little to Livri; but I make every consideration yield to these, which +are above all my little pleasures. + +The queen went to see Madame de Montespan at Clagny on the day I told +you she took her up in her carriage as she passed; she went into her +room, where she staid half an hour; she then went into M. du Vexin’s, +who was a little indisposed, and afterward took Madame de Montespan +to Trianon, as I informed you. Some ladies have been at Clagny; they +found the fair lady so occupied with the building and enchantments +that are preparing for her, that I fancy her like Dido building +Carthage; but the resemblance will not hold good in any other respect. +M. de la Rochefoucault and Madame de la Fayette have entreated me to +present their compliments to you. We fear you will have too much of +the grand-duchess.[111] A prison is preparing for her at Montmartre, +with which she would be frightened, if she did not hope to change +it; but she will be caught; they are delighted in Tuscany to have +got rid of her. Madame de Sully is gone; Paris is become a desert. I +already wish myself out of it. I dined yesterday with the coadjutor +at the cardinal’s: I have left him in charge to inform you of that +part of ecclesiastical history. M. Joli[112] preached at the opening +of the assembly of the clergy, but as he took an ancient text, and +preached only ancient doctrine, his sermon seemed a piece of antiquity +altogether. It was a fine subject too for reflection. + +The queen dined to-day at the Carmelites de Bouloi, with Madame de +Montespan, and Madame de Fontevraud; you will see how this friendship +will end. They say that M. de Turenne, as it were, conducts the enemy’s +troops to their quarters. My heart is much oppressed with the thoughts +of losing the cardinal; the repeated intercourse of friendship and +conversation which has so lately passed between us, redoubles my grief; +he goes to-morrow. I have not yet received your letters. Believe, my +dear, that it is not possible to love you more than I love you; nothing +animates me but what has some relation to you. Madame de Rochebonne has +written to me very affectionately; she told me with what feelings you +received and read my letters at Lyons. I see, my dear, you are grown +weak as well as I. + +D’Hacqueville has sent you such a large packet that it would be +ridiculous to pretend to tell you any news now. + + [111] Marguerite-Louise d’Orléans, daughter of Gaston de France + Duke of Orléans, and of Marguerite de Lorraine, his second wife. + + [112] Claude Joli, Bishop of Agen. + + +LETTER XLI. + + PARIS, Friday, June 28, 1675. + +Madame de Vins expressed herself very affectionately about you +yesterday, my dear; that is, in her way, but it is not a bad one; there +seemed no _interlineations_ in what she said. + +We have no news. The king’s good star has brought the Duke of Lorraine +and the Prince of Orange across the Meuse again. M. de Turenne has +now elbow-room, so that we are no longer confined in any part. I +am rejoiced that my letters are so pleasing to you; I can hardly +think they are so agreeable as you say they are. I know they have no +stiffness in them. Our good cardinal is gone to solitude; his departure +gave me sorrow, and reminded me of yours. I have long remarked our +cruel separations to the four corners of the world. It is very cold; we +are obliged to have a fire, and so are you, which is more astonishing +still. You judge well respecting _Quantova_;[113] if she can not return +to her old ways, she will push her authority and grandeur beyond +the clouds; but she must prepare to be loved the whole year without +scruple: in the mean time her house is crowded by the whole court, +visits are paid alternately, and her consequence is unbounded. Be not +uneasy respecting my journey to Brittany; you are too good and too +attentive to my health. I will have nothing to do with La Mousse; the +dullness of others weighs me down more than my own. I have no time to +go to Livri. I have made a vow to expedite your affairs. I shall give +your compliments to Madame de Villars and Madame de la Fayette. The +latter has still a little fever upon her. Adieu, my dearest child, +believe me to be most sincerely yours. + + [113] Quantova is Mme. de Montespan. + + +LETTER XLII. + + PARIS, Friday, July 5, 1675. + +I sit down, my dear, to talk to you a little of our good cardinal. I +send you a letter he has written to you. Pray advise him to write his +history, it is what all his friends press him much to do. He tells +me he is very well pleased with his desert, that he can look upon it +without the least horror, and humbly hopes that God will support him in +his weakness. He expresses the most sincere regard for you, and desires +me not to think of leaving Paris till I have finished all your affairs. +He remembers the time when you had the ague, and that he desired me, +for his sake, to be careful of your health. I answer him in the same +tone. He assures me that the most frightful solitude would not make him +forget the friendship he owes us. He was received at St. Michael’s[114] +with transports of joy; the people were all on their knees, and +received him as a protector sent by God. The troops, who were quartered +there, are taken off, the officers having waited on him for his orders +to send away or to leave as many as pleased. Cardinal Bonzi has assured +me that the pope, without staying to receive our cardinal’s letter, had +sent him a brief, to tell him that he supposes, and even desires, he +will keep his hat; that the preserving his rank and dignity will in no +wise impede the work of his salvation; and it is moreover added, that +his holiness expressly commanded him not to make choice of any other +place of retirement than St. Denis; but I much doubt this latter part +of the report, so I only tell you my author for the former part. + + [114] The place of the cardinal’s retreat, a remote village in + the province of Brittany. + +I am convinced he thinks no more about the cassolette. If I had desired +him not to send it, it would only have served to put him in mind of it, +so I thought it was best to take no notice of it. There is no news of +importance stirring. Every thing goes on with spirit on M. de Turenne’s +side. + +The other day there was a Madame Noblet, of the Vitri family, playing +at basset with monsieur. Mention was made of M. de Vitri, who is very +ill, upon which she said to monsieur, “Ah! sir, I saw him this morning, +poor man! his face looked just like a _stratagem_.” What could she +mean? Madame de Richelieu has received such kind and affectionate +letters from the king, that she is more than repaid for what she has +done.[115] Adieu, my dearest and best-beloved. + + [115] The singular attachment of the queen and Madame de + Montespan. + + +LETTER XLIII. + + PARIS, Friday, July 19, 1675. + +Guess from whence I write to you, my dear--from M. de Pomponne’s, as +you will perceive by the few lines which Madame de Vins sends you with +this. I have been with her, the Abbé Arnauld, and D’Hacqueville, to +see the procession of St. Genevieve pass; we returned in very good +time; we were back by two o’clock; there are many that will not return +till night. Do you know that this procession is considered a very fine +sight. It is attended by all the religious orders, in their respective +habits, the curates of the several parishes, and all the canons of +Notre-Dame, preceded by the archbishop of Paris in his pontificals, and +on foot, giving his benediction to the right and left as he goes, till +he comes to the cathedral; I should have said to the left only, for +the Abbé de St. Genevieve marches on the right, barefoot, and preceded +by a hundred and fifty monks, barefoot also; the cross and miter are +borne before him, like the archbishop, and he gives his benedictions +in the same manner, but with great apparent devotion, humility, and +fasting, and an air of penitence, which show that he is to say mass +at Notre-Dame. The parliament, in their red robes, and the principal +companies follow the shrine of the saint, which glitters with precious +stones, and is carried by twenty men clad in white, and barefoot. The +provost of the merchants, and four counselors, are left as hostages at +the Church of St. Genevieve, for the return of this precious treasure. +You will ask me, perhaps, why the shrine was exposed. It was to put a +stop to the continual rains we have had, and to obtain warm and dry +weather, which happened at the very time they were making preparations +for the procession, to which, as it was intended to obtain for us all +kinds of blessings, I presume we owe his majesty’s return, who is +expected here on Sunday next. In my letter of Wednesday I will write +you all that is worth writing. + +M. de La Trousse is conducting a detachment of six thousand men to +Marshal de Créqui, who is to join M. de Turenne. La Fare and the others +remain with the dauphin’s gens-d’armes, in the army commanded by the +prince. The other day madame and Madame de Monaco took D’Hacqueville, +at the Hôtel de Grammont, to walk about the streets and the Tuileries +incog.; as her highness is not much given to a disposition for +gallantry, her dignity sits very easy on her. The Tuscan princess is +expected every hour. This is another of the blessings obtained by the +shrine of St. Genevieve. I saw one of your letters yesterday to the +Abbé de Pontcarré; it is the best letter that ever was written; there +is no part of it which has not some point and wit. He has sent a copy +of it to his eminence, for the original is kept as sacred as the shrine. + +Adieu, my dearest and best-beloved; you are so remarkable for your +inviolable love of truth, that I do not abate myself a single +expression of your kindness toward me, and you may judge, then, how +happy it makes me. + + +LETTER XLIV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, July 24, 1675. + +The weather is so extremely hot, my dear, that instead of tossing and +tumbling in my bed the whim took me to get up (though it is but five +o’clock in the morning) and chat a little with you. + +The king arrived at Versailles on Sunday morning; the queen, Madame de +Montespan, and all the other ladies, went to take possession of their +former apartments. In a short time after his arrival, his majesty began +to make the usual visits: the only difference is that they play in the +state-apartments. I shall have more intelligence before I conclude +my letter. The reason of my being so ill-informed of what passed at +Versailles is, that I came but last night from M. de Pomponne’s; +Madame de Pomponne had invited D’Hacqueville and me in so pressing a +manner that there was no refusing. Indeed, M. de Pomponne appeared +delighted to see us; you were spoken of with all the friendship and +esteem imaginable, during the short time we were there, and there was +no want of conversation. One of our whims was to wish we could see +through a great many things which we think we understand, but which, +in fact, we do not; we should then see into what passes in families, +where we should find hatred, mistrust, anger, and contempt, in the +room of all those fine things that are set to outward show, and pass +upon the world for realities. I was wishing for a closet hung with +mirrors of this kind instead of pictures. We carried this odd notion +very far, and diverted ourselves extremely with it. We were for opening +D’Hacqueville’s head to furnish ourselves from thence with some of +these curious anecdotes, and pleased ourselves with thinking how the +world is in general imposed upon by what they see and take for truth. +You think that things are so and so in such a house; that such a couple +adore each other; but stay a while and turn up the cards, and you +will see that they hate each other most completely. You would imagine +that such an event proceeded from such a cause--the little demon that +drew aside the curtain would undeceive you; and so through life. This +afforded us infinite amusement. You see, my dear, I must have plenty +of time to entertain you with such trifles. This is the consequence of +rising so early in the morning; this is doing as M. de Marseilles does. +If it had been winter I should have visited by torch-light. + +You have your cool north-east wind at last. Ah! my child, how +uncomfortable it is; we are broiling with heat in this country, and in +Provence you are starving with cold. I am convinced that our shrine has +effected this change; for, before the procession, we discovered, like +you, that the sun and the seasons had changed their course. I thought I +had discovered, too, like you, that this was the true reason that had +occasioned the days we so much regret to fly so rapidly. For my part, +my dear child, I experience as much sorrow to see these days passed +and gone forever, as I formerly experienced joy in spending winter and +summer, and every season, with you; this painful thought must give way +to the hope of seeing you again. + +I wait for cooler weather before I take physic, and for cooler councils +in Brittany[116] before I venture thither. Madame de Lavardin, De la +Troche, M. d’Haroüis, and I, shall consult together about a proper +time for our journey, having no design to run ourselves into the midst +of the commotions that at present rend our poor province. They seem +to increase daily, and those concerned in them have got as far as +Fougères, burning and ransacking all the way as they go along. This is +rather too near the _Rocks_. They have begun a second time to plunder +the _bureau_[117] at Rennes: Madame de Chaulnes is terrified almost to +death at the continual menaces she hears. I was told yesterday that +some of the mutineers had actually stopped her in her coach, and that +even the most moderate of them had sent notice to M. de Chaulnes, who +is at Fort Louis, that if the troops he had sent for took a single step +toward entering the province, his wife would run the hazard of being +torn to pieces by the insurgents. It is necessary, however, that some +troops should march against them, for things are come to such a height +that lenitives are no longer of service. But it would not be prudent +for us to set out before the storm is a little subsided, and we see +the issue of this extreme confusion. It is hoped that the approaching +harvest will help to disperse the rioters, for after all they must get +in their grain; and there are nearly six or seven thousand of them, not +one of whom can speak a word of French. + + [116] The exorbitant taxes that had been imposed upon these + unhappy people had obliged numbers of them to have recourse to + arms, in order to free themselves from the load of exactions that + it was impossible for them to bear. + + [117] A kind of exchequer established in all the principal towns + in France for the collection of the king’s revenues. + +M. de Boucherat told me the other day, that a curate having received a +clock that had been sent him from _France_, as they call this part of +the country, in the sight of some of his parishioners, they immediately +cried out in their language, that it was a new tax, they were sure +of it, they saw it plainly. The good curate, with great presence of +mind, and without seeming at all confused, said to them, “My children, +you are mistaken, you know not what you are talking of; it is an +_indulgence_.” This brought them all immediately upon their knees. +You may, by this specimen, form a judgment of the understandings of +these people. Let the consequence be what it may, I must wait till the +hurricane is past; but I am sorry to be obliged to defer my journey. +It was fixed at the most convenient time for me, and it can not be +put off without interfering with my plans. You know my resignation to +Providence; we must all return to this at last, and take things as they +come. I talk wisely, as you see, but I do not always think wisely. You +well know there is one point in which I can not practice what I preach. + + +LETTER XLV. + + PARIS, Friday, August 16, 1675. + +I could wish all you write to me of M. de Turenne inserted in a funeral +oration. There is an uncommon beauty and energy in your style; it has +all the force of eloquence that can be inspired by grief. Think not, +my child, that the remembrance of him can be lost in this country. The +torrent that sweeps every thing away can not remove a memory so well +established; it is consecrated to immortality. I was the other day at +M. de la Rochefoucault’s, with Madame de Lavardin, M. de Marsillac, +and Madame de la Fayette. The premier joined us. The conversation, +which lasted two hours, turned wholly on the divine qualities of this +true hero. The eyes of every one were bathed in tears, and you can +not imagine how deeply the grief of his loss is engraved on all their +hearts. You have exceeded us in nothing, but in the satisfaction of +sighing aloud, and of writing his panegyric. We remarked one thing, +which was, that it is not at his death only, that the largeness of +his heart, the extent of his knowledge, the elevation of his mind are +admired; all this the world acknowledged during his life. How much this +admiration is increased by his death you may easily suppose. In a word, +my dear, do not think that the death of this great man is regarded here +like that of others. You may talk of it as much as you please; but +do not suppose your grief can exceed ours. That none of the devotees +have yet taken it into their heads to doubt whether his soul was in +a good state, proceeds from the perfect esteem every person felt for +him. It is not possible that sin or guilt could find a place in his +heart; his conversion,[118] so sincere, appeared to us like a baptism. +Every one speaks of the innocence of his manners, the purity of his +intentions, his unaffected humility, the solid glory that filled his +heart, without haughtiness or ostentation, his love of virtue for its +own sake, without regarding the approbation of men, and, to crown all, +his generous and Christian charity. Did not I tell you of the regiment +he clothed? It cost him fourteen thousand francs, and left him almost +penniless. The English told M. de Lorges, that they would continue to +serve this campaign to avenge his death; but that they would afterward +retire, not being able to serve under any other general after M. de +Turenne. When some of the new troops grew a little impatient in the +morasses, where they were up to their knees in water, the old soldiers +animated them thus: “What! do you complain? It is plain you do not yet +know M. de Turenne; he is more grieved than we are when we are in any +difficulty. He thinks of nothing at this moment but of removing us +hence; he wakes, while we sleep; he is a father to us; it is easy to +see that you are but young soldiers.” It was thus they encouraged them. +All I tell you is true; I do not load you with idle stories to amuse +you because you are at a distance; this would be cheating you, and you +may rely upon what I write to you as firmly, as on what I should tell +you if you were here. I return to the state of his soul. It is really +remarkable that no zealot has yet thought fit to doubt whether it +has pleased God to receive it with open arms, as one of the best and +noblest he ever created. Reflect a little upon this general assurance +of his salvation, and you will find it is a sort of miracle, scarcely +known but in his case. + + [118] He was originally a Protestant. + +The king has said of a certain person, whose absence last winter +delighted you, that he had neither head nor heart; these were his very +words. M. de Rohan, with a handful of men, has dispersed and put to +flight the mutineers, who were formed in troops in his Duchy of Rohan. +Our troops are at Nantes, commanded by Fourbin; for Vins is still a +subaltern. Fourbin’s orders are to obey M. de Chaulnes; but as M. de +Chaulnes is at Fort Louis, Fourbin in effect has the command. You +understand what these imaginary honors are, which remain without action +in those who have the name of commanders. M. de Lavardin wished much +to have this command; he has been at the head of an old regiment, and +pretends it was an honor due to him; but his claim was not admitted. +It is said that our mutineers have sued for pardon; I suppose they +will obtain it, after a sufficient number have been hanged. M. de +Chamillart, who was odious to the province, is removed; and M. de +Marsillac, who is a worthy man, is made intendant. These disorders no +longer prevent me from taking my journey; but there is something here I +am unwilling to leave. I have not yet been able to go to Livri, however +my inclination may tempt me. Time must be taken as it comes; we wish to +be in the center of news in these critical times. + +Let me add a word more concerning M. de Turenne. He had made an +acquaintance with a shepherd, who knew the roads and the country well; +he used to take him along with him, and order his troops to be posted +according to his direction. He had a great affection for this shepherd, +and esteemed him as a man of good plain sense. He said that Colonel +Bec owed his rise to a similar quality; and that he believed this +shepherd would make his fortune as he had done. He was pleased with +having contrived to make his troops pass without danger; and said to M. +de Roye, “In good earnest this seems to me no ill performance, and I +believe M. de Montecuculi will not find it so.” It is indeed esteemed +a masterpiece of military skill. Madame de Villars has seen another +account since the day of battle, in which it is said that the Chevalier +de Grignan performed wonders, both in respect of valor and prudence. +God preserve him! for the courage of M. de Turenne seems gone over +to the enemy; and they think nothing impossible, since the defeat of +Marshal de Créqui. + +M. de la Feuillade went post to Versailles the other day, where he +surprised the king, and said to him, “Sire, some (meaning Rochefort) +send for their wives, and some come to see them: I am come only to see +your majesty, and to thank you a thousand and a thousand times. I shall +see nobody besides your majesty, for it is to you I owe every thing.” +He talked a long while with the king, and then taking his leave, said, +“Sire, I am going; I beg you to make my compliments to the queen and +the dauphin, and to my wife and children.” And he mounted his horse; +and in reality saw no other person. This little sally pleased the king +much; he told the court, laughing, how he had been made the bearer of +M. de Feuillade’s compliments. It is a great thing to be happy; every +thing then succeeds; nothing is taken amiss. + + +LETTER XLVI. + + PARIS, Friday Evening, Aug. 16, 1675. + +At length, my dear, M. de la Trousse is found. I admire his good +fortune in this affair: after having performed wonders at the head +of his battalion, he was surrounded by two squadrons of the enemy’s +horse, so completely, that no one knew how it would end; when on a +sudden he finds himself prisoner to----Whom? The Marquis de Grana, with +whom he was intimate for six months at Cologne, and with whom he had +cultivated a close friendship. You may judge how he will be treated; +he has a pretty little wound, which will furnish him with an excellent +plea for passing the vintage at La Trousse; for there is no reason +to doubt that he will be released on his parole; and, what is still +better, will meet with the most favorable reception at court. Nothing +can exceed the congratulations and compliments that have been made him +by all his friends on this occasion. I really pity him for having so +many thanks to return: if he were to have carved his own fortune, could +he have done it more completely to his wish? As for honest Sanzei, we +have no news of him, which does not look well. Marshal de Créqui is at +Trèves, at least it is so reported, and that his people saw him cross +the river, with three others, in a miserable little boat. His wife is +distracted with grief, not having heard a syllable from himself; for my +part I really think he has been drowned, or else killed by the peasants +on his way to Trèves. In short, matters appear to go badly on all +sides, La Trousse excepted. + + +LETTER XLVII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Aug. 28, 1675. + +If I had the means of sending letters to you every day I could easily +contrive to write them. I sometimes do so even now, though my letters +do not go; but the pleasure of writing is reserved for you alone: to +every one else I write, because I must. I have particulars to relate +respecting M. de Turenne. Madame d’Elbeuf,[119] who is for a few days +at the Cardinal de Bouillon’s, invited me to dine with them yesterday, +and to share in their grief. Madame de la Fayette was likewise there; +the purpose of our meeting was fully answered, for there was not a dry +eye among us. Madame d’Elbeuf had a picture of the hero, admirably +executed. All his people arrived at eleven o’clock; the poor creatures +were already in deep mourning, and bathed in tears; three gentlemen +came in who were ready to die at the sight of the picture; their +cries pierced every heart; they could not utter a word; his footmen, +his pages, his trumpeters, were all in tears, and made every body +else weep to see them. The first who was able to speak, answered our +mournful questions, and we prevailed on him to relate the manner of +his death. It seems he was desirous of confessing, and when he retired +for that purpose, he gave his orders for the evening, and was to +have communicated the next day, which was Sunday, when he expected +to give battle. He mounted on horseback at two o’clock the Saturday, +after having taken a little refreshment, and as he had many people +with him, he left them all at about thirty paces from the hill, and +said to young d’Elbeuf, “Nephew, stay you there: you move round me so +much, that I shall be known.” M. Hamilton, who happened to be near +the place where he was going, said to him, “Sir, come this way if you +please, the enemy’s fire is directed to the place in which you are.” +“You are right, sir,” replied M. de Turenne; “I would not willingly be +killed to-day; this will do extremely well.” He had scarcely turned +his horse, when he saw St. Hilaire, who, coming up to him with his +hat in his hand, desired him to cast his eye on a battery he had just +raised, pointing to the place. M. de Turenne turned back, and at that +very instant, without having time to stop his horse, he had his arm +and part of his body torn to pieces by the same ball that carried off +St. Hilaire’s arm and hand in which he held his hat. The gentleman, +who was watching him attentively, did not see him fall, for his horse +ran away with him as far as the spot where he had left young d’Elbeuf; +he was leaning with his face over the pommel of the saddle. The moment +his horse stopped, this great man fell off into the arms of his people, +who were gathered round him, twice opened wide his eyes, moved his +lips a little, and sank to eternal rest. Think of his death, and of +part of his heart being carried away! His people immediately burst +into loud cries of lamentations, but M. Hamilton quieted them as well +as he could, and had young d’Elbeuf removed, who had thrown himself +upon his uncle’s body frantic with grief, and would not be dragged +from it without violence. A cloak was immediately thrown over the +body, and it was placed by the side of a hedge, where they kept watch +over it in silence till a carriage could be sent for to carry it to +his tent; there it was met by M. de Lorges, M. de Roye, and several +others, who were ready to expire with grief; but they were obliged +to restrain themselves, and think of the important business that had +devolved on them. A military service was performed in the camp, where +tears and sorrow were the mourning; the officers, however, had each +a crape scarf, the drums were covered with the same, they beat only +a single stroke, the soldiers marched with their pikes trailing and +pieces reversed; but the cries and lamentations of a whole army can +not be described without emotion. His two nephews assisted at this +mournful ceremony, I leave you to judge in what condition. M. de Roye, +though much wounded, would be carried thither. I suppose the poor +Chevalier de Grignan was overwhelmed with grief. When the body was +removed from the camp, to be brought to Paris, the same scene of grief +was renewed, and in every place through which it passed, nothing was +heard but lamentations: at Langres, however, they exceeded even this; +the bier was met by more than two hundred of the principal inhabitants +in mourning, followed by the common people, and all the clergy in +sacerdotal habits. In the town a solemn service was performed, and +they all voluntarily entered into a contribution toward defraying the +expenses, which amounted to five thousand francs; for they conducted +the body as far as the next town. What say you to these natural marks +of affection, founded on the most extraordinary merit? He is to be +brought to St. Denis this evening; the people are all gone to meet +the body at a place about two leagues distant, from whence they will +conduct it to a chapel, where it is to be deposited for the present; +there will be a service performed at St. Denis, till that at Notre-Dame +is celebrated, which will be a solemn one. Such was our entertainment +at the cardinal’s; we dined, as you may suppose, melancholy enough, and +afterward did nothing but sigh till four o’clock. Cardinal de Bouillon +mentioned you, and took upon him to answer for you, that, had you been +in Paris you would have made one in our sad party; I assured him that +you took no small share in his grief. He intends to answer both your +letter and M. de Grignan’s; he desired me to say a thousand kind things +to you, and so did the worthy d’Elbeuf, who, as well as her son, has +lost every thing. It was a good idea to undertake thus to tell you what +you know already as well as myself; but these originals struck me, and +I was glad to show you in what way we forget M. de Turenne in this part +of the world. + + [119] Sister to Cardinal de Bouillon. + +M. de la Garde told me the other day, that in the enthusiasm of the +wonders which were related of the Chevalier de Grignan, he had advised +his brothers[120] to bestir themselves on the occasion, to support his +interest at least for the present year; and that he found them both +very well disposed to do extraordinary things. This good La Garde is +at Fontainebleau, from whence he is to return in three days, to set +out at last; for he longs to be gone, though courtiers in general seem +to be very leaden-heeled. The situation of poor Madame de Sanzei is +really deplorable; we know nothing yet respecting her husband; he is +neither dead nor alive, wounded nor prisoner. His people do not take +the least notice of him in their letters. M. de la Trousse, after +having mentioned the report of his being killed (this was the day of +the action), has never since mentioned a syllable about him, either to +Madame de Sanzei or to Coulanges,[121] so that we are quite at a loss +what to say to this distracted woman; and yet it is cruel to let her +remain in this state of uncertainty; for my part, I am persuaded her +husband is killed; the dust and blood must probably disfigure him so +much as not to be known again, and he has been stripped with the rest +of the slain. Or he was perhaps killed at a distance from any of the +rest; or by the country-people on the road, and thrown into a hedge. +I think it is more probable that he has met with some such melancholy +fate, than that he has been taken prisoner without a word having been +heard respecting him. + + [120] The Coadjutor of Arles, and the Abbé de Grignan. + + [121] Madame de Sévigné was sister to M. de Coulanges, and M. de + la Trousse was first cousin to both. + +And now, my dear, I must tell you that the abbé thinks my journey so +necessary, that I no longer oppose it; I shall not have him always with +me, and therefore I ought to take advantage of his good intentions +toward me. It will be only a trip of two months, for the good abbé +is not the least disposed to pass the winter there. He expresses +himself very sincerely on the subject, and you know I am always the +dupe of every thing that has the appearance of sincerity; so much the +worse for those who deceive me. I conceive that it would be very dull +there in the winter; long evenings may be compared to long marches +for tediousness. I was not dull the winter you were with me; you, who +are young, might have felt so, but do you remember our readings? It +is true, that if every thing had been taken away that surrounded the +table, and even the book too, it is impossible to tell what would have +become of me. Providence will arrange every thing. I treasure up all +your sayings; we get out of our dullness as we do out of bad roads; we +see no one stop short in the middle of a month, because he has not the +courage to go through it; it is like dying, we see no one who does not +know how to keep out of this dilemma; there are parts in your letters +which I neither can nor will forget. Are my friends Corbinelli and M. +de Vardes with you? I hope they are. In that case, I dare say, there +has been no deficiency of conversation among you; you have talked +incessantly of the state of affairs, of the death of M. de Turenne, and +are at a loss to guess what will be the consequences of it; in fact, +you are just like ourselves, though you are in Provence. M. de Barillon +supped here last night. The conversation turned upon M. de Turenne, +and the universal grief occasioned by his loss; he entered largely +into his virtues, his love of truth, his love of virtue for its own +sake, and his reward in the practice of it; he finished this eulogium +with adding, that no one could love and esteem M. de Turenne without +being the better for it. His company and conversation inspired such +hatred of deceit and double-dealing, as raised his friends above the +generality of mankind. In this number the chevalier was particularly +distinguished as one for whom this great man showed more than common +esteem and affection, and who, on his side, was one of his greatest +admirers. We shall never see his equal in any age: I do not think we +are quite blind in the present day, at least those I meet are not so, +and this perhaps is boasting that I keep good company. But I must tell +you one word more of M. de Turenne, which I heard yesterday. You know +Pertuis well, and his adoration and attachment to M. de Turenne; as +soon as he heard of his death, he wrote his majesty the following note: +“Sire, I have lost M. de Turenne; I feel my heart unable to support +this blow; and being incapable of serving your majesty as I ought +to do, I humbly request your permission to resign my government of +Courtrai.” Cardinal de Bouillon prevented the letter from being given +to the king; but, fearing he might come in person, he informed his +majesty of the effect Pertuis’ grief had on him. The king appeared to +enter with great goodness and indulgence into his sentiments, and told +Cardinal de Bouillon that he esteemed Pertuis the more for this mark of +attachment to his friend and benefactor,[122] and that he thought him +too honest a man not to discharge his duty in whatever situation he was +in. This is a specimen of grief for this hero. He had a patrimony of +40,000 livres a year; and M. Boucherat says, that after all his debts, +and the several legacies he has bequeathed, are paid, there will not +remain more than 10,000. These are the vast treasures he had amassed +during a service of fifty years! Adieu, my dearest child, I embrace you +a thousand times, and with inexpressible tenderness. + + [122] He had been captain of the guard to M. de Turenne. + + +LETTER XLVIII. + + Tuesday, September 17, 1675. + +Here is an odd date for you: + + Je suis dans un bateau, + Dans le courant de l’eau, + Fort loin de mon château.[123] + +I think I might add, + + Ah quelle folie![124] + +for the water is so very low, and we are so often aground, that I +heartily wish for my carriage again, but that is out of reach for some +time. The water becomes dull when one is alone. A Count des Chapelles +and a Mademoiselle de Sévigné are wanting to enliven the scene. In +short, it is mere folly to take a boat at Orléans, or even at Paris; +but it is the fashion, as it is at Chartres to buy chaplets. I told +you I saw the Abbé d’Effiat at his noble mansion. I wrote to you from +Tours; from thence we went to Saumur, where we saw Vineuil, and wept +again over M. de Turenne. He seems greatly affected with his loss; you +will pity him when I tell you he is in a place where no one ever saw +this hero. Vineuil is grown very old, very phthisicky, very driveling, +and very devout; but he is still witty. He sends you a thousand and a +thousand compliments. It is thirty leagues from Saumur to Nantes; we +determined to go there in two days, and to get into Nantes this day. +With this view we were upon the water some part of the night, but +fortunately we ran aground about two hundred yards from the place where +we were to go ashore to sleep, and could not get out of the boat, so +we put back and landed at another place, and, following the barking of +a dog, we got, about midnight, to a little hut, but the most wretched +place you can possibly conceive; there we found two or three old women +spinning, and some fresh straw, upon which we all lay down without +taking off our clothes. I should have laughed heartily at this scene, +had it not been for thinking of our poor abbé, whom I was vexed to have +exposed to such a fatiguing journey. At daybreak we re-embarked, but +were again so completely stranded, that it was above an hour before we +could get afloat again; however, we were resolved to get to Nantes, +though against both wind and tide. We were forced to row all the way. +When we got there, I received your letters, and as I find the post +must pass through Ingrande, I shall leave this little note by the way. +I am very well, and only want somebody to chat with. I shall write to +you from Nantes, as you may suppose. I am very impatient to hear from +you, and about M. de Luxembourg and his army, for my head has been in +a sack these nine days. The History of the Crusades is very amusing, +particularly to those who have read Tasso, and who see their old +friends again in prose and in history, but with respect to the author’s +style, I am his very humble servant. The Life of Origen is divine.[125] + + [123] I am here in a boat, + On the water afloat, + From my castle far remote. + + [124] Ah, what folly is this! + + [125] This is the work of Dufosse, of Port Royal. It had just + been published, with the Life of Tertullian, by the same author. + + +LETTER XLIX. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, Oct. 20, 1675. + +I can not sufficiently admire the diligence and fidelity of the post. +I received on the 18th your letter of the 9th, that is, in nine days +only after date, which is all that can be desired. But, my dear, we +must soon put an end to our admirations; for, as you say, you are +going still further off, that we may both be exactly in the spot which +Providence has assigned us. For my part, God knows, I acquit myself +very ill in my residence; but you, heavens! M. d’Angers (H. Arnauld) +can not do more. When I think, however, of our separation, and how +much I deserve to enjoy the pleasure of being with you, and of all +your affection for me, and then reflect that we are placed at two +different ends of the globe, you must excuse me if I can not view this +part of our history with gayety of heart. Common sense opposes it, and +my infinite love still more. I have nothing to do but take refuge in +submission to the will of Providence. I am very glad you have seen M. +de la Garde; he does me great honor in approving my turn of mind: he is +a very good judge. I am sorry you are going to lose him so soon, for he +is really a worthy man. Your conversations must have been endless. So +he is to take the archbishop away to La Garde. It was very well said of +him, that he was like a river which fertilized and made every country +flourish through which it passed. I find he did wonders at Grignan. + +M. de Chaulnes is at Rennes with four thousand men; he has removed +the parliament to Vannes, which has occasioned a terrible desolation. +The ruin of Rennes brings with it that of the whole province. Madame +de Marbeuf is at Vitré; she has brought me a thousand compliments +from Madame de Chaulnes, and from M. de Vins, who intends paying me a +visit. I am not under the least apprehension about these troops on my +own account, but I can not help feeling for the despair and desolation +our poor province suffers at present. It is supposed we shall not +have any assembly of the states here, or if we have, it will be only +to buy off the taxes which we gave two million five hundred thousand +livres to have taken off only two years ago, and which have been all +laid upon our shoulders again; and, perhaps, they may set a price too +upon bringing the parliament back to Rennes. M. de Montmoron[126] is +fled out of the town, to a seat belonging to one of his friends, at +about three leagues distance from hence, that he may avoid hearing the +cries and lamentations of the people at seeing their dear parliament +removed. You see I am quite a Breton, but, you know, it is owing to +the air I breathe, and to something else, for every creature, without +distinction, is in affliction throughout the province. Be under no +concern about my health, my dearest child; I am extremely well. Madame +de Tarente has given me an essence that has cured her of vapors that +were worse than mine: two drops are to be taken for fifteen days +following, in any beverage that is drunk at table, and it cures +effectually. She has told me circumstances of its efficacy, which +have all the air of those in the comedy of the Médecin Forcé; but I +believe them all, and I would take some of the essence now if it were +not that I think it a pity to make use of so admirable a remedy when I +have no real occasion for it. I will send you, some time or other, the +remainder of the prosperities of the boat. You will make La Plessis too +vain, for I shall tell her how much you love her. Except what I told +you the other day, I do not think a better creature exists. She is here +every day. I have some of your excellent Hungary water in my pocket; I +am quite in love with it; it cures all my sorrows; I wish I could send +some of it to Rennes. + + [126] He was a Sévigné, and dean of the parliament of Brittany. + +My woods continue very beautiful still, and the verdure is a hundred +times finer than at Livri; I do not know whether this proceeds from +the nature of the trees themselves, or from the refreshing rains we +have here; but there is certainly no comparison; every thing here looks +as green now as in the month of May. The leaves that fall are brown, +it is true, but those that remain on the trees are not at all faded; +you never observed this beauty in them. As to that blessed tree that +saved your life, I am often tempted to build a little chapel there. +It seems to carry its head above all the rest, and exceeds them in +bulk as well as stature, and with very good reason, for it saved you. +I may, at least, repeat to it the stanza of Medor, in Ariosto, in +which he wishes happiness and peace to the cave that had given him so +much pleasure. Our sentences are not at all disfigured; I visit them +frequently. I think they are rather increased, and two trees that are +close to each other, often present us with two contrary sentiments, +“_La lontananza ogni grand piaga salda_,”[127] and “_Piaga d’amor non +si sana mais_.”[128] There are five or six thus contradictory. The +good princess was charmed with them, as I am with the letter you have +written our good abbé, on Jacob’s journey to the land of promise, in +your closet. + + [127] Time is a cure for wounds however deep. + + [128] The wounds of love are never to be healed. + +Madame de Lavardin has informed me of what is still to be kept secret +for a few days longer, that D’Olonne is going to marry his brother to +Mademoiselle de Noirmoutier. He gives him all his lands in Poitou, +besides a great quantity of jewels and furniture. They are at La +Ferté-Milon, where this curious affair is to be made up. I never +thought D’Olonne would have given himself any concern about his name or +family. + + +LETTER L. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, November 6, 1675. + +What a delightful letter have you written to me, my dear child! What +thanks do I not owe you for employing your hand, your eyes, your head, +your time, in composing so agreeable a volume! I have read it over and +over, and shall read it again with pleasure and attention. I can read +nothing that is more interesting; you satisfy my curiosity in every +thing I wish. I admire your care in giving me such punctual answers. +This makes a conversation perfect, regular, and extremely entertaining. +But I must beg you not to destroy yourself; this fear makes me renounce +the pleasure of having frequently such entertainments. You can not +doubt my generosity in sparing you the fatigue of immoderate writing. + +I comprehend with pleasure the high esteem that is paid to M. de +Grignan in Provence, after what I have seen of it. This is a pleasure +you are scarcely sensible of; you are too much accustomed to be loved +and honored in a province where you command. If you saw the horror, the +detestation, the hatred, that the people have here for their governor, +you would feel more than you do the pleasure of being adored every +where. What affronts! what injuries! what menaces! what reproaches! the +very stones fly round him. I do not believe M. de Grignan would accept +this post upon such conditions. + +You mention to me the paper you have signed so heroically in favor of +M. de Grignan.[129] You say you had no doubt which way the honorable +sentiments of Cardinal de Retz[130] inclined. I do not say any thing of +mine; it was enough that you could discern what his counsels tended to. +In certain delicate affairs, we do not presume directly to advise, but +we represent the case; the common friends of both do what is proper, +that there may be no jarring opposition in the interest of those they +love. But with a soul so perfectly generous and good as yours, we +consult only ourselves, and act precisely as you have done. Have you +not seen how much you have been admired? Are you not pleased that you +owe to none but yourself so noble a resolution? You would have done +nothing blamable, if you had refused to sign--you would only have +acted like the rest of the world; but by consenting to it, you have +exceeded all the world. In a word, my child, enjoy the beauty of your +own action, and do not think meanly of us for not having prompted you +to it. On a similar occasion, we should perhaps have acted as you have +done, and you would have advised as we did; it is all well, I am very +much pleased that M. de Grignan is so good as to recompense this mark +of your friendship and affection by a greater attention to his affairs. +The prudence you commend him for, is the truest mark of his gratitude +you could have wished. + + [129] It appears that Madame de Grignan had entered into a bond + for her husband. + + [130] Cardinal de Retz advised her not to sign. + + +LETTER LI. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, December 1, 1675. + +Well, my dear, it seems now settled that I am to receive two of your +packets together, and miss one post; you should see the faces I make, +and how I receive it in comparison with those that come regularly. I +am of your opinion, my child, and would give a great deal to be as +easy about answering letters as the coadjutor is, and keep them in my +pocket for a month or two without troubling my head about them. Well, +it is a gift from heaven certainly, this happy indifference! Madame de +Langeron used to say of visits, and I apply it to every thing: “What I +do fatigues me, and what I omit to do vexes me.” I think this is very +well said, and I feel it sensibly. I am always exact, however, in my +answers. It is with pleasure I give you the top of the basket; that +is, you have the very flower of my mind, my head, my eyes, my pen, my +desk--the rest fare as they can. I have as much amusement in chatting +to you, as labor and fatigue in writing to others. I am perfectly +stunned with the great news that abounds in Europe. + +I suppose the coadjutor has shown Madame de Fontevraud the letter he +received from you. You are ignorant of its value. You write like an +angel; I read your letters with admiration. You no sooner set out +than you reach the goal. Do you remember the minuet which you danced +so well, and closed in such excellent time, when the other creatures +were not at the end of theirs till the next day? The late madame and +yourself were famous for this; we used to call it _gaining ground_. +Your letters are just the same. + +As for your poor little _frater_, I know not where he has hid himself; +it is three weeks now since I had a line from him. He made no mention +of the pretty airing upon the Meuse, though every body believes it +here; his fortune is really very hard, poor lad. I do not see how he +can manage the affair of his promotion, unless Lauzun will take the +guidonage in part of payment, with some other little additions we +will endeavor to raise; but to buy the ensign’s place, and have the +guidonage left upon our hands, will never do. Your reasoning upon the +matter is very just; we all acquiesce in it, and shall be very well +contented to mount after the other two,[131] provided the guidon serves +as the first step. + + [131] The Marquis de la Trousse, and the Marquis de la Fare; the + one captain-lieutenant, and the other sub-lieutenant, in the + dauphin’s gens-d’armes. + +I shall finish the year here very peaceably. There are times when all +places are indifferent, and a solitude like this not unpleasant. Madame +de la Fayette returns you all your civilities; she has very bad health, +and poor M. de Limoges still worse; he has resigned all his benefices +to the king; I fancy his son, the Abbé de la Fayette, will have one of +his abbeys. Poor Gascony has been as roughly handled as we have been. +We have six thousand troops sent down to pass the winter among us: if +it were not for the misconduct of the provinces, I do not know how +they would be able to dispose of their troops. I can not think peace +is so near: do you remember all our reasoning upon the subject of war, +and how many there must be killed? This is always a certain prophecy, +and so is that, that your letters can never tire me, long as they may +be: ah! you will find no chimera in this hope, they are my choicest +reading. Ripert brings you a third volume of the Moral Essays, which +are worth your perusal. I never met with greater energy than there +is in the style of these writers: they make use of no words but what +are in common use, and yet they appear perfectly new, by the elegant +manner in which they dispose them. In the morning I read the history +of France; in the afternoon, some serious subjects in my woods; such +as the Essays, the Life of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, which I think +delightful, or the Iconoclastes; and in the evening, things of a +lighter nature: this is my constant rule. I hope you continue to read +Josephus; take courage, my dear, and go on boldly to the end. If you +read the history of the Crusades, you will meet with two illustrious +men who were your ancestors, but not a word about the great family of +V***, that holds its head so high at present: but I am persuaded there +are some passages which will make you throw aside the book, and curse +the Jesuit;[132] and yet upon the whole it is an admirable history. + + [132] Father Maimbourg, author of the History of the Crusades. + The physician, in the Lettres Persanes, gives as a recipe for the + asthma, to read all the works of this father, stopping only at + each period. + + +LETTER LII. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, Dec. 11, 1675. + +A little patience, my dear child, brings us to the accomplishment of +our wishes: I have received the two packets of letters from you that +I should have received before; but they are come at last, and you will +do me no more than justice to believe that I am highly delighted to +have them. I thank you that notwithstanding all your philosophy, you +enter into all my melancholy reflections on the immense distance that +separates us; you sympathize with me; you seem afflicted as well as +myself with this disposition of Providence; but you encounter it with +more courage than I do, who always feel from it some new increase of +sorrow. I am continually meditating on the past, for which the present +and the future can never make me amends. It is an ample field in which +to exercise a heart so tender and ill-defended as mine. I can not but +admire those good ladies who make a duty of their inclination; there +is La Troche for instance, who has so well turned and wound her good +fortune, that she is at length settled at her ease in the good city +of Paris, making it the seat of her empire and the field of all her +operations. She has fixed her son at court, in spite of wind and tide, +and makes it her business to be always near him. As for Marbeuf, she +had begun, even in her husband’s time, and now lays no restraint upon +herself; she has taken a lease of a house in Paris for a hundred years, +and most humbly takes her leave of poor Brittany: while you, my dear +child, who were born and bred in this country, you whom I have always +so fondly loved, and so ardently wished to have forever with me, are +driven to the furthest end of the world by the storms of adverse +fortune; but, if I mean to put an end to my letter, I must pass lightly +over these reflections, and resume my courage in the flattering hope +of a change: d’Hacqueville and I indulge some pleasing dreams of that +kind; but this is not a time to communicate them to you. Let us return +to the miseries of this poor province. + +Every place is full of warriors; there are to be some at Vitré, +notwithstanding the princess is there. Monsieur, when he writes to +her, styles her his good aunt; his dear aunt; but I do not find that +she is better treated than others. There are to be troops at Guerche, +the estate of the Marquis de Villeroi; and from thence they are to +spread themselves among the country people, to rob and strip them. This +is a heavy disaster upon poor Brittany, that never experienced any +thing of the kind before. Our governor has received a power to grant a +general amnesty, which he disperses with one hand, and with the other +lets loose eight thousand soldiers, over whom he has as much command +as you have: they have all their orders. M. de Pommereuil is expected +here every day; he has the inspection of this little army, and may +very soon boast a fine government. He is the best and wisest of the +robe; he is my friend; but I doubt whether he will be as tractable as +your intendant, whom you manage so excellently; I am afraid he will be +changed. I can give you no information to-day respecting Languedoc; in +the mean time content yourself with some from Guienne; I find they are +well protected, and have procured a considerable mitigation of their +burden. Alas! we are not so happy; our protections, if we had any, +would do us more harm than good, by the animosity against us of two +individuals. I believe we may still find, or at least promise to find, +the three millions demanded of us, without ruining our friend;[133] for +he is so beloved by the states, that they would do any thing rather +than he should suffer. And this, I think, is enough upon the subject. + + [133] M. de Harroüis. + +I am rejoiced that you are not returned to Grignan; it would have been +only an additional fatigue and expense to you. Prudence and economy, +for which the good abbé desires me to thank you, have rendered that +step unnecessary. Let me know if the dear little ones are to come to +you. We have most delightful weather here, and we are making some new +walks, which will be very beautiful. My son is very good, and helps to +amuse us; he enters into the spirit of the place, and has brought no +more of the warrior or of the courtier with him into this retreat, than +is sufficient to enliven conversation. When it does not rain we are not +so much to be pitied as at a distance it may be supposed; the time we +have fixed to spend here will pass like the rest. + +My letter has not been given to Louvois; the whole affair is +negotiating between Lauzun and myself; if he will take the guidonage, +we have offered to make a small addition to it; if he resolves to sell +his post outright, which would be very unreasonable, he must look for +a purchaser on his side, as we shall on ours; that is all. I have +written to the chevalier to condole with him on our not having met at +Paris; we should have made curious lamentations together on our last +year’s party, and should have renewed our tears for the loss of M. +de Turenne. I know not what idea you have of our princess; I assure +you she is no Artemisia;[134] her heart is like wax, it easily takes +impression; she makes a boast of it, and says pleasantly enough that +she has a ridiculous heart; this is spoken in general terms, but the +world is rather more particular in its applications. I am in hopes +I shall be able to keep this folly within bounds, by the frequent +speeches I make (as if I intended nothing by them) on the detestable +light in which those women are held, who give too great a rein to their +passions, and how much they subject themselves thereby to contempt. I +talk miraculously sometimes; I am heard and approved as much as can be +expected. Indeed, I consider it quite a duty to talk thus; and should +think it an honor to be instrumental in working a reformation. + + [134] The affectionate and chaste wife of Mausolus, king of + Caria, whose ashes she drank after his death. + +I am tired to death with the barrenness of news; we stand in great need +of some event, as you say, let it be at whose expense it will; as long +as we have no more Turennes to lose, _vogue la galère_. You tell me +extraordinary things; I read them, admire them, believe them, and then +you send me word they are not true; I well know the style and braggart +of the provinces. You judge superficially of our governor, when you +say you should have acted as he did, had you been in his place; I know +you would not; neither did the king’s service require it. Ah! what is +become of the excellent understanding you had last winter? This is no +time to think of deputations; let us see peace restored, and then we +shall have time to think of every thing. + +As to the religion of the Jews, I said, when reading their history, +that “if God had given me grace to have been born a Jew,”[135] I should +have liked it better than any other except the true religion. I admire +its magnificence; but you must admire it still more, on account of its +year of rest, and of dressing-gowns, which would have given you an +opportunity of being a shining example of piety in your elbow-chair; +never would sabbath have been better kept. Ripert has received the +Moral Essays; they contain several treatises, and among the rest one +that is particularly pleasing; you will guess which I mean. I am +delighted with your good health and beauty, for I love you truly. I +often wish for you in these woods, the air of which, as well as that of +Livri, is a great preservative to the complexion. Our good abbé praises +you highly for your care in discharging your debts; for that, in his +estimation, is the law and the prophets; and as M. de Grignan is so +prudent, I will embrace him notwithstanding his beard; but do you know +that your little brother’s beard has the presumption to rival it? it +is to much purpose! Send me word of your success at play. It seems to +me as if I saw your little fingers taking out of the pool; but these +times are past; good and evil travel on the same road, but they leave +different impressions. You have given a great dinner; where was I? for +I know all; I see all the magnificence from hence. You express yourself +admirably on the marriage of the little prince (De Marsan) and the +maréchale; the disproportion is doubtless great, but suppose he should +have escaped it! Believe me, you have no need of my letters, you can +write delightfully without a theme. But I must reduce myself at last +to Solon’s rule, “Nothing is to be praised on this side the grave;” +which is a heavy restriction for me, who dearly love to praise what +is praise-worthy; besides, who can stay so long? For my part, I shall +always go on in my old way: adieu, my ever-lovely and beloved child. + + [135] In allusion to an expression of M. de Rochefoucault, who + said, “If God had given me grace to have been born a Turk, I + should have died a Turk.” + + +LETTER LIII. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday January 12, 1676. + +You may fill your letters with whatever you please, and still be +assured that I read them with great pleasure and equal approbation; no +one can write better than you do, and it is not my friendship only that +leads me to form this opinion. + +You delight me by saying you like the Moral Essays; did I not tell +you they would suit your taste? As soon as I began to read them, I +could think of nothing but of sending them to you; you know I am +communicative, and do not like to enjoy a pleasure alone. If this +book had been written on purpose for you, it could not have been more +calculated to please you. What language! what energy in the arrangement +of the words! I think I never read French but in this book. The +resemblance of charity to self-love, and of the heroic modesty of M. +de Turenne and the prince to Christian humility--but I forbear. This +work deserves to be praised from beginning to end, but I should write +a strange letter if I were to do so. I am very glad, however, you like +it, and I have a better opinion of my own judgment in consequence. You +do not admire the life of Josephus; but it is sufficient if you approve +his actions and his history. Did you not think him very happy in the +cave, where they drew lots who should stab himself the last? + +We laughed till we cried at the story of the girl who sung the indecent +song, for which she confessed aloud in the church. Nothing can be +more novel and amusing. I think she was in the right; the confessor +certainly wished to hear the song, for he was not satisfied with +the girl’s accusation of herself. I fancy I see him bursting with +laughter the first at this adventure. We often send you ridiculous +stories, but we can not surpass this. I always talk of Brittany, and +it is to encourage you to talk of Provence; it is a country in which +I am more interested than in any other. My journey thither takes away +all possibility of being tired with what you tell me, because I am +acquainted with every body, and understand every thing perfectly. I +have not forgotten the beauty of your winters. Our season is very fine +here; I walk every day, and have almost made a new park round the waste +land at the end of the mall. I am planting four rows of trees there; +it will be a great improvement, for all this part is now uniform and +cultivated. + +But I shall take my departure, in spite of all these charms, in +February. The abbé’s affairs are still more urgent than yours, which +has prevented me from offering our house to Mademoiselle de Méri; she +has complained of this to several persons, I understand, but I know +not what reason she has to do so. The _worthy_ is in raptures with +your letters; I often show him passages that I know will please him. +He thanks you for what you say of the Moral Essays; he was delighted +with them himself. The little girl is still with us; she has an active +little mind which has never been exercised, and we take pleasure in +improving it. She is in perfect ignorance; it is an amusement to us to +give her some general knowledge: a few words of this great universe, +of empires, countries, kings, religions, and wars, of astronomy and +geography. It is pleasant to see the unfolding of all these things +in a little head which has never beheld a town or a river, and who +thought the whole world extended no further than our park; she amuses +us highly. I informed her to-day of the capture of Wismar; she knows +we are sorry for it, because the king of Sweden is our ally. Such are +our amusements. The princess is delighted that her daughter has taken +Wismar; she is a true Dane. She has asked monsieur and madame to exempt +her entirely from the soldiery, so that we shall all be safe. + +Madame de la Fayette is very grateful for your letter; she thinks you +very polite and obliging. But does it not appear strange to you that +her brother-in-law is not dead, and that such mistakes should arise at +the short distance of Toulon and Aix? Upon the questions you put to the +_frater_ I decide boldly, that he who is angry, and shows his anger, +is preferable to the deceiver, who conceals his malignity under fair +and specious appearances. There is a stanza in Ariosto descriptive of +guile.[136] I would transcribe it, but I have not time to look for it. +The good D’Hacqueville stills talks to me of the journey of St. Geran, +and to prove how short her stay will be, he says she can only receive +one of my letters at Palisse. This is how he treats an acquaintance +of a week; he is just the same with respect to others, but this is +excellent. I forgot to say that I had thought like you of the different +ways of painting the human heart, some white and others blacker than +black. You know what color mine is of for you. + + [136] We shall probably gratify the reader by inserting this + stanza: + + Havea piaceval viso, abito onesto, + Un umil valger d’occhi, un andar grave, + Un parlar si benigno, e si modesto + Che parea Gabriel, che dicesse: Ave, + Era brutta e deforme in tutto il resto + Ma nasconde queste fattezze prave + Con lungo abito, e largo, e sotto quello + Attosicato avea sempre il coltello. + + Orlando Furioso. Canto xiv. + + Her garb was decent, lovely was her face, + Her eyes were bashful, sober was her pace; + With speech whose charms might every heart assail, + Like his who gave the blest salute of--Hail! + But all deformed and brutal was the rest, + Which close she covered with her ample vest, + Beneath whose folds, prepared for bloody strife, + Her hand for ever grasped a poisoned knife. + + Hoole’s Translation. Book xiv. + + +LETTER LIV. + +(MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ DICTATES--HER SON WRITES.) + + THE ROCKS, Monday, Feb. 3, 1676. + +Guess, my dear child, what it is that comes the quickest, and goes off +the slowest; that brings you nearest to health, and removes you the +furthest from it; that throws you into the most agreeable situation +imaginable, and, at the same time, hinders you from enjoying it; that +flatters you with the most pleasing hopes, and keeps you the longest +from the accomplishment of them. Can not you guess? Do you give it up? +Why, it is the rheumatism. I have had it these three and twenty days; +since the fourteenth day I have been free from fever and pain, and in +this delightful situation, thinking myself strong enough to walk, which +is the summit of my wishes, I find myself swelled all over--feet, legs, +hands, arms; and this swelling, which they call my cure, and in reality +is so, is the sole occasion of my present vexation; were I good for +any thing, I might gain myself some credit by it. However, I believe +the enemy is conquered, and that in two days I shall be able to walk. +Larméchin gives me great hope of this. I every day receive letters from +our friends at Paris, congratulating me on my recovery. I have taken M. +de Lorme’s opening powders, which have been of great service to me; I +am going to take them again; they are a never-failing remedy in these +cases. After this attack I am promised an eternal succession of health. +God grant it. My first step will be to return to Paris. I desire you, +therefore, my dear, to calm all your fears; you see what a faithful +account we have given you of the affair; let that make you easy. + + +LETTER LV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, April 15, 1676. + +I am very melancholy, my dear; my poor boy is just gone; he has so +many little social virtues that are the charm of society, that were +he only an acquaintance I should regret his loss. He desired me, over +and over again, to tell you that he forgot to take notice to you of +the story of your Proteus, who was at one time a capuchin, at another +time a galley-slave; he was highly amused at it. It is supposed we are +going to undertake the siege of Cambray; this is so extraordinary a +step, that every one thinks we have had intelligence with some one in +the place. If we lose Philipsburg, it will be very difficult to repair +the breach: _vederemo_, we shall see. But still we reason and make +almanacs, all of which end with, _the king’s star will prevail_. + +At length Marshal Bellefond has cut the thread that tied him here. +Sanguin has purchased his place[137] for 55,000 livres, and a brevet de +retenue of 350,000. This is a fine settlement, and an assurance of a +cordon bleu.[138] M. de Pomponne has paid me a very cordial visit; all +your friends have exerted themselves wonderfully. I do not go out yet. +The cold winds retard the cure of my hands, and yet I write better than +I did, as you may see. I turn myself at night on my left side; I eat +with my left hand: these are left hand performances. My face is very +little altered; you would soon discover that you have seen it somewhere +before; it is because I have not been bled, and have endeavored to get +cured of my illness without such remedies. I thank you for mentioning +the pigeons to me. Where has the little one acquired this timidity? I +am afraid you will throw the blame upon me: you cast a suspicious eye +toward me. This humor will, I dare say, pass off, and you will not be +obliged to make a monk of him. I am resolved to go to Vichi; they have +set me against Bourbon on account of the air. The Maréchale d’Estrées +wishes me to go to Vichi; she says it is a delightful country. I have +told you what I think of that affair; either resolve to return hither +with me, or do not come at all; for a fortnight will only disturb me +with constant thoughts of a separation, and will be on the whole a +foolish and useless expense. You know how dear the sight of you is to +me, so take your own measures. + + [137] Of premier maître-d’hôtel, or lord chamberlain, to the king. + + [138] M. de Sanguin was not created a knight of the king’s order + at the promotion in 1688, but the Marquis de Livri his son, who + was premier maître-d’hôtel, was comprehended in that of 1724. + +I wish you had finished the bargain about your estate: M. de Pomponne +tells me it is raised to a marquisate. I desired him to make it a +dukedom: he assured me it would give him great pleasure to do so, and +that he would use all expedition in drawing up the patents. This is +a considerable step. I am delighted to hear the pigeons are so well. +How does the little tiny, or rather the great fat one do? I love him +dearly, for resolving to live against wind and tide. But I can not +forget my little girl;[139] I suppose you will determine on putting her +to Saint Marie, according to the resolutions you adopt this summer; all +depends upon that. You seem satisfied with the devotions of Passion and +Easter weeks: you shut yourself up at Grignan. For my part, my thoughts +were not affected with any thing. I had no object to strike the senses. +I ate meat till Good Friday, and had only the comfort of being very +distant from any opportunity of committing sin. I told La Mousse you +remembered him, and he advises you to make the most of your man of wit. +Adieu, my dear child. + + [139] Marie-Blanche d’Athémar, born the 15th November, 1670. + + +LETTER LVI. + + PARIS, Wednesday, April 29, 1676. + +I must begin by telling you that Condé was taken by storm on Saturday +night. The news at first made my heart beat; I feared the victory had +cost us dear, but it does not prove so; we have lost some men, but none +of any note; this may be reckoned a complete happiness. Larei, the son +of M. Lainé, who was killed in Candia, or his brother, is dangerously +wounded. You see how soon our old heroes are forgotten. + +Madame de Brinvilliers is not so comfortable as I am; she is in +prison, and endeavors to pass her time there as pleasantly as she +can; she desired yesterday to play at piquet, because she was dull. +Her confession has been found; it informs us that at the age of seven +years she ceased to be a virgin; that she had ever since gone on at +the same rate; that she had poisoned her father, her brothers, one of +her children, and herself; but the last was only to make trial of a +counter-poison. Medea was a saint compared with her. She has owned this +confession to be her own writing; it was an unaccountable folly; but +she says she was in a high fever when she wrote it, and that it was an +act of madness or frenzy, which does not deserve a serious thought. + +The queen has been twice at the Carmelites with Madame de Montespan. +The latter set on foot a lottery; she collected every thing that could +be useful to the nuns; this was a great novelty and amusement in the +convent. She conversed a long time with sister Louise[140] de la +Miséricorde, and asked her whether it was really true that she was as +happy there as it had been generally reported. She replied, “I am not +happy, but I am contented.” Quanto talked to her a great deal of the +brother of monsieur; and asked her if she had no message to send him, +and what she should say to him for her. She replied in the sweetest +tone and manner possible, though perhaps a little piqued at the +question; “Whatever you please, madam, whatever you please.” Fancy this +to be expressed with all the grace, spirit, and modesty, which you so +well understand. Quanto afterward wished for something to eat, and sent +to purchase some ingredient that was necessary for a sauce she prepared +herself, and which she ate with a wonderful appetite. I tell you the +simple fact without the least embellishment. When I think of the letter +you wrote me last year about M. de Vivonne, I consider all I send you +as a burlesque. To what lengths will not folly lead a man who thinks +himself deserving of such exaggerated praise! + + [140] Madame de la Vallière. + + +LETTER LVII. + + PARIS, Friday, July 17, 1676. + +At length it is all over: La Brinvilliers is in the air; after her +execution her poor little body was thrown into a large fire, and her +ashes dispersed by the wind, so that whenever we breathe, we shall +inhale some particles of her, and by the communication of the minute +spirits, we may be all infected with the desire of poisoning, to our +no small surprise. She was condemned yesterday; and this morning her +sentence was read to her, which was to perform the _amende honorable_ +in the church of Notre-Dame; and, after that, to have her head cut +off, her body burned, and her ashes thrown into the air. They were for +giving her the question, but she told them there was no occasion for +that, and that she would confess every thing; accordingly, she was till +five o’clock in the evening relating the history of her life, which +has been more shocking than was even imagined. She gave poison to her +father ten times successively, but without effect, and also to her +brother, and several others, at the same time preserving the appearance +of the greatest love and confidence. She has said nothing against +Penautier. Notwithstanding this confession, they gave her the question, +ordinary and extraordinary, the next morning; but this extorted nothing +more from her. She desired to speak with the procurator-general: no +one yet knows the subject of their conversation. At six o’clock she +was carried in a cart, with no other covering than her shift, and with +a cord round her neck, to the church of Notre-Dame, to perform the +_amende honorable_; after which, she was put again into the same cart, +where I saw her extended on a truss of straw, with a confessor on one +side, and the hangman on the other; indeed, my child, the sight made +me shudder. Those who saw the execution say she mounted the scaffold +with great courage. I was on the bridge of Notre-Dame, with the good +d’Escars; never was Paris in such commotion, nor its attention so fixed +upon one event. Yet, ask many people what they saw, and they will tell +you they saw no more than I did, who was not present; in short, the +whole day has been dedicated to this tragedy. + + +LETTER LVIII. + + LIVRI, Wednesday, Nov. 4, 1676. + +Nothing can be more true than the proverb which says, that liberty +is destroyed by uncertainty. Were you under any sort of restraint, +you would have determined what to do long ago, and not have been like +Mohammed’s coffin, suspended between heaven and earth; one of the +loadstones would certainly, by this time, have got the better of the +other. You would no longer be _dragooned_, which is a very unpleasant +state. The voice you heard, in passing the Durance, exclaim, _Ah, +mother! mother!_ would pierce to Grignan: or at least, that which +counseled you to leave it, would not haunt you at Briare; for which +reason, I maintain that nothing can be more opposite in its nature to +liberty than indifference and indecision. Can it be possible that the +sage La Garde, who has, it seems, resumed all his wonted wisdom, has +likewise lost his free will? is he incapable of advising you? can he +be at a loss to decide in this important point? you have seen that I +decide like one of the councils. But how is it that La Garde, who is +coming to Paris himself, can not contrive that his journey may take +place at the same time with yours? If you do come, it would be no bad +thought to take the way of Sully; the little duchess would certainly +convey you as far as Nemours; at least, you would find some friend or +other, from day to day, so that you would have a relay of friends, till +you found yourself in your own apartment. You would have met with a +better reception last time, but your letter came so late that you took +every body by surprise, and had nearly missed me, which would have been +a fine circumstance indeed; but we will contrive to keep clear of this +inconvenience in future. I can not help praising the chevalier,[141] +who arrived in Paris on Friday evening, and dined here on Saturday; was +it not very good of him? I was delighted to see him, and I assure you +we spoke with great freedom of your scruples. I am now going to take +a trip to Paris. I must see M. de Louvois on your brother’s account, +who is still here without leave, which vexes me not a little. I want +to talk to M. Colbert likewise, about your pension: these two visits +are all I have to make. I have some thoughts of going to Versailles, +but will acquaint you whether I do so or not. In the mean time, we have +the finest weather imaginable; the country has yet put on none of its +horrors, and St. Hubert has favored the hunter extremely. + + [141] De Grignan. + +We are still reading Saint Augustine with pleasure: there is something +so great and noble in his ideas, that all the mischief that weak minds +can possibly receive from his doctrine, falls infinitely short of the +good which others may derive from the perusal. You will imagine I give +myself airs of a learned lady; but when you see in what a familiar +style this is written, you will cease to wonder at my capacity. You +tell me that if you did not love me a great deal more than you say, +you should love me very little: I am strangely tempted to scold you +for this, even though I should risk the saying an unkind or an uncivil +thing: but no; I am fully persuaded you love me; and God knows much +better than it is possible for you to do, what a strong affection I +entertain for you. I am glad to hear Pauline is like me, she will serve +to put you in mind of me. “_Ah! mother, there is no need of that._” + + +LETTER LIX. + + LIVRI, Friday, Nov. 6, 1676. + +Surely there never was so brilliant a letter as your last; I had some +thoughts of sending it back, that you might have the pleasure of +perusing it. I could not help wondering while I read it, how it was +possible to wish so ardently to receive no more. This, however, is the +affront I put on your letters: you seem to treat mine much more civilly. + +This Reimond is certainly _hem! hem!_ with the head-dress you know so +well; she has dressed in this style, as you properly observe, that +she might seem qualified to hear the music of the blessed above; and +our sisters have done the same from the wish of obtaining a fund of +seven thousand livres, with a pension of a thousand, by which she +is enabled[142] “to go abroad when she likes, and she likes it very +often.” We have never had such merchandize before; but the beauty of +our house causes us to overlook every thing; for my own part, I am +quite delighted with it: for in my opinion both her apartments and her +voice are divine, _hem, hem_. + + [142] Madame de Sévigné recants a little. See the Letter of the + 21st October. + +The dates you mention in speaking of Madame de Soubise, are, thank +God, among those which have escaped my memory. Some marked incivility +must certainly have been shown during the festivities at Versailles. +Madame de Coulanges informs me that the tooth has disappeared since the +day before yesterday; in that case, you will conclude they can have no +tooth against her. You are very amusing upon my friend’s[143] illness, +and at the same time it is all true. The quartan ague of our friend of +the suburbs,[144] is happily at an end. I have sent your letter to the +chevalier,[145] without apprehension or reproof. I love him sincerely; +and as for my _pigeon_, I wish I could give him a kiss; I have some +idea in my head, I know not how truly, that leads me to think I shall +one day or other see all these little folks. I can not understand the +eight months’ child; pray is she likely to live a century? I fancy +the gentlemen that fought it out so bravely in the streets, are in a +fair way to live as long. It would really be a very pretty and just +punishment for a battle in the midst of summer. Adieu, my dear lovely +child, I shall finish this in the good city of Paris. + + [143] Madame de Coulanges. + + [144] Madame de la Fayette. + + [145] De Grignan. + + Friday, at Paris. + +So! here I am. I have been dining at the worthy Bagnol’s, where I +found Madame de Coulanges in this charming apartment, embellished +with the golden rays of the sun, where I have often seen you, almost +as beautiful and as brilliant as he. The poor convalescent gave me a +hearty welcome, and is now going to write two lines to you; it is, +for aught I know, something from the other world, which I am sure +you will be very glad to hear. She has been giving me an account of +a new dress called transparencies. Pray, have you heard of it? It is +an entire suit of the finest gold and azure brocade that can be seen, +over which is a black robe, either of beautiful English lace, or velvet +chenille like the winter laces you have seen; this occasions the name +of transparency, which is, you see, a black suit, and a suit of gold +and azure, or any other color, according to the fancy of the wearer, +as is all the fashion at present. This was the dress worn at the ball +on St. Hubert’s day, which lasted a whole half-hour, for nobody would +dance. The king pushed Madame d’Heudicourt into the middle of the room +by main force; she obeyed, but at length the combat ended for want of +combatants. The fine embroidered boddices destined for Villers-Côterets +serve to walk out on an evening, and were worn on St. Hubert’s day. +The prince informed the ladies at Chantilly, that their transparencies +would be a thousand times more beautiful if they would wear them next +their skin, which I very much doubt. The Granceis and Monacos did not +share in the amusements, because the mother of the latter is ill, and +the mother of the _angels_ has been at death’s door. It is said, the +Marchioness de la Ferté has been in labor there, ever since Sunday, and +that Bouchet is at his wit’s end. + +M. de Langlée has made Madame de Montespan a present of a robe of +gold cloth, on a gold ground, with a double gold border embroidered +and worked with gold, so that it makes the finest gold stuff ever +imagined by the wit of man. It was contrived by fairies in secret, +for no living wight could have conceived any thing so beautiful. The +manner of presenting it was equally mysterious. Madame de Montespan’s +mantua-maker carried home the suit she had bespoke, having made it +to fit ill on purpose; you need not be told what exclamations and +scoldings there were upon the occasion. “Madam,” said the mantua-maker, +trembling with fear, “as there is so little time to alter it in, will +you have the goodness to try whether this other dress may not fit you +better?” It was produced. “Ah!” cried the lady, “how beautiful! What +an elegant stuff is this? Pray, where did you get? It must have fallen +from the clouds, for a mortal could never have executed any thing like +it.” The dress was tried on; it fitted to a hair. In came the king. “It +was made for you, madam,” said the mantua-maker. Immediately it was +concluded that it must be a present from some one; but from whom? was +the question. “It is Langlée,” said the king. “It must be Langlée,” +said Madame de Montespan; “nobody but Langlée could have thought of +so magnificent a present--it is Langlée, it is Langlée!” Every body +exclaims, “It is Langlée, it is Langlée!” The echoes repeat the sound. +And I, my child, to be in the fashion, say, “It is Langlée.” + + +LETTER LX. + + PARIS, Wednesday, June 30, 1677. + +At length you inform me that you are arrived at Grignan. The pains you +have taken to keep our correspondence uninterrupted, is a continual +mark of your affection. I can assure you that you are not mistaken in +the opinion that I stand in need of this support; indeed no one can +be more in want of it. It is true, however, and I too often think so, +that your presence would have been of much greater service to me; but +your situation was so extraordinary, that the same considerations that +determined you to go, made me consent to your departure, without doing +any thing more than stifle my sentiments. It was considered a crime in +me to discover any uneasiness with regard to your health. I saw you +perishing before my eyes, and was not permitted to shed a tear. It was +killing you, it was assassinating you; I was compelled to suppress +my grief. I never knew a more cruel or more unprecedented species +of torture. If, instead of that restraint, which only increased my +affliction, you had owned that you were ill; and if your love for me +had been productive of complaisance, and made you evince a real desire +to follow the advice of physicians, to take nourishment, to observe a +regimen, and to own that repose and the air of Livri would have done +you good, this would indeed have comforted me, but your opposition to +our sentiments aggravated my grief and anxiety. In the end, my child, +we were so circumstanced, that we could not possibly avoid acting as +we did. God explained to us his will by that conduct; but we should +endeavor to see whether he will not permit us mutually to reform, and +whether, instead of that despair to which you condemned me from a +motive of affection, it would not be more natural and more beneficial +to give our hearts the liberty they require, and without which it is +impossible for us to lead a life of tranquillity. Thus I have declared +my mind to you freely once for all. I shall mention the subject no +more, but let us each reflect upon the past, that, whenever it pleases +God to bring us together again, we may carefully avoid falling into the +same errors. The relief which you have found in the fatigues of so long +a journey, sufficiently proves the necessity you are under of laying +aside restraint. Extraordinary remedies are necessary for persons of +an extraordinary character; physicians would never have dreamed of +such a one as that I have just mentioned. God grant it may continue to +produce the same good effect, and that the air of Grignan may not prove +injurious to you! I could not avoid writing to you in this manner, in +order to relieve my heart, and intimate to you that we must endeavor, +when next we meet, not to give any one an opportunity of paying us the +wretched compliment of saying very civilly, that to keep quite well, +we should never see one another again. I am astonished at the patience +that can bear so cruel a thought. + +You brought the tears into my eyes in speaking of your little boy. +Alas, poor child; who can bear to see him in such a situation! I do not +retract what I always thought of him; but am of opinion that, even from +affection, we ought to wish him already in a happier world. Paulina +appears to me worthy of being made your play-thing; her resemblance +even will not displease you, at least, I hope it will not. That +little quadrangular nose is a feature you can not possibly dislike +to find at Grignan.[146] It seems to me somewhat odd that the noses +of the Grignan family should admit no shape but this, and should be +altogether averse to a nose like yours, which might have been sooner +formed; but they dreaded extremes, though they did not care about a +trifling modification. The little marquis is a very pretty fellow; you +should not be at all uneasy at his not being altered for the better. +Talk to me a great deal about the persons you associate with, and the +amusements they afford you. + + [146] This alludes to Madame de Sévigné’s nose, which inclined to + the square. + + +LETTER LXI. + + LIVRI, Saturday, July 3, 1677. + +Alas, how grieved I am at the death of your poor child![147] it is +impossible not be affected at it. Not that I was ever of opinion he +could live; the description you gave convinced me that his case was +desperate. But, it is a great loss to you, who had lost two boys +before: God preserve to you the only one that remains! He discovers an +admirable disposition; I am much better pleased with sound sense and +just reasoning, at his age, than with the vivacity of those who turn +out fools at twenty. Be satisfied with him, therefore; lead him like a +horse that has a tender mouth, and remember what I told you respecting +his bashfulness; this advice comes from persons much wiser than myself; +and I am sure it is good. With regard to Paulina, I have one word to +say to you; from your description of her she may, perhaps, in time, +become as handsome as yourself; when a child, you were exactly like +her. God grant she may not resemble me in having a heart so susceptible +of tenderness! I see plainly that you love her, that she is amiable, +and that she amuses you. I wish I could embrace her, and recognize that +face again _which I have seen somewhere_. + + [147] The child that was born in February 1676. + + +LETTER LXII. + + LIVRI, Friday, July 16, 1677. + +I wish, my dear child, that you had a tutor for your son; it is a pity +his mind should be left uncultivated. I doubt whether he is yet of an +age to eat all sorts of food promiscuously; we should examine whether +children are strong and robust, before we give them strong meats; +otherwise we run the hazard of injuring their stomachs, which is of +great consequence. My son stays behind to take leave of his friends; he +will then come to me here; he must afterward join the army, and after +that he may go and drink the waters. An officer, named M. D****, has +lately been cashiered for absenting himself; I know the answer you will +make, but this instance sufficiently shows the severity of military +discipline. Adieu, my dear child; be comforted for the loss of your +son; nobody is to blame concerning him. His death was occasioned by +teething, and not by a defluxion upon the lungs; when children have not +strength sufficient to force out the teeth at a proper time, they are +never able to bear the necessary motion to make them all come at once; +I talk learnedly. You know the answer of Sully’s green bed to M. de +Coulanges, made by Guillerague; it is droll enough; Madame de Thianges +repeated it to the king, who sings it; it was said at first, that he +had ruined himself by it; but it is not true, it will perhaps make his +fortune. If this discourse does not come from a green mind, it comes +from a green head, which is the same, and the color of the thing can +not be disputed. + + +LETTER LXIII. + + LIVRI, Wednesday Evening, July 24, 1677. + +Love Paulina, love Paulina, my child! indulge yourself in that +amusement; do not destroy your peace of mind by depriving yourself of +her; what are you afraid of? You may still send her to a convent for +a few years, when you think it necessary. Enjoy maternal affection +for a while; it is exquisite when it springs from the heart, and the +choice falls upon an amiable object. Dear Paulina! methinks I see her +here; she will resemble you, notwithstanding she bears the mark of +the workman. It is true, this nose is a strange affair; but it will +improve, and I will answer for it, she will be handsome. + +Madame de Vins is still here; she is now in my closet, engaged in +conversation with D’Hacqueville and my son. His heel is still so bad +that he may perhaps go to Bourbon when I go to Vichi. Be under no +concern about this journey; and since it is not the will of Heaven that +I should enjoy the charms of your society, we must yield obedience +to his will; it is a bitter evil, but it must be endured; we are the +weakest, and to attempt resistance is vain. I should be too happy if +your friendship was clothed in all its realities; it is still extremely +dear to me, though divested of the charms and pleasures which your +presence and company bestow upon it. My son and I will answer all you +have said on the subject of epic poetry. The contempt I know he has for +Eneas, makes me apprehensive he will be of your opinion. Yet all the +great wits have a taste for every thing written by the ancients. + + +LETTER LXIV. + + EPOISSES, Wednesday morning, August 25, 1677. + +I have here, my beloved child, received your letter of the 11th, which +I expected with so much impatience; I am not used to such delays; it +renders my whole journey uncomfortable to be thus disappointed. M. +Guitaut does all he can to convince me how extremely glad he is to +see me here. All our people are at Bourbilly, where the farmer treated +us yesterday with a most plentiful dinner. M. de Guitaut and M. de +Trichâteau were there; this gave an air of comfort to the frightful +Bourbilly-house. I shall continue here till Sunday, and will write to +you once more from this place. There is no sort of constraint in this +house, so that I can read, work, or walk out, when I please. My host +and I have a great deal of conversation together, and there is hardly +a country you can name where we have not been travelers. He tells me +a thousand stories of Provence, of the intendant and Vardes, which I +was ignorant of till now. He seems very devout; follows good teachers; +has a great desire to pay his old debts, and to contract no new ones. +This is the first step to be taken when we become acquainted with true +religion. + + +LETTER LXV. + + VICHI, Wednesday evening, Sept. 22, 1677. + +I have just received a letter of the 15th. I fancy it has taken a trip +to Paris. The chevalier has received one from the handsome abbé, of +the same date, which shows me you were well, at least on that day. +It is true that if Vardes had mentioned your illness to me, in terms +ever so little stronger than those he used, no consideration would +have kept me from you; but he managed so well, that I have no food for +uneasiness but what is passed by. I conjure you, my beloved child, +to send me word of the return of your health and beauty. I can not +dispense with this intelligence, nor can I endure the thoughts of your +being less handsome at your age. Do not fancy, therefore, that you can +reconcile me to your extreme thinness, which is too plain a proof of +your ill state of health: mine is as perfect as it can be. I put an end +to-morrow to all my business, and take my last medicine. I have drunk +the waters sixteen days, have twice used the pump and the hot-bath; but +the pump was too much for me, and I am sorry for it, but it made me too +hot and giddy; in short, I had no occasion for it, and drinking the +waters was sufficient. I set out on Friday for Langlar. My messmates, +Termes, Flamarens, and Jussac, will follow me thither. The chevalier +will come to see me on Saturday, and will return on Monday to begin the +pump. He will be only a week without me. He will receive in my absence +a thousand presents from my friends, and is very well satisfied with +me. My hands are better; the inconvenience is so very slight, that I +shall use no remedy but time. I am perfectly in despair, my child, at +the frightful ideas you entertain. Heavens! is it possible, that in +my present state of health, I can do you any injury? It is certainly +very much against my inclination if I do. I know not whether it is your +intention to write me such admirable passages as you are accustomed +to do. You could not possibly fail to succeed in such attempt, and I +can assure you they would not be suffered to be forgotten: you are not +sensible of the brilliancy of what you say, and so much the better. You +have some little inclination to divert yourself at the expense of your +humble servant, as well as at her stays and head-dress; but you would +certainly have fallen in love with me had you seen the fine figure I +cut at the well. I have a notion the Hôtel de Carnavalet will suit us +better than the other house we heard of, which is so small that not +one of your people could possibly have been accommodated there. We +shall see what the great D’Hacqueville will do. I tremble lest Madame +de l’Islebonne should take it into her head to stay. I am still very +uneasy about Corbinelli; he has been very severely handled by his ague, +his delirium, and every thing that is frightful. He takes the potable +gold; we shall see what effect it produces.[148] I desire you would +still talk to me of yourself and your health. Do you use no method to +repair the loss of your two bleedings? Good heavens! what a disorder! +and what apprehensions must it give to those who love you! Here come +the chevalier and the rest of my old companions, with one who certainly +plays a better fiddle than Baptiste. We should be delighted to send +you and M. de Grignan a chacone and an echo with which he charms us, +and with which you would likewise be charmed. You shall hear him this +winter. + + [148] The time was at hand when the most pompous names given to + the most complicated mixture, served to vail the ignorance of the + chemists, physicians, and apothecaries, and to increase their + bills. Potable gold was one of those whimsical remedies, of which + muriatic acid was the basis. The solution of gold, which was + added to it, was only used to swell the expense. Powdered pearls + were also sometimes used to make their drugs still dearer. The + severe Guy-Patin had no mercy upon these quacks. He calls them + _Arabian cooks_, and laughs at their _farrago_. He, and some of + his medical friends, prided themselves upon having destroyed this + _colossal extortion_. Their triumph was premature. The cheap + medicines they pretended to have restored, were not at that time + received by people of rank; and it appears that Corbinelli was + treated like a nobleman, whether he would or not. + + +LETTER LXVI. + + PARIS, Friday, October 15, 1677. + +We have been at Livri for these two days; Madame de Coulanges, who is +quite well, doing the honors of the house, and I the company. We had +the Abbé Têtu and Corbinelli with us. Mademoiselle de Méri, who was +returning from La Trousse, came there too, thinking to spend some days +with Madame de Coulanges; but this lady has ended her campaign, and we +all returned yesterday to Paris. Mademoiselle de Méri went directly +to Madame de Mereuil’s, for her own house was, it seems, in complete +disorder; and Madame de Coulanges, the Abbé Têtu and I, paid some +visits in the country, like Madame de la Fayette at Saint Maur, and +Madame de Schomberg at Rambouillet. I thought of sleeping at Madame de +Coulanges’, but for that night only. I returned here to visit the good +abbé, who has been bled, and is still much indisposed with his cold; I +am sorry I could not help leaving him for this little moment. We live +quite in the open air; all my people are as busy as bees in packing up +for our removal. I encamped in my own bed-chamber; and am now in that +of the _worthy_, my whole furniture being a little table, on which +I now write to you, and that is sufficient. I fancy we shall all be +pleased with our Hôtel de Carnavalet. We think it strange not to have +seen Termes, though we have been home these nine days. It is easy to +guess that he has returned to his college, and that his regent gives +him not a moment’s relaxation. I am not at all sorry, as you may very +well suppose, and shall not reproach him for it; but ask the chevalier, +whether, after the great pleasure he took in talking with me at Vichi, +such extreme indifference be not very singular. It would certainly be +very indiscreet, if the lady stood in need of being directed, and such +conduct would be something to talk of; but it is impossible to do her +any injury. I thought he seemed quite delighted at Vichi, on account +of the vocation as you say, and to be with a good sort of woman, in +full assurance of having no demands made upon him. This repose charmed +him; there is sometimes great pleasure in passing from one extreme to +another. He was mightily taken with the perpetual gossip of Vichi. +You see what the consequence of this has been, at which I am under no +sort of concern, but I tell it you as I do a thousand things else. +When excess and imprudence are pushed to a certain extreme, I am +persuaded they are more injurious to men than women; at least their +fortunes are always sure to pay considerably for it. But let us leave +Termes under the ferula; there is a good deal to be said of another +_old ferula_,[149] which discovers its severity too much. As for you, +my child, you enjoy a real vacation, and make an admirable use of the +fine weather; to dine at home in your own house is a very extraordinary +affair. You write to me from Rochecourbière--what a pretty place to +date from! what a delightful grotto! How amiable you are to remember me +at that delightful place, and to be sorry that I am not there to share +its pleasures with you! Let us leave Providence to dispose of affairs +at his pleasure; we shall see one another again, my love. In the mean +time I shall prepare to receive you at Carnavalet, where I shall again +have the pleasure of rendering you a thousand little services, which +are of no real importance; but I am happy in the opportunity, because +you wrote me word the other day, that little attentions were a stronger +proof of friendship than any other. It is true, we can not set too high +a value upon them; self-love has certainly too large a share in what we +do on great occasions. _Tender interest is swallowed up in pride_; this +is an idea of yours which I would not for the world deprive you of, as +I find my account in it but too well. + + [149] This _old ferula_ is apparently the Marchioness de + Castelnau, who was long and publicly the mistress of M. de + Termes. The _Amours des Gaules_, in which this is found, has very + much defamed this marquis. If this part was written by Bussy as + well as the rest, he must have been very wicked, for his letters + show that the Marquis de Termes was his steady friend. He also + possessed all the requisites to excite his jealousy. He was one + of those in whom Boileau acknowledged a superior mind. “M. de + Termes,” said he, “is always of the opinion of others, and this + is true politeness.” (Vide la Boleana.) + +I am, in regard to the loss of Bayard, precisely in the same +disposition you guessed I was. Madame de la Fayette is utterly +inconsolable. I have presented your compliments to her. She was then +living on a milk diet, which she has discontinued on account of its +turning acid on her stomach; so that we have lost this sole ground of +hope of the recovery of her desperate state of health. That of M. de +Maine is certainly far from being good. He is at Versailles, where no +one has seen him; they say he walks worse than he did. In short, I +really fancy there is something in it. + + +LETTER LXVII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, October 27, 1677. + +I shall no longer, my child, ask you why. In three words, my horses are +thin, my tooth is loose, and my preceptor has got the king’s evil. All +this is dreadful. One might well make three grievances of these three +answers, and especially of the second. I shall not ask you after this, +whether your watch goes right, for you will then tell me it is broken. +Paulina answers much better than you do; nothing can be more amusing +than the little rogueries she means to be guilty of, when she says she +will be a _rogue some day or other herself_. Ah, how sorry I am that I +can not see this dear child! I fancy you will soon console me for this, +if you pursue the plan I have laid down to you; you will set out at +furthest in a week, and will not receive this letter at Grignan. M. de +Coulanges is to set out to-day by the stage-coach for Lyons, where you +will find him; he will inform you how delightfully we are accommodated. +There was no hesitation in choosing the upper part of the house for you +and me, and the lower for M. de Grignan and his daughters; so that all +will be perfectly well. + +I recommend to all your Grignans, who are so careful of your health, +to see that you do not fall into the Rhône, by the cruel pleasure you +take in exposing yourself to its greatest dangers. I entreat them to +turn cowards, and to land with you. I find, besides, that I shall be +very happy to administer to you some of my chicken-broth. The place you +desire at my table, you may be assured is yours. The regimen which your +Grignans prescribe for you is my ordinary fare. I agree with Grisoni to +banish all ragouts. + + +LETTER LXVIII. + + LIVRI, Wednesday, October 25, 1679. + +I am here alone; I was loath to suffer any irksomeness but my own. +No company tempts me to begin my winter so soon. If I chose it, I +could assume an air of solitude; but after hearing Madame de Brissac +say, the other day, that she was wholly engaged in her meditations, +and had rather too much of her own company, I am proud to boast that +I have passed this whole afternoon in the meadow, in conference with +our sheep and cows. I have store of good books, especially Montaigne; +what could I desire more, since I can not have you? I have the favor +of your last letter at this place. You fancy I am at Paris, sitting in +the chimney-corner, and have, no doubt, sitting by your own, received +my lamentations on the fatigue of your journey; what a dreadful thing +it is to be at such a distance! It is impossible to be more astonished +than I was to find you with M. and Madame de Mêmes; I fancied you had +been deceived, and that you were to have received them at Livri. They +write to me to express how much they are charmed at the reception +you have given them: they are very desirous to see me, which is the +strongest inducement for my returning so speedily. + +You are in the right to suppress Paulina’s modesty; it will be worn +out by the time she is fifteen; a premature and ill-timed modesty may +have sad consequences. You are in jest, to thank Corbinelli for the +compliment he paid your good sense. He merely thinks you superior +to others; and when he says so, he says what he thinks, and has no +intention to flatter you. He would have said a word or two in my +letter, on the compliments you were pleased to make him; but this I +intend to wave till my return. M. and Madame de Rohan have not thought +of making him a present, out of the two thousand five hundred pistoles +they received at the assembly of the States, under the title of the +little prince of Leon. Some people have a strange destiny; Corbinelli’s +seems to be to hold in the most sovereign contempt what other folks +prize in the highest degree. It is true, I was very much amused with +his conversation, and that of the Abbé de Piles;[150] they agreed in +many things, though there were some of harder digestion, which they +seemed to chew upon. M. de Rochefoucault calls this eating hot peas: I +am sure they had a good dish of them; for this forest is adapted for +such things. The fat abbé has entered on his office of gazetteer, so +you need be under no uneasiness about answers; he is better calculated +for the office than I am. + + [150] The same, probably, who has made himself known by his works + on painting. He studied in the Sorbonne. He afterward went to + Italy with the younger Amelot, whom he educated. He was also + employed in several negotiations. + +Your brother is a strange creature; he could not, for the soul of him, +help spoiling all the wonders he performed at the assembly of the +States, by an absurd fancy and a pretense of being in love perfectly +ridiculous. The object is a Mademoiselle de la Coste, upward of thirty +years of age, without fortune or beauty; even her father says he is +very sorry for it, and that it is by no means a fit match for M. de +Sévigné; he writes me so himself; I commend and thank him for his +prudence. What do you suppose your brother has done since? he has +never quitted his damsel, but has followed her to Rennes and Lower +Brittany, where she has gone under pretense of visiting Tonquedec; he +has almost turned her brain, and has put her out of conceit with a very +proper match she had in some degree contracted; it is the talk of the +whole province. M de Coulanges, and all my friends in Brittany, write +to me about it, and are all persuaded he will certainly marry her. +For my own part, I am convinced of the contrary; but I ask him why +he so unnecessarily disgraces his poor head, after such a promising +commencement? why he makes the lady reject an offer she now looks upon +with the most sovereign contempt? and why this perfidy? If it is not +perfidy, it will have some other name, since I am determined, let what +will happen, never to sign the marriage-contract. If he be really in +love, so much the worse, for this is a source of the most extravagant +actions; but as I think him incapable of that passion, I should +scruple, were I in his place, thus wantonly to wound the repose and the +fortune of one he can so easily dispense with. He is now at the Rocks, +from whence he writes to me about this journey to Tonquedec’s, but not +a syllable of his Dulcinea, or of this noble flame. Only in general +terms, a great many fine things, and compliments without number. In +short, it is an affair I leave entirely to the disposal of Providence. + + +LETTER LXIX. + + PARIS, Friday, Nov. 10, 1679. + +I am no longer a shepherdess, my poor child; I have left with regret +my solitary conversation with your letters, and your image, aided by +_Louison_, our cows and sheep, and the twilight, which I embraced with +eagerness, because I would neither spare nor flatter myself. I am now +in the refinements of the Hôtel de Carnavalet, where I find I am not +less occupied with you, that your letters are not less dear to me, or +that any thing in the world is capable of driving you from my thoughts. +I shall have little news to tell you; I know scarcely any at present; +but what I hear comes from good authority, and may be depended on. You +assure me, my dearest child, you are perfectly well. God grant it be +so; this is soon said. I wish you would not write me such long letters; +I am certain they do you harm. Were it not for this consideration, you +may believe I should be glad they were as long as possible; but this +apprehension damps all the pleasure I receive from them. Du Chêne told +me the other day nothing could be worse for you than much writing. The +time must come, my child, when you will write less; and when you are +here, you must think of your health, and your recovery. We will take +care to put the Hôtel de Carnavalet in as good order as possible for +you. The good abbé wishes this as much as I do. Pray, write me no more +bad accounts of yourself, nor imagine that your letters are better than +your conversation; I should be unworthy of your love were I capable of +entertaining such a thought. I am convinced of your affection, and I +have as much relish for your society as those who are most delighted +with your conversation. Ah! did you know the power of a word, a look, a +kind expression, or a caress from you, and from what distant countries +one of these could bring me, you would be convinced, my beauty, that +nothing is equal to your presence! The account of your devotion on +All-Saints’ day has affected me strangely. It was delightful to cram +all your little ones into the same litter--dear little party! Had I +been of your council, I should have given my vote for doing just as you +did, as you will see by my advice to Paulina, in the regular answer +I have written her. Lovely child! it is impossible she can ever tire +you. Enjoy, my love, all these little comforts, and instead of thinking +of depriving yourself of them, think of the numberless evils of this +mortal and transitory life. + +I finish this letter at Mademoiselle de Méri’s, where I also close my +packet. She is quite exhausted with the vapors and evacuations, and +is incapable of writing a single syllable; she tells you by me all +she should write to you if she were able. I have been just visiting +that poor chevalier who keeps his bed with pains in his neck and hip. +This rheumatic humor never leaves him; I have more compassion than +other people for this disorder. I am of opinion his illness will not +be of long continuance. He feels the serosities already beginning to +dissipate. He wants a good pumping, if the season permitted it. He gave +me his letter to inclose in my packet; these poor sick people must be +taken care of; all the rest of Paris is ill of a cold: + + Ils ne mouraient pas tous; mais tous étaient frappés. + + They died not all; though none escaped a wound:[151] + +as you used to say. Adieu, my dear girl! I embrace you with the warmest +affection, with all your great and little party. + + [151] A verse of La Fontaine, in his fable of Les Animaux Malades + de la Peste. + + +LETTER LXX. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Nov. 22, 1679. + +What I am going to tell you, my dear child, will both surprise and +vex you. M. de Pomponne is out of favor; he had orders on Saturday +evening, as he was returning from Pomponne, to resign his office. The +king has directed that he should receive seven hundred thousand livres, +and that his pension of twenty thousand livres a year, which he had +as minister, should be continued to him; intending, by this, to show +that he was satisfied with his fidelity. It was M. Colbert who gave him +his information, assuring him at the same time that he was extremely +mortified to be obliged, etc. M. de Pomponne asked him whether he might +not be allowed the honor of speaking to the king, to learn from his +own mouth what fault he had committed that brought this stroke upon +him: he was told, he could not; so he wrote to the king, expressing his +extreme sorrow, and his utter ignorance of what could have contributed +to his disgrace. He mentioned his numerous family, and besought him to +have compassion on his eight children. Immediately after, he caused +the horses to be put into his carriage, and returned to Paris, where +he arrived at twelve at night. M. de Chaulnes, Caumartin, and I, had +been, as I wrote you, on the Friday at Pomponne, where we found him +and the ladies, who received us with all the pleasure imaginable. We +chatted all the evening, and played at chess: ah! what a checkmate +they were preparing for him at St. Germain! He went thither the next +morning, because a courier waited for him; so that M. Colbert, who +thought to find him on Saturday evening, as usual, knowing he was set +out for St. Germain, returned instantly, and had nearly killed his +horses. For ourselves, we did not leave Pomponne till after dinner, +where we left the ladies. It was necessary to inform them of what +had happened, by letter; this was brought by one of M. de Pomponne’s +valets, who arrived at nine on the Sunday at Madame de Vins’ apartment; +the man’s precipitation, and his altered looks, made Madame de Vins +fancy he had brought the account of M. de Pomponne’s death; so that on +finding he was only disgraced, she breathed again; but she felt the +extent of his misfortune, and when she was sufficiently recovered went +to acquaint her sister with it. They set out that instant, leaving +all the little boys in tears; and arrived in Paris at two in the +afternoon, overwhelmed with grief. You may figure to yourself this +interview with M. de Pomponne, and what they felt on meeting each +other in so different a situation from what they were in the evening +before. I learned this sad intelligence from the Abbé de Grignan, and +I confess to you it pierced me to the heart. I went to their house +in the evening; they saw no company in public. I went up stairs, and +found them all three. M. de Pomponne embraced me without being able +to utter a word; the ladies could not restrain their tears, nor I +mine. You would have wept too, my child; it was really a melancholy +spectacle; the circumstance of our quitting each other at Pomponne so +differently, augmented our sorrows. Poor Madame de Vins, whom I left +in such spirits, could hardly be recognized; a fever of a fortnight +could scarcely have altered her more. She mentioned you to me, and +said she was persuaded you would feel for her and M. de Pomponne’s +affliction, which I assured her you would. We spoke of the blow she +felt from this disgrace, both in regard to her affairs, her situation, +and her husband’s fortune. I do assure you, she feels all this in its +greatest horror. M. de Pomponne, it is true, was not a favorite, but +his situation gave him an opportunity to obtain certain common things, +which often make our fortune. There are many inferior situations +sufficient to make the fortunes of individuals. It was besides +pleasant to be thus in a manner settled at court. What a change! what +retrenching, what economy, must now be made use of in his family! Eight +children, and not to have had time to obtain the smallest favor! They +are thirty thousand livres in debt; you may suppose how little they +will have left: they are going to a miserable retreat at Paris and +Pomponne. It is said so many journeys, and sometimes the attendance of +couriers, even that of Bavaria, who arrived on the Friday, and whom +the king waited for with impatience, have contributed to draw this +misfortune upon them.[152] But you will easily comprehend in this the +ways of Providence, when I tell you, the President Colbert has his +place; as he is in Bavaria, his brother officiates in his absence, and +wrote to congratulate him, and to surprise him, on the back of the +letter, as if by mistake; “To M. Colbert, Minister and Secretary of +State.” I paid my compliments of condolence to the unfortunate family. +Reflect a little on the power of this family, as well at home as +abroad, and you will easily perceive it far exceeds that of the other +house where a wedding is going on.[153] My poor child, this is a long +and circumstantial account; but I think, on such occasions, we can not +be too particular; you are pleased we should always be talking to you, +and in this instance I have perhaps complied with your desires too +much. When your courier arrives, I shall have nowhere to send him; and +it is an additional mortification to me to find I shall henceforth be +entirely useless to you; though it is true, I was already so, by means +of Madame de Vins; but that was meant in mere jest. In short, my child, +all is now at an end, and such is the way of the world. M. de Pomponne +is better qualified than any man upon earth to support this misfortune +with courage and with truly Christian resignation. Those who have acted +like him in prosperity, can not fail to be pitied in their misfortunes. + + [152] The memoirs and letters of the cotemporary writers all + agree that M. de Pomponne’s negligence was the cause of his + disgrace. The more modern historians, even Hénault, keep to the + received opinion. How could they fail to remark, that Louis + XIV., in a memorandum written in his own hand, and mentioned by + Voltaire, has himself explained very differently the cause of + this minister’s dismissal? “All that passed through his hands, + lost the grandeur and strength it ought to have displayed, as + being the orders of a king of France.” These are his own words. + Every one knows, in reality, that it was from the treaty of + Nimeguen, a single year prior to M. de Pomponne’s disgrace, the + dominion and authority of Louis XIV. affected over all Europe, + were dated. From this period his ministers treated the foreign + embassadors with insulting arrogance. The famous chambers of + reunion were established. Strasbourg was taken possession of by + violence. Advances were made into Italy. No conciliatory measures + were adopted. All the states were irritated. + + But besides M. de Pomponne’s having the crime of leaning toward + the Jansenists, Louvois and Colbert, though enemies to each + other, both labored to ruin him; the first to place his friend M. + Courtin in his situation, and the second, his brother Colbert de + Croissy. The last succeeded, to the great rage of Louvois. + + [153] Madeleine-Charlotte le Tellier, daughter of M. de Louvois, + married the next day, 23d November, Francis Duke of Rochefoucault + and of Rocheguyon, grandson of M. de la Rochefoucault. + +I must, however, add a word or two respecting your letter; it gave me +real consolation. You tell me the little boy is quite recovered, and +that I should be satisfied with yourself if I were to see you. Ah, my +child, it is indeed true; what a delightful sight would it be to me to +see you really occupied with the care of your health, by taking the +necessary repose to recruit your wasted strength; it is a pleasure you +have never yet afforded me. You find this care is by no means useless: +you already discover its salutary effects; and if I torture myself here +by my endeavors to inspire you with the same attention to your welfare, +you plainly see I have good reason. + + +LETTER LXXI + + PARIS, Friday, Nov. 24, 1679. + +What a charming letter have I just received from you! what exquisite +pleasure is it to hear you reason thus! What you say on the subject of +medicine delights me. I am persuaded that, with that understanding and +quickness of apprehension with which God has endowed you, you might, +with a little application, soon outstrip the physicians themselves. +You might, indeed, want a little experience, and perhaps, too, you +might not kill with impunity as they do; but I would much sooner trust +your judgment of a disease than theirs. The only real concern of life +is undoubtedly the care of our health; the world seems to agree in +this. The general question is, “How are you? how are you?” and yet we +are in general wholly ignorant of every particular relating to this +important science. Go on then, go on, my child; finish the course of +your studies; the scarlet gown is all the diploma you will stand in +need of, as in the play.[154] Pray, what do you mean by sending us your +little physician? I assure you ours have entirely lost their credit +here, except three or four of our acquaintance, and who prescribe the +Englishman’s recipe; all the rest are held in utter abhorrence. This +Englishman recovered Marshal de Bellefond the other day from death’s +door. I do not think the first physician has the right secret. + + [154] Molière’s Malade Imaginaire. + +Is it then true, my child, you have got the better of your complaints? +No more pains in the chest, no colic, no pain in the legs? This is +as it should be. You see the advantage of repose and taking care to +recruit yourself. Can you be angry with me for chiding you when you +neglect yourself, and inhumanly abandon all care of your health? I +could talk for ten years about this wicked conduct in you, and the +benefits that result from a contrary conduct. Why can not I embrace you +and enjoy your company here in the evenings? I enter this house with a +heavy heart. From nine till twelve at night I am as desolate as I was +at Livri, and yet I prefer this silence and repose to all the evening +parties I am invited to in this part of the town. I hate going out of +an evening. When I am not tormented with fears for your health, I feel +your absence more. The thought of your lungs is like pinching the ear +to prevent the pain of boring it from being felt: this comparison I +heard from you, but the former pain soon returns when I am not checked +by the other. I confess I never bear your absence so well as when I am +in fear for your health, and I thank you a thousand times for removing +the pincers from my ears. Madame de Vins stands in need of some equally +powerful means to remove her affliction at M. de Pomponne’s disgrace, +by which she loses her all. I often visit her, and no misfortune shall +ever drive me from the house. M. de Pomponne will easily resolve on +what is to be done, and will bear his ill-fortune with dignity; he will +again display the virtues of a private station, for which we so much +admired him at Frêne. They say he was rather remiss in his office, and +made the couriers wait too long for their dispatches. He justifies +himself fully. But, good heavens! do we not plainly see where the fault +lies! Ah! how would poor Madame du Plessis have adored him now! and how +would this similarity of situation have cemented their union! Nothing +in the world would have been so fortunate for him. I have mentioned +this to no one but Madame de Vins; I suppose you understand me. I can +answer for the justice of my opinion, which is, I dare say, your own. +The whole court pities him, and have been to pay him their compliments +of condolence on the occasion. You will soon see him recommence +the thread of his perfections. We have talked a great deal about +Providence, a doctrine he understands perfectly well. Surely there +never was so worthy a minister. M. Colbert, the embassador,[155] is to +succeed in this office; he is a great friend of the chevalier’s. Write +all your thoughts to the latter; perhaps Fortune, capricious as she is, +intends you should reap more advantage through his means than from our +intimate acquaintance. You will easily strike into the right road by +what I tell you. How is it possible for us to know what Providence has +in store for us? + + [155] Mons. de Colbert de Croissy, brother to the + comptroller-general, was then in Bavaria, in order to conclude a + marriage between Monseigneur and Maria Anna Victoria of Bavaria. + +I continue my attentions to Mademoiselle de Méri; the impression the +misfortune of her little domestic makes on her is very extraordinary. +She tells me she fancies, when any one speaks to her, they are shooting +at her, as if they had an intention to kill her. This really does her +as much harm as her illness. It is a circle; her anger increases her +disorder, and her disorder increases her anger. The sum total is, +that it is a very strange affair, and I employ all my attention to +administer to her relief. + +Corbinelli gives up the Chevalier de Méri, with his pitiful style,[156] +and the ridiculous critique he makes on a wit so free, so playful, so +charming, as Voiture’s: those are to be pitied who do not understand +him.[157] I would not have you depend on receiving the definition +you asked of him, for he has read nothing these three months but the +Code and the Cujas. He is delighted with you for resolving to study +medicine: you are a prodigy in his opinion. The calm ingratitude of +M. and Madame Richelieu is indeed a prodigy; you describe it very +pleasantly. M. le Grand, and some others, said seriously the other day +at St. Germain, that M. Richelieu had made an admirable siege: it was +supposed he had been reading some book about the great Richelieu’s in +the civil wars; not so, he meant Richelieu the tapestry-maker, who has +made an admirable siege that hangs in his wife’s apartment. + + [156] M. de Méri had known and loved Madame de Maintenon from + her infancy. He had brought her out into the world under the + name of the Young Indian. He cultivated her friendship in all + circumstances. But what is singular is, that he would have + married her, and that he made her the offer of his hand at + the very time that Louis thought of making her his wife. The + letters of M. de Méri, which were found in Madame de Maintenon’s + collection, were indeed emphatic, heavy, and pedantic, and well + deserved the name “pitiful style” (chien de style). + + [157] The French editors observe, justly enough, that as much + may be said in regard to those who can not find out the value of + these letters of Madame de Sévigné. + +Madame de Coulanges has been at court this fortnight; Madame de +Maintenon had a cold, and would not part with her. I must tell you of +a quarrel she had with the Countess de Grammont.[158] The latter was +scorching her fine complexion over the fire, making chocolate; Madame +de Coulanges would have saved her the trouble. The Countess bid her +leave her to herself, for it was the only pleasure she had left. Madame +de Coulanges answered, “Ah, ingrate!” This expression, which at any +other time would have made her laugh, embarrassed and disconcerted her +so highly, that she could not get the better of it, and they have not +spoken since. The Abbé Têtu said, very rudely, to our neighbor, “But, +madame, had she answered you, ‘The pot calls the kettle black,’ what +would you have found to say?” “Sir,” said she, “I am no pot, though +she is a kettle.” So here is another quarrel. _Quanto_ and the sick +lady are both on the high ropes; the latter is so much in favor with +the fountain of all good things, that it occasions a great deal of +animosity. I could tell you a thousand trifles if you were here. + + [158] Elizabeth Hamilton, lady of the bed-chamber to Queen Maria + Theresa, of Austria. + +Ah, my child, you tell me I have nothing to do but laugh, when I have +your absence to support; I could almost find in my heart to say, “Ah! +ingrate!” Do not you remember what this absence of yours has made me +suffer? Are not you the sensible and true occupation of my heart? You +well know, and you ought to feel, what a terrible addition the fear of +hearing you are indisposed, and chilled by the piercing air of Grignan, +makes to this apprehension. You are unjust if you are at a loss to +guess my sentiments, which are so very natural, and so full of true +affection for you. + + +LETTER LXXII. + + PARIS, Friday, January 26, 1680. + +I begin with the state of your health, as the subject nearest my heart. +It is without disparagement to this favorite idea, that I see and hear +what passes in the world. Events are more or less interesting to me +as they are more or less connected with you; even the attention I pay +to news springs from the same source. I find you well nursed, my dear +child, and kept in cotton. You are not in the whirlwind, so that I am +perfectly easy with regard to your quiet; but then I am by no means +so with respect to that heaviness, and those heats you are troubled +with; and then again that pain you endure, with no north-easterly +winds, or extraordinary fatigue to occasion it. I could wish to have +a little further information on this particular, which is of so much +importance to me. The care that is taken of you can not be wholly owing +to precaution, nor without good reason. I wish you may be sincere in +your resolution, no longer to destroy yourself with your writing-desk. +Confirm me, I beseech you, in my good opinion of you, and never again +write me such long letters, since Montgobert acquits herself so well +of the office; and, as I have already told you, may also save you the +trouble of dictating. I could wish, too, she would now and then add a +word or two of her own, relative to the state of your health. + +I have at last received a letter from my son, who is at Nantes. He +was but twenty days on the road; he traveled only ninety leagues from +Brittany in the month of January, to spend the holidays, and without +one spark of love in his heart! I have written to him to take care +how he tells this story to others, and that, to save his reputation, +he ought to allege some flame, real or pretended; otherwise he would +appear more a Breton than the Bretons themselves. I have also entreated +him not to stay at Nantes, on account of my affairs; they are not a +plausible excuse, and I should be sorry to pass for so silly or so +covetous a being, as to prefer things which are of no consequence to +the necessity of his paying his attendance at court on such an occasion +as the present. He seems to me to be under some embarrassment; but +he will return soon enough to set out with M. de Chaulnes. Mark my +goodness, I have secured him a place in his carriage. + +Madame de Soubise is no longer talked of; she even seems forgotten +already. In fact, there are a thousand other things to employ our +attention at present; and I am foolish enough myself to venture on +some other topic. For these two days it has been, as in the affair +of mademoiselle and M. de Lauzun, a constant bustle, sending to +learn the news, paying visits from house to house, to learn what is +passing; curiosity is on the stretch, and this is what has come out, in +expectation of the remainder.[159] + + [159] La Voisin, La Vigoreux, and a priest of the name of Le + Sage, known at Paris as conjurers and casters of nativities, + added to this jugglery the secret practice of poisons, which + they denominated _succession powder_. They did not fail to + accuse those who applied to them for one thing, of having had + recourse to them for another. It is thus Marshal de Luxembourg + was exposed, by his intendant Bonard, for having made some + extravagant exorcism with Le Sage, for the purpose of recovering + his lost papers. The vindictive Louvois seized the opportunity to + ruin, or, at least, to torment him. + + Besides the persons here named, Madame de Polignac was decreed to + be imprisoned, and Madame de la Ferté, as well as the Countess du + Roure, to be personally summoned. + + The Countess de Soissons was accused of having poisoned her + husband; Madame d’Alluie, her father-in-law; Madame de Tingry, + her children; Madame de Polignac, a valet who was in possession + of her secret; and this secret was, that she wished to give the + king a charm, to make herself beloved by him. + + The king gave the Duchess de Foix a note, written by her to La + Voisin, expressed in these terms, “The more I rub the less they + project.” He required an explanation. It alluded to a recipe to + increase the size of the bosom. She informed La Voisin that her + drug was ineffectual. + + It may be supposed that La Voisin had many of these secrets for + the use of ladies. + +M. de Luxembourg was at Saint Germain on Wednesday; the king frowned +on him more than usual; he was told there was a warrant issued to +apprehend him; he asked to be permitted to speak to the king; you +may conjecture what was said. The king told him that if he were +innocent, he had nothing to do but to throw himself voluntarily into +prison, and that he had appointed such upright judges to make inquiry +into affairs of this kind, that he left every thing to them. M. de +Luxembourg immediately took coach, and went to Father de la Chaise; +Mesdames de Lavardin and De Mouci met him as they were coming here, +in a very melancholy mood, in the Rue Saint Honoré; after passing an +hour at the convent of the Jesuits, he repaired to the Bastille, and +delivered to Barsemeaux[160] the order he brought from Saint Germain. +He was at first shown into a tolerably handsome chamber. Madame de +Meckelbourg[161] came there to visit him, and was almost drowned in +tears. About an hour after she left him, an order came to confine him +in one of those horrible places in the towers, of which the windows +are closed with iron bars, so as scarcely to admit the light of day, +and to suffer no one to see him. This, my child, is ample subject for +reflection; think of the brilliant fortune of such a man, raised to +the honor of commanding in chief the king’s armies, and then figure to +your self what his feelings must be on hearing those grating bolts shut +upon him, and, if it were possible for him to sleep, what his thoughts +must be when he awakes! No one thinks there has been any poison in his +affair. This is a misfortune that seems to obliterate every other. + + [160] Governor of the Bastille. + + [161] Sister of M. de Luxembourg, formerly Madame de Châtillon. + +Madame de Tingres is summoned to give evidence on the trial. The +Countess de Soissons could not endure the thoughts of a prison; she +has been allowed time to make her escape, if she really is guilty. She +was playing at basset on the Wednesday when M. de Bouillon came in; +he begged her to step with him into the closet, where he told her she +must either leave France, or go to the Bastille; she was not long in +determining what to do. She immediately called the Marchioness d’Allure +from the card-table, and they have never appeared since. When the hour +of supper came, they were told the Countess supped in town; the whole +company broke up, thinking something very extraordinary had happened. +In the mean time, parcels are packed up, with money, jewels, etc., +the male servants have gray liveries, and eight horses are put to the +carriage. She made the Marchioness d’Allure, who they say was unwilling +to go, sit behind, on the same side with her, and two female servants +in the front. She told her people not to be uneasy on her account, that +she was innocent, but that some vile women[162] had taken pleasure in +implicating her; she wept, called on Madame de Carignan, and left Paris +at three in the morning. It is said she is gone to Namur; you may be +sure nobody wants to follow her. She will, notwithstanding, be tried in +her absence, if it be only to clear her reputation to the world; there +is a great deal of detraction in what La Voisin says. It is believed +the Duke de Villeroy[163] is very much concerned at it; he keeps his +room, and sees nobody. Perhaps I may be able to tell you more before I +seal my letter. + + [162] La Voisin and her associates in their witchcrafts, etc. + + [163] Francis Neuville, afterward Marshal of France. He had + been the lover, and was the intimate friend, of the Countess de + Soissons. + +Madame de Vibraye has fallen into the old train of devotion; God, as +you well remarked, would not suffer her to pass her whole life in the +company of her enemies. Madame de Buri turns her talking-mill with +very great address. If the princess is to be seen at Paris, Madame +de Vins wishes me to accompany her when she goes there. Pomenars has +been cut for the stone; did I not tell you so? I have seen him; it is +pleasant to hear him talk of the poisons; one is almost tempted to say +to him, “Is it possible this crime alone should be unknown to you?” +Volonne gives his opinion, without any hesitation, and wonders how any +one could hold a correspondence with these _vile women_. The Queen of +Spain is, in a manner, as much confined as M. de Luxembourg. Madame de +Villars wrote to Madame de Coulanges the other day, that were it not +for her love to M. de Villars, she would not have consented to pass +the winter at Madrid. She gives Madame de Coulanges many pleasant and +entertaining narratives, as she thinks they will go further.[164] I +am overjoyed to have the pleasure of perusing her letters, without +the trouble of answering them. Madame de Vins thinks as I do. M. de +Pomponne is gone to breathe the air of Pomponne, where he means to +stay three days; he has received all, and given up all; so that affair +is finished. It really pains me to hear him always asking, What news? +He is as much a stranger to what is passing as one living on the +banks of the Marne; he is in the right to make his mind as happy as +he can. Mine, as well as the abbé’s, was much affected at what you +wrote with your own hand; you did not feel it, my dear child, but it +was impossible to read it without tears. Good heavens! you pronounce +yourself as good for nothing, as an encumbrance to the earth; to one +who sees no object in existence but you! Think of the consequences your +talking thus may produce. I beseech you, never henceforth to say any +ill of your humor. Your heart and mind are too perfect to suffer such +light clouds to be perceived; be a little more tender of truth and +justice, as well as of the sole object of my vows and prayers. I shall +think myself really dead till I have the gratification of seeing you. + + [164] Madame de Coulanges, passing her life at court, with Madame + de Maintenon, and even with Mademoiselle de Fontanges, could + easily report these agreeable narratives to the king. + + +LETTER LXXIII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, January 31, 1680. + +It is impossible for me to see your hand-writing without emotion. +I well know the injury writing does you; and though you say the +most affectionate and most amiable things to me possible, I regret +exceedingly the purchase of that pleasure at the expense of your +lungs; I know you are still far from well. You tell me the weather is +extremely mild, and that you do not fatigue yourself, and that you +write less than usual: whence, then, proceeds this obstinacy in your +disorder? You are dumb on that subject, and Montgobert has the cruelty, +though she has the pen in her hand, not to say a single word about it. +What is the rest of the world to me, and what pleasure can I receive +from the account of all the rejoicings at Aix, when I find you are +obliged to go to bed at eight in the evening? “But,” say you, “do you +then wish me to sit up late and fatigue myself?” No, my dearest; God +forbid I should be capable of forming so depraved a wish; but when you +were here, you were not wholly incapable of relishing the sweets of +society. I have at length seen M. de Gordes; he told me, with great +sincerity, that you were in a very feeble state in the boat, and that +you were much better at Aix: but then, with the same simplicity he +assures me, that the air of Provence is too keen, too piercing, and too +drying, in your present condition. When we are in health, nothing is +amiss; but when the lungs are attacked, and we are thin and delicate, +like you, we run the risk of putting it out of our power ever to +recover. Tell me no more that the delicacy of your lungs draws our ages +nearer together. God forbid that the order established by Providence, +so agreeable to nature and reason, and at the same time so dear to me, +should be deranged with respect to us. + +I must resume the article of news, which I always suffer to rest +awhile when I get upon the subject of your health. M. de Luxembourg +has been two days without eating; he asked for several Jesuits, but +has been refused every one of them: he asked to have the Lives of the +Saints, and it has been given him; you will see he is at a loss _to +which of the Saints he shall devote himself_. He was interrogated for +four hours on Friday or Saturday, I can not recollect which; after +that his mind appeared much relieved, and he ate some supper. It is +thought he would have done better to have made his innocence take +the field, and to have left word he would return, when his proper +judges[165] should think fit to summon him. He has done a real injury +to the dukedom, in acknowledging the chamber; but he was willing to +yield a blind obedience to the commands of his majesty. M. de Cessac +has followed the example of the countess. Mesdames de Bouillon and De +Tingry were interrogated on Monday at the chamber of the arsenal. Their +noble families attended them to the gate: there is yet no appearance +of blackness in the follies which have been laid to their charge, nor +even so much as a shade of gray. Should nothing further be discovered, +this is a scandal which might very well have been spared, especially +to families of their high quality. Marshal de Villeroy[166] says, +these gentlemen and ladies do not believe in God, though they believe +in the devil. In reality, a great many ridiculous things are related +respecting the private transactions of these abominable women. Madame +de la Ferté, who is so properly named, went out of complaisance (to La +Voisin’s) with the Countess (de Soissons), but did not go up stairs; +M. de Langres accompanied Madame de la Ferté; this is very black; +the circumstance has given her a pleasure not often enjoyed by her, +which is, to hear it said that she is innocent.[167] The Duchess de +Bouillon went to ask La Voisin for a small dose of poison, to kill an +old tiresome husband she had, and a nostrum to marry a young man she +loved. This young man was M. de Vendôme, who led her by one hand, and +M. de Bouillon, her husband, by the other. When a _Mancine_[168] is +guilty only of a folly like this, information is given of it; and these +witches explain it seriously, and shock all Europe with a mere trifle. +The Countess de Soissons asked whether she could not recover a lover +who had deserted her? this lover was a great prince; and it is asserted +that she declared, unless he returned to her, she would make him repent +his ingratitude: that is understood to be the king, and every thing is +of importance that has relation to him; but let us look to the sequel; +if she has committed any greater crime, she has not mentioned it to +these baggages. One of our friends says there is an elder branch of the +poison, to which they never refer, as it is not a native of France. +What we have here, are younger branches only, without shoes to their +feet. La T***[169] gives us to understand there is something of greater +consequence behind, as she was schoolmistress to the novices. She +says, “I admire the world; it really believes I have had children by +M. de Luxembourg.” Alas! God knows whether she has or not; the present +prevailing opinion, however, is in favor of the innocence of the +persons denounced, and a universal horror for the defamers; to-morrow +it may be the reverse. You well know the nature of these general +opinions; I shall give you a faithful account of them; it is the only +subject of conversation here: indeed there is scarcely an example of +such scandal in any court in Christendom. It is said La Voisin put all +the infants, whose abortion she had procured, into an oven; and Madame +de Coulanges, as you may suppose, when speaking of La T***, says, _it +was for her the oven was heating_. + + [165] The parliament of Paris. + + [166] Nicholas de Neufville, Marshal Duke de Villeroy, father to + the last marshal of that name. + + [167] The Amours des Gaules have rendered notorious her + gallantries, which may be called by a term less mild. + + [168] Madame de Bouillon, as well as the Countess de Soissons, + was the niece of Cardinal Mazarin. It will be seen that she was + innocent. + + [169] Madame de Tingry being named twice in this letter and the + preceding one, is it not probable that she is intended by the + initial T.? She was related to M. de Luxembourg. + +I had a long chat yesterday with M. de la Rochefoucault, on a subject +we have already discussed. There is nothing to oblige you to write; +but he entreats you to believe that what could give him the highest +gratification in the world would be to have it in his power to +contribute to your changing the place of your residence, should an +opportunity offer. I never saw so obliging or so amiable a man. + +What I am going to tell you, I have heard from good authority. Madame +de Bouillon entered the chamber like a queen, sat down on a chair +placed there on purpose for her, and, instead of answering to the first +question that was asked her, demanded that what she should say might +be taken down in writing; it was, “that her sole reason for coming +there was from the respect she bore to the king’s command, and not in +obedience to the chamber, whose authority she in nowise acknowledged, +as she would not derogate from the privileges of the dukedom.” Every +word was written down. When she took off her glove, she discovered a +very beautiful hand. Her answers were very sincere; those respecting +her age not excepted. “Do you know La Vigoureux?” “No.” “Do you know +La Voisin?” “Yes.” “What reason had you to desire the death of your +husband?” “Desire the death of my husband! ask him whether he believes +a syllable of it. He gave me his hand to the very gate.” “But what was +your reason for so often visiting La Voisin?” “Because I wanted to see +those Sibyls she promised me I should see; a company which certainly +well deserved all this noise and scrutiny.” “Did you not show that +woman a bag of money?” She answered, “I did not, and for more reasons +than one;” and then with a smiling, and at the same time a disdainful +air, “Well, gentlemen, have you done with me?” “Yes, madame.” She rose, +and, as she was going out, said loud enough to be heard, “I really +could not have believed that men of sense would have asked so many +foolish questions.” She was received by all her friends and relations +with adoration, she was so pretty, easy, natural, firm, unconcerned, +and tranquil.[170] + + [170] To render this picture complete, it is necessary to cite + another stroke related by Voltaire. “La Reynie, one of the + presidents of this chamber, was so ill-advised as to ask the + Duchess de Bouillon if she had seen the devil. She replied that + she saw him at that moment; that he was very ugly, and very + dirty, and was disguised as a counselor of state. The questioner + proceeded no further.” + +La T*** was by no means so cheerful. M. de Luxembourg is perfectly +disconcerted: he is neither a man, nor half a man, nor even a woman, +unless it be a foolish woman. “Shut this window; light a fire; give me +some chocolate; give me that book; I have abandoned God, and God has +abandoned me.” This is the conduct he displayed before Baisemeaux and +his commissaries, with a countenance pale as death. With nothing better +than this to carry to the Bastille, he had better have gained time, as +the king, with infinite goodness, had put into his power to do, till +the very moment before he committed himself; but we must of necessity +have recourse to Providence, in spite of our efforts to the contrary. +It was by no means natural to behave as he has done, weak as he appears +to be.[171] I was misinformed: Madame de Meckelbourg has not seen +him; and La T***, who came with him from St. Germain, never intended, +any more than himself, to give Madame de Meckelbourg the least notice +of it, though he had time enough to have done it if he had been so +inclined; but La T*** kept every one from seeing him, and watched him +so closely, that not a soul came to him but herself. I have been to +see this Meckelbourg at the nunnery of the Holy Sacrament, where she +has retired. She is in great affliction, and complains loudly of La +T***, whom she blames for all her brother’s misfortunes. I made your +compliments to her by way of anticipation, and assured her you would +be extremely grieved to hear of her ill-fortune. She expressed great +regard for you. One might, at this time, do almost what one pleased at +Paris, it would not be noticed. + + [171] Madame de Sévigné seems to have adopted, at this moment, + the ridiculous reports spread abroad, in regard to M. de + Luxembourg. But is it to be credited that a soul like his + was capable of such weakness as was laid to his charge? And + does it not rather exhibit the common conduct of envy and + malignity, which, in the life-time of men of the first order, are + incessantly endeavoring to tarnish the luster of their reputation? + + +LETTER LXXIV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, February 7, 1680. + +So, my child, you sometimes play at chess. For my own part, I am an +enthusiast in this game, and would give the world if I could learn to +play it like my son or you. It is the finest and most rational game of +any; chance has nothing to do with it; we blame or applaud ourselves, +and our success depends upon our skill. Corbinelli would fain make me +believe I shall acquire it. He says I have some ideas and schemes of +my own; but I can not see three or four moves forward into the game. I +assure you I shall be much ashamed and mortified if I do not, at least, +attain mediocrity. Every one played it at Pomponne when I was last +there--men, women, and children; and while the master of the house was +beating M. de Chaulnes, he met with a strange _check_ at St. Germain. + +There has been a sad melancholy Monday, which you will easily +comprehend. M. de Pomponne is at length gone to court. He dreaded this +very much. You may guess what his thoughts were on the road, and when +he beheld the court at Saint Germain, and received the compliments of +the courtiers who surrounded him. He was quite overcome; and when he +entered the chamber where the king was waiting for him, what could he +say, or how begin? The king assured him he had always been satisfied +of his fidelity and services; that he was perfectly at ease as to the +state secrets he was acquainted with; and that he would give him and +his family proofs of his regard. M. de Pomponne could not help shedding +tears when he mentioned the misfortune he had to incur his displeasure. +He added, that with respect to his family, he left it entirely to his +majesty’s goodness; that his only grief was the being removed from the +service of a master to whom he was attached, as well by inclination +as duty; that it was next to impossible not to feel so heavy a loss +in all its severity; that this cut him to the quick, and caused him +to betray those marks of weakness, which he hoped his majesty would +forgive. The king told him he was himself affected at them, that they +proceeded from goodness of heart, and that he ought not to be offended. +The whole discourse turned on this, and M. de Pomponne came away with +eyes somewhat red, and the looks of a man who had not merited his +misfortune. He told me all this yesterday evening: he could have wished +to have been more firm, but he could not get the better of his emotion. +This is the only occasion in which he has appeared too much affected; +though it might be said he had not paid his court badly, if to pay +court had been his object. He will soon recover his philosophy, and +in the mean time an affair of some importance is concluded; these are +renewals which we can not help feeling with him. Madame de Vins has +been at Saint Germain: good God, what a difference! She had attentions +enough paid her; but to reflect that that had been her home, where she +has not now a corner to shelter her head in! I felt what she underwent +in that journey. Adieu, my beloved child; I am always impatient to hear +from you, but pray write only two words to me; renounce long letters +forever, and spare me. It is horrible to think that those who love you, +and who are beloved by you, should be the ruin of your health. + + +LETTER LXXV. + + PARIS, Friday, Feb. 9, 1680. + +I see you are in the midst of the pleasures of the carnival, my +beautiful dear; you give little _private_ suppers to eighteen or twenty +ladies; I am well acquainted with your mode of life, and the heavy +expenses you incur at Aix; but yet, amid all this bustle, I fancy you +contrive to have plenty of rest. We say sometimes, I will have pleasure +for my money; but I think I hear you say, I will have rest for mine: +take your rest then, and enjoy, at least, this advantage. I can not +help being surprised that a minuet-tune does not tempt you sometimes; +what! not a single step! no motion of the shoulders! quite insensible! +it is not to be believed, it is unnatural; I never yet knew you sit +still on these occasions, and, were I to draw such inferences as I +commonly do, I should imagine you much worse than you say you are. + +There was, yesterday evening, an enchanting entertainment at the Hôtel +de Condé. The Princess of Conti named one of the duke’s daughters, with +the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon. First was the christening, then the +dinner; but what a dinner! then a play, but what a play! interspersed +with fine pieces of music, and the best opera-dancers. A theater built +by the fairies; such perspectives, orange-trees loaded with fruits +and flowers, festoons, pilasters, scenes, and other decorations; in +short, the whole expense of the evening cost no less than two thousand +louis-d’ors, all for the sake of the pretty princess. + +The opera (of Proserpine) is superior to every other. The chevalier +tells me he has sent you several of the airs, and that he saw a +gentleman[172] who said he had sent you the words; I dare say you will +like it. There is a scene in it,[173] between Mercury and Ceres, which +requires no interpreter to be understood; it must have been approved, +since it has been performed; but you will judge for yourself. + + [172] Quinault. + + [173] See the second scene of the first act. + +The poisoning affair is grown quite flat; nothing new is said of it. +The report is, that there will be no more blood spilled; you will make +your own reflections, as we do. The Abbé Colbert is made Coadjutor of +Rouen. They talk of a journey into Flanders. No one knows what this +assembling of the forces portends. + +Friar Ange has raised Marshal de Bellefond from the dead; he has cured +his lungs, that were incurable. Madame de Coulanges and I have been to +visit the grand-master,[174] who has been almost at death’s door for +a fortnight past; his gout had returned; add to this an oppression, +which made every one suppose he was at his last gasp; cold sweats, +light-headedness; in short, he was ill as it was possible to be. The +physicians could give him no relief; he sent for Friar Ange, who +has cured him, and brought him from the very gates of death, by the +gentlest and most agreeable medicines; the oppression went off, the +gout fell back into his knees and feet, and he is now out of danger. + + [174] The Duke de Lude. + +Adieu, my dear child! I still lead the same life, either in the +suburbs, or with these good widows; sometimes here, sometimes eating +chicken with Madame de Coulanges; but always pleased to think I am +gliding down the stream with old Time, and hastening the happy moment +when I shall see you again. + + +LETTER LXXVI. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Feb. 14, 1680. + +I think you extremely fortunate in the society of Madame du Janet, who +is come on purpose for you; this is a friendship that pleases me. I +am fully persuaded her whole employment will be to take care of your +health; pray embrace her for me. You give yourself very little concern +about the vanities of this world; I think I see you constantly retiring +and going to bed, leaving the rest to sing and dance by themselves; you +will have rest for your money, as I told you the other day. + +Montgobert has related to me, very pleasantly, the maneuvers of the +beautiful Iris, and the jealousy of the count; I dare say he will often +see the moon with this beauty; he has revenged himself for this time, +by a very pretty song. Montgobert made me laugh at her respect for +M. de Grignan. She had written, that he came to the ball _la gueule +enfarinée_ (full of expectation): she recollected herself, erased +the _gueule_, and wrote the _bouche_, so that it is now _la bouche +enfarinée_. + +The gendarmes are quite bewildered. My son goes to Flanders, instead +of meeting the dauphiness. The army is assembling, they say, to take +Charlemont.[175] We know nothing certain, except that the officers are +going to the army, and that in a month there will be an army of fifty +thousand infantry. The chevalier’s regiment is not one of them. + + [175] One of the conditions of the treaty with Spain was, that + France, with other places that were given up to her, should have + either Dinant or Charlemont. But the emperor, whose consent + was necessary, having preferred keeping Dinant, France was + put in possession of Charlemont. There was only a military + demonstration. It was upon this acquisition of Charlemont, M. de + Coulanges wrote some verses ending with, + + Louis est un enfant gâté; On lui laisse tout faire. + + “Louis is a spoiled child; he is suffered to do what he pleases.” + + This complaisance throughout Europe cost dear to France. The + king, habituated thus to have his own way, adopted three fatal + resolutions: he revoked the Edict of Nantes, protected James II., + and accepted the testament of the King of Spain. + +The chamber of the arsenal is again sitting. One of the committee, +whose name is not mentioned, said to M. de la Reynie: “But, sir, as far +as I see, we are only employed about sorceries and witchcraft, such +diabolical proceedings, of which the parliament of Paris never takes +cognizance. Our commission is, to try the case of poisoning; how comes +it that we inquire into any thing else?” La Reynie was surprised, and +said, “Sir, we have secret orders.” “Be so good, sir,” replied the +other, “as to communicate those orders to us, and we will obey them +as well as you; but, as we are without your knowledge, I think I say +nothing contrary to reason and justice, in thus expressing myself.” I +am of opinion you will not blame this man’s honesty, though he does not +wish to be known. There are so many, persons of worth belonging to this +chamber, that you will find it difficult to guess who he is. + +The little Prince de Léon was baptized yesterday at Saint Gervais, by +a bishop of Brittany; M. de Rennes stood godfather, as representing +the States of Brittany; the duchess was godmother. The rest were all +Brittany folks: the Governor of Brittany, the Lieutenant-General of +Brittany, the Treasurer of Brittany, the Deputies of Brittany, several +Lords of Brittany, the Presidents of Brittany, father and son. In +short, had there been a dance, they would have danced Brittany dances; +and have eaten Brittany butter, had it been a meager day. I assure you, +my son feels all the secret power which attaches the Bretons to their +country; he is returned perfectly enchanted with it. He has begun, +for the first time in his life, to admire Tonquedec, and to think him +worthy of imitation. It would be like stopping the course of the Rhône, +to oppose this torrent, which carries him so far as even to dispose him +to sell his place. He said this to Gourville and several others, before +he mentioned it to me. He assigns very good reasons. He looks forward. +He fears the disgusts which may be occasioned by means of M. de la +Trousse. He is sorry for those who are appointed to the gendarmerie, +and has no wish to be ruined. The sum of the matter is, that by thus +discovering his inmost heart, he would reduce us to the necessity of +saying, “Certainly, he is perfectly in the right to sell his place.” +I can not reproach myself with concealing what my duty obliged me to +say on this strange resolution, in which I expressed myself with the +freedom I sometimes indulge myself in. I desired him to wait for at +least some pretext, some shadow of dissatisfaction; in short, to stay +for something that may serve to keep his real thoughts undiscovered. +But it was to no purpose; for all M. de la Garde and I have been +able to do, is to beg he will not interfere. We are overjoyed at his +absence, as it may be a means of preventing his doing injury to his +affairs, by decrying his own goods. I told him it was very unfortunate +to value commissions merely from whim and caprice, by his liking and +disliking; to pay an exorbitant price for the ensigncy, because he was +wild for it--to rate the sub-lieutenancy at nothing, because he is +disgusted with it. Is it thus we would buy and sell, unless we were +fools, ignorant of business, and wished to ruin ourselves? Adieu, +my beloved child; be not uneasy on this account. Let us adore the +dispensations of Providence, whose kindness sends us no greater subject +of complaint. I shall still possess my mind in liberty, for I shall +still be as much yours as ever. This will make no change in me; quite +the contrary, quite the contrary. + + +LETTER LXXVII. + + PARIS, Friday, February 23, 1680. + +Indeed, my child, this has been a very pretty week for the Grignans; +should Providence favor the elder brother in proportion as it has the +younger, we might soon expect to see him in a charming situation. +In the mean time, I think it no disagreeable thing to have brothers +in such favor. The chevalier had scarcely returned thanks for his +pension of a thousand crowns, when he was chosen, out of eight or ten +persons of quality and merit, to be an attendant upon the dauphin, +with a salary of two thousand crowns; so here are appointments to the +value of nine thousand livres a year, in the space of three days. He +immediately went back to Saint Germain with his second acknowledgments, +for it seems he had been appointed in his absence, while he was here +in Paris. His personal merit has greatly contributed to this choice. +His distinguished reputation, his strict honor and probity, and the +regularity of his conduct, have been remarked; and it is the general +opinion, that his majesty could not have made a better choice. +There are but eight persons named yet, Dangeau, D’Antin, Clermont, +Sainte-Maure, Matignon, Chiverni, Florensac, and Grignan.[176] The last +is universally approved. Permit me, then, to pay my compliments of +congratulation to M. de Grignan, the coadjutor, and yourself. + + [176] These were afterward reduced to six, viz., MM. Dangeau, + D’Antin, Saint-Maure, Chiverni, Florensac, and Grignan. + +My son sets out to-morrow; he has read the reproaches you make him. +Possibly the charms of the court he wishes to leave, and where he has +so handsome an establishment, will make him change his opinion. We have +prevailed on him not to be in a hurry, but to wait quietly till he +meets with the temptation of a greater sum than he gave. + +You have given me a specimen of M. de Grignan’s joy by my own, +in hearing that you are better. As your complaints are no longer +continual, I am in great hopes that, by taking care of yourself, using +a milk diet, and giving up writing, you will in the end restore my +daughter to me as lovely as ever. + +I am charmed with Montgobert’s sincerity. Had she always written me +word you were well, I should never have given credit to her. She has +managed the whole business to a miracle, and has won my heart by her +candor; so natural is it for us to love not to be deceived. May Heaven +preserve you, my dear, in this prosperous state! which gives us all +such flattering hopes. But to return to the Grignans, for we seem +to have forgotten them. Nothing else is talked of here. Nothing but +complimenting passes in this house; one has scarcely done when another +begins. I have not seen either of them since the chevalier has been +made a lady of honor, as M. de Rochefoucault calls it. He will write +you all the news much better than I can possibly do. It is supposed +that Madame de Soubise will not be one of the traveling party. See +how long my letter is growing! Well, I will only mention La Voisin’s +affair, and conclude. + +She was not burned on Wednesday, as I wrote you word; the sentence +was not executed till yesterday. She knew her fate on the Monday, a +very extraordinary circumstance! In the evening, she said to those who +guarded her, “What! no medianoches!” She ate with them at midnight out +of whim, for it was no fast-day, drank plentifully of wine, and sang +several drinking songs. On Monday she received the question ordinary +and extraordinary. She had now dined, and slept nearly eight hours. She +was confronted while under the torture with Mesdames de Dreux and Le +Feron, and several more. Her answers have not yet transpired, but every +one expects to hear strange things. She supped in the evening, and, +lacerated and disjointed as she was, gave a loose to her excess, to the +disgust of every one present. They endeavored to make her sensible of +her ill conduct, and that she would be much better employed in thinking +of God, and singing devout hymns, than such songs; upon which she sang +a psalm or two in mockery, and then fell asleep. Wednesday was spent +in the like confronting, drinking, and singing; she absolutely refused +to let a confessor come near her. In short, on the Thursday, that is, +yesterday, they denied her all kinds of food, excepting only a little +broth, of which she complained greatly, seeming to be apprehensive that +she should not have strength to carry her through the business of the +day. + +She came from Vincennes to Paris in a coach; she seemed embarrassed, +and as if she wished to conceal what she felt. They would have had her +confess, but she would not hear of it. At five o’clock she was bound +and set on the sledge, dressed in white, with a taper in her hand. She +was extremely red in the face, and was seen to push away the confessor +and the crucifix with great violence. Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de +Sully, the Countess (De Fiesque), myself, and several others, saw her +pass by the Hôtel de Sully. When she came to the Church of Notre-Dame, +she refused to pronounce the amende-honorable; and at the Grêve, she +struggled with all her might to prevent their taking her out of the +sledge; she was, however, dragged out by main force, and made to sit +down on the pile, to which she was bound by iron chains, and then +covered over with straw. She swore prodigiously, and pushed away the +straw five or six times: but at length the fire increased, she sunk out +of sight, and her ashes are by this time floating in the air. This is +the end of Madame Voisin, celebrated for her crimes and her impiety. +One of the judges, to whom my son happened to mention his surprise at +persons being burned alive in a slow fire, made answer: “My dear sir, +there are some indulgences granted to the women in favor of their sex.” +“How, pray sir? are they strangled?” “No, sir; they are covered with +faggots, and the executioner tears off their heads with iron hooks.” So +you see, my child, this is not so dreadful as we have been told it was. +How do you find yourself after this little story? It made my blood run +cold in my veins. + + +LETTER LXXVIII. + + PARIS, Friday, March 15, 1680. + +I am much afraid we shall lose M. de la Rochefoucault. His fever still +continues. He received the sacrament yesterday. The tranquillity of +his mind is really worthy of admiration. He has settled all affairs +of conscience, and his disorder and the prospect of approaching +dissolution give him no concern; you would think it was his neighbor at +the point of death. He hears the physicians dispute without being the +least affected by it, and the contentions of the Englishman and Friar +Ange, without saying a word. I return to this verse: + + Trop au-dessus de lui, pour y prêter l’esprit.[177] + + [177] Too superior to himself to pay any attention to it. + +He would not see Madame de la Fayette yesterday, on account of her +tears, and because he was to receive the sacrament; but he sent about +noon to know how she was. Believe me, my child, he has not passed his +life in making useless reflections: he has rendered death so familiar +that the prospect is neither new nor terrific to him. M. de Marsillac +arrived the day before yesterday, at midnight, so overwhelmed with +grief, that I do not think even you could feel more for me. It was a +long time before he could compose himself; at length he came in, when +he found M. de Rochefoucault sitting in his chair, with an air very +little different from that he usually wore. As M. de Marsillac is the +only one of his children who may be said to enjoy his friendship, +it was thought he would be himself affected at seeing him; but of +this, however, there was not the smallest appearance, and he even did +not name his illness to him. His son, unable to contain himself any +longer, withdrew to give vent to his grief; when, after a great deal of +altercation, Gourville being against, and Langlade for the Englishman, +each of them supported by different parties in the family, and the two +Esculapian chiefs keeping up all the warmth of their natural animosity, +M. de Marsillac decided in favor of the Englishman; and yesterday, +at four in the afternoon, M. de la Rochefoucault took his medicines, +and at eight repeated them again. As there is no getting admittance +at present, it is difficult to learn the truth; however, I have been +told that after having been last night within an instant of giving +up the ghost through the struggle between the medicine and the gouty +humor, he had so considerable an evacuation that though the fever has +not yet abated, there is reason to hope for a favorable issue. I am +convinced in my own mind that he will recover, though M. de Marsillac +does not yet venture to admit a ray of hope. I can compare him, in his +affections and grief, to no one but yourself, my dear child, who can +not bear the thoughts of my death. You may well believe that I shall +not give him M. de Grignan’s letter at present: it shall go, however, +with those that may come afterward; for I am convinced, with Langlade, +from whom I learned all I tell you, that the remedy given will complete +the cure. + +I want to know how you are, after your journey to Marseilles; I must +chide M. de Grignan for taking you with him; I can not approve of such +useless jaunts. Must not you also show Toulon, Hieres, Saint Baume, +Saint Maximin, and the Fountain of Vaucluse, to the Mademoiselles de +Grignan? + +I am almost constantly with Madame de la Fayette, who must be totally +insensible to the charms of friendship, and the affections of the +heart, were she less afflicted than she is. I close this packet at her +house, at nine in the evening; she has read your little note; for, in +spite of her fears, she has hope enough to be able to read it. M. de +la Rochefoucault is still the same; his legs begin to swell, which the +Englishman does not like; he seems certain, however, that his medicines +will have the desired effect. If this be true, I shall admire the great +humanity of the physician in not tearing him piecemeal, for this will +be the ruin of them all; to take the fever out of their hands, is to +take the bread out of their mouths. Du Chêne is very easy about the +matter, but all the others are stark mad. + + +LETTER LXXIX. + + PARIS, Sunday, March 17, 1680. + +Though this letter will not go till Wednesday, I can not help beginning +it to-day, to inform you that M. de la Rochefoucault died last night. +I am so much engrossed with this misfortune, and with the extreme +affliction of our poor friend,[178] that I must relieve my mind by +communicating the painful event to you. + + [178] Madame de la Fayette. + +Yesterday, which was Saturday, the Englishman’s medicine had done +wonders; all the favorable symptoms of Friday, which I mentioned to +you, were increased; his friends began to sing Te Deum in their hearts; +his lungs were clear, his head free, his fever less, his evacuations +such as indicated a salutary crisis: in this state yesterday, at +six o’clock in the evening, he relapsed, so as to leave no hopes of +recovery; his fever redoubled in an instant, with an oppression of the +chest and delirium; in a word, he was suffocated by the treacherous +gout, and, notwithstanding he had a great degree of strength left even +after all his bleeding, it carried him off in less than five hours, +so that he expired at midnight in the arms of the Bishop of Condom. +M. de Marsillac did not leave him a moment; he is under inexpressible +affliction: he will find, however, some consolation in the king and the +court; and so will the rest of the family, from the place he enjoys: +but when will poor Madame de la Fayette find again such a friend, such +a companion, such kindness, such attention, such confidence, and such +consideration for her and her son! She is infirm, confined to her room, +and not like other people eternally from home. M. de Rochefoucault +was also of a sedentary disposition; their situation rendered them +necessary to each other; so that the mutual confidence and delightful +friendship that subsisted between them was unequaled. Think of this, +my child, and you will be convinced with me that no one could sustain +a greater loss, for this is not to be repaired or obliterated even +by time. I have never once quitted this disconsolate friend; she did +not mix in the hurry and confusion of the family, so that she really +stood in need of some pity. Madame de Coulanges has likewise acquitted +herself very well on this occasion, and we shall continue to discharge +our duty even at the hazard of our eyes, which are almost always +filled with tears. You see how unluckily your letters came; they have +hitherto had no admirers but Madame de Coulanges and myself; when the +chevalier returns he may possibly find a proper season for presenting +them; meantime you must write one out of condolence to M. de Marsillac; +he does honor to filial affection, and is a living proof that you +are not alone in this respect; but, in fact, I doubt that either of +you will meet with many imitators. The melancholy that reigns around +me has awakened all my sensibility, and makes me feel the anguish of +separation in all its horrors. + + +LETTER LXXX. + + PARIS, Wednesday, April 3, 1680. + +My dear child, poor M. Fouquet is dead,[179] and I am affected at the +intelligence: I never knew so many friends lost in a manner at once, +and it overwhelms me with sorrow to see so many dead around me; but +what is not around me pierces my heart, and that is the apprehension I +suffer from the return of your former disorders; for though you would +conceal it from me, I can perceive your flushings, your heaviness, +and shortness of breath. In short, that flattering interval is now +over, and what was thought a cure has turned out a mere palliative. +I remember your words: that a flame half-quenched is easily revived. +The remedies you treasure up against an evil day, and which you +reckon infallible, ought to be used immediately. Has M. de Grignan +no authority on this occasion? Is he not alarmed at your situation? +I have seen young Beaumont; I leave you to guess whether I asked him +any questions. When I recollected that he had seen you within a week, +he appeared to me the most desirable companion in the world. He said +you were not quite so well when he set out as you had been during the +winter. He mentioned your supper and entertainment, which he praised +highly; as also the kind attentions both of you and of M. de Grignan, +and the care M. de Grignan’s daughters took that you might not be +missed when you retired to rest. He said wonders of Pauline and the +little marquis; I should never have been the first to put an end to +the conversation, but he wanted to go to St. Germain; for, as he said, +he had paid me the first visit, even before that which he owed to the +king his master. His grandfather had the same place which Marshal de +Bellefond has had:[180] he was a very intimate friend of my father’s; +and instead of seeking out for relations, as is generally the custom, +my father chose him, without further ceremony, to stand sponsor to his +daughter; so that he is my godfather. I am perfectly acquainted with +all the family. I think the grandson handsome, extremely handsome. +You did well to say nothing to him about your brother: I have myself +mentioned it to no one, except to such persons as my son had previously +informed of it, in order to find a purchaser. + + [179] Gourville affirms, in his Memoirs, that he was liberated + before his death, and Voltaire believed it, from the account + of his daughter-in-law, Madame de Vaux. But Madame de Sévigné + believed he died at Pignerol, and so did the public. Mademoiselle + de Montpensier confirms the general opinion. + + [180] Of steward of the household. + +I conclude you must by this time be at Grignan. I see with affliction +the bustle of taking leave; I see, on your quitting your retirement, +which appeared to you so short, a journey to Arles; another fatigue; +and I see your journey to Grignan, where you may possibly be saluted on +your arrival by a northeast wind; ah! I can not behold all these things +for a person so delicate as you are, and not tremble. + +You have sent me an account of Anfossi infinitely preferable to all +mine. I do not wonder you can not think of parting with an estate +where there are so many diverting gipsies. There could not be a more +agreeable or novel reception; you are indeed so much a Stoic, and +so full of reflections, that I should fear joining mine to yours, +lest I should double the sorrow; but I think it would be prudent and +reasonable, and worthy of M. de Grignan’s affection, to use his utmost +endeavors to be here about the beginning of October. There is no other +place where you can think of passing the winter. But I will say no more +at present; things urged prematurely lose all their force, and often +create disgust. + +There are no more long journeys talked of here; the only one spoken of +is that to Fontainebleau. You will most assuredly have M. de Vendôme +with you this year. For my part, I am preparing to set out for Brittany +with inexpressible regret; but I must go in order to be there, stay a +little while, and return. After the loss of health, which I always, +with reason, place first, nothing gives me so much vexation as the +disorder of my private affairs. It is to this cruel reason I sacrifice +my ease and gratification; for I leave you to judge what a situation I +am likely to be in, with so much time and solitude on my hands, to add +new force to my anxiety at being separated from you. This cup, however, +I must swallow, bitter as it is, in hopes of seeing you at my return; +for all my movements tend to that point. And, however superior I may be +to other things, that is always superior to me; it is my fate. And the +sufferings which attend my affection for you, being offered to God, are +a penance due for a love which I ought to bear for him alone. + +My son is just arrived from Douay, where he commanded the gendarmerie +during March. M. de Pomponne has spent the day here; he loves, honors, +and esteems you perfectly. My being resident for you with Madame de +Vins, occasions my being often with her; and, indeed, I could not wish +to be better any where. Poor Madame de la Fayette is now wholly at a +loss how to dispose of herself; the loss of M. de la Rochefoucault has +made so terrible a void in her life, as to render her a better judge of +the value of so precious a friendship. Every one else will be comforted +in time; but she, alas! has nothing to occupy her mind, whereas the +rest will return to their several avocations. + +Mademoiselle de Scuderi is greatly afflicted with the death of M. +Fouquet; that life is at length terminated, which so many pains have +been taken to preserve. His illness was convulsions, and a constant +retching, without being able to vomit. I depend on the chevalier +for news, especially what relates to the dauphiness, whose court is +composed exactly as you guessed; your notions are very just. The king +is often there, which keeps the crowd somewhat at a distance. Adieu, my +dear, affectionate child; I love you a thousand times more than I can +express. + + +LETTER LXXXI. + + PARIS, Friday, April 12, 1680. + +You mention the dauphiness to me; the chevalier can tell you more +about her than I can. However, I think she does not seem to attach +herself much to the queen. They have been to Versailles together, but +on other days they generally make their separate parties. The king +frequently visits the dauphiness in an afternoon, when he is sure not +to be crowded. She holds her circle from eight in the evening till half +after nine; all the rest of the day she is alone, or with her ladies +in waiting. The Princess of Conti almost always makes one of these +private parties; for, as she is yet but very young, she stands in need +of such a pattern to form her conduct by. The dauphiness is a miracle +of wit, understanding, and good education. She frequently mentions +her mother with great affection; and says, that she is indebted to +her for all the prosperity and happiness she enjoys, by the pains she +bestowed on her. She learns music, singing, and dancing; she reads, +she works at her needle; in short, she is a complete being. I must +own that I had a great curiosity to see her. Accordingly I went with +Madame de Chaulnes and Madame de Carman; she was at her toilet when +we came in, and engaged in a conversation in Italian with the Duke of +Nevers. We were presented to her, and she received us very politely. +It is easy to perceive that, if a moment could be found of putting +in a word opportunely, it would not be difficult to engage her in +conversation. She is fond of Italian, of poetry, of new publications, +music, and dancing. You see that one need not be long dumb amid such a +variety of topics for discourse; but it requires time--she was going to +mass. Neither Madame de Maintenon nor Madame de Richelieu was in her +apartment. + +The court, my dear child, is by no means a place for me; I am past the +time of life to wish for any settlement there. If I were young I would +take pleasure in rendering myself agreeable to this princess; but what +right have I to think of returning there? You see what my views are. As +for those of my son, they seem to have become more reasonable; he will +make a virtue of necessity, and keep his commission quietly. Indeed +it is not an object for any one to give himself much trouble to gain, +though Heaven knows it has cost us trouble enough; but the truth is, +that money is very scarce, and he sees plainly that he must not make +a foolish bargain. So, my dear, we must even wait for what Providence +shall bring forth. + +Yesterday the Bishop of Autun pronounced the funeral oration of Madame +de Longueville,[181] at the church of the Carmelites, with all the +powers and grace that man is capable of. Here was no _Tartuffe_,[182] +no hypocrite; but a divine of rank, preaching with dignity, and giving +an account of that princess’s life with all the elegance imaginable, +passing lightly over the most delicate parts of it, and dwelling upon +or omitting all that should or should not be said. His text was these +words, “Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that +feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.” He divided his oration into +two parts, equally beautiful; he spoke of the charms of her person, +and of the late wars, inimitably; and I need not tell you, that the +second part, which was taken up in giving an account of her exemplary +penitence for the last twenty-seven years of her life, gave him an +ample field to expatiate upon the virtues of her mind, and to place +her in the bosom of her God.[183] He took occasion very naturally to +praise the king; and the prince was also compelled to digest a great +many eulogiums; but as delicately prepared, though in a different +manner, as those of Voiture. This hero was present, as were the duke, +the Princess of Conti, and all the family, besides an infinite number +of other persons; though, in my opinion, too few, for I think this +respect was at least due to the prince, on occasion of an event he had +not yet ceased to lament. You may perhaps ask me how I came there? +Madame de Guénégaud offered the other day at M. de Chaulnes’, to take +me with her; as it was not inconvenient to me, I was tempted to embrace +the offer; and I assure you I did not at all repent having done so. +There were a great many women present, who had as little to do there as +myself. Both the prince and the duke paid great attention to all who +were there. + + [181] Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, daughter of Henry Bourbon, + second of the name, Prince of Condé, who died the 15th of April, + 1679. + + [182] It was imagined at that time, that the Bishop of Autun + (Gabriel de Roquette) was the person whom Molière had in view in + the character of Tartuffe. + + We can not forbear adding an epigram of Boileau’s upon him: + + On dit que l’Abbé Roquette + Preche les sermons d’autrui; + Moi qui sais qu’il les achète, + Je soutiens qu’il sont à lui. + + Which may be Englished by a parody on a well-known epigram in our + language: + + The sermons that Roquette pronounces + Are his;--who’d so have thought them? + He swears they’re his; say not he bounces, + For I know where he bought them! + + [183] To estimate the skillfulness of the panegyrist, it is + proper to know the soil on which he labored. The life of + Madame de Longueville presented the Abbé Roquette with strange + circuitous roads to measure, before he brought her to the way of + salvation, whither he conducted her. She was one of the three + ladies of whom Cardinal de Mazarin said to Don Louis de Haro: + “We have three, among others, who create greater confusion than + arose at the tower of Babel.” Like Madame de Chevreuse and La + Palatine, the part she took in the intrigues of the minority of + Louis XIV. is notorious; like them, she united the triumphs of + beauty to the success of factions, and the love of business to + the love of amours. Voiture represents her as already serious and + political, when, at an early age, she appeared at the Congress + of Munster, where her husband presided over the French embassy. + The Fronde began; her artifices and blandishments seduced the + sage Turenne, when he came at the head of the Spaniards to + give battle to the French. Beloved, not much in the style of a + brother, by the Prince de Conti, she made him the chief of the + Frondeurs, and general of the insurgents, thus opposing him to + her other brother, the great Condé, who commanded the army of + the court. It was she who afterward dragged this hero into the + civil war, and joined him to the Spaniards. She long wandered as + a heroine, or as Cardinal de Retz said, who had himself been her + lover, as a fugitive adventurer. She went alternately, commanding + or intriguing, to Holland, Flanders, Dieppe, Stenay, Montrond, + Bordeaux. In 1649 she reigned in the Hôtel-de-ville of Paris, + and did what no one had ever done before, nor will perhaps do + after her, she lay-in there; and that at a time when this hotel + served as a palace to the court, as the seat of government, and + as the head-quarters of the army. Two of her lovers, the Count de + Coligny and the Duke de Nemours, were killed in a duel. The first + fought by her orders, in her quarrel, and under her inspection. + The Duke de la Rochefoucault, who had long loved her, was + betrayed by her, both as a friend and as a lover. When the peace + of the Pyrénées had brought back the princes to France, it was + found that age prescribed repose to her, at the same time that + the state of affairs obliged her to it. She endeavored at first + to escape it, by forming a party for Voiture’s sonnet against + Benserades. But these little contests of wit were insipid, in + comparison with those she had been engaged in. Nothing remained + for her but devotion; and as a character and a party were always + essential to her, she became the protectress of the Jansenists at + court, and, what is more, mediatrix between them and Rome. For it + was Madame de Longueville who in 1668 mediated the theological + transaction which suspended the debates of the Formulary, and + which was called _the peace of Clement IX_. Singular woman! who + had the art of making herself conspicuous while working out her + salvation, and of saving herself on the same plank from perdition + and from ennui. It was asserted at the time, that she died for + want of food, and there is no doubt she practiced the most + rigid austerities. “Though naturally delicate,” says Madame de + Maintenon, “she never relaxed in the practice of self-denial.” + There is a life of this lady in two volumes by Villefore, which + is said to be well written. + +I saw Madame de la Fayette as we were coming out of the church; she +was bathed in tears; it seems that some of M. de la Rochefoucault’s +hand-writing had by accident fallen in her way, which had awakened +all her sorrows. I had just parted from the Mesdemoiselles de la +Rochefoucault at the Carmelites, who had been also weeping the loss of +their father; the eldest, in particular, equaled M. de Marsillac in +affectionate sorrow. I really do not think that Madame de la Fayette +will ever be comforted; for my part, I am the worst of any of her +acquaintance to be with her; for we can not help indulging ourselves in +talking of that worthy man, and the conversation is death to her. She +was certainly more deserving of his regard than any of those he had an +affection for. She has read your little note, and thanks you warmly for +the manner in which you seem to enter into her grief. + +Have I told you of the reception Madame de Coulanges met with at +St. Germain? The dauphiness told her that she already knew her by +her letters; that her ladies had also told her a great deal of her +wit, and that she wished to judge of it herself. Madame de Coulanges +supported her character admirably upon the occasion; her repartees were +brilliant, sallies of wit flew without number; in the afternoon she was +invited to be of the princess’s private party, with her three friends: +all the ladies of the court would have strangled her. You see that by +means of these friends she gets admittance to a private conversation; +but what does all this tend to? She can not be one of their party in +public, nor at table. This spoils the whole; she is fully sensible of +the humiliation; and has been these four days tasting these pleasures +and dissatisfactions. + + +LETTER LXXXII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, May 1, 1680. + +I know not what weather you may have in Provence, but we have had for +these weeks past such horrible weather here that several journeys have +been delayed by it, and mine among the rest. The good abbé had like to +have perished in going and coming from La Trousse; so says M. de la +Trousse--you would not have believed me. They had an architect with +them, and went to give orders about some alterations, which will make +this house, which we before thought so beautiful, hardly to be known +again. + +We have a new moon to-day, which I hope will bring fine weather with +it, and let me set out; I have not yet fixed on what day I shall go. I +can not express the concern this second parting gives me; I must surely +be out of my senses to remove so much further from you, and to place a +distance of a hundred leagues more between us than there is already. +I have a mortal aversion to business; it takes up so great a portion +of our time, and makes us run hither and thither just as it pleases. I +shall be so affected when I am setting out, that those who hand me into +my carriage may very naturally think it is at parting with them. I am +certain I shall not be able to refrain from tears, and yet I must go, +if it is only that I may come back again. + +Mademoiselle de Méri is now in possession of your apartment; the noise +of that little door opening and shutting, and the circumstance of not +finding you there, have affected me more than I can express. All my +people do their best to serve her. And if I were vain, I could show +you a letter I received from her the other day, full of thanks for the +assistance I have given her; but as I am very modest, you know, I will +content myself with placing it in my archives. + +I have seen Madame de Vins; she is buried in her law-suits. However, +we find time to chat together, and express our mutual wonder at the +odd medley of good and evil in this world, and the impossibility of +being truly happy. You know all that fortune has hitherto done for the +Duchess of Fontanges. What she has reserved for her is this: so violent +a flux, with some degree of fever, that she is confined to her bed at +Maubuisson, and her fine face already begins to swell. The Prior of +Cabrières does not quit her for an instant; if he effects a cure, he +will not make his fortune badly at court. Think whether her situation +does not derogate somewhat from her happiness. Here is further room for +reflection. But to another subject. + +Madame de Dreux was liberated from prison yesterday; she was only +_reprimanded_, which is a very slight punishment, and fined five +hundred livres, which are to be distributed in alms. This poor lady +has been confined a whole year in a room, where the light came in only +by a small hole at the top, without tidings of any thing going on, or +without comfort. Her mother, who doted on her, who was herself still +young and handsome, and who was equally beloved by her daughter, died +about two months ago, of grief at her child’s situation. Madame de +Dreux was ignorant of this event; and yesterday, when her husband and +all the family went with open arms to the place where she was confined, +to receive her, the first word she spoke on seeing them enter her room, +was, “Where is my mother? Why is she not here?” M. de Dreux told her +she was waiting for her at home. The poor creature could not, however, +enjoy the satisfaction of being at liberty; but was incessantly +inquiring what ailed her mother, that she was certain she must be ill, +or she would have come to embrace her after so long a separation. At +length she got home. “What! my mother not here? I do not see her, I do +not hear her!” She flew up stairs. No one knew what to say to her; all +were in tears. She ran into her mother’s apartment, she looked about +her, called, but received no answer; at length a Celestine friar, who +was her confessor, appeared, and told her that she must not hope to see +her mother again till they met in heaven, and that she must submit with +resignation to the Divine will. Upon hearing this she fainted away, and +when she recovered, burst into tears and lamentations, which pierced +the hearts of all present, crying that it was she who had killed her +mother; that she had rather have died in prison, than have been set +at liberty to know the loss of so excellent a parent. Coulanges, who +had run to M. de Dreux’s, like many other friends, was witness to +the whole of this affecting scene, which he related to us yesterday +so naturally and pathetically, that Madame de Coulanges’ eyes looked +red, and I wept heartily, being wholly unable to suppress my tears. +What think you, my child, of this bitter ingredient thrown into the +cup of joy and triumph, to overpower the congratulations and embraces +of a whole family and their friends? The poor soul is still in tears, +notwithstanding all M. de Richelieu’s endeavors to dry them for her. He +has indeed done wonders in this affair. + +I have been insensibly led into this long detail, which you will +comprehend better than any one, and which has affected every heart. +It is believed that M. de Luxembourg will be set at liberty upon as +easy terms as Madame de Dreux; for some of the judges would have +released her without even being _reprimanded_. And, upon the whole, +the treatment of the accused persons has been shocking and scandalous, +considering that nothing was proved against them. This, however, shows +the integrity of the judges. + +We all approve the discourses of your preacher; we have envied and +admired him. The passion-sermon, which we heard not far from hence, +was a most extraordinary one; I assure you the terms _rascal_ and +_scoundrel_ were made use of, to express the humiliation of our blessed +Saviour. Do not these terms convey noble and sublime ideas? Bourdaloüe +preached like an angel from heaven, both last year and this, for it is +the same sermon. + +What you write me about this world appearing quite another world, if we +could draw aside the curtain in every family, is both well expressed +and perfectly true. Good heavens! who can tell whether even the heart +of the princess, whom we praise so much, is thoroughly contented? She +has appeared dull these three or four days past; who knows how things +are with her? She would be with child, and she is not. Perhaps she +wants to see Paris and St. Cloud, and she has not yet seen them. She is +extremely affable; she studies to please. Who knows but this may cost +her some uneasiness? Who knows whether she is pleased alike with all +the ladies who have the honor of attending upon her? And lastly, who +knows but she may be weary of so retired a life? + +I have this very moment received your amiable melancholy letter of the +24th. Believe me, my dear child, it sensibly affects me. I am not yet +set out, the bad weather detains me, for it would have been folly to +expose myself in such a season. This has unhinged every thing. I shall +write to you from Paris again, on Friday, and will tell you about the +alterations that are going on: I gave my opinion first, and am not so +silly as you think, when you are in the case. We read in history[184] +of greater miracles: there are _affections_ which do not yield to the +_other_ passion; hence I am become an architect. + + [184] Every one knows that painting and sculpture took their rise + from love, and that a marshal, who fell in love with a painter’s + daughter, became an excellent painter, merely by endeavoring to + please his mistress. + +I admire extremely what you say respecting devotion. Good heavens! how +truly may it be said that we are all like Tantalus with water close to +our lips, and unable to drink! Let the heart be cold, the understanding +enlightened, it is just the same. I have no need of the dispute between +the Jansenists and Molinists to decide this matter. What I feel myself +is sufficient, and how can I doubt it, if I observe myself an instant? +I could talk a long time, and with infinite pleasure on this subject, +if we were together, but you stop short, and I am silent. Corbinelli +had his share of your letter, for I am fond of his frank truths. He +has just heard a sermon of the Abbé Flechier’s,[185] at the taking the +vail of a young Capuchin nun, which has charmed him. The subject was +the freedom of the children of God, which he explained in a bold and +masterly style. He showed “that this young person alone could be called +free, because she partook of the freedom of Christ and his saints; and +she was released from the slavery in which we are held by our passions; +that it was she who was free, and not we; that she had but one master, +whereas we had a hundred; and that instead of lamenting for her, as we +did, with a worldly sorrow which was blamable, we ought to consider, +respect, and even envy her, as a person chosen from all eternity to be +of the number of the elect.” I have not repeated the tenth part of what +he said on this subject; but it was altogether a finished piece. The +funeral oration on Madame de Longueville is not to be printed. + + [185] Esprit Flechier, made Bishop of Lauvar in 1685, and removed + from thence to Nîmes in 1687. + +You ask me why I do not take Corbinelli with me? He is going into +Languedoc, loaded with the favors and civilities of M. de Vardes, +who has accompanied his pension of 120 francs with so excellent a +seasoning, I mean so many kind and affectionate sentiments, that +our friend’s philosophy could not withstand it. Vardes is always in +extremes; and as I am persuaded that he formerly hated him, because +he had used him ill, he now loves him, because he uses him well: this +is the Italian proverb and its reverse.[186] I am going there with +only the good abbé, and a few books, and your idea, which will prove +the source of all my pleasure or pain. I assure you it will keep me +from staying out in the evening dews: I shall recollect that it would +displease you; and this will not be the only time you have prevented +me from continuing my evening walk, and made me return home. I promise +to consult you, and to follow your advice at all times; do the same +by me, and be under no alarms; rest assured that I will take care of +myself; I wish I could put the same confidence in you; but I have many +subjects of complaint against you on this score; and without going +further than Monaco, have I not the banks of the Rhône, whither you +forced the stoutest hearts in your family to accompany you, in spite +of themselves? I repeat it, in spite of themselves; and be pleased to +remember, on the other hand, that I should die with fear even to pass +les vaux D’Olioules[187] on foot. This confession of my cowardice is +sufficient to prove my apprehensions and ensure your confidence. Let +then, my dear child, the remembrance of me govern you, in some degree, +as yours always governs me. + + [186] _Chi offende non perdona._ The offender never pardons. + + [187] _Les vaux D’Olioules_, or, as it is called in the dialect + of that country, _leis baous D’Oulioules_, is a narrow pass by + the side of a river, about a league in length, running between + two steep hills, in Provence. + +I fancy my son will meet me at Orléans. I am aware of the attentions +of M. de Grignan: he has politeness, nobleness, and even affectionate +tenderness; but he has some points which are not so agreeable, and more +difficult to be conceived; and as every thing is cut diamond-wise, he +has many sides which are inimitable, so that we are at once tempted to +love and to scold him, to esteem and to blame, to embrace and to beat +him. + +Adieu, my dear child; I must now leave you. Surely you mean to laugh at +me when you express your apprehensions lest I should write too much. My +lungs are almost as delicate as Georget’s:[188] excuse the comparison, +it comes from hence. But for you, my child, let me conjure you not to +write. Montgobert, pray do not abandon me, but step in and take the pen +from her hand. + + [188] A celebrated ladies’ shoemaker at Paris. + + +LETTER LXXXIII. + + PARIS, Monday, May 6, 1680. + +You observe with great humor, that, if the human heart is left to +itself, it will always find something to comfort itself with, and +that its disposition is to be happy. I hope mine will have the same +disposition as others, and that time and the air will abate the +uneasiness I at present endure. I think you borrowed from me what you +say about the passion of separating ourselves from each other; it might +be supposed that we thought ourselves too near neighbors, and that +after mature deliberation it had been resolved on both sides to make a +voluntary removal of three hundred leagues further asunder. You see I +in a manner copy your own letter; the reason is, that you have given +so agreeable a turn to my idea, that I take pleasure in repeating it. +I hope at last, the sea will set bounds to our passion, and that after +having retired, each to a certain distance, we shall return back, and +advance toward each other as fast as we have receded. It is certain +that for two persons who seek each other’s company, and delight in +being together, we have had the most singular destiny. Whoever were +to seek to destroy my faith in Providence, would deprive me of my +only comfort; and if I thought it was in our own power to settle or +unsettle, to do or undo, to will one thing or another, I should never +have a moment’s peace. The Creator of the universe must be with me the +director of every event that happens; and when I look to him as the +cause, I blame no one, and submit with humility, though not without +inexpressible grief of heart; at the same time I put my trust in Him, +that He will again bring us together as he has done before. + + +LETTER LXXXIV. + + THE ROCKS, Friday, May 31, 1680. + +Notwithstanding this letter will not go till Sunday, I am resolved to +begin it to-day, that I may date once more in the month of May. I fear +that of June will appear still longer to me. I am certain, however, of +not seeing so fine a country as the one I have left. There is a month +in the year in which it rains every day; this is owing to your prayers; +why will you not leave Providence a little to itself? sometimes too +much rain, sometimes too great drought; you are never contented. God +forgive me! but this puts me in mind of the story of Jupiter in Lucian, +who is so wearied with the incessant importunities of mortals, that he +sends Mercury to inquire into the matter, and, at the same time, orders +ten thousand bushels of hail to fall upon Egypt, to stop their mouths. + +I will no longer oblige you to answer me on the subject of the Divine +Providence, which I so greatly revere; and which, in my opinion, +commands and orders every thing in the world. I am persuaded you will +not dare to treat this opinion as an inconceivable mystery, with the +disciples of your Father Descartes; it would be indeed inconceivable, +that God should have made the world, and not direct all that passes +in it. Those who make such fine restrictions and contradistinctions +in their writings, speak much more freely, and with greater truth on +the subject, when they have no crooked policy to govern them. These +_cutpurses_ are very agreeable in their conversation. I shall not +mention their names, because I fancy you guess the principal one: +the others are the Abbé du Pile, and M. Dubois,[189] whom you are +acquainted with, and who has an infinite share of wit. Poor Nicole is +still in the Ardennes,[190] and M. Arnauld buried under ground, like a +mole.[191] But whither is my pen running? This is not what I meant to +say to you. I intended to tell you that I received your letters at the +place where we dined the day I left Nantes, and that, having no other +means of conversing with you at so great a distance, the reading of +them forms an occupation preferable to every other. + + [189] Dubois, of the French Academy, who translated several works + of Cicero and Saint Augustin. + + [190] The forest of Ardennes, in the Low Countries. + + [191] After the death of Madame de Longueville, these able + writers, fearing persecution, left France. Arnauld retired into + the Low Countries, where he lived long unknown and in poverty. + He remained there till his death. Nicole, more conciliating and + less dreaded, returned to France. He figured in the quarrel of + Bossuet and Fénelon. He supported the former, but with prudence + and moderation. + +We found the roads greatly improved between Nantes and Rennes, thanks +to the care of M. de Chaulnes; but the incessant rains we have had of +late have made them as if two winters had followed close upon each +other. We were continually in sloughs, or rivers of water; we did not +dare to cross over by Chateaubriant, for fear of being unable to get +further. We arrived at Rennes on Ascension eve, and dear good Marbeuf +was ready to devour me; nothing would satisfy her, but my taking up my +abode for a time at her house, but I refused; I would neither sup nor +sleep there: the next day she gave me a very elegant public breakfast, +when the governor, and every person of note in the town, came to visit +me. We set out again at ten o’clock, though every body assured me, that +I had time enough before me, and that the roads were _like this room_; +for that, you know, is the usual comparison: however, we found them so +much _like this room_, that we did not get there till after midnight, +and were all the way up to the axle-trees in water, and from Vitré to +this place, a road I have passed a thousand and a thousand times, it +was impossible to know it again; the causeways are become impassable; +the ruts are sunk to a frightful depth; the little inequalities are +perfect mountains and caverns; in a word, _finding_ that we could no +longer _find_ our way, we sent to Pilois for help; he came accordingly +bringing with him about a dozen stout country-fellows, some of whom +held up the carriage, while others went before with wisps of lighted +straw; and all spoke such jargon, that we were ready to die with +laughing; at length, thus attended, we arrived here, our horses jaded, +our people dripping, our carriage almost broken down, and ourselves +tolerably fatigued; we made a very light supper, went to bed, slept +heartily, and this morning, when we awoke, we found ourselves safe and +sound at the Rocks, though very much out of sorts. I had taken the +precaution to send a servant before us, that we might not come into the +midst of a dust of four years standing; and we are tolerably decent at +least. We have been entertained with a great number of visitors from +Vitré, such as the Recollets, Mademoiselle du Plessis, still in tears +for her mother, etc. etc., but I had not a moment’s comfort till I had +got rid of them all, which was about six o’clock in the evening, and +had spent a little time in my woods, with honest Pilois. The walks +and alleys are really enchanting; there are half a dozen new ones you +have never seen. By the by, be under no apprehension about my exposing +myself to the damps; I know it would make you angry if I did, and that +is sufficient to deter me. + +You always tell me that you are in good health, and so does Montgobert; +and yet I can not help thinking that the plan of plunging twice a day +into the Rhône can only suit a person whose blood is violently heated. +I entreat you, my child, to consult a very grave and learned author +in regard to the effects bathing may have on your lungs: you know I +was witness to the evident injury you sustained from your half-baths, +though they were advised by Fagon.[192] + + [192] First physician to Louis XIV. + +You must certainly have stood in need of all your strength to support +the numerous visitors you have had; twenty persons extraordinary +at table makes me start a little. These are whole retinues, as +Corbinelli used to call them, when he found himself so crowded in your +drawing-room, and neither saluted nor took notice of any one; it must +be owned that your house is the most frequented of any in the country; +this is living at rack and manger. Do you remember when we had all the +Fouesnels here, with what impatience we waited for the happy minute +when they were to take their leave; how cheerfully we bid them adieu +in our hearts, and how terrified we were lest they should yield to the +false entreaties we made them to stay; how our hearts bounded when we +saw them fairly gone; and our reflections how much bad company was +preferable to good, the latter occasioning pain when they leave us, +whereas the departure of the other takes a weight from the mind, and +restores it to freedom? do you remember all this, and how perfectly we +enjoyed ourselves upon the occasion? + +Madame de Coulanges writes me word that Madame de Maintenon has lost +a cane to the dauphin; Madame de Coulanges has ordered it to be made. +The head is a pomegranate of gold, studded with rubies; it opens and +discovers the miniature picture of the dauphiness, with these words +underneath, _Il piu grato nasconde_.[193] Clement formerly made this +device for you; but that which seemed an exaggeration when applied to +you, is perfectly true with regard to this princess. The beautiful +Fontanges still continues very ill. My son tells me they pass their +time very pleasantly at Fontainebleau. Corneille’s comedies are the +delight of the whole court; I have written to my son that it must be a +great pleasure to be obliged to be there, to have a master, a place, +and the favor of the great; and had it been my case I should have been +extremely fond of that part of the world; that the contrary was the +sole reason of my removing to such a distance from it; that this kind +of contempt was, in fact, the result of disappointment and vexation, +and that _I abused it out of pure revenge_, as Montaigne says of youth; +in short, that I wondered how he could prefer passing his time as I do, +with Madame du Plessis and Mademoiselle de Launay, to spending it in +the midst of all that is gay and great. + + [193] The greatest charms are concealed. + +What I say for myself, my child, I say in reality for you; for do not +imagine, if M. de Grignan and you were situated agreeably to your +merit, that you would have any dislike to such a life; but it does not +please Providence that you should arrive at more greatness than you at +present possess. As to myself, I have seen the day when little, very +little, was wanting for fortune to have placed me in the most agreeable +situation in the world; when, all of a sudden, the scene changed to +imprisonment and exile.[194] Do you think my fortune has been the +happiest in the world? yet I am content; or, if I have my moments of +murmuring, it is not on my own account. + + [194] Madame de Sévigné alludes to the banishment of M. de Bussy, + the chief of her house, and the confinement of M. de Fouquet, + her intimate friend. To which may be added, the exile of the + Arnaulds, and, further back still, the misfortunes of Cardinal de + Retz, her relation and friend. + +Your description of Madame D.’s conduct is very amusing; it is a sort +of economy in love, worthy of Armida. You seem to believe that M. de +Rouillé will not return; I am sorry for it, and I should be still more +so were it not that I believe your stay in Provence almost at an end, +and consequently that you can have little occasion for him. If any +thing is to be done in the assembly, the coadjutor will give a good +account of it, in the absence of M. de Grignan. + + +LETTER LXXXV. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 5, 1680. + +At length I have the pleasure, at this immense distance from each +other, to receive your letters on the ninth day after they are written, +with the prospect of happier times before me. I often admire the great +kindness and civility of those gentlemen of whom the author of Moral +Essays speaks so humorously, and to whom we are so much indebted. +What do they not do for us? To what offices do they not submit, to be +useful to us? Some run four or five hundred miles to carry our letters; +others, at the hazard of their necks, climb to the tops of our houses, +to prevent our being incommoded by the rains; and others suffer still +more. In short, this is an arrangement of Providence; and the thought +of gain, which is in itself an evil, becomes converted into a source of +good. + +I have brought a number of the best authors with me, which I have been +arranging this morning. There is no looking into them, whichever it +may be, without a desire to read it through. Some are religious tracts +that do honor to the faith they maintain; others books of history, +the best of their kind; besides ethics, poetry, novels, and memoirs. +The romances are in disgrace, and banished to a by-closet. When I +enter this little library I wonder how I am able to leave it again. In +short, my child, it is altogether worthy of your presence, and so are +my walks; but, for the company, it is very far from being so. There is +strange skimming of the pot on Sundays:[195] one good thing, however, +is, that they sup at six o’clock, and leave me to fly to my lawns and +groves for relief. Madame du Plessis, in her deep mourning, never quits +me. I could well say of her mother as of M. de Bonneuil, she has left +a very ridiculous daughter behind her: she is so impertinent too. I am +really ashamed of her regard for me, and I sometimes say to myself, Is +it possible there can be any sympathy between her and me? She talks +incessantly; but by the grace of God, I am to her, as you are to many +others, absolutely dead; I do not hear three words she says. She is +at daggers drawn with all her family about her mother’s will: this is +a new embellishment to the former beauties of her mind: she confounds +the meaning of every thing she says; and when she is complaining of +the ill-treatment she receives, she cries, They have used me _like a +barbarity, like a cruelty_. You will have me entertain you with such +trash, and now I hope you have enough for a time. + + [195] On account of the number of visitors, which was always + greatest on Sundays, and to whom Madame de Sévigné thought + herself obliged to do the honors of her house, which she + humorously called _skimming her pot_. + +My letters are of such an enormous length that you ought, according +to your rule, to make yours to me very short, and leave all the rest +to Montgobert. Health is at all times a real and intrinsic treasure, +that will serve us on every exigency. Madame de Coulanges has written +me a thousand trifles, that I would communicate to you, but that I +think it would be absolutely ridiculous. The favor of her _female +friend_ (Madame de Maintenon) still continues. The queen accuses her +of the cause of the distance between her and the dauphiness. The king +comforts her for this disgrace: she visits him every day, and their +conversations are of a length that surprises every body, and gives +occasion to numberless conjectures. + +I consider futurity as a dark road, in which the traveler may find +light and accommodation when he least thinks of it. + +M. de Lavardin is going to be married[196] in good earnest; and Madame +de Mouci[197] is said to be the person who inspires Madame de Lavardin +with the idea of doing every thing that can prove advantageous to her +son. This De Mouci must certainly have a most extraordinary soul. Young +Molac is to marry the Duchess of Fontanges’s sister; the king gives him +to the value of 400,000 francs with her. + + [196] To Louise-Anne de Noailles, sister to Anne Julius Duke of + Noailles, and Marshal of France. + + [197] Marie de Harlaie, sister to Achilles de Harlaie, at that + time attorney-general, and afterward first president of the + parliament of Paris. + +How just is your observation upon the death of M. de la Rochefoucault +and so many other friends! “The ranks close, and he is seen no more.” +It is certain that Madame de la Fayette is overwhelmed with grief, and +can not feel, as she would have done at another time, the good fortune +of her son. The dauphiness was particular in her attentions to her: the +Princess of Savoy has spoken of her as her best friend. + +I am very glad my letter pleased M. de Grignan: I spoke my mind with +great sincerity. He must divest himself of all those ruinous whims, +which take their turns with him by the quarter. They must not merely +sleep, like the nobility of Lower Brittany, but be altogether extinct. + +Adieu, my beloved child; I admire and love your letters, and yet I +will have no more of them; cut short, and leave Montgobert to prattle +in your stead. I will try to take from you the desire of writing much: +by the length of my letters you shall find them beyond your strength +to answer, which is just what I wish; so shall I be a shield to you. I +am of opinion that you have a numerous correspondence upon your hands, +say what you will; for my part, I only stand upon the defensive in my +answers, I never begin the attack; but then, even these seem of such a +bulk, that, on post-days, when I retire to my chamber at night, and see +my writing-desk, I am ready to run under the bed to hide myself, like +our late _madame’s_ little dog, whenever it saw a book. + + +LETTER LXXXVI. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 12, 1680. + +So, I have written a sermon without thinking of it! I am as much +surprised at this as the Count de Soissons,[198] when he was told he +had made prose. It is true, I feel myself disposed to do all honor to +the grace of Christ. I do not cry out, as the queen-mother did in the +excess of her zeal against those vile Jansenists, “Ah! fie, fie upon +grace!” I say the contrary, and can bring good vouchers for it. Since +you have imparted to me your visions, with regard to the fortunes of +your brothers-in-law, I will tell you sincerely that I was afraid the +air of a house, where saving grace was sometimes talked of, might have +injured the Abbé de Grignan. Thank heaven, I have done no more harm +than yourself; and if I am silent for the future, as I ought, and +certainly shall be, it will not be from the fear of injuring any one. +Your young bishops are seldom suspected of this heresy. I have just +been writing to the chevalier: he has absolutely forgotten me, and as +he is not infected with the Grignan indolence, it may be a serious +business. + + [198] It is singular that Molière should have found in a nobleman + the most laughable instances of ignorance, with which he endows + his _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_. + +Your great building, my dear, is begun to-day; Du But will do all he +can to hasten the workmen. There was no possibility of commencing +sooner, and there is time enough to complete every thing. I send you +a letter of Madame de Lavardin’s, by which you will see what are her +sentiments. I am almost tempted to send you likewise a very long letter +I have received from Madame de Mouci, in which she takes pleasure +in acquainting me with every thing she has done relatively to this +marriage; she has made choice of me, in preference to any other person, +to communicate the whole of his conduct to. She is in the right; the +second volume is worthy the admiration of any one who had read the +first. She seems happy in taking every opportunity of loading M. de +Lavardin with favors, by means of the influence she has over his +mother. She has made her give a thousand pounds worth of pearls; she +has made her give all the fire-irons, stoves, candlesticks, tables, +and silver waiters, that were worth having; handsome tapestry, fine +old furniture, with linen and dressing gowns, which Madame de Mouci +selected herself. Her heart takes this method of avenging itself; +but for her it would have been a mere village wedding. She has made +her give considerable estates to her son, and, to crown all, she +will manage so that the new married couple will not live in the same +house with the mother, whose overbearing temper, and rigid observance +of hours, would by no means suit the young couple. Madame de Mouci +delights in displaying to me the liberality of her soul, and I am +amazed to see the extraordinary manner in which she contributes to +M. de Lavardin’s happiness. The desire of being singular, and of +distinguishing ourselves by stepping a little out of the common road, +seems to me to be the source of many virtues. She writes me word +that she should be very happy if I were at Paris, because I should +understand her; no one else being able to comprehend what she is doing. +She adds besides that I should die with laughing, to see the grimaces +Madame de Lavardin makes, every time the devil of avarice is cast out +of her by the power of her exorcisms. The poor lady seems perfectly +exhausted, _like the nuns of Loudun_.[199] It must certainly be a very +comic scene. + + [199] Alluding to the _Histoire des Diables de Loudun_, History + of the Devils of Loudun. It is well known that the fierce + hatred of Cardinal de Richelieu, the maneuvers of the Capuchin + Joseph, and the cruelty of the judge, Laubardement, caused + the unfortunate curé Urbain Grandier to perish in the flames, + as convicted of the crime of magic, “upon the deposition of + Ashtaroth, devil of the order of Seraphims, and chief of the + possessing devils, and Eusas, Cham, Acaos, Zebulan, Nephthaim, + Uriel, and Acas, of the order of the principalities.” These are + the terms of the sentence. + +I have also received some very entertaining letters from the +Marchioness d’Huxelles. The fair widows do wonders. Madame de Coulanges +assures me, that she is to set out on the 20th for Lyons; she writes me +a thousand trifles. This city will become the source of all the private +intelligence of the court; but do you suppose she will communicate any +of this precious commodity to the inhabitants? + +I had a visit the other day from an Augustin friar, a poor creature, +a very poor creature indeed. He assumed the airs of a preacher, but I +answered his pompous ignorance only with a smile of contempt; he still +went on, till at last I was strongly tempted to throw a book at his +head. I fancy Madame de Coulanges will be ready to reply in the same +way to the ladies of Lyons. Young Coulanges will be with you; he has +given up M. de Chaulnes and Brittany for Lyons and the Grignans. I am +quite of his opinion, my dearest child, and my greatest joy would be to +make one of your party. Ah! how I should like to sup in your delightful +grotto! How pleased I should be with M. de Grignan’s music, and those +beautiful passages in the opera, which have often made my eyes glisten. +Oh! it would be a charming party. Your house is a little town. Really, +to reflect upon our situations and dispositions, it might be supposed +some magic change had been wrought upon us. And yet, to the honor of +both, you fill your exalted station admirably, and shine as in your +proper sphere; while I and my humble fortune seem fitted for the woods, +and the solitude I inhabit. The truth is, I am assured from whence all +this comes; it is necessary to raise our eyes to Heaven, after having +long kept them fixed upon the earth. + +The other evening one of my people told me, “that it was very warm +in the mall; that there was not a breath of air stirring, and that +the moon shone with the finest effect imaginable.” I could not resist +the temptation, so on I put bonnets, cloaks, capuchins, and all the +needless defenses you could wish; and forth I sallied to the mall, +where the air was as mild as in my own room. I found there a thousand +fantastic illusions of the night, black and white friars, linen +scattered here and there, black men in one place, others buried upright +against trees, little dwarfs who just showed their heads and concealed +the rest of their bodies, priests who dared not approach me, etc., etc. +After having laughed heartily at all these figures, and fully convinced +ourselves of the true origin of what are called spirits, apparitions, +that play their farces in the theater of our imaginations, we returned +to the house without sitting down, or feeling the lest dew. I beg your +pardon, my dear child, but I thought myself obliged, after the example +of the ancients, as the foolish fellow we met in the gardens at Livri +used to say, to show this mark of respect to the moon; I assure you I +have sustained no injury from it. + +There has fallen to me, out of the clouds, one of the prettiest +calambour[200] chaplets in the world; this is doubtless because I tell +my beads so well. The best ball to the best player, you know. This +chaplet has a cross of diamonds hanging to it, with a death’s head of +coral; _I have certainly seen that vile face somewhere_. Tell me, I +beseech you, how it found its way to me at such a distance? In the mean +time, I shall not tell my beads without considerable musings; I am of +opinion that it will occasion greater distractions. I wait your answer +on this subject. + + [200] _Calembour_, _calambouc_, or _calambac_, are knots of + the aloe-tree round which the resin collects and hardens by + incorporation. This calembouc held to the fire emits a fine + perfume. The aloe-tree grows in the woods of Cochin-China. + +Have you heard the story of Madame de Saint-Pouanges? They concealed +it a long time from me, lest it should prevent me from returning to +Paris in a carriage. This lady was going to Fontainebleau, for we +should let no advantage slip, where she pretended she should be highly +entertained; she had a very pretty place at court, was young, and +had a taste for all the pleasures suitable to her years; she adopted +the fashionable mode of setting out at six o’clock in the evening, +and driving post, so as to get in about midnight. But, listen to the +consequences: her carriage was overturned by the way, a piece of +broken glass pierced through her stays into her body, and she died of +the wound. They write me word from Paris that she lost her reason, +between the pain the surgeons gave her and the mortification of dying +in the bloom of youth. Is not this a curious adventure? If you know it +already, it will be ridiculous to tell it you a second time; but it has +made a strange impression on my brain. It seems Madame de Nevers[201] +has made one, on the greatest head in the world, and has turned another +smaller one quite topsy-turvy; but I do not find that this has been +attended with any serious consequences. + + [201] Madame de Nevers, the daughter of Madame de Thianges, was a + perfect beauty. The _greatest head_ is the king; but it was not + true that he had designs upon her, as it was said she had upon + him. The other _smaller head_ was the duke, the son of the great + Condé, who was really very much in love with her. + +The king took the sacrament on Whitsunday. Madame de Fontange’s +influence still continues brilliant and solid; but what are we to think +of this friendship? I have received a letter from M. Pomponne, in the +midst of his retirement, of which I am more proud than if it had been +from amid all the splendor of St. Germain. It is there he is again +become as perfect as at Frêne. Ah! how excellent a use does he make of +his disgrace, and what charming company he is in! + + +LETTER LXXXVII. + + THE ROCKS, Saturday, June 15, 1680. + +I shall make no answer to what you say of my letters. I am extremely +happy that they please you; had you not told me so I should have +thought them unbearable. I never can muster up courage enough to read +one of them through, and I often say to myself, Good heavens! with what +nonsense do I pester my poor child! Sometimes I even repent having +written so much, lest I should lay you under a sort of obligation to +answer me in the same way; but let me entreat you, my child, to indulge +me in the pleasure of chatting to you without putting yourself to the +trouble of answering. Your last letter exceeded all the bounds of +prudence and the care you ought to take of your health. + +You are too good in wishing me more society; but, in fact, I do not +want it. I am accustomed to solitude. I have my workmen to amuse +me, and the good abbé has his likewise. His taste for buildings and +alterations gets the better of his prudence. It does not cost him much, +indeed, but it would cost him still less to let it alone. + +All my delight is in my wood: it is impossible to describe how +beautiful it is. I often walk there with my cane and Louison, which +is all I desire. In my closet I find such agreeable company that I +often say to myself, This is worthy my daughter; she could not here +lay her hand amiss upon a book, there is hardly room left for choice. +I have taken up _Les Conversations Chrétiennes_ (Christian Dialogues). +They are written by an honest Cartesian, who seems to have all your +_Recherche de la Vérité_ (Inquiry after Truth), by heart; which treats +of that philosophy, and of the supreme power of God over his creatures, +who, as St. Paul says, “live, move, and have their being,” in Him +alone, and by him know all things. I will let you know if this book is +within my comprehension, if not, I shall quit it with all humility, +renouncing the foolish vanity of appearing wise when I am not so. I +assure you I think like _our brothers_; and were I to express myself +in print, I should say so. I know the difference between the language +of policy and that of the heart. God is omnipotent, and does what he +pleases; that I understand. He wants our hearts, and we will not give +them to him; there lies the mystery. But do not discover that of our +sisters of Saint-Marie: they write me word that they are charmed with +the book I lent them.[202] + + [202] See Letter, May 25. + +You remind me of the foolish answer I made to excuse myself from +going to Madame de Bret***,[203] “that I had but one son.” This +made your bishops start. I thought that it had been merely my +_heretical air_. I mentioned it to you the other day. I think, +however, there appeared something strange in the expression. +Heaven be praised, my dear countess, we have done no harm; your +brothers could not be better provided for than at present, even +had we been _Molinists_. _Probable opinions_, and the _direction +of purposes_, would not have been more advantageous to them in the +Hôtel de Carnavalet than the libertinism of our conversations. I am +delighted at it, and have often thought how unjustly we might have +suffered on this occasion. + + [203] Apparently, Madame de Bretonvilliers, whom the Memoirs + of the times represent as the over-officious friend of the + Archbishop of Paris De Harlai, who was not so timid a priest as + he was a rigid Molinist. + +I can make nothing of the affair of M. de la Trousse or Madame +d’Epinoi, or of the servant who robbed them. I will endeavor to +get information on this subject, and will send you the letters. +You find that poor Madame de Lavardin is quite unhappy. Who would +have supposed that she would have been otherwise than rejoiced at +her son’s being married?[204] But I speak like a fool. It should +be our invariable maxim, that human nature can never be happy. +Young Chiverni seems to be as much so as any one: you see how he +has extricated himself from his misery. Your poor brother, indeed, +seems fated never to be happy in this world; as to the other world, +if we may judge by appearances, I see no probability of his being +in the right road. The Bishop of Chalons is certainly in heaven, +for he was a devout prelate and a virtuous man. You see all our +friends are lost to us one after another. + + [204] See the preceding Letter. + +I wrote the other day to Madame de Vins that I would leave her to +guess what sort of virtue I practiced most here; and informed her it +was liberality. It is certain that I have given away very considerable +sums since my arrival; eight hundred francs one morning, one thousand +another, five hundred another, one day three hundred crowns; you may +think I am jesting, but it is too true. I have farmers and millers +who owe me these sums, and have not a farthing to pay me with. What +is to be done in this case? Why I make a virtue of necessity, and +forgive them the debts. You will readily believe that I make no great +merit of this since it is forced liberality; but my head was full of +it when I wrote to Madame de Vins, and so down it went on the paper. +I endeavor to make the fines pay for it. I have not yet touched one +of the six thousand francs from Nantes; money-matters are not soon +settled. The other day I had a visit from a pretty little wife of +a farmer of Bodégat, with sparkling eyes, fine person, and smartly +dressed in a holland gown, with ruffled cuffs, and a long train. Good +heavens! thought I, when I saw her, I am ruined; for you must know, her +husband owes me eight thousand francs. M. de Grignan would certainly +have fallen in love with this woman; she is the very image of one +he admired at Paris. This morning a countryman came in with bags on +all sides, some under his arms, some in his pockets, and some in his +breeches, which he began to untie, for in this country they dress in +a strange way; the fashion of buttoning the lower part of the jacket +is not yet introduced here; they are very saving of the stuff of which +their breeches are composed, and from the gentry of Vitré down to +my clodpole, every thing is in the highest state of negligence. The +good abbé, who, you know, loves the main chance, seeing the fellow +so loaded, thought we were rich forever. “Upon my word, friend, you +are bravely loaded, how much money do you bring us?” “Please your +reverence,” answered the man, “I think there is a matter of thirty +francs.” My dear child, I believe all the _doubles_[205] in France were +collected to fill these bags. In this manner do they abuse our patience +and forbearance. + + [205] Small pieces of money, of which about five are equal to an + English penny. + +You give me great pleasure by what you say of Montgobert. I thought, +indeed, what I wrote to you upon her account was superfluous, and +that your excellent understanding would reconcile every thing. In +this manner, my child, you ought always to act, in spite of momentary +vexations. Montgobert has an excellent heart, though her temper is +rather too hasty and impetuous; I always honor the goodness of her +heart. We are frequently obliged to bear with the little dependencies +and circumstances of friendship, though they may sometimes be +disagreeable. I shall some day send her a bad cause to defend at +Rochecourbière; since she has a talent for these things, it ought to +be exercised. You will have M. de Coulanges with you; who will be a +capital performer. He will inform you of his views and expectations, I +know nothing of them myself; he dreads solitude so much that he will +not even write to any one who lives in it. Grignan, therefore, is a +place perfectly qualified to charm him, as he himself is to charm +others; I never met with such delightful society, it is the object of +all my wishes; I think of you all incessantly; I read your letters over +and over again, saying as at Livri: Let us see what my daughter said to +me a week or ten days ago; for, in short, it is she who converses with +me, and I thus enjoy “the ingenious art of painting language, and of +talking to the eyes.” + +You know it is not the retired groves at the Rocks that make me think +of you; I thought of you as much in the midst of the bustle of Paris. +You are fixed in the center of my heart; every thing else is transient; +it passes and is forgotten. I have forgotten even my Agnes, and yet she +is very amiable; her wit has something of the simplicity of the country +in it; but that of Madame de Tarente is still in the high courtly +taste. The roads from hence to Vitré are grown so intolerably bad, that +the king and M. de Chaulnes have ordered them to be repaired. All the +peasants of that barony will be assembled there on Monday next. + +Adieu, my dearest! when I tell you that my affection is of no use to +you, do you not understand in what way I mean, and to what my heart and +imagination tend? Pray tell me if you intend to place our little girl +at Aix with her aunt,[206] and to send Paulina away. The dear child is +a perfect prodigy; her understanding and wit are a sufficient portion +for her; will you then place her on a level with a common person? I +should always take her with me wherever I went, and should never think +of sending her to Aix with her sister.[207] In short, I should treat +her, as she merits, extraordinarily. + + [206] Marie Adhémar de Monteil, sister of M. de Grignan, and one + of the nuns of Aubenas, a town and convent of the Lower Vivares. + See the letter of 9th of June. + + [207] Marie Blanche, the eldest sister of Paulina, was in the + nunnery of St. Marie of Aix, where a short time afterward she + took the vail. + + +LETTER LXXXVIII. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, Sept. 15, 1680. + +What infinite obligations does my heart owe you, and how happy have +you made it, by permitting me to hope for your presence this winter! +I have read over and over again the delightful letter I so fondly and +impatiently expected. I said to myself, “Yes, this is the voice of my +child, who assures me she shall come to Paris soon after All-Saints.” +Oh, how great the joy to have such comfortable assurance in my +possession! + +You surprise me at the profound secrecy that our lovely saint observes +of her noble and pious intentions to Madame du Janet. It is so natural +to talk of what we ardently wish, of what the heart is full of, that +it is doing penance beforehand to keep silence on such occasions; but +such is her disposition; she speaks on this subject only to her holy +father alone, as it is he alone who is to determine the duration of a +residence which she would be sorry to have protracted. By depriving +herself of the pleasure of communicating her intentions, she finds them +more strongly confirmed in her breast. + +I can not at this distance discover what is become of the crowd that +so lately swarmed in your castle. I left you, I thought, in the midst +of a fair; but since I now find you reposing on your little bed, you +must certainly have found means to escape from the throng. Montgobert +has not written to me, and you mention your health very slightly; you +ought to have informed me whether the medicines you are taking have the +desired effect, and whether this thinness upon thinness is likely to +reduce you to your former state. It is a sad misfortune that what does +you service in one way, should injure you in another; it throws a damp +upon the satisfaction we should otherwise feel. + +We are at present among a set of persons with whom we make great use of +both our reason and reasoning. You know, my child, what a good hearer +I am, _thanks to God and you_, as they say in this country; I have +lost, by dint of listening to you, the gross ignorance I possessed on +many subjects; this is a pleasure I now feel the advantage of. We have +had here a party or two at ombre and reversis, and the next day _altra +scena_ (a change of scene). M. de Montmoron came, you know he has a +great deal of wit; Father Damaie, who does not live quite a hundred +miles from this place; my son, who you know is perfect master of +disputation, and Corbinelli’s letters, making four, and I am audience +for them; they entertain me exceedingly. M. de Montmoron perfectly +understands your philosophy, and controverts it stoutly. My son +maintains the cause of _your father_; as also Damaie; and Corbinelli, +in his letters, takes the same side; but they are not all more than +a match for Montmoron. He insists that we can have no ideas but what +are imparted through the medium of the senses. My son contends that +we think independently of our senses; for instance, _we think that +we think_:[208] this is in general the subject of our disputations, +which have been carried on with great spirit, and have delighted me +extremely. Could you, my child, have made a party in this conversation, +by your letter, as Corbinelli has done, you would have strengthened a +little our Sévigné. And now I mention him, I must acquaint you that +he is still very far from being well, though he thinks himself out of +danger, as indeed I do also; but he is tired of doctors as well as you; +he has taken more medicines than were necessary; they have acted upon +his blood, and heated it to such a degree that every day some of those +horrible eruptions appear which are so very disagreeable both to those +who suffer and those who see them; thus the poor fellow is happy to +have a little respite, that he may repose himself. + + [208] We are agreeably surprised to see at this era, in the + heart of Brittany, a gentleman who so ably refuted the system + of _innate ideas_, and already exhibiting the theory of Locke. + For though the English philosopher was in Paris in 1675, I do + not think his opinions were ever promulgated there, or that they + were even at that time published. But Hobbes, and particularly + Gassendi, had raised objections to the meditations of Descartes, + of which the principles had sprung up in able heads. + + But what deceives Madame de Sévigné here, is the word to _think_, + ill understood, and applied to many secondary operations of + the understanding. Its too general signification disguises its + origin. Descartes himself was mistaken by not submitting this + word sufficiently to the analysis which he himself invented. + +Yesterday I observed, with admiration, how very easy it is to console +ourselves for the want of play by a better avocation; and how patient +we are while we are squandering our money in farthings, as I said the +other day at Rennes. But without imitating you, for I hate a bad copy +of a good original, I shall tell you that my age and experience make +me wish not to have always such demands upon me, and that I could now +and then put a little wit into my poor head; indeed it is what I am +every day endeavoring to do when in my closet or my wood. You will not +perhaps be displeased to know the person who has engaged us in play +of late. It is a tolerably pretty woman from Vitré, who has been here +three nights, and during her stay we have hardly had the cards out of +our hands, she is so passionately fond of them. How much better does +Mademoiselle de Grignan spend her time, happy creature! In reading +your letters over more carefully, I find she speaks without reserve of +her intentions to Madame du Janet, and that is the only conversation +she had with M. de Grignan that she conceals from her; but still I can +not help wondering that she should mention the one without the other. +It must be no small satisfaction to her to have the conversation of +so prudent and good a person. I reverence more than ever the wise +dispensations of Providence when I reflect how it turns the steps you +are about to take to my advantage; and I already begin to enjoy, in +imagination, the pleasure I am to receive. + +I ask a thousand pardons: I have met with a little book of +madrigals,[209] containing the prettiest things in the world. I must +endeavor to bring them into favor with you this winter. It is a +pleasure to have a bad memory; we are reading Sarasin again, and I am +as much delighted with him as at first; this is the case also with +_Les Petites Lettres_; we find something new in these, and we add +others according to our fancy: your brother has an excellent knack +at furnishing these amusements. I had a mind to dip again into the +Prejudices,[210] I think them admirable: but what crowns the whole, my +dearest child, is, that these things all lead directly to you. Oh, how +sweet the consolation, to think that we shall meet once more! Alas, a +whole year has passed in continual adieus; mortifying occupation! I +can not look upon the past with so much tranquillity as you do. It is +to me a source of the bitterest uneasiness, at least it has been so +till I read the pleasing assurance of your return; now I forgive it +in consideration of the future, which offers itself to my imagination +fraught with hopes that make amends for all. + + [209] By La Sablière. + + [210] A work of M. Nicole’s, entitled, _Préjugés légitimes contre + les Calvinistes_ (Well-founded Prejudices against the Calvinists). + + +LETTER LXXXIX. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, Sept. 22, 1680. + +You are so much of a philosopher, my beloved child, that there is no +such thing as giving vent to the transports of the heart with you. +You are continually anticipating hopes; and you pass over the joy of +possession, to contemplate the hour of separation. Believe me, we ought +to manage differently the blessings which Providence has in store for +us. After having made you this reproach, it remains with me honestly to +confess that I deserve it as much as you do, and that it is impossible +for any one to be more alarmed at the cruel rapidity of time, or to +have a stronger foretaste of those sorrows which generally follow in +the train of pleasures. In short, my child, this life is a perpetual +checker-work of good and evil, pleasure and pain. When in possession of +what we desire, we are only so much the nearer losing it; and when at a +distance from it, we live in the expectation of enjoying it again. It +is our business, therefore, to take things as God is pleased to send +them. For my part, I am resolved to indulge myself in the delightful +hope of seeing you, without any mixture of alloy. + +You are very unjust, my love, in the judgment you pass upon yourself; +you say, that though people at first think you agreeable, upon a longer +acquaintance they cease to love you; it is precisely the reverse; you +have a certain air of superiority that makes people afraid of you, and +despair of ever being admitted into the number of your friends; but +when once they know you, it is impossible not to be attached to you; +and if any of your acquaintance seem to shun you, it is only because +they love you, and can not bear the thought of not being so much loved +in return as they wish. I have heard many persons extol the charms of +your friendship to the skies, and afterward reflect on their own want +of merit, which prevented them from preserving that happiness; thus +each blames himself for a degree of coldness; but where there is no +real cause of complaint on either side, it seems only to require a +little leisurely conversation to be good friends again. + +I have a great desire to read Terence; nothing could give me greater +pleasure than to see the originals, of which the copies have afforded +me so much pleasure. My son will translate to me satire against foolish +amours;[211] he ought to be able to write one himself, or at least to +profit by this; if the situation he is in at present does not correct +him, I know not what will. We read books of controversy; one has lately +been published[212] in answer to the Prejudices, to which I wish M. +Arnauld had replied; but I fancy that he has been forbidden; and it is +thought more advisable to leave this book unanswered, though it may do +injury to religion, than to permit the publication of another that may +serve to justify the Jansenists from the errors with which they have +been reproached; but more of this another time. I have been promised +the coadjutor’s speech, but I have not yet had it; my son and several +others speak highly in its praise. + + [211] She, no doubt, alludes here to the well-known description + of the extravagance of lovers, which is to be found in Terence’s + Eunuch, Scene I. beginning in these words: + + In amore hæc omnia insunt vitia, etc. + + [212] Written by the Protestant minister Claude, entitled, “A + Defense of the Reformation against the ‘Well-founded Prejudices’ + of M. Nicole.” + + +LETTER XC. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, November 26, 1684. + +So much the worse for you, my dear child; if you do not read over your +letters, your indolence robs you of a great pleasure, which is not one +of the least of the evils it may occasion you; for my part, I read them +over and over again; they constitute all my joy, all my sorrow, all my +occupation, so that you are the center and cause of all. I shall begin +this letter with you. + +Is it possible that what you tell me can be true, that when you spoke +to the king you were like a person beside yourself, and so lost, to use +your own expression, in the blaze of majesty, that you knew not what +you said, nor could recollect any of your ideas. Never, never can I +believe that my beloved daughter, always so remarkable for her ready +wit and happy presence of mind, should have been in such a situation. I +must confess, that from what his majesty said to you--“that he would do +something for M. de Grignan”--I by no means understand that he merely +alluded to the great expense M. de Grignan had lately incurred: no, the +king’s answer appeared to me to bear this construction, “Madam, the +favor you ask of me is a trifle, I will do something more for Grignan;” +meaning, I suppose, the affair of the survivorship, which he knew would +be a capital point for your family. I had no idea of the little present +in question, and you know what I said upon that subject in my last +letter. It rests with you, my dear, to set me right, and I beg you will +do so, for I do not love to view things in a wrong light. + +Madame de la Fayette has written me word that you were an angel of +beauty at court, that you spoke to the king, and that it was thought +you were soliciting a pension for your husband. I returned a slight +answer, “that I believed it was to entreat his majesty to consider the +great expenses M. de Grignan had been obliged to incur in Provence,” +and that was all. + +You relate inimitably the story of M. de Villequier and his +mother-in-law. There seems no danger of her proving a Phædra to him. +Had you read that part of your letter over, you would easily have +conceived the manner in which it struck me. It is not unlike the +story of Joconde; and the chambermaid yawning with fatigue at her +long waiting is admirable. I think Madame d’Aumont’s conduct very +praiseworthy: it ought to silence the world, and satisfy her husband. +What great doings in Savoy! I can not believe the king will withhold +his pity and assistance from the young Princess of Baden, when she +represents to him the situation of her mother, abandoned by all her +children. I do not believe she will set out till her mother is gone. +This good mother, it is true, has so much fire about her, that it is +difficult to persuade one’s self she is not still in the prime of her +youth. The Princess de Tarente intends to receive her at Vitré. As +for Madame de Marbeuf, she is one of her old acquaintance; they have +spent whole winters together in supping and playing at the Palace of +Soissons; you may judge how readily this will be renewed at Rennes. I +have told my son the story of the Chevalier de Soisson’s engagement: we +could neither of us have believed the eyes of a grandmother retained +still so much power. I do not think the raising of the siege of +Buda[213] worth mentioning to you; it is a piece of news hardly of +sufficient consequence to obtain a place in my letter. I fancy the +dauphiness,[214] however, will take the pains to be sorry: her brother +has exposed himself so much, and acquitted himself so well in this +expedition, that it is a pity such an elector should be obliged to +return from it. + + [213] After having beaten the Turks, and repulsed the troops they + were leading to the assistance of Buda, the Duke of Lorraine was + at length obliged to raise the siege, which had lasted for nearly + four months. + + [214] The dauphiness was always a German in her heart; this + partiality, which the subsequent war increased and rendered more + offensive, contributed, with other eccentricities of character, + to alienate the affections of her husband, the king, and the + whole court. + +Our _worthy_ is very ill with one of those bad colds and coughs which +you have seen him afflicted with. He is in his little closet. We take +better care of him here than could be done at Paris. My daughter-in-law +has gone through all the hot and cold regimen of the Capuchins, without +being affected either one way or the other by them. When the weather +is fine, as it has been for the last three days, I venture out about +two o’clock, and walk backward and forward before the gardeners, who +are cutting wood, and representing the picture of winter, but without +stopping to contemplate the scene; and after I have enjoyed all the +heat of the sun, I return to the house, leaving the evening to those +of a more hardy constitution. In this way do I govern myself to please +you, and very often I do not stir out of the house at all. Coulanges’ +chair, a few books that my son reads admirably, and now and then a +little conversation, will compose the whole of my occupation during the +winter, and the subject of your anxiety; for I shall exactly follow +your orders in all points, and every where. + +My son understands perfectly well what _Wednesday_ means.[215] To say +the truth, we would be very dull without him, and he without us; but +he manages matters so well that there is generally a party of ombre in +my apartments, and at intervals we read, and make comments on what we +read; you know what sort of place the Rocks is. We have read a folio +volume through in little more than a week. We have been engaged with M. +Nicole, the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, and the History of the +Reformation in England; in short, those who are happy enough to have a +taste for reading never need be at a loss for amusement. + + [215] This was one of Madame de Sévigné’s post-days. + + +LETTER XCI. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, February 21, 1685. + +Ah, my child! was ever any thing so ill-timed as the death of the +King of England,[216] just at the eve of a masquerade? My poor little +marquis[217] is very unfortunate to have such an unexpected event +thrown in the way of his pleasure. I know nothing that can comfort him +for this disappointment but the universal encomiums that have been +given to his charming dress, and the hope that the masquerade is only +put off for a time. + + [216] Charles II., who died 16th February, 1685. + + [217] Louis-Provence, Marquis de Grignan, Madame de Sévigné’s + grandson. + +My dear child, I make you my compliments of condolence on these great +occurrences, and expect yours in return upon my mistaken ideas; for +I was at the masquerade, the opera, and the ball, snug in a corner, +contemplating you with admiration; in short, I was in as great an +agitation as you may suppose your poor mother to experience on such an +occasion; and, after all, there was no entertainment of any kind. + +I enter into your sentiments, my beautiful dear, better than any +one. Yes, yes, I can very well conceive that we are transfused into +our children, and, as you say, feel more keenly for them than for +ourselves. I have sufficiently experienced these emotions, which are +not without their pleasure when the object is deserving of them and of +the admiration of every one besides. Your son pleases extremely; there +is something inexpressibly smart and agreeable in his countenance; the +eye does not pass lightly over him as over others in general, but rests +attentively. Madame de la Fayette tells me she has written to Madame de +Montespan that she had engaged her honor that you and your son would +have reason to be satisfied with her. I know no one who would be more +happy to serve you than Madame de la Fayette. + +But is it not extraordinary that we have not yet had a word together on +the death of the King of England? He was by no means an old man, and he +was a monarch; this shows that death spares no one. It will be a great +happiness if he was a Catholic in his heart, and died in the faith of +our holy religion. England appears to me a theater that is about to +furnish some very extraordinary scenes: the Prince of Orange, the Duke +of Monmouth, an infinite number of Lutherans, and a confirmed aversion +to all Catholics; but time will discover in what way Providence will +direct the performance, after this tragical event;[218] however, it +seems it will not put a stop to the diversion at Versailles, since +I find you are to return there on Monday. You say a thousand kind +things of the concern it would give you to leave me behind at Paris, +if I were there, but as this, to my great regret, is not the case, +make the most of this opportunity, follow the court: no one is formed +to make a better figure there, and I think every thing seems to tend +toward the completion of your wishes. Mine, though made at such a +distance, are not less ardent and sincere than if I were with you. I +feel, though less delicately, the truth of a remark you made to me one +day, and which I then laughed at: that you were so much mistress of my +imagination and my heart that I had you always present with me; this is +very true, my child, but I must own I had rather enjoy a little more of +reality. + + [218] Charles II. was sixty-five years of age, and had reigned + about twenty-five years, reckoning from the restoration of the + Stuarts. He received the sacraments agreeably to the rites of + the Church of Rome, but more, it is said, in compliance with the + entreaties of his brother than the dictates of his conscience. He + had some good private qualities. But, as a prince, his character, + says the impartial Hume, was “dangerous to his subjects, and + dishonorable to himself.” To rid himself of his parliament, he + had placed himself in a state of disgraceful independence on + Louis XIV. It has been said of him that he never said a foolish + thing, and never did a wise one. Judging by the following + anecdote, he carried further even than policy required, the + practice of dissimulation, which would be, as it is declared, + the necessary virtue of kings, if it be true that weakness and + indolence are their natural vices. It is said that Charles II. + having reproached his minister Shaftesbury with being “the + greatest knave in the three kingdoms,” he replied, “Apparently + your majesty only includes subjects.” + + Madame de Sévigné speaks of the state of England in the character + of a well-informed person. The rebellion of Monmouth and his + tragical end in the same year, and James II. dethroned and driven + out of the kingdom three years afterward by his son-in-law, + justified but too well her predictions. + + +LETTER XCII. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, Aug. 11, 1685. + +You see, my dear, that we are now come to reckon by days only, not by +months! not even by weeks! But, alas! what you say is very true: there +could not be a more cruel damp to our pleasures than the thought that +we might be obliged to part again almost as soon as we met; this is +a painful idea; it occurs to me but too often; day or night I am not +free from it; it came in my head the last time I was writing to you, +and I could not forbear saying to myself, Surely this evil ought to be +sufficient to secure me from the danger of experiencing a greater; but +I dare not dwell upon this melancholy reflection, and shall now divert +it by the thought that I am soon to see you at Baville. I shall not be +at all ashamed of my equipage; my children have very elegant ones, and +I have had the same; but now the times are altered; I have only two +horses of my own, and shall hire four horses from the postmaster of +Mans; and in that manner I shall make my entrance into Paris without +the least concern. You will find my leg in a state of perfection, +which will make you love Charlotte all your life; she has fancied you +from hence more beautiful than the day, and this idea has given her an +extreme desire to restore this leg to you, worthy of your admiration, +when you know from what a situation it has been extricated. All this +is past, and so is the visit of little Coulanges; he set out on Monday +morning with your brother. I accompanied them as far as the gate that +leads to Vitré; there we stopped to await the arrival of your letters +from Paris, which came as expected, and were read with the usual +pleasure. As you only mentioned that M. d’Ormesson’s wife was at the +point of death, I have not dared to write to him; but as soon as you +let me know she is buried, I will venture to send him a line or two by +way of condolence and comfort; but indeed, considering the state she +was in, what could be more desirable for herself and her family than +her death? Ah, my dear child, how humiliating it is to be obliged to +drag about the lees of life and understanding! how much preferable +would it be, could we have our wish, to leave behind us a remembrance +worthy of being preserved, rather than spoil and disfigure it by the +infirmities and weakness of old age! I should like to be an inhabitant +of that country where they kill their parents out of kindness, when +they become old and helpless, if such a practice could be reconciled to +Christianity. + +Our gentlemen sung _Gaudeamus_ on Monday evening at Marbeuf’s. Your +brother is not quite recovered of his slight disorder. I have had some +delightful conversations with Coulanges on the subject he is so much +at a loss to comprehend: scenes have passed between us not inferior to +some of Molière’s. When do you expect _Saint Grignan_? + + N.B. No more letters are found from Madame de Sévigné to her + daughter till toward the end of 1688, both having passed the + intermediate time together at Paris. + + +LETTER XCIII. + + PARIS, Friday, October 8, 1688. + +What a tremendous rain, just, my child, as you are going to descend +that frightful mountain of Rochepot! How numberless are the vexations +of those who love with any degree of fervor! We know not how to love +heroically, notwithstanding the example of heroism below:[219] but +there is no knowing you without being attached to you with the greatest +tenderness. Our poor hero is still dreadfully afflicted with the +gout; it is a perfect martyrdom. There are several persons of wit and +learning, as St. Romain,[220] the Abbé Bigorré, Crosailles,[221] who +visit him with a view to divert his painful moments with the news of +the day, and other topics; but still he suffers greatly. + + [219] Meaning the Chevalier de Grignan, who had an apartment in + the Hôtel de Carnavalet, Madame de Sévigné’s house at Paris. + + [220] St. Romain had been embassador in Switzerland. + + [221] Brother of Marshal de Catinet, and a man of great merit. + He had been captain of the French guards, but had quitted the + service on account of ill health. + +Our young marquis could not have been at the opening of the trenches, +for M. de Vauban could not wait the arrival of the dauphin on account +of the rains; we are still persuaded that in a very few days your mind +will be at ease. + +The Prince of Orange has declared himself protector of the religion of +the Church of England, and has demanded the young prince,[222] that he +may be brought up in that faith. This is a great event: several of the +English nobility have joined him. You know that La Trousse has taken +Avignon.[223] Madame de Coulanges, who overflows with money, has lent +Mademoiselle de Méri a thousand francs; we expect that lady here every +day. M. de la Trousse (her brother) will very readily repay the loan. + + [222] James, Prince of Wales, son of James II., born the 20th + June, 1688; but better known afterward by the name of the + Pretender. + + [223] Some disputes that had happened between the court of France + and that of Rome had obliged Louis XIV. to seize upon the county + of Venaissin, belonging to the pope. + +I am much pleased, my dear child, that you approve the coming of the +good Abbé de Bigorré; his company will prove no small amusement to me. +We entertain ourselves below stairs with frequent conversations upon +the state of our affairs; I find there all the consolation that a sound +understanding and a generous heart can afford me; for the more the +chevalier is known the more he must be esteemed and loved. I have no +need to ask him if you love me; for I am convinced of it by a thousand +instances: but without questioning him upon the subject, he gave me +the most charming proofs of it. We eat together, and keep a very good +table. The philosophy of Corbinelli is to come to-night. We have +written in all our apartments, _Fais ce que tu voudras; vive la sainte +liberté!_[224] + + [224] Do as you like: reign, sacred Liberty! + +I have seen Madame de Fontenilles: she has lately lost her mother, +and seems overwhelmed with grief. You will judge what impression this +made upon me. Her mother died in a shocking way, crying out in all the +agonies of despair, and terrified with the thought of taking the last +sacraments: she received them, however, but with a gloomy and dreadful +silence. Her son and Alliot arrived just two hours after her death. + + +LETTER XCIV. + + PARIS, Tuesday, October 26, 1688. + +Oh! what a letter, my child! It well deserves that I should come here +on purpose to receive it, as I did. At length, then, you are arrived +safe at Grignan, and are in perfect health; and such is my fate that, +though you are removed at the distance of half the globe from me, I +must rejoice at it. Perhaps it may please Heaven that ere long I shall +embrace you again: let me live in that hope. You make a very pleasing +portrait of Paulina. I know her again; she is not at all altered, as M. +de Grignan would have made us believe she was. She is a sweet creature, +and worthy of being loved. She adores you, and her absolute submission +to your will, even in the midst of her joy at seeing you, if you decide +that she should leave you again, at once engages my pity and concern; +nor can I help admiring the power she has over herself. Were I in your +place I should be loth to part with such an agreeable companion, who +will at once furnish you with amusement and occupation. I would make +her work at her needle, and read works of taste: I would argue with +her, and sound the depth of her capacity. I would talk to her with +affection and confidence; for, believe me, you will never be tired of +her society, on the contrary, she may be of great use to you. In short, +I would make the most of her, and would not punish myself by depriving +myself of such a comfort. + +I am very glad the chevalier speaks well of me; my vanity is concerned +in preserving his good opinion. If he is fond of my company, I, in +return, can never have too much of his, and I think it a proof of good +taste to be desirous of cultivating his esteem. I know not how you can +say that your humor is a cloud which hides or obscures the affections +you have for me. If such may have been the case formerly, you have for +many years past totally removed the vail, and you no longer conceal +from me any part of the most perfect and tender affection that one +person can entertain for another. Heaven will reward you for it in +your own children, who will love you, not in the same way, as perhaps +they may not be capable of it, but at least to the utmost of their +abilities, and we can desire no more. + + +LETTER XCV. + + PARIS, All-Saints’ day, 1688, nine o’clock at night. + +_Philipsburg is taken, and your son is well!_ I have only to turn this +phrase in every possible way, for I will not change my text. Learn then +again from this note, that _your son is well, and that Philipsburg is +taken_! A courier is just arrived at M. de Villacerf’s, who says that +the dauphin’s courier reached Fontainebleau while Father Gaillard was +preaching; and that the sermon was immediately interrupted, and thanks +returned to God for this brilliant achievement. No further particulars +are known, except that there was no assault, and that M. du Plessis +was right when he said the governor had ordered wagons to carry away +his equipage. Recover your breath, then, my dear child, and let the +first thing you do be to return thanks to God. No other siege is talked +of; rejoice that your son has witnessed that of Philipsburg; it is an +admirable period for him; it is the dauphin’s first campaign. Would you +not have been grieved if he was the only person of his age who was not +present on the occasion, in which all the rest glory? But let us not +look back; every thing has happened as we could have wished. It is you, +my dear count, we may thank for it. I congratulate you on the joy you +must experience, and beg my compliments also to the coadjutor; you are +all relieved from great anxiety. Sleep soundly, then, my dearest, sleep +soundly on the assurance we give you; if you are covetous of grief, as +we formerly said, seek some other occasion, for God has preserved your +dear child to you. We are in raptures, and in this feeling I embrace +you with an affection that I believe you can not doubt. + + +LETTER XCVI. + + PARIS, Monday, November 8, 1688 + +This is the day, my dear child, on which you are to begin your journey; +we follow you step by step. The weather is delightful; the durance will +not be so terrific as it sometimes is. It looks as if you were resolved +to remove further and further from us out of mere spite; you will find +yourself at last on the sea-shore. But it is the will of God that we +should meet with periods in our life which are difficult to bear; +and we must endeavor to repair, by a submission to his will, the too +great sensibility we feel toward earthly things. In this respect it is +impossible to be more culpable than I am. + +The chevalier is much better. It is painful to reflect that the weather +which agrees with him is precisely what may dethrone the King of +England; whereas he suffered dreadfully a few days ago, when the wind +and tempests were dispersing the fleet of the Prince of Orange: he is +unhappy at not being able to make his health accord with the good of +Europe; for the sentiment of joy is universal at the failure of the +prince, whose wife[225] is a perfect Tullia; ah, how boldly would she +drive over the body of her father! She has empowered her husband to +take possession of the kingdom of England, of which she calls herself +the heiress; and if her husband is killed, for her imagination is not +very delicate, M. de Schomberg[226] is to take possession of it for +herself. What say you to a hero, who so sadly disgraces the close of +a glorious life? He saw the admiral’s ship sink in which he was to +have embarked; and as the prince and he were the last in following +the fleet, which was under weigh in the finest weather possible, they +were obliged, by a tremendous storm that suddenly arose, to return to +port, the prince being very much indisposed with his asthma, and M. de +Schomberg as much vexed. Only twenty-six sails returned with them; the +rest were all dispersed, some toward Norway, others toward Boulogne. +M. d’Aumont has sent a courier to the king, to inform him that vessels +had been seen at the mercy of the winds, and that there were many +appearances of shipwreck. A vessel armed _en flute_, in which were nine +hundred men, sunk in sight of the prince of Orange. In short, the hand +of God is visible upon this fleet: many ships may return, but it will +be long before they will be able to do any mischief, for the dispersion +has certainly been great, and has happened at a time when it was least +expected: this is certainly a stroke of Providence. I need not say so +much to you of this great news, for the papers are full of it; but as +we are so too, and as we can talk of nothing else, it flows naturally +from my pen. + + [225] Mary Stuart, daughter of James II., king of England, and + wife of William Henry of Nassau, Prince of Orange, afterward king + of England by the name of William III. Tullia, the daughter of + Servius Tullius, king of Rome, caused her chariot to drive over + the bleeding body of her father, who had just been assassinated. + + [226] Frederic Armand, Count de Schomberg, marshal of France, + obtained permission to retire from the king’s service in 1685, on + account of his having embraced the Protestant religion. He was + minister of state, and generalissimo of the armies of the Elector + of Brandenbourg, and went over to England in 1688 with the Prince + of Orange. + + Marshal de Schomberg had ancient leagues with the Princes of + Orange. He had, besides, much cause to complain of the court, + and even of Turenne, during the war with Holland. See a curious + account of this general in the _Fragmens Historiques de Racine_. + +Shall I give you another instance of wounds that were not received at +the siege of Philipsburg? It relates to the Chevalier de Longueville: +the town was taken; the dauphin had just inspected the garrison, the +little chevalier mounted the back of the trenches to look at something, +when a soldier, aiming at a woodcock, shot this poor child, and he died +in consequence the next day: his death is as singular as his birth.[227] + + [227] Charles-Louis d’Orleans, natural son of Charles Paris + d’Orleans, Duke of Longueville, killed in crossing the Rhine in + 1672. + + +LETTER XCVII. + + PARIS, Friday, December 3, 1688. + +I have to inform you to-day that the king made yesterday seventy-four +knights of the order of the Holy Ghost, of which I send you the list. +As he has done M. de Grignan the honor to include him, and as you will +receive a hundred thousand congratulations upon the occasion, wiser +heads than mine advise you neither to say nor write any thing that +may give offense to any of your companions in this honor. The best +way, perhaps, would be to write to M. de Louvois, and to say that the +honor he had done you of inquiring after you by your courier gives +you the privilege of thanking him; and that wishing to believe, on +the subject of the favor the king has just granted to M. de Grignan, +that he has contributed toward it by his approbation at least, you +return him thanks also for this. You will give this a better turn than +I can do; and it will do no injury to the letter M. de Grignan should +write. The particulars of what passed are these: The king said to M. +le Grand:[228] “The count de Soissons[229] and you must agree among +yourselves with respect to rank.” You must know, that M. le Grand’s +son is in the promotion, which is contrary to the general rules. You +must know, also, that the king said to the dukes that he had read +their memorial, and that he found that the house of Lorraine had taken +precedence of them on several occasions; and so it is decided.[230] M. +le Grand then spoke to the Count de Soissons; they proposed to draw +lots, “provided,” said the count, “that if you win I pass between +you and your son.”[231] M. le Grand would not consent to this, and +so the Count de Soissons is not a chevalier. The king asked M. de la +Tremouille how old he was? he replied that he was thirty-three; the +king excused him two years. This favor, it is said, which has given +some offense to the principality, has not been estimated as it ought to +have been. However, he is the first duke, according to the precedence +of his dukedom.[232] + + [228] Louis de Lorraine, Count d’Armagnac, first equerry of + France. + + [229] Louis Thomas de Savoy, Count de Soissons. + + [230] It is related that the Duke of Luxembourg said aloud upon + this subject: “There is one thing I can not comprehend.” “And + what is that?” said the king. “How a Bourbon can look upon a + Guise.” + + [231] Henry de Lorraine, Count de Brionne. + + [232] Messieurs de la Tremouille had the highest rank at court, + as being the eldest dukes, and Messieurs d’Uzès the highest rank + in the parliament as being the eldest peers. + + +LETTER XCVIII. + + PARIS, Monday, December 6, 1688. + +Your last letter has an air of gayety and expansion of heart which +convinces me that Franckendal is taken, and that he is safe, I mean +the marquis. Enjoy this pleasure, my beloved child; your son sleeps +to-night at Claie; you see he will pass through Livri, and to-morrow he +will sup with us. The chevalier, who is indeed an excellent creature +in all respects, is returned from Versailles; he has thanked the king, +and it has all passed off well. You will assume the blue ribbon on +the second of January in the midst of Provence, over which you have +the command, and where there are only you and M. d’Arles your uncle. +This distinction and remembrance of his majesty, when you the least +expected it, are highly gratifying; even the compliments you receive on +all sides are not like those which are paid to others; it is to little +purpose to say, “Ah this! ah that!” for my party I say on this subject, +as on many others, “What is good, is good;” you will lose nothing; and +when we think of those who are in despair, we consider ourselves very +fortunate to be in the recollection of a master who does not forget +the services that are rendered him both by ourselves and our children. +I own to you I feel this joy thoroughly, without appearing to do so. +The chevalier has a great desire to send word of it this evening to +our marquis at Claie, who will not be insensible to it. He wishes also +to send you your blue ribbon with two Saint Esprits, because the time +draws on: he believes you to have your grandfather’s[233] cross at +Grignan; if you have not, you would be at a loss for one. I own that +if the chevalier had not forestalled me, I should have made you this +pretty little present; but I give place to him in every thing. The +favor is complete by the permission of not attending the installation. +I am charged with a hundred compliments; Madame de Lesdiguières, Madame +de Mouci, Madame de Lavardin, M. de Harlai, and I know not how many +others I could name; for they are in long lists, as when you gained +your lawsuit. Think not, my dear child, that you have been out of luck +for the last three months; I begin with your gaining your cause; then +the preservation of your son; his early reputation; his contusion; the +beauty of his company, to which you contributed; and I conclude with +the business of Avignon and the blue ribbon: think well of this, and be +thankful to God. + + [233] Louis Castellane de Adhémar de Monteil, received knight of + the king’s orders in 1584, lieutenant-general of the government + of Provence, was M. de Grignan’s great-grandfather. + + +LETTER XCIX. + + PARIS, Friday, December 10, 1688. + +I can not answer your letters to-day, as they came so late, and I +answer two on a Monday. The marquis[234] is a little rustic, but not +enough so to render him ridiculous; he will not have so fine a figure +as his father, nor is it to be expected; in other respects he does very +well, answering pertinently to every thing that is asked him, like a +man of good sense, who has made observations and sought information +during his campaign; his conversation is tinctured with modesty and +rectitude that charm us. M. du Plessis is worthy of the esteem you +bear him. We take our meals together very socially, amusing ourselves +with the unjust proceedings we sometimes adopt against one another; +make yourself easy upon this score, and think no more about it; let it +be my part to blush at thinking that a wren is a heavy burden to me: +I own I am grieved at it, but we must submit to the great justice of +paying our debts: no one understands this better than yourself; you +have also kindness enough for me to believe that I am not naturally +avaricious, and that I have no intention to hoard. When you are here, +good madam, you tutor your son so well, that I am compelled to admire +you; but, in your absence, I undertake to teach him the common rules +of conversation, which it is important to know; there are some things +of which we ought not to be ignorant. It would be ridiculous to appear +astonished at certain events which are the topics of the day; I am +sufficiently acquainted with these trifles. I also strongly recommend +to him attention to what others say, and the presence of mind by which +we quickly comprehend and answer; this is a principal object in our +intercourse with the world. I repeat to him instances of miracles of +this kind which Dangeau related to us the other day; he admires them, +and I lay great stress upon the charms, and even utility, of this sort +of alertness of mind. In short, I obtain the chevalier’s approbation: +we converse together on books, and the misfortune of being troubled +with listlessness and want of employment: we call this laziness of the +mind, which deprives us of a taste for good books and even romances; +as this is an interesting subject, we frequently enter upon it. Little +Auvergne[235] is very fond of reading; he was never happy, when with +the army, unless he had a book in his hand. God knows whether M. du +Plessis and we can turn this fine and noble passion to account; we are +willing to believe the marquis susceptible of the best impressions; we +suffer no opportunity to pass unimproved that can tend to inspire him +with so desirable a taste. The chevalier is of more use to this dear +boy than can easily be imagined; he is continually striking the full +chords of honor and reputation, and takes an interest in his affairs, +for which you can not sufficiently thank him: he enters into every +thing, attends to every thing, and wishes the marquis to regulate +his own accounts and incur no unnecessary expenses; by this means, +he endeavors to give him a habit of regularity and economy, and to +make him lay aside the air of grandeur, of “what does it signify,” +of ignorance, and indifference, which is the direct path to every +kind of injustice, and, at length, to the workhouse: can there be any +obligation equal to that of training up your son in these principles? +For my part, I am charmed with it, and think this sort of education far +more noble than any other. The chevalier is a little afflicted with the +gout: he will go to-morrow, if he can, to Versailles, and will inform +you of the situation of his affairs. You already know that you are a +knight of the order, which is a very desirable thing in the center of +your province, and in actual service, and will admirably become M. de +Grignan’s fine figure: there will, however, be no one to dispute it +with him in Provence, for he will not be envied by his uncle,[236] as +this title does not go out of the family. + + [234] The son of Madame de Grignan. + + [235] Francis-Egon de la Tour, Prince of Auvergne, who quitted + the French army in 1702, in which he served in Germany, to enter + into the service of the emperor. + + [236] The archbishop of Arles was commander of the royal orders + of knighthood. + +La Fayette is just going from hence; he has been holding forth a +full hour about one of the little marquis’s friends. He has related +so many ridiculous things of him that the chevalier thinks himself +obliged to mention them to his father, who is his friend; he thanked +La Fayette for his intelligence, for, in fact, there is nothing of so +much consequence as being in good company, and it often happens that, +without being ridiculous ourselves, we are rendered so by those we +associate with. Make yourself easy upon this subject, the chevalier +will set matters right. I shall be very much mortified if he can not +present his nephew on Sunday; this gout is a great drawback upon our +happiness. With respect to Paulina, can you, my dear child, expect her +to be perfect? She is not mild in her own apartment; many persons who +are very much beloved and respected, have had the same fault. I think +you may easily correct it; but take particular care not to scold and +humiliate her. All my friends load me with a thousand compliments and a +thousand regards to you. Madame de Lavardin called upon me yesterday, +to tell me she esteemed you too highly to send you _compliments_; +but that she embraced you with all her heart, and the great Count de +Grignan--these were her words. You have great reason to love her. + +What I am going to relate is a fact. Madame de Brinon, the very soul +of St. Cyr, and the intimate friend of Madame de Maintenon, is no +longer at St. Cyr;[237] she quitted that place four days ago; Madame +Hanover, who loves her, brought her back to the Hôtel de Guise, where +she still remains. There does not seem to be any misunderstanding +between her and Madame de Maintenon, for she sends every day to inquire +after her health; this increases our curiosity to know the subject +of her disgrace. Every one is whispering about it without knowing +more. If this affair should be cleared up, I will inform you of the +circumstances. + + [237] Madame de Brinon, at that time of the first establishment + of St. Cyr, was placed at the head of that house. She had great + learning and talents, but an equal portion of pride and ambition. + The superior only of the house, she assumed the airs of an + abbess. She displayed the most offensive ostentation; she held a + court; she opposed Madame de Maintenon, whose dependent she was. + These things offended the king, as well as her benefactress. A + _lettre de cachet_ obliged her to leave St. Cyr in twenty-four + hours. + + The Duchess of Hanover, who received her, and who was the + daughter of the celebrated princess palatine, was soon disgusted + with Madame de Brinon, who retired to the Abbey of Maubuisson, + and died there, regretting the world, regretting St. Cyr, and + regretting life. + + +LETTER C. + + PARIS, Friday, December 31, 1688. + +_Per torner dunque al nostro proposito_,[238] I must tell you, my +child, that all the uncertainties of the day before yesterday, which +seemed to be fixed by the assurances M. de Lamoignon gave us that the +King of England was at Calais, are now changed into the certainty +that he is detained in England; and that if this ill fortune has not +befallen him, he has perished; for he was to make his escape, and +embark a few hours after the queen. So, that though we have no certain +intelligence of his being arrested, there is not a single person who +does not now credit it. Such is our situation; and such the way in +which we are closing the present year, and entering upon that of ’89; +a year marked out by extraordinary predictions, as pregnant with great +events. Not one, however, will take place that is not agreeable to the +order of Providence, like all our actions, and all our journeyings. We +must submit to every thing, and look boldly in the face of futurity; +this is going a great way. + + [238] To return then to our proposition. + +In the mean while, count, I address myself to you. Yesterday the +Knights of St. Michael went through the ceremony with several of +those of the order of the Holy Ghost, at the hour I mentioned to you +after vespers, and to-morrow the rest will do the same. The chevalier +will inform you how it is managed with respect to the absentees. You +must make your profession of faith, and give an account of your life +and manners. Of this you will be duly informed; you are not the only +one; and in the mean time _hold off, fair and softly_. Yesterday, M. +de Chevreuse, of the order of St. Michael, passed before M. de la +Rochefoucault, who said to him, “Sir, you pass before me, which you +have no right to do.” M. de Chevreuse replied, “Sir, I have a right, +for I am Duke de Luynes.” “Oh, sir,” rejoined the other, “in this +respect I yield to you.” The gazette will inform you, my dear count, +that M. de Luynes has given this duchy to his son, with the king’s +permission; and M. de Chevreuse, who will henceforward be called M. +de Luynes, the duchy of Chevreuse to his son, who will be styled Duke +de Montfort. Your son’s comrades are highly distinguished by titles. +It is said that some troops are to be sent into Brittany with M. de +Momont, Major-General, to be under the command of M. de Chaulnes; +there will be encampments in all the provinces. You need only refer +to the map, to judge whether we have occasion to be on our guard on +all sides; cast your eyes for a moment over all Europe. Madame de +Barillon is very uneasy respecting her husband;[239] but it is said at +random, for no letters arrive, that he is safe, though the chapel of +the King of England has been pulled down, as well as that belonging to +the embassador’s household. Time will clear up all this. But who am I +speaking to? is it still to this count? My dear child, your good lady, +who swore she would not touch a card till the King of England had won +a battle, will not probably play again for a long time. Poor woman! +The Prince of Orange is in London--this is still the subject of my +letter, as it is of all conversation, for every one considers himself +as concerned in this great scene. The queen is still in a convent at +Boulogne, always in tears at the absence of her husband, whom she +passionately loves. + + [239] M. de Barillon was the French Embassador to England. + +Madame de Brinon is quite forgotten. A new comedy is said to be in +rehearsal, which is to be represented at St. Cyr, and is called Esther. +The carnival does not promise to be very gay. My son’s letters are +constantly filled with the most affectionate sentiments for you and M. +de Grignan. We expect your letters, but probably shall not answer them +till Monday. The chevalier and I have very long conversations about +you; he is tolerably well, and when your son returns from Chalons, he +intends to accompany him to Versailles. The good Corbinelli exhausts +his rhetoric upon the present situation of affairs, and at the same +time adores you. Adieu, my lovely child; I embrace you a thousand +times, and wish you a happy year in that of 1689. + + +LETTER CI. + + PARIS, Monday, January 3, 1689. + +Your dear son arrived this morning. We were delighted to see him and +M. du Plessis; we were at dinner when they came, and they ate very +heartily of our repast, which was already somewhat impaired. Oh, that +you could have heard all the marquis said of the beauty of his company! +He first asked if the company was arrived; and on the question, whether +it was a fine one, this was the answer he received: “Indeed, sir, it +is; it is one of the finest that ever was seen; _it is an old company_, +and more to be prized than the _new ones_.” You may guess the effect +such an encomium must have on a person who was not known to be the +captain. Our boy was in raptures the next day at the sight of his noble +company mounted; the men, made on purpose, as it were, and selected by +you, and the horses cast in the same mold, gave him such high spirits, +that M. de Chalons[240] and Madame de Noailles (his mother) entered +into his feelings of joy. He has been received by these pious persons +as the son of M. de Grignan; but why do I tell you all this? it is the +marquis’ business. + + [240] Louis Antoine de Noailles, Bishop de Chalons sur Marne, + afterward Archbishop and Cardinal of Paris. + + +LETTER CII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, January 5, 1689. + +I took the marquis with me yesterday; we began by visiting M. de la +Trousse, who was so obliging as to put on the dresses of the novice +and professor, as on the ceremonial day; these two habits set off +a fine figure to advantage. A foolish thought, without considering +consequences, made me regret that the fine shape of M. de Grignan had +not shone upon this occasion. The page’s dress is very becoming; and +I am not at all surprised that the Princess of Clèves should fall in +love with M. de Nemours and his handsome legs.[241] The mantle has all +the magnificence of royalty; it cost La Trousse 800 pistoles, for he +purchased it. After having viewed this pretty masquerade, I took your +son to all the ladies in the neighborhood. Madame de Vaubecourt and +Madame Oilier received him with great politeness; he will soon pay +visits upon his own account. + + [241] Allusion to Madame de la Fayette’s romance. + +The Life of St. Louis has induced me to read Mézerai; I was willing +to take a view of the last kings of the second race, and I want to +unite Philip de Valois with King John; this is an admirable period of +history, upon which the Abbé de Choisi has written a book that may +be read with interest. We endeavor to beat into your son’s head the +necessity of being a little acquainted with what has passed before his +time; and it will have effect; but, in the mean while, there are many +reasons for paying attention to what is passing at present. You will +see by the news of to-day how the King of England escaped from London, +apparently with the consent of the Prince of Orange. Politicians +reason upon this subject, and ask if it be more advantageous for this +king to be in France; some say Yes, because he is here in security, +and will not run the risk of being compelled to give up his wife and +child, or lose his head; others say No, because he leaves the Prince +of Orange to enjoy the protectorship, and be adored, having made his +way to it naturally, and without bloodshed. It is certain that war +will soon be declared against us, or perhaps, even we may declare it +first. If we make peace in Italy and Germany, we may apply ourselves +with greater attention to the English and Dutch war; this is to be +hoped, for it would be too much to have enemies on all sides. You see +whither my rambling pen leads me; but you may easily suppose that all +conversations turn upon these great events. + + +LETTER CIII. + + PARIS, Monday, January 10, 1689. + +We often stumble upon the same ideas, my dear child; even think that I +wrote to you from the Rocks what you say in your last letter respecting +time. I now consent that it should fly; the days have no longer any +thing so dear and precious for me as I found them to contain when you +were at the Hôtel de Carnavalet. I enjoyed, I made the most of every +hour; I treasured it as a miser does his gold; but in absence, the case +is different; time can not fly fast enough till the wished-for period +arrives; we hurry it along, and would willingly dispose of all the +intermediate space in favor of the days to which we aspire; it is a +piece of tapestry which we are eager to finish; we are lavish of hours, +and bestow them on any one. But I own that when I reflect on the point +to which this profusion of hours and days leads me, I tremble. I am no +longer certain of any, and reason presents me with the image of what +I am certain to find in my way. My child, I will put an end to these +reflections with you, and endeavor to turn them to my own advantage. + +The Abbé Têtu is in an alarming way for want of sleep. The physicians +would not answer for his intellects. He is sensible of his situation, +which is an additional calamity: he is kept alive merely by opium: he +seeks for diversion and amusement, and accordingly frequents public +places. We want him to go to Versailles to see the King and Queen of +England, and the Prince of Wales. Can there be a grander spectacle, or +one more capable of affording the highest interest? It appears that +the Prince of Orange favored the king’s flight. The king was sent to +Exeter, where it was his intention to go; the front of his house was +well guarded, and all the back doors left open. The prince was not +inclined to sacrifice his father-in-law. He remains in London in the +place of the king, without taking upon himself the title, being only +desirous of restoring what he thinks the true religion, and supporting +the laws of the country, without spilling a drop of blood: this is +precisely the reverse of what we thought of him; we see him in a very +different point of view. Our king, however, acts in a manner almost +divine with respect to their Brittanic Majesties; for is it not +being the representative of the Almighty to support a king banished, +betrayed, and abandoned? The noble ambition of our sovereign is +gratified by acting this part. He went to meet the queen, with all his +household, and a hundred coaches and six. When he perceived the Prince +of Wales’s carriage, he alighted and affectionately embraced him; +he then ran to the queen, who was by this time alighted; he saluted +her, talked with her some time, placed her at his right hand in his +carriage, and presented the dauphin and monsieur to her, who were also +in the carriage, and conducted her to St. Germain, where she found +every thing prepared for her like a queen--all sorts of apparel, and a +rich casket containing six thousand louis-d’ors. The King of England +was expected the next day at St. Germain, where the king waited for +him. He arrived late. His majesty went to the end of the guard-room +to meet him; the King of England made an inclination as if to embrace +his knees, but the king prevented him, and embraced him three or four +times very cordially. They talked together in a low voice for nearly a +quarter of an hour; the king presented the dauphin and monsieur to him, +the princes of the blood, and Cardinal de Bonzi. He conducted him to +the queen’s apartment, who could scarcely refrain from tears. After a +conversation of a few minutes his majesty led them to the apartment of +the Prince of Wales, where they again conversed for some time, and he +then withdrew, not choosing to be attended back, saying to the king, +“This is your house; when I come you will do the honors of it, and I +will do the honors of mine when you come to Versailles.” The next day, +which was yesterday, the dauphiness went there with all the court. I +know not how they regulated the chairs, for they had those belonging to +the Queen of Spain; and the Queen-mother of England was treated as a +daughter of France: I shall hereafter send you these particulars. His +majesty sent the King of England ten thousand louis-d’ors; the latter +looks old and fatigued; the queen is thin, with fine black eyes swelled +with weeping; a fine complexion, but rather pale; a large mouth, +beautiful teeth, a fine figure, and a great share of sense; no wonder +if with all these she pleases every one who beholds her. Here is matter +for general conversation that will not soon be exhausted. + +The poor chevalier can neither write nor go to Versailles, which +grieves us sadly, as he has a thousand things to do there; but he is +not ill: on Saturday he supped with Madame de Coulanges, Madame de +Vauvineux, M. de Duras, and your son, at the lieutenant’s, where the +healths of the first and second were drank, that is to say, Madame de +la Fayette’s and yours, for you have yielded to the date of friendship. +Yesterday Madame de Coulanges gave a very pretty supper to the gouty +gentlemen, the Abbé de Marsillac, the Chevalier de Grignan, and M. de +Lamoignon, whose nephritic complaints stood him in stead of the gout; +his wife and the _divinities_ were admitted in consequence of colds +which they are never without; I in consideration of the rheumatism +I had twelve years ago, and Coulanges, for deserving to have the +gout. There was no scarcity of conversation; the little man sung, and +gave the Abbé de Marsillac great pleasure, which he expressed by his +admiration, and by imitating the tones and manners, which reminded +me so strongly of his father that I could not help being affected. +Your son was at the Mesdemoiselles de Castelnau’s. There is a younger +sister, very pretty and very agreeable, who is quite to your son’s +taste, and he leaves the squint-eyed girl to Sanzei; he took a hautboy +with him, and they danced till midnight. This society is very pleasant +to the marquis, as he meets St. Hérem, Janin, Choiseul, and Ninon +there; so that he is not in a foreign country. The chevalier does not +seem to be in haste to marry him, nor does M. de Lamoignon seem very +desirous of marrying his daughter. We can say nothing with respect +to the marriage of M. de Mirepoix,[242] this is the work of M. de +Montfort: people seem to be infatuated, or else their heads are turned, +for they do not think as they used to do; in short, this man seems +impelled by his destiny, and what can be done in such a case? + + [242] Gaston John Baptist de Levis, Marquis de Mirepoix, married, + January 16, 1689, to Anne Charlotte Maria de Saint Nectaire, + daughter of Henry Francis, Duke de la Ferté, and of Mary Gabriel + Angelica de la Mothe Houdancourt. + +M. de Lauzun is not gone back to England; he has an apartment at +Versailles, and is perfectly satisfied; he has written to Mademoiselle +to have the honor of seeing her, which has given her great offense. I +have performed a master-piece; I have been to visit Madame de Ricouart, +who is lately returned, very well pleased at being a widow. You have +nothing to do but appoint me to complete your acknowledgments, like +your romances, do you recollect? I thank the amiable Paulina for her +letter; I am confident her person would please me; so she could then +find no appellation for me but that of _madam_?[243] this is being very +serious. Adieu, my dear child; preserve your health, in other words, +your beauty, which I so much admire. + + [243] It must have been observed that the Marquis de Grignan + followed this etiquette with his mother, which was the custom + among persons of high rank, and particularly in the southern + provinces, where the Roman laws gave fathers an absolute power + over their children, which inspired children with more respect + than love, and exacted the forms of submission, even in the + overflowings of the heart. Madame de Sévigné was averse to this + false dignity, the most gloomy mask that love can assume; and + it has been seen that she even laughed at her daughter, who, in + speaking of her grandfather, had written to her, _monsieur votre + père_. Every one knows the humorous speech of the great Condé, + before a man who affected to say Monsieur and Madame in speaking + of his relations: “Monsieur my groom, go and tell monsieur my + coachman, to put messieurs my horses to monsieur my coach.” + + +LETTER CIV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, January 12, 1689. + +You retired then at five o’clock in the afternoon; you drew king and +queen at dinner; you were in as good company as at Paris. It will +not be my fault if the archbishop (of Aix) does not know that you +are satisfied with him; I informed Madame de la Fayette of this the +other day, who was much pleased with the information; she enjoins you +both to lay aside the spirit and way of thinking of Provence. But to +come to the King and Queen of England. It is so extraordinary to have +this court here, that it is the constant subject of conversation. The +regulation of rank and precedency is to be attended to, in order to +render life agreeable to those who are so unlikely to be restored. +This the king said the other day, adding that the English king was the +best man in the world; that he should hunt with him; that he should +come to Marly and Trianon; and that the courtiers should habituate +themselves to him. The King of England does not give his hand to the +dauphin, and does not reconduct him. The queen has not kissed monsieur, +who is offended at this; she said to the king, “Tell me what you wish +me to do; if you would have me follow the French fashion, I will +salute whom you please; but it is not the custom in England to salute +any one.” She paid a visit to the dauphiness, who was ill, and who +received her in bed. No one sits in England; I believe the duchesses +will follow the French fashion, and behave to her as they did to her +mother-in-law.[244] We are greatly taken up with this new court. + + [244] Henrietta of France, daughter of Henry IV., and wife of + Charles I. King of England. + +In the mean time, the Prince of Orange is in London, where he has +imprisoned several lords; he is severe, and will soon make himself +hated. M. Schomberg is commander-in-chief in Holland, in the room of +this prince, and his son is to have the reversion: so the mask is now +completely thrown off. + + +LETTER CV. + + PARIS, Friday, January 14, 1689. + +I have dined, my dear child, and am now in the chevalier’s apartment; +he is in his chair, with a thousand little aches and pains that fly +about him. He has slept well; but this confinement affects his spirits, +and vexes him exceedingly; I too am grieved at it, as I know the ill +consequences better than any one. It is very cold; the thermometer +is at the lowest degree; our river is frozen; it snows, freezes, and +thaws at the same time; there is no walking in the streets; I keep to +the house, and to the chevalier’s chamber. If I could have an answer +from you before the end of a fortnight, I would desire you to tell me +whether I do not incommode him, by staying with him all day; but as +I have no time to lose, I put this question to himself, and I fancy +he is not displeased at it. The weather is an additional cause of his +illness; it is not the sort he likes; it is always unfavorable when it +is extreme. + +M. de Gobelin is still at St. Cyr; Madame de Brinon is at Maubuisson, +where she will soon be tired; she can never remain long in a place; +she has made many agreements, and been in several convents; her good +sense does not screen her from this error. Madame de Maintenon is much +pleased with the comedy[245] which she has made her young ladies of +St. Cyr perform; it will be a very fine piece according to report. She +has paid a visit to the Queen of England, who, having made her wait a +moment, said she was very sorry she had lost any time in seeing and +conversing with her, and received her extremely well. Every one is +pleased with this queen; she has an excellent understanding. She said +to the king, on seeing him caress the Prince of Wales, who is a lovely +child, “I formerly envied the happiness of my son, in not feeling his +misfortunes; but I now pity him, for being insensible to your majesty’s +caresses and kindness.” All she says is proper and to the purpose; +but this is not the case with her husband: he has a great share of +courage, but his understanding is not above the common standard; he +relates what has passed in England with an insensibility that excites +the same feeling for himself. He is a good man,[246] and partakes of +all the amusements of Versailles. The dauphiness does not intend to +visit this queen; she wants her right hand seat and chair of state, +which can not be; she will therefore be always in bed, when the queen +visits her. Madame is to have an arm-chair upon the left hand, and the +princesses of the blood are to visit with her; before whom they have +tabourets only. The duchesses will be upon the same footing as at the +dauphiness’s; this is settled. The king, knowing that a king of France +gave a Prince of Wales only a chair on the left hand, chooses that +the King of England should treat the dauphin in the same manner, and +precede him. He is to receive Monsieur without chair or ceremony. The +queen has saluted him, saying to our sovereign what I told you. It is +not yet certain that M. de Schomberg is to succeed the Prince of Orange +in Holland. This is a year of falsehood. + + [245] It was the Supérieure Brinon who first made the pensioners + of St. Cyr perform pieces of her selection. They were ill chosen. + Cinna, and afterward Andromache, were substituted in their room. + But there was so much love in this last tragedy, and the young + ladies played it so well, that it was not judged proper for their + representation. This was what Madame de Maintenon wrote herself + to Racine, at the same time desiring him to supply another poem, + moral or historical. Racine hesitated: he wished to please the + court, but the public and posterity withheld him. He deemed it + impossible to fill the frame that was given him, by a performance + worthy of his music. Boileau, too, despaired of it. Racine + thought of the subject of Esther; and his friend considered it + well judged, as it really was. This very Boileau, the severity + of whose taste and character made him so much aspersed, gave, in + his regard for Racine, the most perfect example of friendship--an + example perhaps, that will never again be met with between two + men gifted with the same kind of superiority. + + [246] The Archbishop of Rheims, brother of M. de Louvois, seeing + him come out of the chapel of Versailles, said: “What a good man! + he has given up three kingdoms for a mass.” + + +LETTER CVI. + + PARIS, Monday, January 17, 1689. + +My letter, then, is dignified with a title; this is a proof of its +singular merit. I am glad my story amused you. I can never guess at the +effect my letters will produce, but this has been a happy one. + +If you sought an opportunity of coming to an explanation with the +archbishop, instead of suffering the misunderstanding which people +endeavor to create between you to ferment, a short time would clear +up the whole, or you would silence chatterers; either of these is +desirable, and you will find good result from it; you will put an +end, it is true, to the amusements of the Provençals; but it is only +silencing ridiculous impertinence. M. de Barillon is arrived; he has +found a family group, with many of whose faces he was not acquainted. +He is grown very fat, and said to M. de Harlai, “Sir, do not remind +me of my fat, and I will say nothing to you of your lean.” He is very +lively, and much of the same disposition as his namesake whom you know. +I will pay all your compliments to him, when they will not appear +forced; I have done so with regard to Madame de Sully, who returns you +a thousand with a very good grace; and to the countess,[247] who is +too witty upon M. de Lauzun, whom she wished to raise to the pinnacle +of honor, and who has neither an apartment at Versailles, nor the free +admittance he formerly had. He is merely returned to court, and his +exploit does not appear so extraordinary, though a very pretty romance +was at first made out of it. + + [247] The Countess de Fiesque, the constant friend of M. de + Lauzun, and who often performed the part of mediatrix between him + and mademoiselle. + +The English court is quite established at St. Germain; they would not +accept more than 15,000 livres a month, and have regulated their court +upon that foundation. The queen is very much liked; our king converses +very pleasantly with her; she has good sense without affectation. The +king wished the dauphiness to pay her the first visit, but she was +always so conveniently indisposed, that this queen paid her a visit +three days ago, admirably dressed; a black velvet robe, a beautiful +petticoat, her hair tastefully disposed, a figure like the Princess +de Conti’s, and great dignity of manner. The king received her as she +alighted; she went first into his apartment, where she had a chair +below the king’s; here she remained half an hour; he then conducted her +to the dauphiness, who was up; this occasioned a little surprise; the +queen said to her, “I expected to have found you in bed, madam.” “I +wished to rise, madam,” replied the dauphiness, “to receive the honor +your majesty does me.” The king left them, as the dauphiness has no +chair in his presence. The queen took her place, with the dauphiness on +her right hand, madame on her left, and there were three other chairs +for the three young princes. They conversed together for upward of +half an hour; several duchesses were present, and the court was very +numerous. At length she retired; the king gave orders to be informed +of it, and handed her back to her carriage. I do not know how far the +dauphiness went with her, but I shall hear. The king, upon his return, +highly praised the queen; he said, “This is how a queen ought to be, +both in person and mind, holding her court with dignity.” He admired +her courage in misfortunes, and her affection for her husband; for +it is certain that she loves him, as that hateful woman, Madame de +R***, told you. Some of our ladies who wished to assume the airs of +princesses, did not kiss the queen’s robe, some of the duchesses wished +to avoid it also; but the king was displeased at this, and they now pay +her homage. Madame de Chaulnes has been informed of these particulars, +but has not yet performed this duty. + + +LETTER CVII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, February 16, 1689. + +The chevalier is still at Versailles, but I expect him this evening. +The marquis dined with me the other day; I conversed a good deal with +him, and I can assure you, with much satisfaction. There is an air of +truth and modesty in all he says, which does not in the least resemble +the style of these thoughtless youths who always appear fools or liars. +He related to me all the fatigues of his journey to Philipsburg, which +were very great; little D’Auvergne had the fever for four days, from +mere weariness; the marquis is strong, and bears this first trial with +great courage; he told me his other adventures, gave me an account of +all the blows that were given on each side of him, and the contusion he +received; and this, without ostentation, with a cool composed air of +veracity, which is highly pleasing. I love to converse with him, and +lose no opportunity of doing it; he supped yesterday with M. Turgot, +and some young folks, at the rich little La Martillière’s; he returned +at midnight. He is gone to the horse-market, being wholly taken up with +his company; he will write to you to-night: he loves you, and knows +your extreme affection; you do nothing for him to which he is not as +sensible as you can possibly wish: it is not even necessary to rouse +him upon this subject. + +I dined yesterday with Mademoiselle de Boileau; it was a company +of wits; the Abbé de Polignac, the Abbé de Rohan, his doctor, Abbé +David, and Corbinelli. After dinner they discussed, very pleasantly, +the philosophy of your Father Descartes; it was with great difficulty +they could comprehend the motion God gives to a ball that is pushed by +another; they would have it that the first communicated its motion, +and you know how the Abbé Polignac and Corbinelli exclaimed upon the +occasion: this diverted me, and brought my dear little Cartesian to my +remembrance, whom even I could understand so readily. From thence I +went to Madame de la Fayette’s where, by good fortune, I found only M. +de Pomponne and M. de Barillon: we spent two hours very agreeably, and +the more so as we are seldom so fortunate. They say that the English +parliament has made the Prince of Orange king, because the former king +has deserted his kingdom, _and broken the treaty between sovereign and +subjects_; that his flight is an _abdication_; that they are determined +to render the throne elective; and that the parliament would not +allow the Princess of Orange to be queen: these were the reports of +yesterday, The chevalier will bring us news from Versailles. Some say +with regard to the King of England’s apathy, that by hearing him talk, +it is easy to guess why he is here. + + +LETTER CVIII. + + PARIS, Monday, February 21, 1689. + +It is certain that we are separated from each other by a grievous +distance: this is enough to make us shudder; but what would it have +been if I had added to it the road from hence to the Rocks or Rennes? +This, however, will not take place so soon. Madame de Chaulnes wishes +to see the termination of several affairs, and I am only afraid that +she will set out too late, considering my intention of returning next +winter, which I must do for several reasons; the first of which is that +I am convinced M. de Grignan will be obliged to return on account of +his knighthood, and you can not take a better opportunity to escape +from your falling, uninhabitable castle, and come and pay your court +a little with the knight of the order, who will not be a knight till +that time. I paid mine the other day at St. Cyr much more agreeably +than I expected. We, that is, Madame de Coulanges, Madame de Bagnols, +the Abbé Têtu, and I, went on Saturday. We found our places kept; an +officer told Madame de Coulanges that Madame de Maintenon had ordered +a place for her next herself; you see what honor is paid her. “You, +madam,” said he, “may choose.” I placed myself with Madame de Bagnols +in the second row behind the duchesses. Marshal de Bellefond came, +and placed himself by choice at my right hand, and before us were +the Duchesses d’Auvergne, De Coislin, and De Sully. The marshal and +I listened to the tragedy with an attention that was remarked, and +bestowed some praises in a low voice that were very well placed. I can +not tell you the extreme beauty of this piece: it is a performance not +easy to represent, and is inimitable: it is the union of music, poetry, +singing, and character, so perfect and complete that there is nothing +we wish to alter. The young ladies who represent kings and great +personages seem to be made on purpose. It commands attention, and the +only unpleasant circumstance attending it is, that so fine a production +should at last end. Every thing in it is simple and innocent, sublime +and affecting: the sacred history is so faithfully adhered to as to +create respect; all the airs corresponding with the words, which are +taken from the Psalms or Ecclesiastes, and interwoven with the subject, +are singularly beautiful; the taste and attention of the audience are +the criterions of the merit of the piece. I was delighted with it, and +so was the marshal, who left his place to inform the king how much he +was gratified, that he was seated next to a lady who was very worthy of +seeing Esther. The king approached our seat, and having turned round, +addressed himself to me: “I am told, madam,” said he, “that the piece +has given you satisfaction.” I replied, with perfect self-possession, +“Sire, I am delighted; what I feel is beyond the power of words to +describe.” The king continued, “Racine has great talents.” I replied, +“Sire, he has indeed; and so have these young people: they enter into +the subject as if it had been their sole employment.” “Ah! that is +very true,” he rejoined. And then he retired, leaving me the object of +universal envy. As I was almost the only new spectator, the king took +pleasure in observing my genuine admiration, which was without noise +or parade.[248] The prince and princess came and spoke a word to me; +Madame de Maintenon flashed upon me like lightning, and then retired to +the king. I answered every one, being in one of my happiest moods. We +returned at night with flambeaux. I supped at Madame de Coulanges’, to +whom the king had also spoken with an air of affability that made him +appear fascinating. I saw the chevalier at night. I related to him very +naturally my little good fortune, being unwilling to conceal it without +a reason, as some people do. He was pleased, and here I conclude upon +this head. I am sure he did not afterward find in me any ridiculous +vanity, or the transports of a vulgar country bumpkin. Ask him. M. de +Meaux talked to me a good deal about you, and so did the prince. I +pitied you for not being present; but how was it possible? one can not +be every where. You were at the opera at Marseilles. As Atys is not +only too happy, but too charming, it is impossible you could have been +tired with it. Paulina must have been surprised at such a spectacle; +she has no right to wish for a more perfect one. I have so pleasing an +idea of Marseilles, that I am persuaded you are amused there; and I +will back the dissipations of that place against those of Aix. + + [248] By mentioning the circumstance to which she believed she + was indebted for this little favor of the king, she proves + sufficiently that she was not so much elated with it as has been + pretended. + +But on that very Saturday, after the representation of Esther, the king +was informed of the death of the young Queen of Spain,[249] who was +carried off in two days by a violent vomiting: this has very much the +air of foul play. The king informed monsieur of it next day, which was +yesterday; great was the grief upon the occasion; madame wept bitterly, +and the king retired in a flood of tears. + + [249] Maria-Louisa of Orléans, daughter of monsieur, and of + Henrietta-Anne of England, his first wife. + + Madame de la Fayette says in her Memoirs, that the Queen of Spain + was poisoned by a cup of chocolate. Dangeau affirms that it was + by an eel pie. Madame, in her _Lettres Originales_, maintains + that the poison was communicated by raw oysters. + + Voltaire has denied this poisoning, as well as several others. + It was a system of the historian. But he only confutes Dangeau’s + account, who had said that three of the queen’s women had died in + consequence of eating of the same dish. Against this detail he + brings forward respectable authority. + + Madame de la Fayette, who, in the life of Madame (Henrietta of + England), had not dared to confirm the opinion of her having died + by poison, joined with Voltaire in that of the Queen of Spain, + daughter of this princess. + + The evidence of Madame (De Bavière) would be stronger if she were + not so partial, and did not show herself so ready to give credit + to every crime. What she adds, that it was two of the queen’s + French waiting women who poisoned her, is very improbable. + + She says, however, that it was the Earl of Mansfield who procured + the poison, a circumstance which agrees with the common report of + that period. + + In fact, all the letters and memoirs of cotemporary writers agree + in saying that the Council of Spain, devoted to the emperor and + the Prince of Orange, and resolved to enter into the league + against France, wished to remove a queen who was too good a + Frenchwoman, and who, governing her husband, was too great an + obstacle to the projects of war that had been formed. + + It is true that such a report, at the moment of the breaking out + of hostilities, can not pass for an historical proof; but it must + be owned that it very nearly resembles truth. + +It is said there is good news from England; not only the Prince of +Orange is not elected king or protector, but he is given to understand +that he and his troops have nothing to do but return: this shortens +our solicitude. If this news should gain ground, our Brittany will +be in less agitation, and my son will not have the mortification of +commanding the nobility of the viscounty of Rennes, and the barony of +Vitré. They have chosen him, against his will, to be at their head. Any +one else would be greatly elated with this honor, but he is vexed at +it, not liking, under any title whatever, to take the field in that way. + + +LETTER CIX. + + PARIS, Ash-Wednesday, February 23, 1689. + +My dear child, the life you lead at Marseilles delights me. I love that +city, which resembles no other in the world. Ah! how well I understand +Paulina’s admiration! How natural, how just, how novel all her surprise +must be! How pretty I think her! how pleasing to me is the mind which +my fancy gives her! It seems to me that I love her, and that you do not +love her enough. You want her to be all perfection. Did she engage for +this when she left her convent? You are not just. Who is there without +faults? Do you, in conscience, expect her to be free from them? Whence +can this hope arise? It is not in nature. You wish her then to be a +_prodigious_ prodigy, such as was never before seen. If I were with +you, I think I should do her some good offices, merely by correcting +your imagination a little, and by asking you, if a young girl, who +thinks of nothing but pleasing you and improving herself, who loves and +fears you, and who has a great share of understanding, is not in the +first rank of excellence? These are the dictates of my heart in favor +of my dear Paulina, whom I love, and whom I entreat you immediately +to embrace for my sake. Add to this her good conscience, which makes +her renounce the compact, when she sees the jugglers perform their +necromancies. This life, though agreeable, must have fatigued you; it +is too much for you, my dear child; you go to bed late, and you rise +early, I have had apprehensions for your health. The reason I do not +talk to you of mine is, that it is as I wish yours to be, and that I +have nothing to say upon the subject. + + +LETTER CX. + + PARIS, Monday, February 28, 1689. + +The chevalier went yesterday to Versailles to know his fate; for, not +finding himself in the lists that have appeared, he is anxious to know +whether he is reserved for the dauphin’s army, which has not yet been +mentioned. As he has said that he was capable of serving, he has a +right to think that he has not been forgotten; at all events it will +not be his fault; he is one of the best. It is certain that the King +of England set out this morning for Ireland, where he is expected +with impatience; he will be better there than here. He will traverse +Brittany with the swiftness of lightning; and go straight to Brest, +where he will find Marshal d’Estrées, and ships and frigates ready; +he takes with him 50,000 crowns. The king has given him sufficient +arms for 10,000 men. As his Britannic majesty took leave, he said with +a smile, “That arms for himself were the only things that had been +forgotten;” our king gave him his; the heroes of romance never did +any thing more gallant than this action. What will not this brave but +unhappy king do, with arms that have ever been victorious? Behold him +then with the casque and cuirass of Rinoldo and Amadis, and all our +most celebrated knights-errant; I will not say of Hector, for he was +unfortunate. There is not an offer that can be suggested, that our king +has not made him; generosity and magnanimity have been carried to their +height. M. d’Avaux[250] is to go with him; he set out two days ago. +You will ask why M. de Barillon[251] was not the person. The reason +is, that M. d’Avaux, being perfectly acquainted with the affairs of +Holland, will be more useful, than he who is acquainted only with those +of England.[252] The queen has shut herself up at Poissi with her son; +she will be near the king, and the fountain-head of intelligence. She +is overwhelmed with grief, and suffers from a nephritic complaint, that +makes it feared she has the stone; she is really to be pitied. You +see, my dear child, it is the rage of talking that makes me write all +this; the chevalier and the gazette will give you better information +than I can do. Your son has lived with me; I never leave him, and he +is satisfied. He is going to take leave of the little Mesdemoiselles +Castelnau; but his heart has yet no attractions. His duty and his +regiment take up all his time. He is delighted at the thoughts of +going, and of setting the example to others. + + [250] John-Anthony de Mesmes, Count d’Avaux, nephew of Claudius + de Mesmes, also Count d’Avaux, both celebrated for their superior + talents in negotiation, and for uncommon qualities of heart and + mind. + + [251] M. de Barillon had been embassador to England. + + [252] The reason assigned here for the preference that was given + to M. d’Avaux, is not the true one: d’Avaux had the merit of + having foreseen and announced every event that happened, whereas + De Barillon had the misfortune to be wrong in every thing; this + was the real cause of the preference. + + +LETTER CXI. + + PARIS, Wednesday, March 2, 1689. + +Shrove-Tuesday is not an indifferent day to Paulina. I can not help +scolding you, my dear child, for not having sent her prettily to the +good Langlée’s, to dance a little with Mademoiselle d’Oraison; what +harm would there have been in allowing her this little pastime? I am +sure this dear child is interesting, that she has a good air, a good +carriage, and even eclipses more regular beauties. I scold you also for +reading all your letters before you go to bed. I know it is scarcely +possible to keep them till the next day; but you must calculate upon +not sleeping, for there will often be many things in them that will +create disagreeable thoughts; nor would it be a whit better if they +contained nothing but reflections and news. Before the imagination +has sifted the contents, the night is gone. As you know all this to +be true, settle the matter for the benefit of your health. I took my +marquis yesterday to Madame du Pui-du-fou’s; she grows very old. M. de +Mirepoix, who had been there once before to see me, came a second time, +and each time his whole conversation turned upon his condescension in +marrying to please his family. The little puppet is dying of the spleen +in this dreary abode. I afterward went to Madame de Lavardin’s, to +whom I remembered you. She embraced your son several times. She loves +you dearly, and so does Madame de Mouci; but this last is in the third +heaven; she has lost a sister, who was a nun, for whom she had very +little regard: I shall make your compliments to her and her learned +brother.[253] The chevalier arrived last night, and is very well; +he will be employed, but he knows not yet in what country; I admire +his courage. Your son is a very agreeable and a very pretty fellow; +he already manages all his affairs, gives orders, makes purchases, +and keeps his accounts; it is a pity his father had not done the +same. The chevalier will inform you what our king said to the King of +England at his taking leave: “Sir, it is with grief I see you depart, +yet I never wish to see you again; but if you return, be assured you +will find me the same as you leave me.” Could any thing better have +been said? He has loaded him with every thing, great and small; two +millions of money, ships, frigates, troops, officers, and M. d’Avaux, +who makes, upon the occasion, one of the most brilliant figures in +the world. I will venture to say that there is no one who would not +be proud of the employment, who would not think it worthy of a man +thoroughly acquainted with business, and capable of giving advice: if +M. de Barillon is not sensible of this he is very happy. I now come to +the minutiæ, such as toilets, camp-beds, services of plate, plain and +gilt, arms for his person, which are the king’s; arms for the troops in +Ireland, and those who go with him, who are very numerous; in short, +generosity, magnificence, and magnanimity were never so strikingly +displayed as upon this occasion. The king is not willing that the queen +should go to Poissi; she will see very little company, but the king +will take care of her, and she will receive news without intermission. +The parting of the King and Queen of England rent the hearts of all the +spectators; nothing but tears, sighs, lamentations, and swoonings were +to be seen or heard, which is very easy to be comprehended. Such is his +destiny. He has a good cause; he is the protector of the true religion, +and his courage will allow him no other alternative than conquest or +death. + + [253] Achilles de Harlay, then attorney-general, and afterward + first president in the parliament of Paris, in November, 1689. + + +LETTER CXII. + + PARIS, Wednesday, March 23, 1689. + +I shall not retract the praises I have bestowed on the tragedy of +Esther; I shall be delighted with the harmony and novelty of this +spectacle as long as I live; I was in raptures with it; I found in +it a thousand things so just, so well introduced, and so important +to a king, that I entered with uncommon spirit into the pleasure +arising from the utterance, in fiction and song, of the most solid +truths; I was affected with these various beauties, and am very far +from changing my opinion. But I told you that the impression of this +piece has produced its usual effect, and has brought forth a _civil +demur_ against excessive applause. I, who have read it again with +pleasure, suppose that the critics are routed, as M. d’Aiguebonne will +be with his _demur_, if the chevalier has time to press the point. The +victory of the grand council has been brilliant and gratifying, and I +doubt not that it will give you ample satisfaction; I am impatient to +receive your letter upon this subject. M. de Lamoignon told me again +to-day, that this advantage, gained sword in hand, was greater than we +supposed. I told him he was mistaken, as we had felt the pleasure in +its fullest extent. He is very much engaged in the great cause between +mademoiselle, the prince, and the whole house of Lorraine, who have +recourse to law in the same way we have. M. de Lamoignon is to plead on +Thursday, and the affair will be determined upon hearing. + +The King of England set sail on the 17th, and arrived in Ireland on the +19th. Little Mailly, who accompanied him to Brest, is returned. Adieu, +my beloved child; I dread an increase of distance from you; it makes +me ill. I swallow this journey like a dose of medicine; but the worst +is, that I have no time to lose; in truth, my reflections are often of +the most melancholy cast; for, though I submit to that Providence which +separates us, what would become of me if I had not the hope of seeing +you again? + + +LETTER CXIII. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 1, 1689. + +Paulina is too fortunate in being your secretary; she learns, as I told +you, to think, and express her thoughts, by seeing how you express +yours. She is learning the French language, which most women are +ignorant of, but you take the trouble of explaining words to her, which +she would not understand; and by instructing her in so many subjects, +you relieve your own head and mine. The tediousness of dictating is not +equal to the fatigue of writing; and my mind is never at rest, but when +I know yours is so. Persevere, then, in instructing your daughter so +properly, and in affording so great a relief to yourself and to me. + +When you are assured of my being in perfect health, you do every +thing that can be done, which is to dread its interruption. This too +sometimes engages my thoughts, and not finding any of those little +inconveniences with which you are acquainted, I say with astonishment, +I must, however, expect that this happy state will change; and I +conclude, that I ought, as upon all other occasions, to submit to the +will of God, and believe, that in inflicting ills upon me, he will give +me patience. I will therefore enjoy my present lot. + + +LETTER CXIV. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, July 3, 1689. + +It is nine months this third of July, reckoning from day to day, and +from Sunday to Sunday, since I left you with a deluge of tears, and +more than you perceived, at Charenton. Such partings are grievous and +bitter, particularly when we have not much time to lose. But to turn +them to our advantage, we ought to make them a period of abstinence +and penance, which would be the sure means of making them salutary; +it is certain that this holy economy is a favor from heaven, like all +others, which we do not deserve to obtain. Nine months, then, have +passed, in which I have neither seen nor embraced you, nor even heard +the sound of your voice. I have not been ill, I have had no particular +uneasiness; I have seen fine houses, fine countries, and fine cities. +Nevertheless, I must acknowledge that it appears to me nine years +since I left you. I have had no letter from you this post; the delay +is always a disappointment to me. Madame de Lavardin tells me that +she said to Madame de Buri, with regard to Chabrilland’s cause, which +the last expects to gain, “You have always great expectations; but +one of your friends, who understands these things, is not of the same +opinion.” “Ah!” said she, “you mean M. de Fieubet, but I do not believe +him.” And Madame de Lavardin afterward told me that M. d’Arles is to +have the honor of the civil petition. It is he, then, who is to be +the solicitor; but I would not, I think, solicit with beat of drum in +open court, where people are convinced you have already but too much +credit. We lead here, my dear countess, the life I described to you. +It is very fine weather; we are so perfumed at night with jasmines and +orange-flowers, that in this respect I think I am in Provence. M. and +Madame de Chaulnes have written to me from St. Malo, and constantly +mention you. Write to La Troche; she can not be consoled for your +forgetfulness of her. I know not how it has happened, for you are +punctual. It is not possible that I have not informed you of the death +of her husband. I expect your answer. + + +LETTER CXV. + + THE ROCKS, Wednesday, October 5, 1689. + +It had never entered my brain to accuse certain iron wires in the +head-dress of being the cause of long faces; this hint would be very +useful to certain persons of our acquaintance. I had heard they were +very friendly; but no, quite the contrary. These two little wires +press against the temples, prevent the circulation of blood, and cause +abscesses. Some die in consequence. They may consider themselves +fortunate whose faces are only lengthened an ell, and who become as +pale as death; but young people, who are more hardy, may recover in +time. I am very much inclined to place this story in the class with +some others, formerly related to me by the good Princess de Tarente; +however, it is not amiss to know every thing. + +I do not in the least doubt that M. de la Garde, who never refused +a remedy, will avail himself of that of the lady you mention. You +will see him with his head upon the ground, and his heels in the air, +_turning an affair_[254] like her; I really believe that if we were to +pursue this regimen for any length of time, we should no longer have +sore eyes. I have nothing to give you in return for your account of +this visit. + +We have had a very worthy, sensible, agreeable, unaffected, learned, +and every way desirable, visitor with us; a man of great endowments, +and capable of entering upon every subject of conversation; he has been +here for a week. One of his brothers-in-law is arrived, the Abbé de +Marbeuf, who spoils nothing; and a brother-in-law of the Count de Lis, +who would spoil every thing if he opened his lips; this is a secret +misanthropist, for he keeps his chagrin to himself; he is very well +made, and sings so much like Beaumaviel, that he might be mistaken for +him. When our worthy friend departed, every thing was comparatively +flat and insipid; we renewed the just observations we made in this +country with you, on pleasant and disagreeable company; and fixed that +the disagreeable was the most desirable; their absence is a relief; +whereas pleasant society leaves us dull and dejected; we can not easily +pursue the old track; in short, it is a great misfortune to associate +with sensible people, but it is a misfortune that does not often happen +to us. + + [254] It has already been observed that this was a favorite + expression of M. de la Garde. + + +LETTER CXVI. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, November 13, 1689. + +Your letter is not yet arrived; this is always a grief to me; though +I have in some degree got the better of the apprehensions I formerly +suffered from the delay; it is the whim of the post, and we must endure +it; but as I am constantly with you at Grignan, I lose the thread of +the conversation; this it is that vexes me. I know not whether you +go to the assembly with M. de Grignan, or remain at your château. I +am very uneasy about the chevalier’s health, and the effects of the +bark, repeated in its usual dose; its heat operating upon that of the +chevalier’s blood, brings to my mind an old saying, _When the brave +meets the brave, they remain brave_. We hope, therefore, that this +brave bark will make the blood remain brave; God grant it may; it is +very difficult to subdue. + +I have received a long letter from my new friend, the _man-wolf_ +Guébriac; I would have sent it to you, as his style, which is +very easy, would be agreeable enough, if he did not praise me so +extravagantly; in fact, my modesty will not suffer it; he is so +astonished to find a woman with a few good qualities and good +principles, who in her youth had some charms, that he seems to have +passed his life in a whirlwind of passions, among a banditti equally +devoid of faith and law, where love reigned alone, despoiled of every +kind of virtue; this has given rise to some very pleasant things. + +We are reading the History of the Church by M. de Godeau;[255] it is +really a very fine work; in what a respectable light does it place +religion! we are ready to suffer martyrdom with Abbadie. Every thing +has its turn; Corisca is very pretty and very roguish; _altri tempi, +altre cure_. Love me always, my dear child, but never weigh other love +in the same scale with yours; your heart is of the first order, and no +one resembles it. + + [255] Antony Godeau, Bishop of Grasse and Vence. + + +LETTER CXVII. + + _The Rocks_, Wednesday, January 11, 1690. + +Good heavens! what a new year’s gift! what wishes! what could be +more calculated to charm me? I will tell you a feeling I have just +discovered in myself; if it could repay yours I should be satisfied, +for I have no other coin: instead of the kind fears which the frequent +deaths that surround you occasion, and which make you think of others, +I offer you the real consolation, and even the joy, which frequently +arise to me from my being older than you. The thought that the oldest +goes first, and that I shall probably and naturally keep my rank with +my dear child, constitutes the true charms of this feeling. What have +I not suffered, when your ill state of health made me dread a reverse +of the order of nature? These were trying times; let us talk no more +of them; you are well, God be praised; and every thing has resumed +its natural course. _God preserve you_; I believe you hear my tone of +voice, and know me. + +I now come to the chevalier; I have no hesitation in believing that +the climate of Provence would agree with him better in winter than +that of Paris. All those who, like swallows, fly to your sunshine, +afford sufficient testimony of this. But, while I rejoice at his being +sensible of the difference, I am grieved at his having lost a thousand +crowns of his income; and by what means? was his regiment worth so +much to him? He will sell it then to the marquis;[256] but will not +the money arising from it, in payment of debts, diminish the interest +of loans? Settle this account for me, which makes me uneasy; I can not +figure to myself the Chevalier de Grignan at Paris without his genteel +and neat little equipage; I can not see him walking on foot, nor +inquiring for places to Versailles; such an idea can not enter my head; +this article is interlocutory; ah, how happily this term of chicanery +finds admittance here! Neither do I comprehend your sixty-four people, +besides guards; you deceive me, this can not be your meaning, you must +give me a mathematical demonstration. + + [256] The Chevalier de Grignan, attaining the rank of field + marshal in 1688, had leave to keep his regiment, that he might + afterward resign in favor of the Marquis de Grignan his nephew. + +With regard to Paulina, you can not surely hesitate respecting the +choice you have to take, between good and evil. The superiority of your +understanding will easily point out to you the true road; every thing +leads you to your duty; honor conscience, and the power you possess. +When I consider how much she has corrected herself in a short time to +please you, and how much she is improved, you will be answerable for +all the good she neglects. As to reading, you are too much engaged in +conversation and discussion to attend to it: we are most quiet here, +and therefore, have leisure for it. I even read works I had slightly +run over at Paris, and which appear quite new to me. We also read, by +way of interlude to our grand lectures, scraps that we meet with, such +as the fine funeral orations of M. de Bossuet,[257] M. Flechier,[258] +M. Mascaron,[259] Father Bourdaloüe: we pay a fresh tribute of tears +to M. de Turenne, Madame de Montausier, the Prince, the late Madame, +and the Queen of England; we admire the portrait of Cromwell: these are +master-pieces of eloquence, which charm the mind. You must not say, +“These are old;” they are not old, they are divine. Paulina should be +made acquainted and delighted with them; but this is calculated solely +for the Rocks. I know not what book to recommend to Paulina: Davila is +fine in Italian, we have read it; Guicciardini is very long; I should +like the anecdotes of Medicis, which are an abridgment, but they are +not in Italian. I will not name Bentivoglio again;[260] let her confine +herself to poetry, I do not like Italian prose; to Tasso, _Aminto_, _Il +Pastor Fido_, etc. I dare not add Ariosto, there are some bad passages +in it; let her also read history; let her cherish this taste, which may +long preserve her from idleness; it is to be feared that if this part +of reading were suppressed there would be scarcely any thing to read; +let her begin with the life of Theodosius the Great, and let her tell +me how she likes it. This, my child, is a letter of trifles; we set +apart some days for chatting, without offense to serious matters, in +which we always take true interest. + + [257] The Bishop of Meaux. + + [258] The Bishop of Nîmes. + + [259] The Bishop of Agen. + + [260] Gui Bentivoglio, cardinal, and author of the Civil Wars in + Flanders, and several other works. + + +LETTER CXVIII. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, January 15, 1690. + +You are right, I can not reconcile myself to the date of this year; +it has, however, been already begun for some time; and you will find, +that, let us pass it as we may, we shall soon find the bottom of the +bag that contained the thousand livres.[261] + + [261] Madame de Sévigné compared the twelve months of the year to + a bag with a thousand livres, which is exhausted almost as soon + as it is opened. + +You really spoil me, and so do my Paris friends; the sun has scarcely +gained upon us a barley-corn before you tell me when you shall expect +me at Grignan; and my friends desire me to fix from that hour the +time of my departure, in order to hasten their joy. Such pressing +civilities flatter me highly, and particularly yours, which admit of no +comparison. I will, then, sincerely confide to my dear countess, that +between this and September, I can not entertain a thought of leaving +this country; this is the time when I send my little means to Paris, +of which only a very small part is gone. This is the time when the +Abbé Charier is treating for my fines and sales, which amount to ten +thousand livres; but more of this hereafter; let us content ourselves +with driving away every hope of taking the least step before the time +I have mentioned. I will not, however, say that you are my goal, my +perspective; you know it well, and that you are so firmly rooted in my +heart that I fear M. Nicole would find much difficulty to prune you +away; this, in short, is my disposition. You use the most affectionate +expression possible to me, in hoping you may never see the end of the +happy years you wish me. We are very far from agreeing in our wishes; +for I have informed you of a very just and very proper truth, which +God will doubtless grant, and which is to follow the natural order of +providence; this is my comfort through the thorny road of old age: mine +is a rational feeling, and yours too extraordinary and too kind a one. + +As to Paulina, that devourer of books, I had rather she should swallow +bad ones, than have no love for reading; romances, plays, Voiture, +Sarrasin, have all been exhausted; has she dipped into Lucian? is +she capable of enjoying _Les Petites Lettres_? History should come +next, and if she does not find her account in this, I pity her. If +she does not like the finest works of devotion, so much the worse for +her, for we know but too well that even without devotion ourselves, +they are charming. With respect to ethics, as she would not make so +good a use of it as you, I would not have her meddle either with +Montaigne, Charron, or any others of his stamp; she is too young. The +true morality of this age, is what we learn in conversation, fables, +history, and example. If you were to bestow a little of your time upon +her in conversation, she would reap greater benefit from this than from +all the rest. I know not whether what I say is worth your reading, I am +very far from being wedded to my opinion. + + +LETTER CXIX. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, January 22, 1690. + +Good heavens, what a situation you are in! how pressing a one! and +how much and sensibly I am grieved at it! But, my child, how weak and +futile are wishes upon such occasions! and how needless it is to tell +you that if I had now, as I have had, some portable sum which depended +on me, it should soon be yours! I am overwhelmed with a host of little +creditors who dun and threaten me, and I do not know whether I shall be +able to satisfy them, as I had hoped to do; for I am quite suffocated +by the obligation I am under of paying immediately 5000 livres by way +of fine, and the price of the estate of Madame d’Acigné, which I have +purchased, to avoid paying 10,000 if I had waited two years longer. +Such, then, is my situation; but this is only to acquaint you with the +utter impossibility of my assisting you. Your brother appears to me +to feel for you, and I am persuaded he would perform his duty better +than your rich prelates, if the times were as they have been, that +is, if it were possible to borrow. He will talk to you himself, and +tell you his opinion of your affairs. I have also set forth to him the +embarrassments of your little colonel; he mentioned the subject to me +the first, some time ago, pitying and regretting, like us, that the +chevalier had not the management of him for the first year or two; +nothing could have been of so much service to him as such a master; +in short, my dearest child, no one but God can confine so great a +number of disagreeable things within the bounds of resignation, in +which you appear to me. To return to my son; he had some anxiety on +seeing a stripling of seventeen or eighteen at the head of such a +troop. He remembers enough of past times to know how difficult it is +at that age to command old officers; and this difficulty would have +been removed, if he could have had his uncle to establish him; this is +a very disagreeable and delicate time for him. Can not you assist him +with some prudent counselor, to advise him a little? For, in short, +he is alone, and can not at his age know a profession that requires +more experience than any other. I have conjured you to send for the +marquis to Grignan; what will he do during the carnival at Paris and +Versailles? do you think he will acquit himself well of the duty and +compliments he has to go through? I perhaps do him wrong; but he is +very young, and little accustomed to this business; in short, I think +he has more to perform than he is equal to. I resign the pen to my son; +I will resume it again presently. + + +LETTER CXX. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, February 26, 1690. + +I could not have believed that I should have wept so much for La Chau; +but it is impossible to read your account of his poor wife’s unfeigned +and violent affliction without being affected to tears. This is, +indeed, a peculiar misfortune, and a fate which nothing could prevent. +The man is in haste, he wants to get to his journey’s end; he is +advised, for very weighty reasons, not to expose himself, or, at least, +not to go into the little boat; but he will listen to no one, he must +go, he must be punctual to his appointment; Death is waiting for him at +a particular spot upon the Rhône; he must meet him there, and perish. +Good heavens, my dear child, how all this is arranged! Every one sees +his own fate in this accident, and his wife’s grief becomes ours; as +we are exposed to similar perils, it is our own interest that makes +us weep, when we suppose we are lamenting the misfortunes of others. +Christianity dictates to us that we should think first of this poor +man’s salvation; but his wife afterward claims our pity for the loss +of 4000 livres; if the dead body should not float, or the violence of +the Rhône should throw it beyond Arles upon some unfrequented shore, +Providence will dispose of this gold, sewed up in his wet coat, as of +the rest. + +I highly approve the resolution of not sending for the marquis, +this is the surest way; the journey would be both expensive and +fatiguing, and productive of no good but the mere gratification of +your affection; bear this like many other things, and rather wait till +he is a brigadier or major-general, than make him lose his time now. +Beaulieu informs me, that he is quite overwhelmed with business, and +that he attends to nothing else. Is it possible, that he should have +visited Madame de la Fayette before Madame de Vins? I blame him; I am +as jealous upon this occasion as you are, for I frequently put myself +in your place; every reason should have induced him to have flown to +Madame de Vins; she wrote to me the other day that she longed to see +him, and to observe the difference and transition from infancy to +youth. He has waited upon Madame de Lavardin, and will have time to pay +her another visit. + +M. de Grignan has resolved upon a very precipitate journey; it is +difficult to avoid such courses, when we command singly in a province, +whether for the service of the king, or the honor of the post. You +never examine thoroughly into this business, except for M. de Grignan; +this is natural enough; but the example should extend further. _No +enemies_, my dear child; let this be your maxim, it is equally +Christian and politic: I not only say _no enemies_, but also _many +friends_; you have felt the good effects of these in your law-suit; +you have a son; you may stand in need of those who you may now think +can never be of service to you. We are deceived; see how Madame de la +Fayette abounds with friends on every side, and of all ranks. She has a +hundred arms, and they all serve her; her children feel it, and thank +her daily for her courteous disposition; an obligation which she owes +to M. de la Rochefoucault, and of which her family reaps the benefit. I +am certain that you have been of this opinion for many years. + +You explain Madame Reinié’s conduct very well; it is droll to think of +her leaving Paris, her husband, all her business, to fly for three or +four months _all over_ Provence asking for money, without getting any, +fatiguing herself, returning after being at great expense, and getting +the rheumatism into the bargain! for recollect that she has pains _all +over_ her; and such as at length have defeated you. + +I am delighted at Paulina’s partiality to M. Nicole; it is a proof +that she reads him with attention; this taste gives me the highest +opinion of her understanding; I also like her anger that the bishops +do not fight for promotion. But, my dear, on your honor do you believe +it right to give us only the first volume of the romance of the +_Princess_, the _Infanta_, or the _First Minister_, so charming as +we thought it?[262] I will not allow you to stop here; I insist upon +knowing what is become of the princess’s good and just resolution? I +am afraid it has vanished, by the necessity of the times, the want of +a _minister_, the sudden journey, the impossibility of collecting _the +leaves of the Sibyl_, idly and incautiously scattered to the winds for +ten years. In short, I fear your good intentions will come to nothing, +as I have so often found during the last twenty years: this story, +however, requires a continuation, but it should not be too serious +with regard to your affairs. I wish also to be informed of the success +of M. Prat’s journey to the enraged lover of the Princess _Truelle_. +I should like to know who were the confidants of the _first minister_ +and _the favorite_; and who received the couriers. Tell me if you are +still satisfied with _Flame_;[263] he is a very considerable personage +in your household. I want to know some particulars respecting the +count’s journey, and if the treasurer will do as he wishes: here are +a number of questions, my dearest child, for which I apologize. It is +kind of you to love my letters; when you receive three at a time you +say you are rich; but what fatigues do they not occasion you! They are +so very long that you should not answer them minutely. Adieu, my love; +how does Lent agree with you? for my part I like it extremely. I took a +mess of milk-coffee this morning: I am not yet surfeited with it, nor +with sermons, for we read none but those of M. le Tourneux and St. John +Chrysostom. It is delightful weather, the winter is past, and we have a +prospect of spring that is superior to spring itself. + + [262] This was an account, in the form of a romance, of what + passed in M. de Grignan’s family. + + [263] M. de Grignan’s house-steward. + + + N.B. This letter is the last from the mother to the daughter. + + + + +LETTERS TO M. DE POMPONNE. + + +The following Letters, relating to the trial of M. Fouquet, were +addressed to the Marquis de Pomponne, who was afterward Minister of +Foreign Affairs. + +The trial of Fouquet was not the least curious and least interesting +event of the reign of Louis XIV. The plan of ruining him was laid with +such odious art, and the conduct of his enemies, many of whom were +his judges, was so inveterate, that it would have been impossible not +to have been interested for him, even had he been more criminal than +he really was. Accused and tried for financial peculations, he was +sentenced to banishment for a crime against the state. His crime was +a vague plan of resistance and flight into a foreign country, which +he had thrown upon paper five years before, when the factions of the +Fronde divided France, and when he thought he had reason to complain +of the ingratitude of Cardinal Mazarin. This plan, which he had wholly +forgotten, was found among the papers that were seized at his house. + +It is well known that Louis XIV. was led to believe that Fouquet was a +dangerous man. A guard of fifty musketeers were appointed to conduct +him to the citadel of Pignerol, the king having changed the sentence of +banishment into perpetual imprisonment. It was still apprehended that +he had formidable friends. Among these were Pelisson and Lafontaine; +one defended him eloquently, and the other bewailed his misfortunes in +a very beautiful and pathetic elegy, in which he went so far as to ask +the king to pardon him. + + +LETTER I. + +To-day, Monday, November the 17th, 1664, M. Fouquet was brought a +second time before the chancellor. He seated himself without ceremony +upon the sellette,[264] as he had done the first time. The chancellor +began by bidding him hold up his hand. He replied, that he had already +assigned the reasons which prevented him from taking the oath. The +chancellor then made a long speech to prove the legal authority of the +court, that it had been established by the king, and that the warrants +had been confirmed by the parliament. + + [264] Stool on which a prisoner sits. + +M. Fouquet replied, that things were often done under the name of legal +authority which were found upon reflection to be unjust. + +The chancellor interrupted him: “What! do you mean to say that the king +abuses his power?” M. Fouquet replied, “It is you, sir, who say it, not +I; this was not my idea, and, in my present situation, I can not but +wonder at your wishing to implicate me still further with his majesty; +but, sir, you yourself well know that we may be mistaken. When you +sign a sentence, you believe it just, yet the next day you annul that +sentence; thus you see it is possible to change our opinion.” + +“But,” said the chancellor, “though you will not acknowledge the power +of the court, you answer and put interrogatories, and you are now +upon the sellette.” “It is true, I am so,” he replied, “but it is not +voluntarily; I am brought here against my will; it is a power I must +obey, and a mortification which God has inflicted upon me, and which +I receive from his hands; after the services I have rendered, and the +offices I have had the honor to bear, I might have been spared this +humiliation.” + +The chancellor then continued the examination respecting the pension +of the gabelles, to which the replies of M. Fouquet were extremely +satisfactory. The examination will proceed, and I shall send you a +faithful account of it; I am anxious to know whether my letters come +safely to your hands. + +Your sister, who is with our ladies at the Faubourg, has signed; she is +now with the community, and seems perfectly satisfied. + +Your aunt does not appear at all displeased with her; I did not think +it was she who had taken the leap, but some other person. You know, +of course, of our defeat at Gigeri,[265] and as those who formed the +plan wish to throw the failure upon those who executed it, they intend +to bring Gadagne to trial. There are some who will be satisfied with +nothing less than his head; but the public is persuaded that he could +not have advised otherwise than he did. M. d’Aleth, who excommunicated +the subaltern officers of the king, who were for compelling the clergy +to sign, is very much talked of here. This will ruin him with your +father, while it will bring him into favor with Père Annat.[266] + + [265] The first expedition against Algiers. + + [266] A jesuit, confessor of Louis XIV. + +Adieu! The desire of gossiping has seized me, but I must not yield to +it; the narrative style should be concise. + + +LETTER II. + + Friday, November 20, 1664. + +M. Fouquet was examined this morning respecting the gold mark; he +answered extremely well; several of the judges bowed to him; the +chancellor reproved them and said that, as he was a Breton, it was +not the custom. “It is because you are Bretons that you bow so low to +M. Fouquet.” In returning on foot from the arsenal, M. Fouquet asked +what the workmen were doing; he was told they were making the vase +of a fountain; he went to them, and gave his opinion, and afterward +returned smiling to Artagan. “You wonder, no doubt,” said he, “at my +interfering, but I formerly understood these things well.” The friends +of M. Fouquet, and I among the rest, are pleased at this delightful +composure; others call it affectation; such is the world. Madame +Fouquet, his mother, has given the queen a plaster that has cured her +convulsions, which, properly speaking, were nothing but the vapors. + +Many, believing what they wish, imagine that the queen will, on this +account, intercede with his majesty to pardon the unfortunate prisoner; +but I, who hear a great deal of the kindness of this country, do not +believe a word of it. The noise the plaster has made is wonderful; +every body says that Madame Fouquet is a saint, and has the power of +working miracles. + +To-day, the 21st, M. Fouquet has been questioned respecting the wax and +sugar taxes. At certain objections that were raised, and which appeared +to him ridiculous, he lost his temper. This was going a little too far, +and there was a haughtiness in his manners that gave offense. He will +correct himself; for this mode of proceeding is by no means advisable; +but patience will sometimes escape; it seems to me as if I should have +done the same. + +I have been at Sainte-Marie, where I saw your aunt, who appeared to be +swallowed up in devotion; she was at mass, and in quite a religious +ecstasy. Your sister was looking very pretty; fine eyes, and great +animation; the poor child fainted this morning; she is very much +indisposed, her aunt is uniformly kind to her. M. de Paris has given +her a sort of defeasance, which gained her heart, and induced her to +sign the wicked formulary.[267] I have not mentioned the subject to +either of them; M. de Paris[268] has forbidden it. But I must give you +an idea of prejudice; our sisters of Sainte-Marie said to me, “God be +praised, who has at length touched the heart of this poor child! she is +now in the way of obedience and salvation.” From thence I went to Port +Royal, where I found a certain great recluse[269] of your acquaintance, +who accosted me with, “Well, this silly goose has signed; God, in +short, has abandoned her; she is lost.” I thought I should have died +with laughing, when I reflected on the different effects of prejudice; +in this, you see the world in its true mirror. I think extremes should +always be avoided. + + [267] This relates to the condemnation of the five propositions + of Jansenius; the clergy of France protested against them, and + drew up a formulary, which the nuns of Port Royal and many + others refused to sign; this refusal, in the end, caused their + dispersion. + + [268] The then archbishop of Paris was the sage Péréfixe. + + [269] No doubt the celebrated Doctor Arnauld d’Andilly. + +Saturday evening. M. Fouquet entered the chamber this morning, and +was interrogated upon the subject of grants; he was attacked weakly +and defended himself ably. Between you and me, this is not the worst +part of the business. Some good angel must have informed him that he +had carried himself too proudly; for he altered his manner to-day, and +the judges altered theirs, by not bowing to him. The examination will +not be resumed till Wednesday; and I shall not write to you till then. +I have only to add, that if you continue to pity me so much, for the +trouble I take in writing to you, and desire me not to go on, I shall +think my letters tire you, and that you do not like the fatigue of +answering them; but I promise not to write such long ones in future, +and I absolve you from answering them, though I prize your letters +highly. After these declarations, I should think you would not attempt +to interrupt the course of my gazettes. In flattering myself that I +contribute a little to your pleasure, I add greatly to my own. I have +so few opportunities of proving my friendship and esteem for you, that +I must not neglect such as present themselves. Pray make my compliments +to your family and your neighbors. The queen is much better. + + +LETTER III. + + Monday, November 24, 1664. + +If I know my own heart, it is I who am the party obliged, by your +receiving so kindly the information I send you. Do you think I have no +pleasure in writing to you? Believe me, I have a great deal, and am +as much gratified in writing, as you can be in reading what I write. +The sentiments you entertain upon the subject of my letter are very +natural; hope is common to us all, without our knowing why; but it +supports the heart. I dined at Sainte-Marie de Sainte-Antoine two days +ago; the lady abbess related to me the particulars of four visits she +has received from Puis***,[270] within the last three months, at which +I am very much astonished. He came to tell her that the now blessed +Bishop of Geneva (François de Sales) had been so extremely kind to him +during his illness last summer, that he could not help feeling most +strongly the obligations he owed him; and he requested her to obtain +the prayers of the community for the deceased. He gave her, for the +accomplishment of his holy purpose, a thousand crowns, and entreated +her to show him the bishop’s heart. When he was at the grate, he fell +upon his knees, and remained full a quarter of an hour, bathed in +tears, apostrophizing this heart, and praying for a spark of the divine +fire which had consumed it. The lady abbess also melted into tears; and +gave him the relics of the deceased, with which he hurried away. During +these visits, he appeared so earnest about his salvation, so disgusted +with the court, so transported with the idea of his conversion, that +a person more clear-sighted than the abbess would have been deceived. +She contrived to introduce the subject of Fouquet; he answered her +as a man who was interested in nothing but religion; that he was not +sufficiently known; that justice would be done him, agreeably to the +will of God, if from no other consideration. I never was more surprised +than at this conversation. If you ask me what I think of it, I must +answer, that I do not know; that it is perfectly unintelligible to +me; that I can not see the drift of this comedy, nor, if it is not a +comedy, how the steps he has since taken are to be reconciled with his +fine speeches. + + [270] This name appears to be altered, and ought, as will be seen + further on, to be Puissort. + +Time must explain all this, for it is at present perfectly enigmatical. +Do not mention it, for the lady abbess desired me not to make the +circumstance known. + +I have seen M. Fouquet’s mother. She told me she had sent the plaster +to the queen by Madame de Charost.[271] The effect was certainly +wonderful: in less than an hour the queen felt her head relieved, +and so great a discharge of offensive matter took place, that had it +remained it might have suffocated her in the next fit. The queen said +aloud that it was this matter which had occasioned the convulsions of +the preceding night, and that Madame de Fouquet had cured her. The +queen-mother thought the same, and said so to the king, who did not +attend to her. The physicians, who had not been consulted in applying +the plaster, withheld their sentiments on the subject, but made their +court at the expense of truth. The same day, these poor women threw +themselves at the feet of the king, who took no notice of them. Every +body is acquainted with the circumstance of the cure; but no one knows +what will come of it: we must wait the event with patience. + + [271] Fouquet’s daughter. + +M. Fouquet was interrogated again this morning, but the chancellor’s +manner was changed; it seems as if he were ashamed of receiving his +lesson every day from Boucherat.[272] He told the reporter to read +the article, upon which he wished to examine the accused; and the +reading lasted so long, that it was half-past ten o’clock before +it was finished. He then said, “Let Fouquet be brought in;” but +corrected himself immediately by saying “M. Fouquet;” as, however, +he had not directed the prisoner to be sent for, he was still at the +Bastille. A messenger was then dispatched for him, and he arrived at +eleven o’clock. He was questioned respecting the grants, and answered +extremely well; but he was a little at a loss as to certain dates, +which would have injured him considerably, if the examiner had been +skillful and awake; but, instead of this, the chancellor was asleep. +This was observed by M. Fouquet, who would have laughed heartily, if +he had dared. At length the chancellor roused himself, and continued +the examination; and though M. Fouquet rested too much on a prop that +might have failed him, the event proved that he knew what he was about; +for, in his misfortune, he has certain little advantages that belong +exclusively to himself. If they go on slowly every day, the trial will +last a long time. + + [272] Boucherat, then master of requests, and afterward + chancellor, had been appointed to put the seals on the papers of + the superintendent. He was on the commission charged with the + prosecution. + +I shall write to you every evening; but I shall not send my letter +till Saturday or Sunday evening: it will give you an account of the +proceedings of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and I will contrive that +you shall receive one on Thursday, informing you of the proceedings of +Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday: in this way your letters will not be +long detained. I beg my compliments to your recluse, and to your better +half. I say nothing of your dear neighbor; it will soon be my turn to +give you news of her myself. + + +LETTER IV. + + Thursday, November 21, 1664. + +The examination upon the subject of the grants was resumed to-day. The +chancellor kindly endeavored to drive M. Fouquet to extremities, and +to embarrass him, but he did not succeed. M. Fouquet acquitted himself +admirably; he did not come into the chamber of justice till eleven +o’clock, because the chancellor made the reporter read as before; but +in spite of this parade of justice, he said the worst he could of +our poor friend. The reporter[273] always took his part, because the +chancellor evidently leaned to the other side of the question. At last +he said, “Here is a charge to which the accused will not be able to +answer.” “And here, sir,” said the reporter, “is a plaster that will +cure the weakness;” he made an excellent justification of him, and then +added: “In the place in which I stand, sir, I shall always speak the +truth, in whatever form it presents itself to me.” + + [273] The reporter was M. d’Ormesson, one of the most respectable + magistrates of his time. + +This allusion to a plaster called forth a smile from the audience, +as it reminded them of the one that has lately made so much noise +at court. The accused was then brought in; he only remained an hour +in court; and, on his leaving it, M. d’Ormesson was complimented by +several persons upon his firmness. + +I must relate to you what I myself did. Some ladies proposed to me +to accompany them to a house exactly opposite the arsenal, where we +could see the return of our poor friend. I was masked,[274] but my +eye caught him the moment he was in view. M. d’Artagan was at his +side, and fifty mousquetaires about thirty or forty steps behind him. +He appeared thoughtful. The moment I saw him my legs trembled, and +my heart beat so violently that I could scarcely support myself. In +approaching us to re-enter his dungeon, M. d’Artagan pointed out to him +that we were there, and he saluted us with the same delightful smile +you have so often witnessed. I do not believe he recognized me; but +I own I was strangely affected when I saw him enter the little door. +If you knew the misfortune of having a heart like mine, I am sure you +would pity me; but from what I know of you, I do not think you have +much the advantage of me in this point. I have been to see your dear +neighbor. I pity you as much at losing her as I rejoice at her being +with us. We have had a good deal of conversation upon the subject of +our poor friend; she has seen Sappho,[275] who has considerably raised +her spirits. I shall go there to-morrow, to recruit my own; for I often +feel the want of consolation; it is not that I do not hear a thousand +things, that should inspire hope; but alas! my imagination is so +lively, that every thing which is uncertain destroys me. + + [274] It was still the custom for ladies to wear masks when they + went abroad; a custom which is retained in Corneille’s plays, + and which was brought from Italy by the Medicis, with many other + customs equally disagreeable. These masks of black velvet, to + which the _loups_ succeeded, were intended as a preservative to + the complexion. + + [275] Mademoiselle Scudery, sister of the author, known under + this name by an unfortunate fertility of imagination; a woman who + had more wit than her writings display, though they display a + great deal. + + + Friday, November 28. + +The court opened early this morning. The chancellor said he had now +to speak of the four loans: D’Ormesson observed, that it was a very +unimportant affair, and one upon which no blame could be attached to +M. Fouquet, as he had declared from the beginning. An attempt was made +to contradict him: he begged leave to explain the matter according to +his own view of it, and desired his colleagues to listen to him. The +court was attentive, and he convinced them that it was a very trifling +business. The accused was then ordered to be brought in; it was eleven +o’clock. You will remark that he has never been more than an hour upon +the sellette. The chancellor still wished to speak of the loans. M. +Fouquet requested he might be allowed to state what he had omitted the +day before, respecting the grants; leave was given him, and he said +wonders. The chancellor asked him, “Have you had your acquittance for +the employment of this sum?” He replied that he had, but that it was +conjointly with other things which he had marked, and which will come +in their course. “But,” said the chancellor, “at the time you received +these acquittances you had not incurred the expenses?” “True,” replied +M. Fouquet, “but the sums were set apart for the purpose.” “This is +not enough,” said the chancellor, “Pardon me, sir,” said M. Fouquet; +“when I gave you your appointments, for instance, I sometimes received +the acquittance a month beforehand, and as the sum was set apart, it +was exactly the same as if it had been paid.” “That is true,” said the +chancellor; “I was much indebted to you.” M. Fouquet replied that he +had no intention to reproach him, and that he was at that time happy +to serve him; but the circumstance had occurred to his mind, as an +instance in point, and he could not help making use of it. + +The court has closed till Monday. They seem determined to prolong the +affair as much as possible. Puis*** has promised to give the accused as +few opportunities of speaking as he can. The fact is, they are afraid +of him. They would, therefore, interrogate him summarily, and even pass +over some of the articles; but he is determined they shall not do this, +nor will he suffer them to judge his cause without his being permitted +to justify himself upon every separate head of accusation. Puis*** is +in continual apprehension of offending Petit. He excused himself the +other day by saying that M. Fouquet had certainly spoken too long, but +that he had no means of interrupting him. Ch*** is constantly behind +the screen whenever the examinations take place; he hears all that is +said, and offers to go to the judges and explain the reasons by which +he is led to draw such opposite conclusions. All this is irregular, +and shows a great inveteracy against the unfortunate prisoner. I own I +have no longer any hope. Adieu, sir, till Monday. I wish you could see +my heart, you would then be convinced of the sincerity of a friendship +which you profess to prize. + + +LETTER V. + +Two days ago every one believed that it was intended to protract M. +Fouquet’s affair as much as possible; but now the reverse of this +appears to be the case, and the interrogations are hurried over in a +most extraordinary manner. This morning the chancellor took his paper +and read, as he would an inventory, ten heads of accusation, without +giving the accused time to reply. M. Fouquet said, “I do not wish, +sir, to prolong the business, but I entreat you to give me time to +answer the charges that are brought against me. You question me, and it +appears as if you did not wish me to reply; but it is of consequence +to me to speak. There are many articles I must explain; and it is but +justice that I should answer to all those which are formally alleged +against me.” The court was then obliged to attend, contrary to the +wishes of the ill-disposed, who could not bear to hear him defend +himself so ably. He answered extremely well to every accusation. The +trial will now go on, but will be conducted so rapidly that I expect +the examination will close this week. I have just been supping at the +Hôtel de Nevers; the mistress of the house and I conversed a good +deal upon this subject. We are uneasy to a degree, which you only can +comprehend, for I have just received your letter; it surpasses even +my own feelings upon the subject. You put my modesty to too great +a trial in asking me upon what terms I am with you and your dear +recluse. It seems to me that I see him and hear him say what you tell +me. I am quite piqued that it was not I who metamorphosed Pierrot to +Tartuffe;[276] it was so natural that if I had half the wit you ascribe +to me, it would have flowed mechanically from my pen. + + [276] The Chancellor Seguier’s name was Pierre. + +I must relate to you a little anecdote, which is perfectly true, and +which can not fail to amuse you. The king has lately employed himself +in making verses; Messieurs de Saint Aignan and Dangeau put him in +the way of it. He wrote a little madrigal the other day with which he +was not much pleased. One morning he said to Marshal de Grammont, “M. +le maréchal, read this little madrigal, if you please, and tell me if +you ever saw so silly a one; because it is known that I have lately +been fond of poetry they bring me all the nonsense that is written.” +The marshal having read it, said to the king, “Your majesty is an +excellent judge of every thing: this is certainly without exception the +most silly and ridiculous madrigal I ever read.” The king laughed, and +continued, “Must not the writer be a great fool?” “There is no other +name for him,” said the marshal. “O!” said the king, “how delighted +I am that you have spoken your sentiments so freely! I am myself the +author of it.” “Ah! sire, what treason have I uttered! I entreat your +majesty to give it me again. I read it hastily.” “No, M. le maréchal; +the first sentiments are always the most natural.” The king was very +much entertained at this little frolic; but those about him thought +it the most cruel thing that could be done to an old courtier. For +myself, I love to make reflections, and I wish the king would reflect +in like manner on this adventure, that he might see how far he is from +knowing the truth. We are upon the point of experiencing a still more +painful instance of royal delusion, in the repurchase of our rents, +at an expense that will send us all to the workhouse. The emotion it +occasions is great, but the hardship is greater. Do you not think this +is undertaking too much at once? The loss of a part of my income is not +the point that affects me the most. + + + Tuesday, December 2. + +Our dear unfortunate friend spoke for two hours this morning, but so +uncommonly well that several persons could not help expressing their +admiration. Among others, M. de Renard said, “This man, it must be +owned, is incomparable; he never spoke so well in the parliament; +he maintains his self-possession better than he has ever done.” The +subject was the six millions, and his own expenses. Nothing could +exceed what he said. I shall write to you on Thursday and on Friday; +these will be the last days of the examination, and I shall go on to +the end. + +God grant my last letter may contain the information I so ardently +wish. Adieu, my dear sir; desire our recluse (Arnauld) to pray for our +poor friend. I heartily embrace you both, and, for modesty’s sake, I +include your wife. + + +IN CONTINUATION. + +Tranquillity reigns throughout the family of the unfortunate Fouquet. +It is said that M. de Nesmond declared on his death-bed, that his +greatest sorrow was that he had not excepted to these two judges; that +if he had lived to the end of the trial he would have repaired his +fault, and that he prayed God to pardon his error. + +M. Fouquet, as I observed before, spoke to-day two complete hours, upon +the subject of the six millions; he commanded attention, and performed +wonders. Every one was affected in his way. Puissort made gestures of +disbelief and disapprobation, that shocked every honest man in court. + +When M. Fouquet had done, M. Puissort rose impetuously, and said, +“Thank God, it can never be said that he has not had his bellyful of +speaking.” What say you to this speech? Was it not worthy of a judge? +It is said that the chancellor is very much alarmed at the erysipelas +that occasioned the death of M. de Nesmond, fearing there may be a +repetition of the judgment in store for himself. If the apprehension +could inspire him with the sentiments of a man about to appear before +God, it would be something; but it will be said of him, I fear, as of +Argante, _e mori come visse_;[277] he died as he lived. + + [277] Gerusalemme Liberata, canto 19; the verse runs thus: + + Moriva Argante, e tal moria qual visse. + + + Wednesday, December 3. + +I have received your letter; it has proved to me that I have not +obliged a person who is ungrateful; nothing can be more kind, nothing +more gratifying. I must be wholly exempt from vanity to be insensible +to such praises. I assure you, I am delighted at the good opinion +you entertain of my heart, and I further assure you, without meaning +compliment for compliment, that my esteem for you infinitely surpasses +the power of ordinary language to express, and that I experience real +pleasure and consolation in being able to inform you of events in +which we are both so much interested. I am very glad your dear recluse +takes her part in them; I supposed you would make them known also to +your incomparable neighbor. You gratify me extremely in telling me +that I have made some progress in her heart; there is no one in whose +affections I would more gladly establish myself, and when I would +indulge in a little gayety, I think of her and her enchanted palace. +But I return to business, from which I have been insensibly led, to +tell you of the sentiments I entertain for yourself and your amiable +friend. + +M. Fouquet was upon the sellette again to-day. The Abbé d’Effiat bowed +to him, as he passed. In returning his bow, he said to him, with the +same enchanting smile we have so often observed, “Sir, I am your very +humble servant.” The abbé was so much affected that he could not speak. + +As soon as M. Fouquet was in the chamber, the chancellor desired him +to be seated. He replied, “Sir, you took advantage, yesterday, of my +placing myself upon the sellette: you infer from my doing so that I +acknowledge the authority of the court; as that is the case, I beg +leave to stand.” The chancellor then told him he might withdraw. M. +Fouquet replied, “I do not mean by this to advance any new objection; +I only wish to make my protestation, as usual, and, the charge being +cited against me, to be permitted to reply.” + +This was agreed to. He then seated himself, and the examination +respecting the pension of the gabelles was resumed, to which he replied +admirably. If this mode continue, the interrogations will be favorable +to him. The spirit and firmness he displays are the subject of general +conversation at Paris. He has asked one thing of a friend which makes +me tremble: he has entreated him to let him know his sentence, whether +favorable or otherwise, in some private way, by signal, the instant it +is pronounced, that he may have time to reconcile himself to his fate +before it be announced to him officially; adding, that if he has half +an hour to prepare himself, he shall hear without emotion the worst +that can be told him. This has made me weep, and I am certain it will +affect you also very painfully. + +There were few persons at the examination, on account of the queen’s +illness; she was supposed to be dying, but is now somewhat better. +Yesterday evening she received the viaticum. It was the most affecting +and solemn spectacle that can be imagined, to see the king and the +whole court going for the holy sacrament, and conducting it to the +palace. It was received with a profusion of lights. The queen made an +effort to rise, and took it with a devotion that reduced every one +to tears. It was not without difficulty that she had been brought to +consent; the king was the only one who could make her listen to reason; +to every other person she said that she was very willing to receive the +communion, but not the viaticum; it was full two hours before she could +be prevailed upon. + +The general approbation that is given to M. Fouquet’s answers, is very +grating to Petit.[278] It is even thought he will engage Puis*** to +feign illness, in order to interrupt the torrent of admiration, and to +have time himself to take breath at this, and other instances of his +ill success. I am the most obedient servant of the dear recluse, of +your lady, and the adorable Amalthée. + + [278] Petit is a feigned name, meant either for Le Tellier or + Colbert. With regard to Puis***, as, from the sense of the + expressions, he must be one of the judges against Fouquet, there + is little doubt that Puissort is the person alluded to; and what + is said of him in the preceding Letters must be so understood. + + It may further be remarked that the conduct of Colbert and Le + Tellier, in this business, was extremely well characterized by + a criticism of the great Turenne, who interested himself warmly + for Fouquet. To some one who blamed the violence of Colbert, and + praised the moderation of Le Tellier, Turenne replied, “True, + sir; M. Colbert has most desire that he should be hanged, and M. + Le Tellier most fear lest he should not be.” + + +LETTER VI. + + Thursday, December 4, 1664. + +At length the examinations are over. M. Fouquet entered the chamber +this morning. The chancellor ordered his _project against the state_ +to be read throughout. M. Fouquet spoke first upon the subject. “I +believe, sir,” said he, “you can derive nothing from this paper, but +the effect it has just produced, of overwhelming me with confusion.” +The chancellor replied, “You have yourself heard and seen by it that +your regard for the state, which you have so much insisted upon in +court, was not so considerable but that you would have embroiled it +from one end to the other.” “Sir,” replied M. Fouquet, “this idea +occurred to me only in the height of the despair in which the cardinal +often placed me; especially when, after contributing more than any +man in the world to his return to France, I found myself repaid by +the basest ingratitude. I had a letter from himself, and one from the +queen-mother, in proof of what I say; but they have been taken away +with my papers, as have several letters. It is to be lamented that I +did not burn this unfortunate paper which had so completely escaped +my mind and my memory that I have been nearly two years without +thinking of it or knowing even that it existed. However this affair may +terminate, I disown it with my whole heart, and I entreat you, sir, to +believe, that my regard for the person and the service of the king has +never been in the slightest degree diminished.” “It is very difficult +to believe this,” said the chancellor, “when we see such contrary +sentiments expressed at a different period.” M. Fouquet replied, “At +no period, sir, even though at the hazard of my life, have I ever +abandoned the king’s person; and at the time in question, you, sir, +were at the head of the council of his enemies, and your relations gave +free passage to the army against him.” + +The chancellor felt this stroke; but our poor friend was irritated, and +therefore not quite master of himself. The subject of his expenses was +afterward introduced. “I undertake,” said he, “to prove that I have not +incurred a single expense which, either by means of my private income, +with which the cardinal was well acquainted, or my appointments, or my +wife’s fortune, I was not able to afford; and if I do not prove this +satisfactorily, I consent to be treated with the utmost ignominy.” In +short, this interrogation lasted two hours; M. Fouquet defended himself +ably, but with a degree of warmth and petulance; the reading of the +project having ruffled him exceedingly. + +When he had left the court, the chancellor said, “This is the last time +we shall interrogate him.” M. Poncet then went up to the chancellor, +and said, “You have made no mention, sir, of the proofs there are that +he had attempted to put his project against the state into execution.” +The chancellor replied, “They are not, sir, sufficiently strong; he +would have refuted them too easily.” Upon which Saint Hélène and +Puissort said, “Every one is not of that opinion.” This is a subject to +muse upon. The rest to-morrow. + + + Friday, December 5. + +This morning the subject of the requests was mentioned, which are of +little importance except that there are persons, not ill disposed, who +wish the sentence to refer to them. The business on the side of the +prosecution is at an end. It is now M. d’Ormesson’s turn to speak; he +is to recapitulate the several matters. This will occupy the whole +of the next week, during which the time we shall pass can scarcely +be called living. For myself, you would hardly know me, and I do not +think I can hold out so long. M. d’Ormesson has desired me not to see +him again till the business is over: he is in the conclave, and will +have intercourse with no one. He affects great reserve; he listens to +me, but does not answer. I had the pleasure, in bidding him adieu, to +acquaint him with my sentiments. I will inform you of all I hear. God +grant my last tidings may be good; I desire it fervently. I assure +you we are all very much to be pitied. I mean you and I, and all who, +like ourselves, are interested in the event. Adieu, my dear sir: I am +so dull this evening, and my heart is so much oppressed that I must +conclude. + + +LETTER VII. + + Tuesday, December 9, 1664. + +I assure you the days pass very tediously; suspense is extremely +painful: but it is an evil to which the whole family of the unfortunate +prisoner is habituated. I have seen, and can not sufficiently express +my admiration of them. It seems as if they had never known, never read, +the events that have taken place in former times. What surprises me +most is, that Sappho is just like the rest; she, whose understanding +and penetration are unlimited. When I reflect upon this circumstance, +I persuade myself, or, at least, I wish to persuade myself, that they +know more of the matter than I do. When I reason too with others, on +whose judgment I can rely, and who are less prejudiced, because less +interested, I find all our measures so just that it will be really a +miracle if the business does not terminate according to our wishes. +We are sometimes only lost by a single voice, but that voice is every +thing. I remember, however, the recusations, respecting which these +poor women thought themselves so sure, and we lost them by five to +seventeen; since that time their confidence has been my distrust. Yet +I have a little spark of hope in my heart; I hardly know from whence +it comes, nor whither it would lead, nor is it sufficient to make me +sleep in peace. I talked over this affair yesterday with Madame du +Plessis;[279] I can see nobody, but those who will converse with me +on the subject, and who are of the same opinion as myself. She hopes, +as I do, without knowing the reason. “Why do you hope?” “Because I +do;” this is our answer; a notable one, it must be confessed. I told +her, with the greatest sincerity in the world, that if the sentence +should be in conformity to our wishes, the height of my joy would be to +dispatch instantly a man on horseback with the pleasing intelligence to +you; and that the pleasure of picturing the delight I should give you, +would render my own delight complete. She perfectly agreed with me; and +our imagination gave us more than a quarter of an hour’s holiday on +the occasion. I must correct my last day’s report of the examination +respecting the project against the state. I related it to you exactly +as I heard it; but the same person has since tasked his memory, and +told it to me over again more accurately. Every body has heard it from +the different judges. After M. Fouquet had said that the only effect +that could be drawn from this project was the confusion the reading it +had occasioned him, the chancellor observed, “You can not deny that +this is a crime against the state.” “I confess, sir,” he replied, “that +it is a foolish and extravagant thing, but not a crime against the +state. I entreat you, gentlemen,” said he, turning toward the judges, +“to suffer me to explain what constitutes a state crime; not that I +consider you less capable of defining it than myself, but I have had +more time perhaps than you to examine the question. A crime against +the state, is when a person, holding an important office, and being in +the secrets of a prince, suddenly goes over to the side of his enemy, +engages his whole family in the same interests, opens the gates of a +city, of which he is the governor, to the foe, shuts them against his +lawful sovereign, and reveals to his enemy the secrets of the state. +This, gentlemen, is what is called a state crime.” The chancellor did +not know which way to look, and the judges could scarcely refrain from +laughter. This is the truth without any embellishment. You will agree +with me, that nothing could be more spirited, more delicate in its +satire, and at the same time more diverting. + + [279] Madame du Plessis Belliere, the intimate friend of Fouquet. + He had commissioned her to take his papers from his house at St. + Mandé. She was not in due time to execute it. She was at first + exiled, and afterward recalled. She died in 1705, aged 100 years. + +The whole kingdom knows and admires the prisoner’s reply on this +occasion. He afterward entered minutely into his defense, and said what +I told you before. I should have been quite unhappy if you had not +known this circumstance, and our dear friend would have lost much by +it. This morning M. d’Ormesson began the recapitulation. He spoke well +and clearly. On Thursday he will give his opinion; his colleague will +then speak for two days; it will take several more for the rest to give +their opinions. Some of the judges say that they shall enlarge a great +deal upon the subject, so that we have to languish in expectation till +next week. In this state of suspense we can scarcely be said to live. + + + Wednesday, December 10. + +M. d’Ormesson has continued the recapitulation; he has done wonders, +that is, he has spoken with extraordinary clearness, intelligence, and +ability. Puissort interrupted him five or six times, with no other +intention than to embarrass him, and prevent his speaking so well: he +said to him in one instance, where his argument went strongly in favor +of M. Fouquet, “Sir, we shall speak after you, we shall speak after +you.” + + +LETTER VIII. + + Thursday, December 11, 1664. + +M. d’Ormesson has not yet finished. When he came to the article of the +gold mark, Puissort said, “This speaks strongly against the accused.” +“It may be so,” said M. d’Ormesson, “but there are no proofs.” “What!” +said Puissort, “have not the two officers been examined?” “No,” replied +M. d’Ormesson. “It can not be,” said Puissort. “I can find no such +thing in the proceedings,” said M. d’Ormesson. Upon this, Puissort +rose in a fury, and said, “Sir, you ought rather to say, I find here +a very gross omission.” M. d’Ormesson made no answer, but if Puissort +had addressed another word to him, he would have replied, “I am here, +sir, as a judge, and not as an informer.” You may remember what I +once said to you at Fresne, that M. d’Ormesson would not discover the +omission till there was no remedy. The chancellor also interrupted M. +d’Ormesson several times; he told him it was not necessary to speak +of the project. This must be from malice; for many will suppose it a +great crime, and the chancellor would be glad that the proofs, which +are truly ridiculous, should be withheld, that the idea which prevails +might not be weakened. As, however, it is one of the articles of the +indictment, M. d’Ormesson will not omit it. He will finish to-morrow. +Sainte-Hélène will speak on Saturday. On Monday the two reporters will +give their opinion, and on Tuesday, the whole committee will assemble +early in the morning, and not separate till judgment be passed. I +tremble when I think of this day. The hopes of the family are very +sanguine. Foucault goes about every where, and shows a writing of +the king’s, in which he is made to say that he should think it very +improper if any of the judges leaned toward the prisoner, from the +circumstance of his papers being taken away; that it was he who ordered +it to be done; that there is not one that can be of use to the prisoner +in his defense; that they are papers that relate merely to his office; +and that he makes this known that the judges may not draw improper +inferences. What say you to this magnanimous proceeding? Are you not +grieved that a prince, who would love justice and truth if he were left +to himself, should be prevailed upon to act thus? He said the other +day at his levee, that Fouquet was a dangerous man; this has been put +into his head by some one. In short, our enemies no longer keep within +bounds; they run at full speed; threats, promises, every thing is +resorted to; but if God be on our side, we shall be stronger than they. +You will perhaps have another letter from me; if we have good news, I +shall dispatch an express to you, with all possible expedition; but how +I shall act, or what will become of me, in any other case, I am at a +loss to conjecture. A thousand compliments to our recluse, and to your +better half. Pray earnestly to God for our friend. + + + Saturday, December, 13. + +After having fixed and changed, and fixed and changed again, it was at +length resolved that M. d’Ormesson should give his opinion to-day; that +Sunday might pass over, and Sainte-Hélène begin anew on Monday, which +would make a stronger impression. M. d’Ormesson’s opinion was, that the +accused should be sentenced to perpetual banishment, and his property +confiscated to the king. M. d’Ormesson has by this means established +his reputation as a judge. The sentence is a little severe,[280] but +let us pray that no worse counsel may be given; it is always glorious +to be the first in an assault. + + [280] Severe as it was, the king aggravated the punishment still + more. Fouquet’s dilapidations were certainly criminal, but + Cardinal Mazarin gave less and took much more. The licentiousness + of the times, and the force of example, were an excuse, if any + excuse could be made. + + +LETTER IX. + + Wednesday, December 17, 1664. + +You languish, my dear friend, after intelligence, and so do we. I was +sorry I sent you word that judgment would be pronounced on Tuesday; +for, not hearing from me, you must have thought it was all over; but +our hopes are as strong as ever. I informed you, on Saturday, in +what way M. d’Ormesson had reported the cause, and how he had voted, +but I did not sufficiently express the extraordinary esteem he has +acquired by his conduct in this business. I have heard several of this +profession say that his speech was a master-piece; that he explained +himself with great clearness, and rested his opinion upon the most +convincing arguments: it was eloquence and grace combined. In short, +no man had ever a finer opportunity of making himself known, and no +man ever made a better use of it. If he had wished to open his door +to congratulations, his house would have been crowded; but he was too +modest for this, and kept out of the way. His colleague, Sainte-Hélène, +indignant at his success, spoke on Monday and Tuesday. He resumed the +affair weakly and miserably, reading what he had to say, without adding +any new circumstance or giving a different turn to it. He voted, but +did not assign his reasons, that M. Fouquet should lose his head for +his crime against the state; and to gain votes on his side, he played +the Normand, and alleged that it was probable the king, who alone could +do it, would remit the sentence and pardon him. It was yesterday he +performed this brilliant action, at which we were as much grieved as we +had before been satisfied with the conduct of M. d’Ormesson. + +This morning Puissort spoke for four hours, but with so much vehemence, +fury, rage, and rancor, that several of the judges were shocked; and +it is thought his intemperance will do more good than harm to our poor +friend. He even redoubled his violence toward the end, and said, upon +the subject of the crime against the state, that the example of a +certain Spaniard, who had so great a horror for a rebel that he ordered +his house to be burned, because Charles of Bourbon had passed through +it, ought to make us blush at our moderation; that we had much greater +reason to hold in abhorrence the crime of M. Fouquet; that the halter +and the gibbet were the only proper punishments for him; but that, in +consideration of the high offices he had held, and the noble families +to which he was related, he would relax his opinion, and vote with M. +de Sainte-Hélène, that he be beheaded. + +What say you to this moderation? Is it because he is the uncle of M. +de Nesmond, and was excepted against, that he conducts himself so +generously? For my part, I can scarcely contain myself when I think +of this scandalous proceeding. I do not know whether judgment will be +pronounced to-morrow, or the business be protracted to the end of the +week. We have still many difficulties to encounter: but perhaps some +one will side with M. d’Ormesson, whose opinion at present stands alone. + +But I have to beg your attention to two or three little incidents, +which are no less extraordinary than true. In the first place, then, +a comet made its appearance about four days ago. It was announced, at +first, by some women only, who were laughed at for their pains; but it +has now been seen by every one. M. d’Artagan sat up last night, and +saw it very distinctly. M. de Neuré, a great astronomer, says it is +of considerable magnitude. M. du Foin has seen it, with three or four +other learned men. I have not seen it myself, but I intend sitting up +to-night for the purpose: it appears about three o’clock. I tell you +of this, ignorant whether you will be pleased or displeased with the +intelligence. + +Berrier, in the literal sense of the word, is become mad; he has been +bled profusely, and is in a perfect frenzy. He raves of wheels and +gibbets, and has even mentioned particular trees; he declares he is +going to be hanged, and makes so dreadful a noise that his keepers are +obliged to chain him. This is evidently a judgment of Providence, and +a very just one. A criminal of the name of Lamothe, who was in prison +and about to be tried, has deposed that Messrs. de B***,[281] C***, +and B*** (they add also Puissort, or Poncet, but of him I am not so +certain) urged him several times to implicate M. Fouquet and Lorme, +promising if he would do so that they would obtain his pardon; but he +refused, and published the circumstance in court, before his trial +took place. He was condemned to the galleys. The wife and mother of M. +Fouquet have procured a copy of the deposition, and will present it +to-morrow at the chamber. Perhaps it will not be received, because the +judges are now giving their opinions; but it may be made known, and +must produce a strong impression on the court. Is not all this very +extraordinary? + + [281] M. de Boucherat was one of the commissioners: the other, + B***, is, no doubt, Berrier. + +I must tell you, also, of a heroic act of Masnau. He had been +dangerously ill, for a whole week, of a bladder complaint; he took +a variety of medicines, and was at last bled, at midnight. The next +morning, at seven o’clock, he insisted on being carried to the +chamber of justice, where he suffered the most excruciating pain. The +chancellor saw him turn pale, and said, “This is not a fit place for +you, sir; you had better retire.” “True, sir,” he replied, “but I may +as well die here.” The chancellor perceiving him ready to faint, and +finding him bent upon remaining, said, “Well, sir, retire; we will +wait for you.” Upon this he went out for a quarter of an hour, during +which time he passed two stones, of so enormous a size, that it might +be considered as a miracle, if men were deserving that God should work +miracles in their favor. This worthy man then returned into court, gay +and cheerful, every one astonished at the adventure. + +This is all I know. Every body is interested in this weighty affair. +Nothing else is talked of. Men reason, infer, calculate, pity, fear, +wish, hate, admire, are overwhelmed; in short, my dear sir, our present +situation is a most singular one; but the resignation and firmness of +our dear unfortunate friend is perfectly heavenly. He knows every day +what passes, and every day volumes might be written in his praise. +I beg you to thank your father[282] for the gratifying note he has +written me, and the charming works he sent me. I have read them, though +my head feels, alas, as if it were split into pieces. Tell him I am +delighted he loves me a little--a great deal, I mean--and that I love +him still more. I have received your last letter; alas! you overpay +so abundantly the trifling services I render you, that I remain your +debtor. + + [282] Arnaud d’Andilly, the translator of Josephus. + + +LETTER X. + + Friday, December 19, 1664. + +This is a day which gives us great hopes; but I must go back in my +story. I told you that M. Puissort had, on Wednesday, voted for the +death of our friend; on Thursday, Nogués, Gisaucourt, Feriol, and +Péraut, voted in the same way. Roquesante concluded the day, and, after +speaking well for an hour, sided with M. d’Ormesson. This morning our +hopes have sailed before the wind, for several votes that were doubtful +have been given: Toison, Masnau, Verdier, La Baume, and Catinet, and +all in favor of M. d’Ormesson’s opinion.[283] It was then Poncet’s +turn to speak; but, thinking that those who remained were almost all +disposed to be lenient, he would not begin, though it was only eleven +o’clock. It is thought he wishes to consult with some one what he shall +say, and that he is not willing to bring disgrace upon himself, and +consign a man to death unnecessarily. Such is our present situation, +and, though so favorable a one, our joy is not complete; for you must +know that M. N. is so enraged, that we expect some unjust and atrocious +proceeding in consequence, that will plunge us again into despair. But +for this, my dear sir, we should have the satisfaction of seeing our +friend, though unfortunate, yet safe, as far as his life is concerned, +which is a great thing. We shall see what will happen to-morrow. We are +now seven to six. Le Feron, Moussy, Brillac, Bénard, Renard, Voisin, +Pontchartrain, and the chancellor, have not yet voted; but of these, we +shall have by far the greater number. + + [283] Names of the committee who judged Fouquet: + + FAVORABLE. + + D’Ormesson, Le Feron, Moussy, Brillac, Renard, + Benard, Roquesante, La Toison, La Baume, Verdier, + Masnau, Catinet, Pontchartrain. + + ADVERSE. + + St. Hélène, Puissort, Gisaucourt, Feriol, Nogués, + Heraut, Poncet, Père Seguier, The Chancellor. + + + Saturday. + +Fall on your knees, sir, and return thanks to God; the life of our poor +friend is saved. Thirteen were of M. d’Ormesson’s opinion, and nine of +Sainte-Hélène’s. I am almost wild with joy. + + + Sunday evening. + +I was sadly afraid some other person would have the pleasure of +communicating to you the joyful tidings. My courier was not very +diligent; he said, on setting out, that he would sleep no where but +at Livri; he assures me, however, he was the first that arrived. +Heavens! how gratifying must the intelligence have been to you! How +inconceivably sweet are the moments that relieve the heart on a sudden +from the anguish of so painful a suspense! It will be a long time +before I shall lose the joy I received yesterday. It was, in reality, +too great--too much, almost, for me to bear. The poor man learned the +news by signals, a few moments after judgment was pronounced, and I +dare say felt it in all its extent. This morning the king sent the +Chevalier du Guet to the mother and wife of M. Fouquet, recommending +them both to go to Montluçon in Auvergne, the marquis and Marchioness +of Charost to Ancenis, and the young Fouquet to Joinville in Champagne. +The good old lady sent word to the king that she was seventy-two years +of age; that she besought his majesty not to deprive her of her only +remaining son, the support of her life, which apparently was drawing +near its close. The prisoner does not yet know his sentence. It is said +he will be taken, to-morrow, to Pignerol, for the king has changed +his banishment into imprisonment. His wife, contrary to all rule, is +not permitted to see him. But let not this proceeding abate the least +particle of your joy; mine, if possible, is increased; for I see in +this more clearly the greatness of our victory. I shall faithfully +relate to you the sequel of this curious history. I have given you what +has passed to-day; the rest to-morrow. + + + Tuesday evening. + +This morning, at ten o’clock, M. Fouquet was conducted to the chapel of +the Bastille. Foucault held the sentence in his hand. “You must tell me +your name, sir,” said he, “that I may know whom I address.” M. Fouquet +replied, “You know very well who I am; and as for my name, I will not +give it here, as I refused to give it at the chamber of justice; by +the same rule, also, I protest against the sentence you are going to +read to me.” What passed being written down, Foucault put on his hat +and read the sentence; M. Fouquet heard it uncovered. Pecquet and +Lavalée[284] were afterward separated from him, and the cries and tears +of these poor men melted every heart that was not of iron; they made so +strange a noise that M. d’Artagnan was obliged to go and comfort them; +for it seemed to them as if a sentence of death had just been read to +their master. They were both lodged in the Bastille, and it is not +known what will be done with them. + + [284] His physician and his servant. + +M. Fouquet went to the apartment of M. d’Artagnan: while he was there, +he saw M. d’Ormesson, who came for some papers that were in the hands +of M. d’Artagnan, pass by the window. On perceiving him, M. Fouquet +saluted him with an open countenance, expressive of joy and gratitude; +he even cried out to him that he was his humble servant. M. d’Ormesson +returned the salutation with very great civility, and came with grief +of heart to tell me what had passed. + +At eleven o’clock a coach was ready, into which M. Fouquet entered, +with four guards. M. d’Artagnan was on horseback with fifty +musqueteers; he will escort him to Pignerol, where he will leave him +in prison, in the care of a man of the name of St. Mars, who is a very +honest fellow: he will have fifty soldiers to guard his prisoner. I do +not know whether another servant has been allowed our friend; you can +form no idea how cruel the circumstance of taking Pecquet and Lavalée +from him appears to every one: some even go so far as to draw dreadful +inferences from it. May God preserve him, as he has hitherto done: in +him we must put our trust, and leave our friend to the protection of +that Providence which has been so gracious to him. They still refuse +him his wife, but have permitted the mother to remain at Parc, with +the abbess her daughter. L’Ecuyer will follow his sister-in-law; +he has declared that he has no other means of subsistence. M. and +Madame de Charost are going immediately to Ancenis. M. Bailly, the +attorney-general, has been turned out of office, for having said to +Gisaucourt, before judgment was pronounced, that he ought to retrieve +the honor of the Grand Council, which would be disgraced if C***, +Poncet, and himself acted together in the business. I am sorry for this +upon your account: it is a rigorous measure. _Tantæne animis cœlestibus +iræ?_[285] + + [285] Virgil’s Æneid, lib. i. + +But no, it does not mount so high as that. Such harsh and low revenge +can not proceed from a heart like that of our monarch’s. His name is +employed, and, as you see, profaned. I will let you know the rest: how +much better could we converse upon these things! it is impossible to +communicate by letter all we have to say. Adieu, my dear sir, I have +not so much modesty as you, and, without taking refuge in the crowd, +I assure you I love and esteem you highly. I have seen the comet; +its train is of a beautiful length. I partly found my hopes on it. A +thousand compliments to your dear wife. + + + Tuesday. + +I send you something to amuse you for a few minutes. You will certainly +find it worth reading. It is charity to entertain you both in your +solitude. If the friendship I bear the father and the son were a remedy +against dullness, it is an evil of which you would never have to +complain. I am just come from a place where, it seems, I have renewed +this sentiment, by talking of you with five or six persons, male and +female, who, like me, rank themselves among your friends; it was at the +Hôtel de Nevers. Your wife was of the party; she will tell you of the +delightful little comedians we met there. I believe our dear friend is +arrived, but I have had no certain intelligence. It is only known that +M. d’Artagnan, continuing his obliging manners, gave him the necessary +fur clothing, that he might pass the mountains without inconvenience. +I know also that M. d’Artagnan has received letters from the king, +and that he told M. Fouquet to keep up his spirits and his courage, +and that every thing would go well. We are always looking forward to +some mitigation, and I in particular: hope has been too kind for me to +abandon it. Whenever I see the king at our ballets, these two lines of +Tasso come into my head: + + Goffredo ascolta, e in rigida sembianza + Porge piu di timor che di speranza.[286] + + [286] Godfrey attends, and with a brow severe + But little gives to hope, and much to fear. + + Hoole’s Translation. + + +But I care not to despond: we must follow the example of our poor +prisoner; he is tranquil and gay; let us be so too. It will give me +real pleasure to see you here. I can not think your exile will be of +long duration. Assure your good father of my affection; I can not help +expressing myself thus; and let me know your opinion of the stanzas. +Some of them are admired, as well as some of the couplets. + + +LETTER XI. + + Thursday Evening, January, 1665. + +At length, the mother, the daughter-in-law, and the brother have +obtained leave to be together; they are going to Montluçon in the heart +of Auvergne. The mother had permission to go to Parc-aux-Dames to her +daughter, but her daughter-in-law has prevailed on her to accompany +her. M. and Madame de Charost are on their way to Ancenis. Pecquet +and Lavalée are still in the Bastille. Can any thing be more dreadful +than this injustice? They have given M. Fouquet another servant. M. +d’Artagnan was his only comfort in his journey. It is said that the +person who is to have the care of him at Pignerol is a very worthy +creature. God grant he may be so! or rather, God protect our friend! He +has already protected him so visibly that we ought to think he has an +especial care of him. La Forêt, his old esquire, accosted him as he was +going away. “I am delighted to see you,” said Fouquet to him; “I know +your fidelity and affection: tell my wife and mother not to despair, +that my courage remains, and that I am in good health.” Is not this +admirable? Adieu, my dear sir; let us be like him; let us have courage, +and dwell on the joy occasioned by the glorious sentence of Saturday. + +Madame de Grignan is dead.[287] + + [287] Angélique Claire d’Angennes, M. de Grignan’s first wife. + + + Friday Evening. + +It seems, by your thanks, as if you were giving me my dismissal; but I +will not receive it yet. I intend to write to you whenever I please, +and as soon as I have the verses from Pont-neuf, I shall send them to +you. Our dear friend is still upon the road: it was reported that he +had been ill; every body exclaimed, “What! already?” It was reported +also that M. d’Artagnan had sent to court to know what he was to do +with his sick prisoner, and that he had been answered unfeelingly, +that he must proceed with him, however ill he might be. This is all +false: but it shows the general feeling, and the danger of furnishing +materials with which to build whatever horrid castles we please. +Pecquet and Lavalée are still in the Bastille: this conduct is truly +unaccountable. The chamber will be resumed after the Epiphany. + +I should think the poor exiles must be arrived ere this at the place of +their destination. When our poor friend has reached his, I will inform +you; for we must follow him to Pignerol: would to God we could bring +him thence to the place we wish![288] And how much longer, my dear sir, +will be your exile? I often think of this. A thousand compliments to +your father. I have been told your wife is here: I shall call upon her. +I supped last night with one of your lady friends, and we talked of +paying you a visit. + + [288] It was the general opinion that Fouquet died in prison in + the year 1680. See _Le Siècle de Louis XIV_, and the note at the + beginning of the letter dated April 3, 1680. + + + + +LETTERS TO HER SON THE MARQUIS DE SÉVIGNÉ.[289] + + [289] This only son of Madame de Sévigné inherited neither her + genius, her virtues, nor her energy of character. She treated him + always with great kindness, but was never blind to his faults. + Her judicious management seems to have had a salutary effect on + him, after the follies of his youth were over. He reformed in a + measure, and, in 1684, married Jeanne Marguerite de Brenant de + Mauron of a noble and rich family. This alliance was a great joy + to Madame de Sévigné, and it is to the illness of this beloved + daughter-in-law that she alludes in the second letter. + + +LETTER I. + + PARIS, August 5, 1684. + +While I am expecting your letters, I must relate to you a very amusing +little history. You remember how much you regretted Mademoiselle de +***, and how unfortunate you thought yourself in having missed her for +a wife: “Your best friends had all conspired against your happiness; +Madame de Lavardin and Madame de la Fayette had done you irreparable +injury! A young lady of noble birth, great beauty, and ample fortune, +was lost to you; surely a man must be doomed never to marry, and to +die like a beggar, to let such an opportunity escape him, when it was +in his own power! The Marquis de *** was not such a fool; he has made +his fortune, and is settled. You must certainly have been born under +an unlucky planet to miss such a match! Only observe her conduct; she +is a saint; an example to all married women.” You remember all this, I +suppose, my dear son, and that till you married Mademoiselle de Mauron, +you were ready to hang yourself; you could not have done better than +you have done: but now for the sequel. + +All those amiable qualities of her youth, which made Madame de la +Fayette say she would not have her for a daughter-in-law if she could +bring millions to her son, were happily directed to the service of +religion: God was her lover, the only object of her affection, all +her desires centered in this single passion; but as every thing was +in extremes with her, her poor head could not bear the excess of zeal +and fervent devotion with which it was filled; and, to satisfy the +overflowings of her Magdalen heart, she resolved to profit by good +examples, by reading the Lives of the Holy Fathers of the Desert, +and of Female Penitents. She wished to become herself the heroine +of such admirable histories, and, full of this idea, left her house +and family about a fortnight ago, and, taking with her only five or +six pistoles, and a little foot-boy, set out at four o’clock in the +morning, and, taking a post-chaise at the skirts of the town, drove to +Rouen, fatigued and covered with mud. When she got there, she bargained +for a passage in a ship bound for the Indies: it was there, it seems, +God had called her; it was there she was to lead a life of penitence +and humiliation; it was there the map had pointed out to her an abode, +which invited her to pass the rest of her days in sackcloth and ashes; +it was there the Abbé Zosimus[290] was to visit her, and administer +to her the last holy rites before she expired. Satisfied with this +resolution, and convinced that Heaven inspired her with it, she +discharged her foot-boy, and sent him home to his own country, while +she waited with great impatience the departure of the ship: her good +angel consoled her for the delay; she piously forgot husband, daughter, +father, and relations, exclaiming: + + Çà! courage, mon cœur, point de faiblesse humaine.[291] + + [290] A famous hermit of the sixth century, who came on the + eve of every Good Friday to give the sacrament to St. Mary the + Egyptian, in a desert cave on the banks of the river Jordan. See + the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert. + + [291] Courage, my heart! disdain all human weakness. + +And now the moment arrived in which her prayers are heard; the happy +moment that was to separate her for ever from her native land; she +follows the law of the Gospel; she leaves all to follow Christ. + +In the mean time, however, her family missed her, and finding she did +not return to dinner, sent to all the churches in the neighborhood; +she was not there. They supposed she would return at night; no +tidings were heard of her. They now begin to be uneasy, the servants +are all questioned, they can give no account of her further than +that she had taken her foot-boy with her. “She must certainly be at +her country-house.” No. “Where can she possibly be?” A messenger is +dispatched to the Curé of St. Jacques-du-Haut-Pas; the curé says he has +not had the direction of her conscience for a considerable time; for, +being a simple, honest man, and having observed her full of strange +chimerical ideas of religion, he would have nothing to do with her. +Every one was now at a loss what to think; two, three, four days, a +week passed, still no news of her; at length her friends thought of +sending to some of the sea-ports, and, by mere accident, found her at +Rouen, on the point of setting out for Dieppe, and from thence to the +other extremity of the globe. They secure her, and bring her back, a +little disconcerted at being disappointed of her journey: + + J’allais, j’étais, l’amour a sur moi tant d’empire.[292] + + [292] I went, I came, impelled by mighty Love. + +A lady to whom she had imparted her design, revealed the whole to her +family, who, in despair at her folly, would fain have concealed it +from her husband, who happened to be absent from Paris at that time, +and who would have been better pleased at an exploit of gallantry in +his amiable consort, than such a ridiculous expedition as this. The +husband’s mother came to Madame de Lavardin, and, bathed in tears, +related the whole story, while the latter could scarcely refrain from +laughing in her face; and the next time she saw my daughter, asked her +if she could forgive her for having been the instrument of preventing +her brother from marrying this pretty creature. Madame de la Fayette +was also, in her turn, informed of this tragical story, and repeated it +to me with great glee. She desires me to ask you if you are still angry +with her; she maintains that no one can ever repent he did not marry a +mad woman. + +We dare not mention a syllable of this to Mademoiselle de Grignan,[293] +her friend, who for some time past, has been ruminating upon a +pilgrimage, and, as a preparative, has lately observed a profound +silence toward us all. What think you of this curious narration? Has it +tired you? Are you satisfied now? Adieu, my son. Marshal de Schomberg +is marching to Germany at the head of twenty-five thousand men, to +hasten the emperor’s signing.[294] The gazette will inform you of the +rest. Adieu. + + [293] Sister of Count de Grignan. + + [294] This relates to the truce which was on the point of being + concluded at Ratisbon, and was published at Paris on the 5th of + October following. + + +LETTER II. + + GRIGNAN, September 20, 1695. + +And so you are at our poor Rocks, my dear children, experiencing there +the sweets of tranquillity, exempt from all duties and all fatigues, +and our dear little marchioness can breathe again! Good heavens! how +well you describe to me her situation, and her extreme delicacy! I +am so affected at it, and I enter so affectionately into your ideas, +that my heart is oppressed, and tears rush into my eyes. It is to +be hoped that you will only have the merit of bearing your sorrows +with resignation and submission; but if God should appoint otherwise, +like all unforeseen events, it would turn out differently from your +expectations; I will believe, however, that this dear being will +last, with care, as long as any one; we have a thousand examples of +recovery. Has not Mademoiselle de la Trousse suffered from almost every +kind of disorder? In the mean time, my dear child, I enter into your +feelings with infinite affection, and from the bottom of my heart. You +do me justice when you say you are afraid of affecting me too much by +relating to me the state of your mind; it does indeed affect me, be +assured I feel for you keenly. I hope this letter will find you calmer +and happier. Paris seems to be quite out of your thoughts, on account +of our marchioness. You are thinking only of Bourbon and the spring. +Continue to inform me of your plans, and do not leave me in ignorance +of any thing that concerns you. + +Give me some account of the letters of the 23d and 30th of August. +There was also a note for Galois, which I desired M. Branjon to pay. +Give me an answer upon this subject. The good Branjon is married; he +has written me a very charming letter upon the occasion. Let me know +whether the match is as good as he represents it to be. The lady is +related to all the parliament, and to M. d’Arouys. Explain this to +me, my child. I also addressed a letter to you for our Abbé Charrier. +He will be sorry not to see you again; and M. de Toulon! you express +yourself well respecting this ox; it is for him to tame him, and for +you to stand firm where you are. Return the abbé’s letter to Quimperlé. + +With regard to your poor sister’s health, it is not at all good. It is +no longer her loss of blood that alarms us, for that is over; but she +does not recover her strength; she is still so much altered that you +would scarcely know her, because her stomach does not regain its tone, +and no food seems to nourish her; this arises from the bad state of +her liver, of which you know she has long complained. It is so serious +an evil that I am really alarmed at it. Remedies might be used for her +liver, but they are unfavorable to the loss of blood, which we are in +continual apprehension may return, and which has produced a bad effect +upon the afflicted part. These two maladies, which require opposite +medicines, reduce her to a truly pitiable situation. Time, we hope, +will repair this devastation; I sincerely wish it; and if we enjoy this +blessing, we shall go to Paris with all expedition. This is the point +to which we are arrived, and which must be cleared up; I will be very +faithful in my communications. + +This languor makes us say little yet of the return of the warriors. I +do not doubt, however, that the business will be concluded; it is too +far advanced: but it will be without any great joy; and even if we go +to Paris, they would set out two days after, to avoid the air of a +wedding, and visits, which they wish not to receive; _a burnt child, +etc._ + +As to M. de St. Amant’s grief, of which such a parade has been made +at Paris, it was founded upon my daughter’s having really proved by +memorandums, which she has showed to us all, that she had paid her +son nine thousand francs out of ten she had promised him; and having +in consequence sent him only a thousand, M. de St. Amant said he was +cheated, that they wanted to take advantage of him, and that he would +give no more, having already given the fifteen thousand francs of +his daughter’s portion (which he laid out at Paris in stock, and for +which he has the estates that were given up to him here,) and that the +marquis must seek for assistance in that quarter. You may suppose that +when _that quarter_ has paid, it may occasion some little chagrin; but +it is at an end. M. de St. Amant thought in himself that it would not +be advisable to quarrel with my daughter; so he came here as gentle as +a lamb, wishing for nothing but to please and to take his daughter back +with him to Paris; which he has done, though, in good truth, she ought +to have waited for us; but the advantage of being in the same house +with her husband, in that beautiful mansion of M. de St. Amant; of +being handsomely lodged, and living sumptuously at no expense; made my +daughter consent without hesitation to accept all these comforts. But +we did not see her depart without tears, for she is very amiable; and +was so much affected at bidding us adieu, that it could scarcely have +been supposed she was going to lead a life of pleasure in the midst of +plenty. She had become very fond of our society. She set out with her +father on the first of this month. + +Be assured, my son, that no Grignan intends you harm; that you are +beloved by all; and that if this trifle had been a serious thing, they +would have felt that you would have taken as much interest in it as you +have done. + +M. de Grignan is still at Versailles; we expect him shortly, for the +sea is clear, and Admiral Russel, who is no longer to be seen, will +give him leave to come here. + +I shall seek for the two little writings you mention. I rely much upon +your taste. The letters to M. de la Trappe are books we can not send, +though in manuscript. You shall read them at Paris, where I still hope +to see you, for I love you in a much greater degree than you can love +me. It is the order of nature, and I do not complain. + +I inclose you a letter from Madame de Chaulnes, which I send to you +entire, from confidence in your prudence. You will justify yourself +in things to which you well know what answer to make, and will pay no +attention to those that may offend you. I have said for myself all I +had to say, waiting for your answer respecting what I did not know; +and I added that I would inform you of what the duchess told me. Write +to her, therefore, candidly, as having learned from me what she writes +respecting you. After all, you should preserve this connection; they +love you, and have rendered you service; you must not wound gratitude. +I have said that you owed obligations to the intendant. But to you, my +child, I say, is this friendship incompatible with your ancient leagues +with the first president and the attorney-general? Is it necessary +that you should break with your old friends for the sake of securing +an intendant! M. de Pommereuil did not exact such conduct. I have also +said that you ought to be heard, and that it was impossible you should +have neglected to congratulate the attorney-general upon the marriage +of his daughter. In short, my child, defend yourself, and tell me what +you say, that I may second you. + + + + +LETTERS TO THE COUNT DE GRIGNAN.[295] + +FROM 1670 TO 1696. + + [295] Count de Grignan was of an ancient and noble Provençal + family. He was rich, and held a high office, that of + Lieutenant-General of the Government of Provence; and as the + governor, Vendôme, was rarely in his place, M. de Grignan was + virtually the governor. He had been twice married before his + union with Madame de Sévigné’s daughter, and it seems likely, + considering the fashion of those times, and indeed of French + marriages now, the mother was influenced by ambition. She found + it did not confer happiness. The count was extravagant and fond + of play, though he seems to have been a kind husband; still it + is evident that Madame de Sévigné was constrained in her letters + to him. She compliments him, professes much affection, and was + always on friendly terms with him, because he was the husband of + her darling daughter. But her letters to him never go beyond this. + + +LETTER I. + + PARIS, Wednesday, 23d June, 1670. + +You have written me the most charming letter in the world. I should +have answered it much sooner, had I not known that you were traversing +your province. I should likewise have sent you the music you desired, +but have not yet been able to procure it: in the mean time let me +tell you that I love you most affectionately, and if that is capable +of giving you the satisfaction you assure me it does, you ought to be +the most contented man in the world. You must certainly be so in the +correspondence you carry on with my daughter; it appears to me very +animated on her part, and I do not think any one can love another more +than she does you. I hope to return her to you safe and sound, with a +little one the same, or I will burn my books. I am not very skillful +indeed my self; but I can ask advice, and follow it, and my daughter on +her side takes all possible care of herself. + + +LETTER II. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Aug. 6, 1670. + +Is it not true that I have given you the prettiest wife in the world? +and can any one be more prudent, more regular in her conduct? Can any +one love you more, have more Christian sentiments, long more ardently +to be with you, or attend more strictly to the duties of her station? +It is ridiculous enough to say all this of my own daughter; but I +admire her as other people do, and perhaps more, as I am more an +eyewitness of her behavior; and to own the truth to you, whatever good +opinion I had of her as to the principal points, I never thought she +would have been so exact as she is in all the minuter ones. I assure +you, every body does her justice, and she loses none of the praises +which are so much her due. + + +LETTER III. + + PARIS, Friday, August 15, 1670. + +When I write to you so frequently, you must remember that it is on +condition that you do not answer me. Relying on this, I shall proceed +to tell you that I am heartily rejoiced at the many honors that are +conferred on you. It appears to me that the commandant has less share +in them than M. de Grignan himself; and I think I see a partiality for +you that another would not experience. + +I find there is so brisk a correspondence kept up between a certain +lady and you, that it would be ridiculous to give you any news. I +have not so much as a hope of acquainting you that she loves you: her +every action, her whole conduct, with all her little anxieties and +cares about you, tell it plain enough. I am very delicate in the point +of friendship, and pretend to know something about it, and I own to +you that I am perfectly satisfied with what I see, and could not wish +it to be greater. Enjoy this pleasure to the utmost, and never be +ungrateful. If there is any little vacant place in your heart, allow +me the pleasure of occupying it; for, I assure you, you hold a very +considerable one in mine. + + +LETTER IV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, December 10, 1670. + +Madame de Coulanges has told me several times that you love me +sincerely, that you talk of me, that you wish me with you. As I made +the first advances toward this friendship, and loved first, you may +judge how happy I am to find that you return the partiality I have so +long had for you. All that you write of your daughter is admirable, +and I had no doubt that the good health of the mother would comfort +you for your disappointment. The joy I should have had in acquainting +you with the birth of a son would have been too great--it would have +been showering too many blessings at once; and the pleasure I naturally +take in being the messenger of good news, would have been carried to +excess. I shall soon be in the same condition you saw me in last year. +I must love you extremely to send my daughter to you at this inclement +season of the year. How foolish it is to leave a good mother, with +whom you assure me she is very well satisfied, to run after a man at +the furthest end of France! I give you my word, nothing can be more +indecorous than such behavior. I do believe you were greatly concerned +at the death of the amiable duchess. I was so afflicted myself that I +stood in need of comfort while I was writing to you about it. + +My daughter desires me to acquaint you with the marriage of Monsieur +de Nevers;[296] that Monsieur de Nevers who was so difficult to be +caught, who used to slip so unexpectedly through the hands of the +fair, is at length going to wed. And whom think you? Not Mademoiselle +de Houdancourt, nor yet Mademoiselle de Grancei, but the young, the +handsome, the modest Mademoiselle de Thianges,[297] who was brought +up at the Abbaye aux Bois. Madame de Montespan[298] has the wedding +solemnized at her house next Sunday; she acts as mother on the +occasion, and receives the honors as such. The king restored Monsieur +de Nevers to all his posts, so that this _belle_, though she does +not bring him a penny of fortune, will be worth more to him than the +richest heiress in France. Madame de Montespan does wonders in every +thing. + + [296] Philip Julian Mazarini Mancini, Duke of Nevers. + + [297] Diana Gabriel de Damas, daughter of Claud Leonor, Marquis + de Thianges, and Gabriel de Rochechouart Mortemar, sister to + Madame de Montespan. + + [298] Then mistress to Louis XIV. + +I forbid you to write to me. Write to my daughter, and leave me to the +freedom of writing to you, without embarking you in a train of answers +which would rob me of the pleasure I have in acquainting you with every +little trifle. Continue to love me, my dear count. I dispense with your +honoring my motherly dignity, but you must love me, and assure yourself +that there is not a place in the world where you are so dearly beloved +as you are here. + + +LETTER V. + + PARIS, Friday, January 16, 1671. + +Alas! the poor dear child is still with me, for it was utterly +impossible for her, do what she would, to have set out the 10th of +this month, as she all along hoped and intended to do. The rains have +been, and are still, so very violent that it would have been downright +folly to have attempted it. The rivers are overflowed, the roads are +all under water, and the carriage-tracks so covered that she would have +run the risk of being overturned in every ford. In short, things are +in such a state that Madame de Rochefort, who is at her country-seat, +and is absolutely wild to be in Paris, where she is expected with the +greatest impatience by her husband and mother, does not dare to venture +till the roads are a little safer. Indeed, the winter is perfectly +dreadful. We have not had an hour’s frost, but there has been a +continual deluge of rain every day. Not a boat can pass under any of +the bridges; the arches of the Pont Neuf are in a manner choked up. In +short, it is something more than common. I own to you, that seeing the +season so very inclement, I warmly opposed her setting out. I would +not stop her for the cold, the dirt, or the fatigues of the journey, +but methinks I would not have her drowned. Yet, strong as the reasons +are for her stay, nothing could have prevailed on her had not the +coadjutor, who is to go with her, been engaged to perform the marriage +ceremony of his cousin De Harcourt,[299] which is to be solemnized at +the Louvre. Monsieur de Leonne is to stand proxy. The king has spoken +to the coadjutor upon this subject, but the affair has been put off day +after day, and may not be finished this week. My poor daughter is in +such extreme impatience to be gone that the time she now passes with +us can not be called living; and if the coadjutor does not disengage +himself from this same wedding, I think I see her ready to commit an +act of folly by setting out without him. It would be so extraordinary +to go by herself, and so happy on the contrary to have a brother-in-law +to accompany her, that I shall do all in my power to prevent their +separation. In the mean time the waters may be a little drained off. +But I can assure you that I have no sort of pleasure in her company. +I know that she must leave us. All that passes now is mere ceremony +and preparation. We make no parties, we take no amusement; our hearts +are heavy, and we talk of nothing but rains, bad roads, and dreadful +stories of persons who have lost their lives in attempting to pass them. + + [299] Mary Angelica Henrietta of Lorraine, married the 7th + February, 1671, to Nugno Alvares Pereira de Mello, Duke of + Cadaval in Portugal. + + +LETTER VI. + + THE ROCKS, Sunday, August 9, 1671. + +You alone, my dear count, could have prevailed on me to give my +daughter to a Provençal; this is truth, as Caderousse and Merrinville +will witness for me; for if I had liked the latter as well as you, I +should not have found so many expedients to prevent a conclusion, and +she had been his. Do not entertain the least doubt of my having the +highest opinion of you; a moment’s reflection will convince you I am +sincere. I am not at all surprised that my daughter does not mention +me to you; she served me just the same by you last year; believe, +therefore, whether she tells you so or not, that I never forget you. +I think I hear her scold, and say, “Ah! this is a pretense of yours +to excuse your own laziness.” I shall leave you to dispute this among +yourselves, and assure you that, though you are perhaps the most +happily formed for general love and esteem of any man in the world, +yet you never were, and never will be, more sincerely loved by any one +than by me. I wish for you every day in my mall; but you are proud; I +see that you expect me to visit you first; you may think yourself very +happy that I am not an old woman, but am resolved to enjoy the remains +of life and health in taking that journey: our abbé seems to have as +strong an inclination to go there as myself; that is one good thing. +Adieu, my dear Grignan, love me always; treat me with a sight of you, +and you shall see my woods. + + +LETTER VII. + + PARIS, June 20, 1673. + +Come hither, my son-in-law. So, then, you are resolved to send my +daughter back to me in the first coach; you are displeased with her, +and quite angry that she admires your castle, and think that she takes +too great a liberty in pretending to reside there and command in every +thing. As you say you hate every thing that is worthy of hatred, you +certainly must hate her. I enter into all your displeasure; you could +not have addressed yourself to one who feels the force of it better +than myself. But do you know, after what you have said, that you make +me tremble to hear you talk of wishing me at Grignan, and I am quite +inconsolable for that reason; for there is nothing in futurity so dear +to me as the hope of seeing you there; and whatever I may say, I am +persuaded that you will be very glad of it too, and that you love me; +it is impossible it should be otherwise; I love you so well, that the +same sentiments must necessarily pass from me to you, and from you to +me. I commend the care of my daughter’s health to you above all earthly +things; watch over it, be absolute master in all that regards it; do +not behave as you did at the bridge of Avignon; keep your authority +in this one point, and in every thing else leave her to her own way; +she is more skillful than you. Ah, how I pity you for having lost the +pleasure of receiving her letters! You were much happier a year ago; +would to God you had that pleasure now, and I had the mortification of +seeing and embracing her! Adieu, my dearest count, though I believe you +are as much beloved as any man in the world, yet I do not think that +any of your mothers-in-law[300] ever loved you so well as I do. + + [300] Madame de Sévigné was the third. + + +LETTER VIII. + + THE ROCKS, July, 1614. + +You flatter me too much, my dear count; I shall accept of but one part +of your fine speeches, and that is the thanks you return me for having +given you a wife, that constitutes all your happiness; for, indeed, +I think I contributed a little toward it: but the authority you have +acquired over her in Provence, has been wholly owing to yourself, to +your merit, your birth, and your conduct; all this I have nothing to +do with. Ah! how much you lose by my heart not being at ease! Le Camus +is delighted with me; he tells me I sing his airs extremely well: he +certainly composes divinely; but I am so dull and woebegone, that I +can learn nothing. You would sing them like an angel; I assure you Le +Camus has a high opinion both of your voice and judgment. I regret the +loss of these little accomplishments which we are too apt to neglect. +Why should we lose them? I have always said that we ought not to part +with them, and that they can never be an incumbrance; but what is to be +done with a rope round the neck? You have given my daughter one of the +most delightful journeys in the world; she is quite enchanted with it; +but then you have dragged her over hills and dales, and exposed her to +the dangers of the Alps, and to the uncivil waves of the Mediterranean; +in short, I have a month’s mind to chide you for it; but let me first +embrace you most affectionately. + + +LETTER IX. + + THE ROCKS, November 6, 1675. + +Count, I am delighted to hear that my daughter is satisfied with you. +Allow me to thank you by reason of the great interest I take in your +affairs, and which I entreat you to preserve. You can not fail of this +without ingratitude, and without doing injustice to the blood of the +Adhémars. I have read, in the Crusades, of one of these who was an +illustrious personage six hundred years ago. He was beloved as you are, +and would never have given a moment’s uneasiness to such a wife as +yours. His death was lamented by an army of three hundred thousand men, +and mourned by all the princes in Christendom. Not many pages after I +find a castellane, not altogether so ancient; he is, indeed, a mere +modern; it was but five hundred and twenty years since he made a great +figure. I conjure you, therefore, by these two noble ancestors, who are +my particular friends, to be guided by Madame de Grignan, and consider +how much you will consult your own interest in doing so. + + + + +LETTERS TO THE PRESIDENT DE MOULCEAU.[301] + +FROM 1681 TO 1682. + + [301] M. de Moulceau was President of the Chamber of Accounts + of Montpellier. It appears that Madame de Sévigné, at the time + of her journey into Provence, had found him on terms of strict + friendship with M. and Madame de Grignan, and M. de Vardes and + Corbinelli, and that she was so sensible of his worth and the + charms of his mind as to enter into a correspondence with him. + But we remark with astonishment that no mention is made of this + interesting man in any of the preceding letters. + + +LETTER I. + + PARIS, Friday, January 8, 1681. + +I should be very sorry, sir, if our correspondence were to end with +the temple of Montpellier; and all you say to this effect, in doing +the honors of your letters, by supposing the assurance of their +continuance to contain a threat to me, is so ungenerous that I should +be disposed to scold you; nor would the pretty turn you have given to +this guarantee you from my reproaches, were it not that the letter +you have written to my son makes me eager to tell you how much it has +delighted me. The neatness of the beginning has reminded me of our +merry stories, and the beauty of the verses has made me regret that you +have not continued them in good earnest. If you have done so, let us +share the pleasure of reading them. The two Latin verses you explain +are very just. In short, we esteem your verse, your prose, and all +your productions. My son is still your adorer; my daughter admires and +esteems you in the highest degree. I presume you know my own sentiments +for you, and that you see plainly there is not a family in the world +who so justly appreciates your merit. You do the same in regard to +M. de Carcassonne, by praising him as you do. The poor chevalier +has been here for these six weeks, laid up with the rheumatism. He +receives visits from persons almost as lame as himself. Those who are +left-handed show at least that their taste is right. You have returned +M. de Noailles to us in a very ill state of health. He has so violent +a diarrhœa that it seems as if he had eaten to his own share all that +he has expended at Montpellier; in short, he has been obliged to resign +the staff, the staff that was the object of his love, the staff he +went so far to assume, the staff which was the reward of all his other +services. It is natural to suppose that he must be very ill, when he +gives it himself to M. de Luxembourg. You say much in his favor when +you speak of the distinction and expansion of heart he showed you. I +wish his generosity had gone so far as to have induced him to return +our mortified friend’s visit.[302] Have I not heard you say that we +ought to respect the unfortunate? It can not be doubted that this +has increased the mortification. I pity him for having suffered this +feeling to take possession of him, and to have surmounted even his +Christian philosophy; but I pity him still more if your heart be yet +closed against him. A friend like you would be a true consolation in +all his afflictions. Our _friend_ (Corbinelli) is entirely occupied +here with his affairs. He does wonders. He is become the best lawyer +in Paris; and this qualification came to him unexpectedly along with +his peruke and brandenbourg, so that we should much sooner have taken +him for a captain of cavalry than a man of business. It is thus the +exterior often deceives us. If M. de Vardes had not thrown him into +this employment, his gratitude and inclination would lead him straight +to you. His heart is still perfect in all the moral virtues. They will +become Christian virtues when it shall please Providence, whom we still +adore, and who seems to treat you well, by the sentiments it inspires +you with. Adieu, my dear sir. We should have many things to say to +each other if we met. Who knows that some day or other we may not? Our +friend writes to you separately; so much the worse for him: he will not +know that I have the pleasure of assuring you here of my sincere and +faithful friendship. + + [302] Anne Jules, Duke de Noailles, had been nominated to the + command in Languedoc, of which the Duke du Maine, then too young + to take it upon himself, had just been appointed governor. + Preparations were making for the destruction of Calvinism. + In conjunction with the intendant d’Aguesseau, father of the + celebrated chancellor, Noailles endeavored for a long time + to engage the court to employ mild measures; and even in the + execution of the most rigorous he at first showed some humanity; + but he afterward became one of the most violent persecutors, and + his dispatches, concerted with Louvois, did not fail to excite + the king to rigors of which he too late repented. + + It appears that he thought he could not, with propriety, in the + situation he held, return the visit of M. de Vardes, then an + exile, and whom Madame de Sévigné designates by the title of the + mortified friend. + + +LETTER II. + + PARIS, April 17, 1682. + +If you are alarmed at the appearance of my neglect, be assured, sir, +it is a false alarm, and that appearances are deceitful; you do not +suffer yourself to be forgotten; Rochecourbières, Livri, and the days +in which we have seen you, are faithful guarantees of what I say; and +I am certain you believe it, and that, being so well informed on every +other subject, Christian humility does not prevent you from knowing +your own worth. It is a truth, therefore; you can not be forgotten. +Our _friend_ and I have said a thousand times, “Let us write to this +poor _reprobate_”; but by continually delaying it, we have embarrassed +ourselves by our miserable security. It seems to me as if Montpellier +has given a great deal to the jubilee. You know what a horror +Corbinelli has of this sort of parade, which he calls hypocrisy. I do +not know exactly how he has acted upon the occasion, and I have not +dared question him; but, considering the extreme respect he has for +this holy mystery, and how rigorously he enters into the preparations +for it, of which he will not abate a single iota, I have long been +tempted to say to him, _basta la meta_ (the half is sufficient); for, +in fact, if all the faithful were to follow his ideas upon the subject, +the ceremonials of religion would be done away. This is the inspiration +of God, and whether it be light or dereliction, some great change must +happen to alter his opinion. M. de Vardes has put the same question to +him, that you put to me on his jubilee; he has answered very honestly, +and has given him a _probet autem semetipsum homo_, which may occasion +great reflections. This is all I can tell you; you know and love the +soil, for, indeed, the more his heart is known, the more it must be +admired. I perceive his departure approach, and I perceive it with +sorrow; but what may not Providence reserve for M. de Vardes? M. de +Bussy is recalled after an exile of eighteen years; he has seen the +king, who received him most graciously: these are times of justice and +clemency; we not only do what is well, but what is perfectly well; I +doubt not, therefore, that this poor exile’s turn will come, and every +one else believes it so firmly that if any thing can do him injury, +it is this general report. You tell me the most agreeable truth I can +hear, in assuring me the young people will bring from Languedoc all +the politeness which failed them here.[303] They appear to me like the +Germans who are sent to Angers to learn the language; they were Germans +in manners, and if they had not learned them out of court, would seem +to conduct themselves ridiculously. It is easy to comprehend that, +having had so good a master as M. de Vardes for six months, they must +have profited more than they had done during their whole life. + + [303] This refers to the daughter and son-in-law of M. de Vardes + (M. and Madame de Rohan), who had spent six months with him at + Montpellier. + + +LETTER III. + + PARIS, May 26, 1682. + +Were you not very much surprised, sir, to see M. de Vardes slip through +your fingers, whom you had held so firmly for nineteen years? This +is the time Providence had marked out for him; in reality, he was no +longer thought of, he appeared forgotten, and sacrificed to example. +The king, who reflects and arranges every thing in his head, declared +one morning that M. de Vardes would be at court in two or three days; +he said he had written to him by the post, that he wished to surprise +him, and that for more than six months no one had mentioned his name +to him. His majesty was gratified; he wished to create surprise, +and every one was surprised; never did intelligence make so great +an impression, nor so great a noise, as this. In short, he arrived +on Saturday morning, with a head singular in its kind, and an old +justaucorps à brevet,[304] such as was worn in the year 1663. He set +one knee to the ground in the king’s chamber, M. de Chateauneuf being +the only person present. The king told him that while his heart had +been wounded he had not recalled him, but that he now recalled him with +a whole heart, and that he was glad to see him. M. de Vardes made an +admirable reply, with an air of being deeply affected, and the gift +of tears, which God has given him, produced no ill effect upon this +occasion. After this first interview, the king caused the dauphin to +be called, and presented him to him as a young courtier. M. de Vardes +recognized, and saluted him; the king said to him, laughing: “Vardes, +this is a blunder; you know that no one is saluted in my presence.” M. +de Vardes replied in the same tone: “Sire, I have forgotten everything; +your majesty must pardon even thirty blunders.” “Well, I will,” said +the king; “stop at the twenty-ninth.” The king afterward laughed at +his coat. M. de Vardes said, “Sire, when a man is so wretched as to +be banished from your presence, he is not only unfortunate, but he +becomes ridiculous.” All this was said in a tone of perfect freedom and +playfulness. The courtiers performed wonders. He came one day to Paris, +and called upon me; I was just gone out to call upon him, but he found +my son and daughter at home, and in the evening I found him at his own +house: it was a joyful meeting; I mentioned our friend to him. “What, +madam! my master! my intimate friend! the man in the world to whom I +owe the greatest obligations! can you doubt that I love him with my +whole heart?” This pleased me highly. He resides with his daughter at +Versailles. The court goes to-day; I suppose he will return, to catch +the king again at Auxerre, for it appears to all his friends that he +ought to take this journey, in which he will certainly pay his court +well, by bestowing the most natural praises on three little things--the +troops, the fortifications, and his majesty’s conquests. Perhaps our +_friend_ will tell you all this, and my letter will be only a miserable +echo; but, at any rate, I have entered into the minutiæ, because I +should like, on such an occasion, to be written to in the same style, +and I judge you, my dear sir, by myself; I have often been deceived +by others, but never by you. It is said that your worthy and generous +friend, M. de Noailles, has rendered very important services to M. +de Vardes; he is so generous that it is impossible to doubt this. M. +de Calvisson is arrived; this must either break off, or conclude our +marriage. In reality, I am weary of this tedious affair, I am not in a +humor to talk of any thing but M. de Vardes. M. de Vardes forever; he +is the Gospel of the day. + + [304] This was a blue great-coat, embroidered with gold and + silver, which distinguished the principal courtiers: an especial + permission was necessary to wear it. The fashion had passed when + Vardes returned to court. + + +LETTER IV. + + PARIS, July 28, 1682 + +You are going to hear a beautiful and an admirable story; pay great +attention to every circumstance attending it. The Prince de Conti +having expressed himself dissatisfied with the Chevalier de Lorraine, +because he had said the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon was in love with +his wife, found an opportunity of telling him, two days ago, in the +gardens of Versailles, that he would do him the honor of fighting him, +because he had offended him by his conversation, etc. The Chevalier +de Lorraine thanked him for the honor he intended him, and wished to +justify himself in what he had said; after which the prince told him +that he might have M. de Marsan for his second, who, hearing himself +named, stepped forward and accepted the office without hesitation, +desiring the Prince de Conti to allow M. de Soissons to be the other +second, as he had long been an enemy to their family. The proposal +was yielded to, the party was formed, the place appointed, the hour +chosen, and secrecy enjoined. Can not you fancy yourself in the times +of the late M. de Boutteville? Each went his way; but the Chevalier de +Lorraine went straight to Monsieur, to whom he related the whole story, +and Monsieur the next moment confided it to the king. You may guess +what he said to his son-in-law. He talked to him for more than two +hours with more of gayety than anger, but in a tone of authority, which +must have caused great repentance. Here the affair ended. The public +thinks the Chevalier de Lorraine ought to have refused upon the spot, +instead of consenting and then betraying every thing; but people of the +trade think that a refusal would have excited some angry words from the +prince, and perhaps some menace not very easy of digestion; and then +to have such a stigma cast upon him, and from a man who is so much to +be dreaded! In this way his conduct has been approved, and the more so +because his courage is unquestionable. What say you to this affair? How +does it appear to you to be handled? Alas! if that sainted princess +were to descend from heaven, and to find her dear son troubled with +such impetuosity, do you not think she would retrace her steps from +grief and affliction? You will talk this over with M. de Vardes. Would +to God that the birth of a Duke of Burgundy, which is hourly expected, +could restore him to us! + + +LETTER V. + + June 13, 1684. + +Word was sent me from Languedoc that I had a law-suit pending there, +that M. de Grignan was prosecuted with rigor, and that the judges were +strange people. I cursed them heartily, sir, and have since found that +you are one of the principals: it is _you_, therefore, I have loaded +with so many imprecations, you, whose protection I have claimed to +soften the rigor and to attend to the justice of my cause. It is to M. +d’Argouges I am indebted for the information, that this odious judge +and this highly-esteemed M. de Moulceau, are one and the same. All +the anger kindled against the first, has disappeared at the name of +the second, and the weapons have fallen from my hand, like those of +Arcabonne, when she recognized Amadis. It is to M. de Moulceau that +I address this quotation from the opera; you will suppose, that, in +virtue of your title of judge, I shall quote nothing but laws to you. +There is one established law in the world, particularly among honest +men, which is, never to condemn unheard: in this, sir, consists the +favor I have to ask you. The Prince de Conti claims an estate of which +we have been in possession for three hundred years. I know, from M. +de Corbinelli, that three hundred years is a strong title; we request +you, sir, to give us time to collect our proofs, to convince you of the +weakness of the Prince de Conti’s claim and of the solidity of ours. + + +LETTER VI. + + PARIS, November, 24, 1685. + +I have received no letter from you for more than fifteen months; I +know not whether our enraged and jealous friend[305] has intercepted +any; it is not, however, like him to do so; he would be more inclined +to assassinate you with the little sword you once used so pleasantly +in the garden of Rambouillet. We shall never forget your wisdom, nor +your folly; and I have spent a year with my son in Brittany, where we +have often mentioned you with sentiments with which your merit must +impress all hearts that are not unworthy of knowing it. We have been +twenty times on the point of writing some nonsense to you; we wished +to assure you that the _scarcity of the gratification_ did not prevent +you from being often in our remembrance, and twenty times has the demon +which turns aside good intentions perverted the course of this. At +length, sir, after having been overturned, drowned, and had a wound +in my leg, which has not been healed till within these six weeks, I +left my son, and his wife, who is very pretty, and arrived at Baville, +at M. de Lamoignon’s, on the tenth or twelfth of September, where I +found my daughter and all the Grignans, who received me with joy and +affection. To complete my happiness, my daughter will not leave me this +winter. I have found our dear Corbinelli just as I left him, except +a little more philosophical, and dying every day from some cause or +other: his freedom excites my envy; in changing his object he would +become a saint; he is, however, so kind and charitable to his neighbor, +that I really believe the grace of God is concealed under the name of +Cartesian. He converts more heretics by his good sense, and by not +irritating them by vain disputes, than others by all their controversy. +In short, every one now is a missionary, every one thinks he has a +mission, and particularly the magistrates and governors of provinces, +upheld by the dragoons: this is the greatest and most noble action that +has ever been conceived or performed. Like us, you have been surprised +with other news. What an event is the death of the Prince de Conti! +after having experienced all the perils of the Hungarian war, he came +here to die of a disorder which he scarcely felt! His lovely widow has +deeply bewailed him: she has an annuity of a hundred thousand crowns, +and has received from the king so many marks of friendship, and of his +natural affection for her, that with such assistance no one can doubt +that she will in time be comforted. + + [305] A jest which refers to Corbinelli. + + +LETTER VII. + + LIVRI, October 25, 1686. + +I have received your letter, sir; it presented itself to me as if you +wished to make me ashamed of my silence, and to believe I had been +ill, for the purpose of entering into conversation with me. It reminds +me of a very pretty comedy, in which the person who wishes to come to +an explanation with the lady who enters, makes her believe she called +him, and thus obtains a hearing. If you have the same intention, sir, +I return you a thousand thanks; and I really can not comprehend how, +esteeming you as I do, remembering you with so much pleasure, speaking +of you so readily, having so high a relish for your understanding and +your worth, _to say no more for fear of exciting jealousy_, I can, +with so many things to promote a correspondence, have left you seven +or eight months without saying a word to you. It is horrible; but +what does it signify? let us remain in this freedom, since it is not +compatible with the sentiments I have just expressed for you. I have +seen M. de la Trousse; we talked of you the moment we had embraced; +I think him, by what he told me, highly deserving the esteem you +appear to entertain for him. The stroke is at least double. I found +him perfectly acquainted with, and as sensible of your worth as you +can possibly desire. He must pass through this place on his way to +La Trousse; I shall show him your letter, and I do not think it will +induce him to change his opinion. You have now M. de Noailles with +you: you are in such favor there that I shall rejoice with you on the +pleasure you will receive at seeing a man whom you have inspired with +such lively sentiments of esteem for you. I can easily imagine the +confusion which the derangement of the states must have occasioned you; +but you can not dispense with going to Nîmes. I must say a word to you +respecting Mademoiselle de Grignan. You know, I presume, that she has +been in the convent of the Carmelites for eight months, and that she +took the habit in form, with a zeal too violent to last. In the first +three months she found herself so reduced, from the severity of the +order, and her stomach so injured by the meagerness of the provision, +that she was obliged to eat meat by compulsion. This inability to +comply with the rules, even in her noviciate, induced her to quit the +convent; but with so true a sentiment of piety, of humiliation at the +delicacy of her health, and of such perfect contempt for the world, +that the holy nuns have preserved an affectionate friendship for her; +and she, who has only changed the habit, and not the sentiment, has +no false shame, like those who grow weary of the life, and is now +with us as usual, giving us the same edification. Her residence at +Paris is fixed at the Feuillantines, where she will board with several +others; she will return there at Martinmas, when we do. What attaches +her to this house is its vicinity to the Carmelites, where she goes +almost daily, and whenever a certain princess is there. She takes from +this holy convent all that agrees with her, that is, its devotion and +conversation, and leaves the strictness of the order, to which she was +by no means equal. + +It is thus God has conducted her and gently repulsed her from the high +degree of perfection to which she aspired, to support her in another +a little inferior to it, which can not but be good, since He gives +her grace to love him alone, which is all that can be desired in this +world. But Providence has also inspired her with the most noble, just, +and praiseworthy thought it was possible to conceive for her family. +She was determined that her return to the world should not deprive +her father of what she wished to give him by her civil death: and at +quitting her convent, she made him a very handsome present of forty +thousand crowns, which he owed her; that is, twenty thousand crowns +principal, and the rest arrears and sums borrowed. This gift has been +duly estimated, not only by those who love M. de Grignan, but by +those who knew that all her property becoming personal at the age of +five-and-twenty, if she had not disposed of any thing by will, would go +almost wholly to her father; and that M. de Grignan would have eighty +thousand crowns to pay Mademoiselle d’Alerac, reckoning the principal +of the jointure at forty thousand. This is enough in conscience for +us not to pity the sister, and to rejoice that the family is relieved +from this double payment. I own I have been very much affected at +this seasonable and generous action; and I admire the goodness of her +disposition, which led her to do, without affectation, the only thing +in the world that could render her dear to her family, where she is now +received and considered as its benefactress. The understanding alone +might have wrought this effect in another, but it is best when produced +only by the heart. My daughter has contributed so well to this little +maneuvre, that she has received double pleasure from its success. +The chevalier has also done wonders; for you may suppose it has been +necessary to assist, and give a form to these good intentions. In +short, all has gone well: even Mademoiselle d’Alerac has entered into +the justice of the sentiment. I pray that God may reward her by a good +establishment, of which she still conceals from us every prospect, so +that at present there is no appearance of any thing of the kind. Do I +not weary you, sir, by this long account? you will have an indigestion +of the Grignans. To divert you, let us talk a little of poor Sévigné: +I should mention him with grief if I could not tell you that after +five months of horrible suffering from medicines which worked him to +the very bone, the poor child is at length restored to perfect health. +He has spent the whole of August with me in this retreat, which you +are now acquainted with. We were alone with the good abbé, we had +everlasting conversations, and this long intercourse has renewed +our acquaintance with each other, and our acquaintance renewed our +friendship. He is returned home with a stock of Christian philosophy, +sprinkled with a grain of anchoretism, and particularly with an extreme +affection for his wife, by whom he is equally beloved, which makes him +altogether the happiest man in the world, because he passes his life +agreeably to his own mind. We have talked of you twenty times with +friendship and delight, and twenty times have we said, “Let us write +to him, I wish it very much;” and when we have been on the point of +giving ourselves this pleasure, a demon has stepped in to distract our +attention, and turn aside our good resolutions. What is to be done, my +dear sir, in misfortunes like these? Perhaps you know the mortification +of forming good resolutions without the power of executing them. I fear +our dear jealous friend calculates upon spending the winter with you; +you will be very glad: you will laugh, and I shall cry; for I have so +perfect a confidence in him, and so true a friendship for him, that I +can not lose the society of such a man without feeling it painfully +every moment; M. de Vardes, however, whom he is delighted to follow, +will restore him to us, as he takes him away from us. I am pleased that +this attachment continues; you will act your part well, and I consider +the pleasure of seeing you, and of establishing himself again in your +heart, as a happy circumstance for our friend. M. de Vardes has not +been sufficiently particular in the information you omitted to tell me: +the surest way is to write ourselves, as you see. I do not write to you +often, but you will own when I do that it is not for nothing. + + +LETTER VIII. + + PARIS, November 26, 1686. + +I thought, sir, that in purchasing an office, nothing was necessary but +to find money; but I see that the manner of giving and receiving it is +also to be considered. You will soon be quit of this embarrassment, +from the desire you always have to contribute to your own tranquillity. +Good heavens! how rational and how worthy of you is this disposition, +and how just too is the choice of your company, when we come to speak +and point out its excellence! If we judge from appearances, it is +very superior to our parliaments. I can fancy I hear M. and Madame +de Verneuil say a thousand kind things to you, and receive yours in +return. When this princess mentions me, tell her it is impossible to be +more at her service than I am. You have a sister of Madame de la Troche +with you, who is very amiable; the eldest will place all the attentions +you pay her to her own account. I have presented your compliments to +the Chevalier de Grignan, who has received them graciously; he pointed +out to the prince[306] the silence and discretion of your departure; +nothing can exceed his concern and zeal for your interest: but we can +answer for nothing when we are left-handed. What you told me the other +day of a certain discourse he held with a certain person, makes me +exhort you to preserve the noble tranquility I have always witnessed +in you, on the success of this affair. We only returned from Livri +yesterday; the beauty of the weather, and the health of my daughter, +which has been nearly established there, made us stay out of gratitude. +In the two months we have been there, we have not been able to prevail +on our friend to give us his company for more than ten days. He has +a thousand little affairs there, to which he is accustomed: I know +nothing of his intentions with respect to his departure, I almost doubt +whether the society he meets at M. de Vardes’ will not prevent him +from setting out soon. I assure you I shall reap the advantage of his +inclination to do so with pleasure, but I only contribute toward it by +my wishes. Pray inform us how M. de Vardes finds himself in the midst +of this troop of Bohemians; I can not get this vision out of my eyes. +We shall have a thousand things to tell you of the son-in-law;[307] in +short, it struck us the other day that if Homer had been acquainted +with him, he would have chosen him in point of anger for his Achilles. +We have a new prince and a new princess here. + + [306] The Prince de Conti. It has been seen in the letter of June + 13, 1684, that M. de Moulceau was judge in a law-suit in which M. + de Grignan was engaged with this prince, and that he was moreover + attached to him for other reasons. + + [307] M. de Rohan, who had married the daughter of the Count de + Vardes. + + +LETTER IX. + + PARIS, December 15, 1686. + +I wrote you a long letter, sir, more than a month ago, full of +friendship, secrets, and confidence. I know not what became of it; it +lost its way, perhaps, in seeking for you at the States, since you +have not answered it: but this will not prevent me from telling you a +melancholy, and at the same time a pleasing, piece of intelligence: +the death of the prince, which happened the day before yesterday, +the 11th instant, at a quarter after seven in the evening, and the +return of the Prince de Conti to court, through the kindness of the +prince, who asked this favor of the king in his last moments. The king +immediately granted it, and the prince had this consolation on his +death-bed; but never was joy drowned in so many tears. The Prince de +Conti is inconsolable at the loss he has sustained. It could not be +greater, particularly as he passed the whole time of his disgrace at +Chantilly, where he made an admirable use of the understanding and +abilities of the prince, and drew from the fountain-head all that +was to be acquired from so great a master, by whom he was tenderly +beloved. The prince flew, with a speed that has cost him his life, +from Chantilly to Fontainebleau, where Madame de Bourbon was seized +with the small-pox, in order to prevent the duke, who had not had the +disorder, from nursing her and being with her; for the duchess, who +has always nursed her, would have been sufficient to satisfy him of +the care that was taken of her health. He was very ill, and at length +died of an oppression with which he was seized, which made him say, +as he was on the point of returning to Paris, that he should take a +much longer journey. He sent for his confessor, Father Deschamps, and, +after lying in a state of insensibility for twenty-four hours, and +receiving all the sacraments, he died, regretted and bitterly lamented +by his family and his friends. The king was much afflicted at the +event, and, in short, the grief of losing so great a man and so great +a hero, whose place whole ages will not be able to supply, has been +felt by all ranks. A singular circumstance happened three weeks ago, a +little before the departure of the prince for Fontainebleau. Vernillon, +one of his gentlemen, returning from the chase at three o’clock, saw, +as he approached the castle, at one of the windows of the armory, an +apparition: that is, a man who had been dead and buried. He dismounted, +and came nearer; he still saw it. His valet, who was with him, said, “I +see the same, sir, that you see.” Vernillon had been silent, that his +valet might speak of his own accord. They entered the castle together, +and desired the keeper to give them the key of the armory. The keeper +went with them; they found all the windows closed, and a silence which +had been undisturbed for more than six months. This was told to the +prince: he appeared struck with it at first, and afterward laughed at +it. Every one heard the story and trembled for the prince. You see what +the event has been. + + +LETTER X. + + PARIS, Monday, April 29, 1687. + +So you like my letters, sir. I am delighted that you do; this is one +which will be worth a hundred. My robust health was slightly attacked, +about a month ago, by a little colic, a little rheumatism, a little +vexation; consequently, all this might excuse me from writing to you; +but I had rather die than another should tell you that the Prince de +Conti is at length returned to court. He is this night at Versailles, +and the king, like a kind father, has restored him to favor, after +having exiled him for a while, to leave him at leisure to make his own +reflections. No doubt he has done so, and the court will be very gay +and splendid on the occasion. His majesty will make several chevaliers +at Whitsuntide, but it will be only a family promotion: M. de Chartres, +the Duke de Bourbon, the Prince de Conti, and M. du Maine, but no one +else: all the other candidates must be pleased to have patience; but +they will not see without mortification the adjournment of their hopes. +The Duke de Vieuville is governor to the Duke de Chartres. Madame de +Polignac, who is not Mademoiselle d’Alerac, paid a visit yesterday to +Madame de Grignan. She was brilliant, lively, elated with the grandeur +of the house of Polignac, fond of talking of the name, and all the +personages belonging to it. She has taken upon herself the fortune +of the two brothers, and has supported, generously and courageously, +the frown and disapprobation of the king. She has employed skillful +artificers; and instead of deserting the deserted, like women in +general, she has made it a point of honor to reinstate them at court. I +could answer for it that she will revive and re-establish this family. +This is what Providence had in store for them, and which prevented us +from being able to read distinctly what it had written for Mademoiselle +d’Alerac. Adieu, sir; love me, for indeed you ought. I love your mind, +your worth, your wisdom, your folly, your virtue, your humor, your +goodness: in short, all that belongs to you, and wish you, and the +pretty covey under your wing, which must afford you so much pleasure +and comfort, every possible happiness. All here salute you, except our +_friend_, who knows nothing of this hasty letter. I shall talk of you a +great deal with Bourdaloüe. Madame Dangeau, formerly _Bavaria_, is very +prudent, very amiable, and makes her husband very happy; she might have +made him very ridiculous. + + +LETTER XI. + + Wednesday, March 2, 1689. + +What things, sir, may not be said! what a period in the history of our +monarch is the manner in which he has received the king of England! the +presents with which he has loaded him in setting out from hence for +Ireland; vessels at Brest, where he now is, frigates, troops, officers; +the Count d’Avaux as embassador extraordinary and adviser, and who is +also to have the care of the troops and money; two millions on his +departure, and as much afterward as he wants! Beside these great things +he has given him his arms, his helmet, his cuirass, which can not fail +of bringing good fortune to him. He has given him arms sufficient +for ten or twelve thousand men. And as to little conveniences they +are innumerable: post-chaises admirably made, calashes, carriage and +saddle-horses, services of gold and silver, toilets, linen, camp-beds, +magnificent swords of state, swords for service, pistols; in short, +every thing of every kind that can be thought of; and in embracing him +as he bid him adieu, he said to him, “You can not say that I am not +affected at your departure: I own to you, however, that I wish never to +see you again; but if, unfortunately, you should return, be assured you +will find me as you leave me.” Nothing could be better said, nothing +more just: generosity, magnificence, magnanimity were never exercised +as they have been by his majesty on this occasion. + +We hope that the Irish war will be a powerful diversion, and prevent +the Prince of Orange from tormenting us by descents upon our coast; and +thus our three hundred thousand soldiers, our armies so well stationed +every where, will only serve to make the king feared, without any one +daring to attack him. + +This is a time of political discussion: I should very much like to +hear you talk over these great events. I inclose the opinion of a +respectable upholsterer on the questions, respecting furniture, of +Madame de Moulceau: but whatever he may say of a gold fringe and double +taffeties for curtains, and though there are many such here, nothing is +so pretty, so suitable, or so cool for the summer, as curtains made of +these beautiful taffeties single, and tapestry the same. I have seen +them at several houses, and admire them exceedingly: every thing must +be looped up, and plaited, as he has directed: for the other kind of +furniture, you must have damask or brocade. + + +LETTER XII. + + GRIGNAN, Friday, November 10, 1690. + +Where do you think I am, sir? Did you not know I was in Brittany? Our +Corbinelli must have told you so. After having been there sixteen +months with my son, I thought it would be very pleasant to spend the +winter here with my daughter. This plan of a journey of a hundred and +fifty leagues at first appeared a castle in the air; but affection +rendered it so easy, that in fact I executed it between the 3d and +24th of October, on which day I arrived at Robinet’s gate, where I was +received by Madame de Grignan with open arms, and with so much joy, +affection, and gratitude, that I thought I had not come soon enough, +nor from a sufficiently great distance. After this, sir, tell me that +friendship is not a fine thing! it makes me often think of you, and +wish to see you here once more during my life. We shall be here the +whole of this winter, and the next summer; if you do not find a moment +to come and see us, I shall think you have forgotten me. You will not +know this house again, it is so much improved; but you will find its +owners still abounding with esteem for you; and me, sir, possessing a +regard for you, capable of driving our _friend_ to madness, and worthy +of your paying us this visit. + + +LETTER XIII. + + GRIGNAN, June 5, 1695. + +I intend, sir, to bring an action against you, and thus I set about +it. I wish you to judge it yourself. I have been here for more than +a year with my daughter, for whom I have as much love as ever. Since +that time you have no doubt heard of the marriage of the Marquis de +Grignan to Mademoiselle de Saint-Amand. You have seen her often enough +at Montpellier to be acquainted with her person; you have also heard +mention of the vast wealth of her father. You are not ignorant that +this marriage was solemnized with great pomp in the château which +you know. I suppose you can not have forgotten the time when the +true esteem we have always preserved for you began. On this subject +I measure your sentiments by my own, and I judge that, we not having +forgotten you, you can not have forgotten us. + +I even include M. de Grignan, whose date is still more ancient than +ours. I collect all these things, and I find myself injured on every +side; I complain of it here, I complain of it to our friends, I +complain of it to our dear Corbinelli, the jealous confidant and +witness of all the esteem and friendship we bear you; and at length, +sir, I complain of it to yourself. Whence proceeds this silence? is it +from forgetfulness? from perfect indifference? I know not which to say: +what would you have me think? What does your conduct resemble? Give a +name to it, sir; the cause is now ready for your sentence. Pass it: I +consent that you should be both party and judge. + + +LETTER XIV. + + GRIGNAN, Saturday, February 4, 1696. + +I was right, sir, when I supposed you would be concerned at my anxiety, +and would use all the diligence in your power to relieve it. M. +Barbeirac’s prescription and your letter had wings, as you wished; and +it seems that this little fever, which appeared so low, had wings too, +for it vanished at the bare mention of M. Barbeirac’s name. Seriously, +sir, there is something miraculous in this sudden change; and I can +not doubt that your wishes and your prayers contributed to produce it. +Judge of my gratitude by their effect. My daughter goes halves with me +in all I say here; she returns you a thousand thanks, and entreats you +to give a great many to M. Barbeirac. We are happy in having no longer +any thing to do, but to take patience and rhubarb, which she finds +agree well with her. We doubt not that in this quiet state, rhubarb is +a medicine which M. Barbeirac must approve, with a regimen, which is +sometimes better than all. Thank God, sir, both for yourself and for +us; for we are certain that you are interested in this acknowledgment; +and then, sir, cast your eyes upon all the inhabitants of this château, +and judge of their sentiments for you. + + + + +LETTERS TO M. DE COULANGES.[308] + +FROM 1676 TO 1696. + + [308] Philip Emanuel de Coulanges, master of the requests, so + well known in the gay world for his wit, humor, and the singular + talent he had for a jovial song. He was cousin-german to Madame + de Sévigné. + + +LETTER I. + + PARIS, Monday, Dec. 15, 1670. + +I am going to tell you a thing the most astonishing, the most +surprising, the most marvelous, the most miraculous, the most +magnificent, the most confounding, the most unheard of, the most +singular, the most extraordinary, the most incredible, the most +unforeseen, the greatest, the least, the rarest, the most common, the +most public, the most private till to-day, the most brilliant, the +most enviable; in short, a thing of which there is but one example in +past ages, and that not an exact one either; a thing that we can not +believe at Paris; how then will it gain credit at Lyons? a thing which +makes everybody cry, “Lord have mercy upon us!” a thing which causes +the greatest joy to Madame de Rohan and Madame de Hauterive; a thing, +in fine, which is to happen on Sunday next, when those who are present +will doubt the evidence of their senses; a thing which, though it is to +be done on Sunday, yet perhaps will not be finished on Monday. I can +not bring myself to tell it you; guess what it is. I give you three +times to do it in. What, not a word to throw at a dog? Well then, I +find I must tell you. Monsieur de Lauzun[309] is to be married next +Sunday at the Louvre, to ---- pray guess to whom! I give you four +times to do it in, I give you six, I give you a hundred. Says Madame +de Coulanges, “It is really very hard to guess; perhaps it is Madame +de la Vallière.” Indeed, madam, it is not. “It is Mademoiselle de +Retz, then.” No, nor she neither; you are extremely provincial. “Lord +bless me,” say you, “what stupid wretches we are! it is Mademoiselle +de Colbert all the while.” Nay, now you are still further from the +mark. “Why then it must certainly be Mademoiselle de Crequy.” You have +it not yet. Well, I find I must tell you at last. He is to be married +next Sunday, at the Louvre, with the king’s leave, to Mademoiselle, +Mademoiselle de ---- Mademoiselle--guess, pray guess her name; he is +to be married to Mademoiselle, the great Mademoiselle; Mademoiselle, +daughter to the late Monsieur;[310] Mademoiselle, grand-daughter of +Henry the IVth; Mademoiselle d’Eu, Mademoiselle de Dombes, Mademoiselle +de Montpensier, Mademoiselle d’Orleans, Mademoiselle, the king’s +cousin-german, Mademoiselle, destined to the throne, Mademoiselle, the +only match in France that was worthy of Monsieur. What glorious matter +for talk! If you should burst forth like a bedlamite, say we have told +you a lie, that it is false, that we are making a jest of you, and +that a pretty jest it is, without wit or invention; in short, if you +abuse us, we shall think you quite in the right; for we have done just +the same things ourselves. Farewell, you will find by the letters you +receive this post, whether we tell you truth or not. + + [309] Antonius Nompar de Caumont, Marquis de Puiguilhem, + afterward Duke de Lauzun. + + [310] Gaston of France, Duke of Orleans, brother to Louis XIII. + + +LETTER II. + + PARIS, Friday, Dec. 19, 1670. + +What is called “falling from the clouds,” happened last night at the +Tuileries; but I must go further back. You have already shared in +the joy, the transport, the ecstacies of the princess and her happy +lover. It was just as I told you, the affair was made public on +Monday. Tuesday was passed in talking, astonishment, and compliments. +Wednesday, mademoiselle made a deed of gift to Monsieur de Lauzun, +investing him with certain titles, names, and dignities, necessary to +be inserted in the marriage-contract, which was drawn up that day. +She gave him then, till she could give him something better, four +duchies; the first was that of Count d’Eu, which entitles him to rank +as first peer of France; the Dukedom of Montpensier, which title he +bore all that day; the Dukedom de Saint Fargeau; and the Dukedom de +Chatellerault, the whole valued at twenty-two millions of livres. +The contract was then drawn up, and he took the name of Montpensier. +Thursday morning, which was yesterday, mademoiselle was in expectation +of the king’s signing the contract, as he had said that he would do; +but, about seven o’clock in the evening, the queen, monsieur, and +several old dotards that were about him, had so persuaded his majesty +that his reputation would suffer in this affair, that, sending for +mademoiselle and Monsieur de Lauzun, he announced to them, before the +prince, that he forbade them to think any further of this marriage. +Monsieur de Lauzun received the prohibition with all the respect, +submission, firmness, and, at the same time, despair, that could +be expected in so great a reverse of fortune. As for mademoiselle, +she gave a loose to her feelings, and burst into tears, cries, +lamentations, and the most violent expressions of grief; she keeps her +bed all day long, and takes nothing within her lips but a little broth. +What a fine dream is here! what a glorious subject for a tragedy or +romance, but especially talking and reasoning eternally! This is what +we do day and night, morning and evening, without end, and without +intermission; we hope you do the same, _E fra tanto vi bacio le mani_: +“and with this I kiss your hand.” + + +LETTER III. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Dec. 24, 1670. + +You are now perfectly acquainted with the romantic story of +mademoiselle and of Monsieur de Lauzun. It is a story well adapted +for a tragedy, and in all the rules of the theater; we laid out the +acts and scenes the other day. We took four days instead of four and +twenty hours, and the piece was complete. Never was such a change +seen in so short a time; never was there known so general an emotion. +You certainly never received so extraordinary a piece of intelligence +before. M. de Lauzun behaved admirably; he supported his misfortune +with such courage and intrepidity, and at the same time showed so +deep a sorrow, mixed with such profound respect, that he has gained +the admiration of every body. His loss is doubtless great, but then +the king’s favor, which he has by this means preserved, is likewise +great; so that, upon the whole, his condition does not seem so very +deplorable. Mademoiselle, too, has behaved extremely well on her side. +She has wept much and bitterly; but yesterday, for the first time, +she returned to pay her duty at the Louvre, after having received the +visits of every one there; so the affair is all over. Adieu. + + +LETTER IV. + + PARIS, Wednesday, Dec. 31, 1670. + +I have received your answers to my letters. I can easily conceive the +astonishment you were in at what passed between the 15th and 20th of +this month; the subject called for it all. I admire likewise your +penetration and judgment, in imagining so great a machine could never +support itself from Monday to Sunday. Modesty prevents my launching out +in your praise on this head, because I said and thought exactly as you +did. I told my daughter on Monday, “This will never go on as it should +do till Sunday; I will wager, notwithstanding this wedding seems to be +sure, that it will never come to a conclusion.” In effect the sky was +overcast on Thursday morning, and about ten o’clock, as I told you, +the cloud burst. That very day I went about nine in the morning to pay +my respects to mademoiselle, having been informed that she was to go +out of town to be married, and that the coadjutor of Rheims[311] was +to perform the ceremony. These were the resolves on Wednesday night, +but matters had been determined otherwise at the Louvre ever since +Tuesday. Mademoiselle was writing; she made me place myself on my knees +at her bed-side; she told me to whom she was writing, and upon what +subject, and also of the fine presents she had made the night before, +and the titles she had conferred; and as there was no match in any of +the courts of Europe for her, she was resolved, she said, to provide +for herself. She related to me, word for word, a conversation she had +had with the king, and appeared overcome with joy, to think how happy +she should make a man of merit. She mentioned, with a great deal of +tenderness, the worth and gratitude of M. de Lauzun. To all which I +made her this answer: “Upon my word, mademoiselle, your highness seems +quite happy! but why was not this affair finished at once last Monday? +Do not you perceive that the delay will give time and opportunity to +the whole kingdom to talk, and that it is absolutely tempting God, and +the king, to protract an affair of so extraordinary a nature as this +is to so distant a period?” She allowed me to be in the right, but was +so sure of success, that what I said made little or no impression on +her at the time. She repeated the many amiable qualities of Monsieur de +Lauzun, and the noble house he was descended from. To which I replied +in these lines of Corneille’s Polyeuctus: + + Du moins on ne la peut blâmer d’un mauvais choix, + Polyeucte a du nom, et sort du sang des rois. + + Her choice of him no one can surely blame, + Who springs from kings, and boasts a noble name. + + [311] Charles Maurice le Tellier. + +Upon which she embraced me tenderly. Our conversation lasted above an +hour. It is impossible to repeat all that passed between us, but I may +without vanity say that my company was agreeable to her, for her heart +was so full that she was glad of any one to unburden it to. At ten +o’clock she devoted her time to the nobility, who crowded to pay their +compliments to her. She waited all the morning for news from court, +but none came. All the afternoon she amused herself with putting M. de +Montpensier’s apartment in order, which she did with her own hands. +You know what happened at night. The next morning, which was Friday, I +waited upon her, and found her in bed; her grief redoubled at seeing +me; she called me to her, embraced me, and whelmed me with tears. + +“Ah!” said she, “you remember what you said to me yesterday? What +foresight! what cruel foresight!” In short, she made me weep to see her +weep so violently. I have seen her twice since; she still continues in +great affliction, but behaves to me as to a person that sympathizes +with her in her distress; in which she is not mistaken, for I really +feel sentiments for her that are seldom felt for persons of such +superior rank. This, however, between us two and Madame de Coulanges; +for you are sensible that this chit-chat would appear ridiculous to +others. + + +LETTER V. + + THE ROCKS, January 8, 1690. + +What a melancholy date, my amiable cousin, compared with yours! It +suits a recluse like me, and that of Rome suits one whose fate is to +wander uncontrolled, and “who stalks his idleness from one end of the +world to the other.” What a happy life! and how mildly has Fortune +treated you, as you say, notwithstanding her quarrel with you! Always +beloved, always esteemed, always carrying joy and pleasure along +with you, always the favorite of, and fascinated with, some friend +of consequence--a duke, a prince, or a pope (for I will add the holy +father by way of novelty); always in good health, never at the charge +of any one, no business, no ambition; but, above all, the advantage of +not growing old! This is the height of felicity. You doubt, sometimes, +whether you are not advancing, by certain calculations of time and +years; but old age is still at a distance. You do not approach it +with horror, as some persons I could name. This is reserved for your +neighbor, and you have not even the fears that are usually felt at +seeing a fire in your neighborhood. In short, after mature reflection, +I pronounce you the happiest man in the world. This last journey to +Rome is, in my opinion, the most delightful adventure that could have +happened to you, with an adorable embassador (the Duke de Chaulnes), on +a noble and grand occasion, and a visit to the beautiful mistress of +the world, whom, having once seen, we are always longing to see again. +I very much like the verses you have made on her. She can not be too +highly celebrated. I am sure my daughter will approve them. They are +well written and poetical; we sing them. I am delighted with what you +tell me of Paulina, whom you saw at Grignan in your way. I have judged +most favorably of her from your praises, and the unaffected letter you +wrote to Madame de Chaulnes, which she has sent to me. Oh, how much I +should like to take a journey to Rome, as you propose! but then it must +be with the face and air I had many years ago, and not with those I +now have. A woman, particularly, should not move her old bones except +to be embassadress. I believe that Madame de Coulanges, though still +young, is of the same opinion; but in my youth I should have been in +raptures with such an adventure. It is not the same with you. Every +thing becomes you. Enjoy, then, your privilege, and the jealousy you +excite to know who shall be favored with you. I will not waste my time +in arguing with you on the present state of affairs. All the duke’s +prosperities have given me real joy. You fear precisely what all his +friends apprehend, that, being the only one who can fill the place he +holds with equal success and reputation, he will be kept in it too +long. This apartment in your new palace creates new alarms; but let +us do better. Let us not anticipate evils; rather let us hope that +every thing will happen as we wish, and that we shall all meet again +at Paris. I was delighted with your remembrance, your letter, and your +songs. Write to me whenever it is agreeable and convenient. I take the +liberty of sending this by the embassadress; and I do more, my dear +cousin, for under her protection I take the liberty of embracing my +dear governor of Brittany, and his excellency the embassador, with real +affection, and without offense to respect. These high dignities do not +intimidate me. I am sure he still loves me. God bless him and bring +him back again. These are my wishes for the new year. Adieu, my dear +cousin; I embrace you. Continue to love me. I wish it--it is my whim, +and to love you more than you love me. But you are very amiable, and I +must not place myself on a par with you. + + +LETTER VI. + + GRIGNAN, April 10, 1691. + +We have received a letter dated the 31st of March from our dear +embassador. It came in less than a week. This expedition is delightful, +but what he tells us is still more so. It is impossible to write in +better spirits. My daughter takes upon herself to answer him, and as +I desire her to send the Holy Ghost with all diligence, not only to +create a pope,[312] but to put a speedy termination to business, that +he may be able to pay us a visit. She assures me that she will send him +word of the conquest of Nice in five days after opening the trenches +by M. de Catinet, and that this intelligence will produce the same +effect for our bulls. Tell us, my dear cousin, if we judge rightly. +We have received M. de Nevers’ epistle to the little Le Clerc of the +academy. It is accompanied by one of your letters; they always give us +great pleasure. The packet came very slowly; we know not why. There +is neither rhyme nor reason in the conduct of the post. We think the +epistle of M. de Nevers very pretty and very entertaining. In short, +all his productions have so peculiar and so excellent a character that +after them we can relish no others. The two last verses of the song he +made for you, charmed my daughter as a Cartesian. Speaking of the fine +wines of Italy, he says: + + Sur la membrane de leur sens + Font des sillons charmans.[313] + + [312] Alexander VIII. had been dead for two months and a few + days. Before he died, he distributed among his nephews all the + money he possessed, which made Pasquin say that it would have + been better for the church to have been his niece than his + daughter. + + [313] They make charming furrows upon the membrane of the senses. + +In short, it all deserves praise. For instance, can any thing be more +humorous, in his epistle, than the smallest human string wound up +to the highest pitch; and the other extreme, of a hundred crotchets +rolling in bass to the very depth of the abyss? This picture is +complete, and the opera of which he speaks is deservedly ridiculed; but +we can not comprehend why he has given his son’s name to this epistle: +_cui bono?_ and where is the wit of it? for the style resembles his own +as much as one drop of water resembles another. It would be impossible +to be deceived, and the subject can give offense to none. If you do not +explain this to us, we shall be ill. + +But let us talk of your grief at having lost this delightful +family,[314] which has so well celebrated your merit in verse and +prose, while you at the same time were so much alive to the charms of +its society. It is easy to conceive the painfulness of this separation. +M. de Chaulnes will not suffer us to believe that he shares it with +you. An embassador must be occupied only with the business of the +king, his master, who on his side has taken Mons, with a hundred +thousand men, in a manner truly heroic, going every where, visiting +every place, and indeed, exposing himself too much. The policy of +the Prince of Orange, who was taking his measures very quietly with +the confederate princes for the beginning of May, has found itself +a little disconcerted by this promptitude. He threatens to come to +the assistance of this great place. A prisoner told this to the +king, who replied, coolly, “We came here to wait for him.” I defy +your imagination to frame a more perfect and more precise answer. I +therefore, suppose, my dear cousin, that by sending you the news of +this other conquest,[315] in four days, your Rome will not be sorry to +live paternally with her elder son. God knows whether our embassador +will ably support _the identity of the greatest king in the world_, as +M. de Nevers said. + + [314] M. and Madame de Nevers. + + [315] The town of Mons surrendered to the king on the 10th of + April, the day on which this letter is dated, after a siege of + eighteen days. To Boileau is attributed the following impromptu, + addressed to a lady who required him to write some verses upon + the occasion: + + Mons était, disait-on, pucelle + Qu’un roi gardait avec grand soin; + Louis-le-Grand en eut besoin, + Mons se rendit: vous auriez fait comme elle. + + Mons was a virgin, it is said, + Kept by a king with greatest care; + Louis the Great wished for the maid, + Mons yielded: so would you, my fair. + +Let us return to our own country. Our little Marquis de Grignan went to +the siege of Nice like an adventurer, _vago di fama_ (eager for fame). +M. de Catinet gave him the command of the cavalry for several days, +that he might not be a volunteer. This did not prevent him from going +every where, from exposing himself to the fire, which was at first +very brisk, or from bearing fascines, for this is the fashion; but +what sort of fascines, my dear cousin? All from orange-trees, laurels, +and pomegranates! They feared nothing but too great a profusion of +perfumes. Never was there so beautiful or so delightful a country +seen. You can conceive what it must be from your knowledge of Italy. +This is the country M. de Savoie has taken pleasure in losing and +destroying. Can we call this good policy? We expect the little colonel +(the Marquis de Grignan), who is preparing to set out for Piedmont; for +this expedition to Nice is only _throwing the bait in expectation of +the game_. He will not be here when you pass; but do you know who will +find you here? My son, who is coming to spend the summer with us, and +to meet his governor, by following the footsteps of his mother. + +By the by, speaking of mother and son, do you know, my dear cousin, +that I have been for these ten days or more in a sorrow of heart from +which you alone have had the power of relieving me, while I have been +employed in writing to you. This has been occasioned by the illness of +the dowager Madame de Lavardin, my most intimate and oldest friend; +this woman, of such excellent and sound understanding; this illustrious +widow, who gathered us all under her wing; this person of such exalted +merit, has fallen suddenly into a sort of apoplexy; she is drowsy, +paralytic, and feverish; when she is roused, she talks rationally, but +she soon relapses; in short, my child, my friendship could not sustain +a greater loss; I should feel it keenly. The Duchess de Chaulnes writes +to me respecting her, and is very much grieved at her illness; Madame +de la Fayette still more so. Indeed, her merit is so well known, that +every one is interested as in a public loss; judge, then, what her +friends must feel. I am informed that M. de Lavardin is very much +affected; I hope it is true; it is an honor to him to grieve for a +mother to whom he is in a manner indebted for whatever he is. Adieu, my +dear cousin; my heart is full, I can write no more. If I had begun with +this melancholy subject I should not have had the courage to chat with +you as I have done. + +I shall say no more respecting the Temple, I have given my opinion of +it already; but I shall never like or approve it. Not so with regard to +you, for I love you, and shall love and approve you always. + + +LETTER VII. + + GRIGNAN, July 24, 1691. + +“Short reckonings make long friends:” I have received all your letters, +my dear neighbor; that of May 20, that of June 4, about which you were +uneasy, and the last of July 4; with the epistle M. de Nevers sent +you from Genoa, and, in short, all the works of this duke, who is the +true son of Apollo and the Muses. You ask me if I do not treasure all +his productions: indeed I do; I have not lost a single one; they have +highly amused us, as well as every one who has passed this way whom we +have deemed worthy of them. The last epistle is rather above Paulina’s +capacity; but we have had the pleasure of finding ourselves capable +of explaining to her what she did not understand. With respect to +the description of the dinner, it is suited to the taste of the best +guests; and it made M. de Grignan’s, the Chevalier de St. André’s, my +son’s, and all our mouths water. I never saw so excellent a repast. I +have just placed it among the other wonders of this duke. To conclude +the article of letters: when you have received that of the 25th of +June, and this, you will have received all. + +Let us now come to yours, the beginning of which had nearly brought +me to tears. How can I fancy you confined to your bed, afflicted in +every limb and every joint of your poor little body; and your nerves +so affected that you can neither stir hand nor foot? This is enough +to drive us to despair; but to see that all this produces a song upon +your melancholy situation, accompanied by another, the most humorous +in the world, on a thing which you see daily; you may suppose, my poor +cousin, this is a real comfort to our hearts, as it proves that the +vital principle is not attacked. This fit of the gout has only given +you the blue devils, and made you look forward to futurity under the +most melancholy aspect in which it can present itself to you; but this +situation, so violent, and so contrary to your disposition, has not had +leisure to make any impression on you. + +In spite of St. Peter, which is past, and of the predictions of the +physicians, a pope is made, and the cardinals will leave the conclave +without the event having cost them their lives; on the contrary, they +will recover their health and their liberty. It is not the first +time that gentlemen of the faculty have erred in judgment. The Duke +de Chaulnes has written us a letter by the courier, dated the 15th, +which brings the news of the exaltation: he thinks of nothing now but +of coming to see us; he will be with us a fortnight; and though the +pope[316] be a Neapolitan, he maintains that the affair of the bulls is +so well disposed of, that it will be the signal gun for saddling horses +and setting out for Grignan; this hope gives us great pleasure, and +very much abridges the share I wished to take in all your melancholy +calendars; it is at an end, however, my dear cousin; you are cured, you +are set out, you are on the point of arriving here. I embrace you a +thousand times. Let us talk a little of the table in the embassador’s +closet, of the chaos of letters, of the deep abyss of bags, of the +confusion of papers, from which, like the infernal regions, when once +a poor letter is thrown into it, it never comes out again. It was a +miracle, indeed, that mine was found; but it was my daughter’s letter, +in which I had written; she had a great inclination to be offended at +being thus lost and confounded with the rest; but I appeased her in +the best way I could, by assuring her that the embassador read what +she wrote to him with the deepest attention, and that it was upon my +lines he had not condescended to throw a single glance: and it is the +fact; for he said I had not written to him. She replied, “But as it was +my letter, why consign it to this chaos?” To this I knew not what to +answer; the embassador will think of it, if he pleases. It is true that +my poor letters have only the value you give to them, by reading them +as you do; for they have their tones, and are unbearable when they are +brayed out, or spelled word by word: be this as it may, my dear cousin, +you give them a thousand times more honor than they deserve. + + [316] Cardinal Pignatelli was elected pope on the 12th of July, + and took the name of Innocent XII. + + +LETTER VIII. + + GRIGNAN, July 26, 1691. + +I am so astonished at the news of the sudden death of M. de +Louvois,[317] that I know not how or where to begin the subject to +you. This great minister then, this man of consequence, who held so +exalted a situation, whose _le moi_ (_I_), as M. Nicole says, was so +extensive; who was the center of so many things, is dead: how many +affairs, designs, projects, secrets, interests to unravel, wars begun, +intrigues, and noble moves at chess, had he not to make and to conduct! +“O God, grant me a little time; I want to give check to the Duke of +Savoy, check-mate to the Prince of Orange.” No, no, not a moment, a +single moment. Can we reason upon this strange event? indeed we can +not; it is in our closet we must reflect upon it. This is the second +minister[318] you have seen expire since you have been at Rome: nothing +is more different than the manner of their death; but nothing more +similar than their fortunes, and the hundred thousand chains which +attached them both to the world. + + [317] The death of Louvois, as it is well known, has been the + subject of many discussions. It has been said that he was + poisoned. Saint Simon affirms it; and his account charges the + king with this crime. Voltaire says, with reason, that this is + repugnant to every idea that has been formed of the character + of Louis XIV. Of those who felt like him, some said that it was + a revenge of the Duke de Savoy’s; others, that Louvois poisoned + himself. The last opinion deserves to be inquired into. It is + agreed on all sides that he was on the eve of disgrace, that he + expected harsh treatment, that he spoke of death as preferable + to this fall, and that he was a violent and passionate man, whom + no scruple restrained. Under all these circumstances, there is + nothing very improbable in his suicide. But it appears that this + fact was never cleared up; and it is an inconvenience to which + we are easily resigned. It is certain, however, that the king + made no concealment that the event of his death happened very + opportunely to draw him out of difficulties; it is also certain + that the death of this man, who had done so much harm, was a + great loss. The epitaph of Louvois, which appeared at that time, + gave a good idea of the public opinion respecting him: + + Ici gît, sous qui tout pliait, + Et qui de tout avait connaissance parfaite; + Louvois que personne n’aimait, + Et que tout le monde regrette. + + Here lies one to whom all yielded; + And who knew of all the bent; + Louvois, who sense with power wielded, + Whom no one loved, and all lament. + + [318] With M. de Seignelai. + +With regard to the great objects which ought to lead you to God, you +say you find your religious sentiments shaken by what is passing at +Rome and in the conclave. My poor cousin, you are deceived; I have +heard that a man of very excellent understanding drew quite a contrary +inference from what he saw in that great city; he concluded that the +Christian religion must necessarily be all holy and all miraculous to +subsist thus, of itself, in the midst of so many disorders and so much +profanation. Do then as he did, draw the same inferences, and believe +that this very city was formerly washed with the blood of an infinite +number of martyrs; that in the first centuries, all the intrigues of +the conclave ended in choosing from among the priests him who appeared +to have the greatest zeal and strength to endure martyrdom; that there +were thirty-seven popes who suffered, one after the other; and that the +certainty of their fate had no influence over them to make them fly +from or refuse a situation to which death was attached, and a death +of the most horrible nature. You have only to read this history to be +convinced that a religion, subsisting by a continual miracle, both in +its establishment and its duration, can not be an invention of men. Men +do not think thus: read St. Augustin in his _Vérité de la Religion_ +(Truth of Religion); read Abbadie,[319] very different indeed from that +great saint, but not unworthy of being compared with him when he speaks +of the Christian religion. Ask the Abbé de Polignac what he thinks of +this book. Collect all these ideas and do not judge so hastily: believe +that whatever intrigues may take place in the conclave, it is the Holy +Ghost that always makes the pope. God works all, he is the sovereign +of all, and this is what we ought to think: I have read this sentiment +in a good book: “What evil can happen to a man who knows that God does +all things, and who loves whatever God does?” And with this, my dear +cousin, I take my leave. + + [319] Author of a book on the Truth of the Christian Religion. He + was a Protestant. + + +LETTER IX. + + GRIGNAN, August 14, 1691. + +Come hither, that I may embrace you, caress you, and tell you that my +daughter, whose approbation you so highly value, is delighted with your +two little couplets on the holy father. Nothing, in my opinion, could +be better imagined, or better executed: we have all been in raptures. +But, my dear cousin, the Duke de Chaulnes, in his letter of July 20, +says not a word respecting M. de Louvois;[320] his death seems to me +to demand an exclamation or two. His hopes are very sanguine as to the +new pope, though not the work of his hands; all our interest is that he +will give us our bulls, and that you will come and pay us a visit; that +day seems to me to be at our finger’s end, so swiftly does time pass. +You will find my son at Marseilles, who will be there to meet you; +this is an attention he owes to our governor, by way of amends for not +having gone to Rome. + + [320] M. de Louvois died on the 16th July, and it is not + surprising that the news of this event should not have reached M. + de Chaulnes on the 20th. + +I long to know what you thought of the return of M. de Pomponne to +the ministry: it was to us a subject of real joy; M. and Madame de +Grignan had no doubt of this event from a truly prophetic spirit; but +I wished it too much even to listen to them; and when Madame de Vins +sent the news to my daughter, I was so surprised and so transported +that I knew not what I heard: at length I comprehended that it was a +very agreeable truth, not only to me but to the rest of the world, for +you can not form an idea how generally his return is approved. I have +paid my compliments to Madame de Chaulnes and our embassador, on the +choice of M. de Beauvilliers; this is another strange man with whom the +king augments his council; which is now perfect, like every thing his +majesty does. He is the cleverest man in his kingdom, he is never idle, +and provides for every thing; nothing remains but to pray to God that +he may be preserved to us. The dauphin enters into all the councils; do +you not also approve this? it is truly associating him with the empire. +We have subjects for admiration every where. If your good pope would +make peace, it would be an act worthy of himself, and would place us in +a situation to praise, with a more tranquil mind, all the wonders we +see. Adieu, my dear cousin, you know how I am disposed toward you. M. +de Barillon and M. de Jannin are dead; we shall die too. + + +LETTER X. + + PARIS, February 3, 1695. + +Madame de Chaulnes sends me word that I am fortunate in being here +in the sunshine; she thinks all our days are woven with silk and +gold. Alas! my dear cousin, it is a hundred times colder here than +at Paris; we are exposed to every wind; it is the south wind, the +north-east wind, it is the devil; it is who shall insult us; they fight +among themselves which shall have the honor of confining us to our +apartments. All our rivers are taken; the Rhône, the furious Rhône, can +not resist them. Our writing-desks are frozen, our benumbed fingers can +no longer guide our pens. We breathe nothing but snow; our mountains +are charming in their excess of horror. I wish every day for a painter +who could take a good representation of these frightful beauties; +such is our situation. Relate it to our good Duchess de Chaulnes, who +fancies us to be in meadows with parasols, walking under the shadow +of orange-trees. You have formed an excellent idea of the rural +magnificence of our wedding;[321] every one has shared in the praises +you bestow, but we know not what you mean by the wedding-night. Alas, +how coarse you are! I was charmed with the manner and modesty of the +evening; I informed Madame de Coulanges so: the bride was conducted to +her apartment; her toilet, her linen, her night-clothes, were brought; +she took off her head-ornaments, was undressed, and went to bed. We +knew nothing of who came in or went out of her room; every one retired +to his own apartment. We arose the next morning without going to the +bride-folks. They also arose, dressed themselves. No foolish questions +were asked them: Are you my son-in-law? are you my daughter-in-law? +They are what they are. No gay breakfast was prepared; every one ate +and did as he pleased; every thing was conducted in silence and with +modesty; there were no uncomfortable looks, no confusion, no improper +jests; this is what I had never seen before, and what struck me as +being the most becoming and the pleasantest thing in the world. The +cold freezes me, and makes the pen fall from my hands. Where are you? +at St. Martin’s, at Meudon, or at Baville? What happy spot contains +the youthful and amiable Coulanges? I have just been railing against +avarice to Madame de Coulanges. It gives me great joy, from the riches +Madame de Meckelbourg has left, to think I shall die without any ready +money, but at the same time without debts; this is all I ask of God, +and is enough for a Christian. + + [321] The marriage of the Marquis de Grignan. + + +LETTER XI. + + GRIGNAN, May 28, 1695. + +I have received your two letters from Chaulnes, my dear cousin! we +found some verses in them that delighted us; we have sung them with +extreme pleasure, and more than one person will tell you so, for you +must not be ignorant of the good taste we preserve here for every +thing you do. With respect to the gayety and charms of your mind, you +certainly advance, and go back with respect to your register; this +is all that can be wished, and is what naturally lays the foundation +of the desire every one has for your society. To whom are you not +welcome? with whom do you not accommodate yourself? and then, which is +best of all, your conduct in not obtruding yourself, and in allowing +room to the wish of seeing you, gives the true relish to your vanity. +The proverb must be forcible indeed, if it be true, that you are not +a prophet in your own country. I often receive news from Madame de +Coulanges; her correspondence is very entertaining, and her health +ought no longer to create alarm, especially having the resource which +we must have, that when she is tired of medicine, and undeceived with +respect to it, the most salutary remedy will be to take no more. + +But to return to Chaulnes. I know its beauty, and can discern from +hence how dull our good governor is there. It is in vain for you to +give the best reasons in the world; he will constantly answer, “I do +not know:” and if you go on, he will silence you by saying, “I shall +die.” This is what will happen, no doubt, till he has acquired a taste +for repose, and for the charms of a quiet life. Habits are too strong, +and the agitation attached to command and to a high station has made +too deep an impression to be easily effaced. I wrote to this duke upon +the deputation of my son, and I jested with him, saying things I did +not believe respecting his solitude at Chaulnes; I treated him like a +true hermit, holding conversations with the beautiful fountain called +_the solitary_. I supposed his repasts suited to his situation, and +that dates and wild fruits would compose all his banquets; I pitied his +house-steward, and in saying all these trifles, I found that I stood +in great need of you; and that the braying[322] I know him to possess, +would make strange work with my poor letter. You came to my assistance, +as I supposed you would; and you are now in another country, where +you feel all the delight of paternal love; what say you? you could +not have believed it to be so strong if you had not experienced it; +it would have been a great pity if all the good instructions you have +given to little children had not been followed by some child of your +imagination. The little Count de Nicei is a master-piece,[323] and the +singularity of being invisible makes him superior to the rest. You make +so good a use of this story that I scarcely dare recall you; you have +immortalized it; nothing can be prettier than these couplets; we sing +them with pleasure. We have had a delightful introduction of spring; +but, for two days past, the rain, which we do not like here, has been +as violent as in Brittany and Paris, so that we have been accused of +having brought it into fashion; it interrupts our walks, but it does +not silence our nightingales; in short, my dear cousin, our days pass +too quickly. We dispense with great bustle, and with the great world; +our society, however, would not displease you; and if ever a puff of +wind should blow you to this _royal_ château--. But this is a chimera, +we must hope to see you again elsewhere in a more natural and probable +situation; we have yet a summer before us for writing to each other. + + [322] M. de Chaulnes read as ill as M. de Coulanges read well. + + [323] The whole of this pleasantry is explained in some songs + of M. de Coulanges to Madame de Louvois, and turns upon a story + which had come to them from Provence. + + +LETTER XII. + + GRIGNAN, August 6, 1695. + +I shall write you only a very short and poor letter, my dear friend, +to thank you for yours, which has given us great pleasure. I shall +never change my opinion with respect to long and circumstantial +details, while I read yours. We are charmed with Navarre;[324] the +situation, the building, like that of Marly, which I have never seen, +the excellent society--all this convinces me that the house ought to +rank with yours; as for Choisy, it is made on purpose for you. Your +couplets inform all who pass, of the nobility of its origin and its +fate; but you deserve to be exalted to the skies by the couplet, in +which you humble yourself to the foot of the mount _with the coachman +of Verthamont_;[325] any man who will place himself up to the ears in +this mud, and will croak such pretty couplets, deserves the situation +M. Tambonneau gives him. The couplet ranks with the best you have ever +made; the countess, whose approbation you always ask, entreats you +to believe it; it is charming, it surprises; in short, croak on, and +communicate your croakings to us. + + [324] A château near Evreux, which belonged to the Duke de + Bouillon. + + [325] A famous coachman, who made all the songs of the Pont-neuf. + +But, good God, what an effusion of blood at Namur! how many tears! how +many widows! and how many afflicted mothers! And they are cruel enough +to think this is not sufficient, and they wish that Marshal de Villeroi +had also beaten, killed and massacred poor M. de Vaudemont?[326] what +madness! I am uneasy respecting your nephew de Sanzei; I pity his +mother; it is said that she is coming nearer to wait the event of the +siege, which appears to us to be worthy of the fury of the marshal (de +Boufflers) who defends it; no opportunity of fighting is lost. Our +Germany is very quiet; our principal anxiety is for her.[327] Adieu, +my dear cousin; did I not promise you that my letter would be dull? +We have sometimes sorrows, and we know why; I speak of them to Madame +de Coulanges. My daughter sends you her remembrances; you have highly +amused her by your songs and your chat, for your letter is a true +conversation. I have scattered your remembrances in every apartment; +they have been received, and are returned with zeal. I embrace you, my +amiable cousin, and exhort you still to spend your time delightfully in +honor of polygamy,[328] which, instead of being a hanging-case to you, +constitutes all the pleasure and happiness of your life. + + [326] M. de Vaudemont made a noble retreat before Marshal de + Villeroi, who had lost time. + + [327] On account of the Marquis de Grignan, who was in the army + of Germany. + + [328] A jest on the subject of M. de Coulanges’ _second wife_, + Madame de Louvois. + + +LETTER XIII. + + GRIGNAN, October 15, 1695. + +I have just been writing to our Duke and Duchess de Chaulnes; but I +excuse you from reading my letters; they are not worth reading. I defy +all your emphasis, all your points and commas to produce any good +effect, therefore leave them as they are; besides, I have spoken of +several little things to our duchess, which are not very entertaining. +The best thing you could do for me, my good cousin, would be to send +us, by some subtle magic, all the blood, all the vigor, all the health, +and all the mirth which you have to spare, to transfuse it into my +child’s frame. For these three months she has been afflicted with a +species of disorder which is said to be not dangerous, and which I +think the most distressing and the most alarming of any. I own to you, +my dear cousin, that it destroys me, and that I have not fortitude +enough to endure all the bad nights she makes me pass; in short, her +last state has been so violent that it was necessary to have recourse +to bleeding in the arm; strange remedy, which makes blood to be shed +when too much has been shed already; it is burning the taper at both +ends; she has told me so, for, in the midst of her weakness and change, +nothing can exceed her courage and patience. If we could regain +strength, we should soon take the road to Paris; it is what we wish, +and then we would present the Marchioness of Grignan to you, with whom +you must already begin to be acquainted on the word of the Duke de +Chaulnes, who has very gallantly forced open her door, and has drawn a +very pleasing likeness of her. Preserve your friendship for us, my dear +cousin, however unworthy of it our sorrow may make us; we must love our +friends with all their faults; it is a great one to be ill: God grant, +my dear friend, that you may escape it. I write to Madame de Coulanges +in the same plaintive tone, which will not quit me; for how is it +possible not to be as ill in mind as this countess, whom I see daily +before my eyes, is in body? Madame de Coulanges is very fortunate in +being out of the scrape. It seems to me as if mothers ought not to live +long enough to see their daughters in such situations; I respectfully +complain of it to Providence. + + +LETTER XIV. + + GRIGNAN, March, 1696. + +I know not how the affairs of England go on; the Countess de Fiesque is +the only one who has a good opinion of them, and is still certain that +they will end well. I have taken three meals at the Marsans’, which +agree very well with me; I shall put their whole family into my basket. +M. de Marsan always reminds his wife that she is no longer Madame de +Seignelai; and that, being only Madame de Marsan, she must accommodate +herself to all his friends, of whatever form or rank, and let every +one live after his own way. I am to go on Saturday to Saint Martin’s, +and to-morrow I shall go to Versailles, to condole with my friend, and +pass the day with Mesdames de Villeroi and Mademoiselle de Bouillon, +whom I shall find there. Madame de Guise has ordered her funeral to be +conducted without ceremony, and has preferred the burial-ground of the +Carmelites of the great convent, to all the pomp of Saint Denis, with +the kings her ancestors. She was only forty-nine years of age. Father +de la Ferté will preach again on Wednesday; and on Friday, without +saying a word, he will set off for Canada. If he were not to take his +departure in this way, it would cause a tumult, he is so much liked by +the populace; the Church of the Jesuits was too small for the multitude +which crowded to his sermons. + +I have just been dining at the Hôtel de Chaulnes, where I met the +Marquis de Grignan; he can tell you that I was not in a very ill +humor. Madame (La maréchale) de Villeroi yesterday announced to Madame +de Saint-Géran the death of her husband; and the duke has taken upon +himself the charge of the funeral this evening. He will probably be +the privileged creditor on the inheritance, for he will advance, no +doubt, what is necessary for the ceremony. This is all I know, madam; +I, therefore, conclude, and take leave of you till my return from Saint +Martin’s, which will be when it pleases God. Madame de Coulanges is +free from the colic; she only complains that she has sometimes the +_little colic_, which does not prevent her from eating and drinking, +and associating with the young. She is very partial to the Chevalier +de Bouillon and Count d’Albret, and she was delighted to meet M. de +Marsan again, with whom she has renewed a snuff acquaintance. Winter +is come back within these two days: it has snowed and frozen in such a +manner, that we must expect no apricots; I fear the peaches also will +suffer. Madame de Frontenac has a violent cold and fever; the fashion +of dying alarms us for her. Our poor D’Enclos has also a slow fever, +which returns slightly every evening, with a sore throat, that makes +her friends uneasy; in short, I very much fear that the work of death +is not at an end. + + +LETTER XV.[329] + + GRIGNAN, March 29, 1696. + + [329] As the death of Madame de Sévigné happened in the beginning + of April, it is probable that this letter is the last she wrote. + We consider its recovery as a fortunate circumstance. + +When I have no other employment I weep and bewail aloud the death +of Blanchefort, that amiable, that excellent youth, who was held +up to all our young people as a model for imitation. A reputation +completely established, valor acknowledged and worthy of his name, +a disposition happy for himself (for a bad disposition is a torment +to its possessor), for his friends, and for his family; alive to the +affection of his mother and his grandmother, loving them, honoring +them, appreciating their merit, taking pleasure in proving to them +his gratitude, and thereby repaying them for their extreme affection; +uniting good sense with a fine person; not vain of his youth, as +most young people are, who seem to think themselves paragons of +perfection--and this dear boy, with all his perfections, gone in a +moment, like a blossom borne away by the wind, without being in battle, +without having an opportunity to fight, and without breathing even an +unhealthy air! Where, my dear cousin, can we find words to express +our ideas of the grief of these two mothers, and to convey to them an +adequate sense of what we feel here? We do not think of writing to +them, but if at any time you should have an opportunity of mentioning +my daughter, and me, and the Grignans, make known our regret at +this irreparable misfortune. Madame de Vins has lost every thing, I +own;[330] for when the heart has chosen between two sons, one only is +seen. I can talk of nothing else. I bow in reverence to the holy and +modest tomb of Madame de Guise, whose renunciation of that of the kings +her ancestors, merits an eternal crown. I think M. de Saint-Géran happy +indeed, and so I think you, for having to comfort his wife; say to her +for us every thing you think proper. And as for Madame de Miramion, +that mother of the church, she will be a public loss. Adieu, my dear +cousin, I can not change my tone. You have finished your jubilee. The +delightful trip to Saint Martin’s has closely followed the sackcloth +and ashes you mentioned to me. The happiness M. and Madame de Marsan +are now enjoying well deserves that you should sometimes see them, and +put them into your basket; and I deserve a place in that in which you +put those who love you; but I fear that for them you have no basket. + + [330] Madame de Vins had lost an only son. + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM VARIOUS LETTERS.[331] + + [331] These selections from letters necessarily omitted in our + plan, comprise nearly, if not quite all, that is of literary + or moral value in the whole series. We are thus able to give a + more distinct impression of Madame de Sévigné’s character as a + mother and a Christian. Besides the many amusing anecdotes here + collected, her sentiments on important duties of life are of + much value; and her religious feelings are deserving distinct + recognition. It will be seen that she studied her Bible, and + strove to follow its divine teachings; like Fénelon, though + nominally a Romanist, or rather Jansenist, she had in her heart + and mind protested against the corruptions of that Church. Her + clear insight, just principles, and heart-piety are remarkably + displayed in these extracts. + + +A SUPPER.--We supped again yesterday with Madame de Scarron and the +Abbé Têtu, at Madame de Coulanges’. We had a great deal of chat, in +which you had your share. We took it into our heads to conduct Madame +de Scarron home, at midnight to the very furthest end of the Faubourg +St. Germain, a great way beyond Madame de la Fayette’s, almost as far +as Vaugirard, and quite in the country, where she lives in a large +handsome house--the entrance of which is forbidden to every one--with +a large garden, and beautiful and spacious apartments; she has an +equipage, servants, and a genteel table; dresses neatly, but elegantly, +in the style of a woman who associates with people of rank; she is +amiable, handsome, good, free from affectation, and, in a word, an +excellent companion. We returned very merrily, in the midst of a number +of flambeaux, and in full security from thieves. + + +PORT ROYAL.--That Port Royal is a perfect Thebais, a very paradise; a +desert where all that is left of true Christian devotion is retired. +The whole country for a league round breathes the air of virtue and +holiness. The nuns are angels upon earth. Mademoiselle de Vertus +is wearing out the remains of a miserable life there, in the most +excruciating pain, but with inconceivable resignation. The very meanest +of the inhabitants have a virtuous serenity in their countenances, and +a modesty of deportment to be met with in no other place. I own to +you I was delighted to see this divine solitude of which I have heard +so much; it is a frightful valley, calculated to inspire a taste for +religion. + + +HINTS ABOUT CHILDREN.--A word about the little Marquis (de +Grignan);[332] I beseech you not to be under any apprehension about +his timidity. Remember that the charming Marquis (de la Châtre) used +to tremble and quake till he was twelve years old, and that La Troche, +when young, was so terrified at the least thing, that his mother +could not bear to have him in her sight; and yet you see how much +they have distinguished themselves since: let that comfort you. Fears +of this kind are the mere effect of childhood, and when childhood is +surmounted, instead of being afraid of raw-head and bloody bones, +these personages are afraid only of being thought fearful, are afraid +of being less esteemed than others, and that is sufficient to make +them brave, and kill their thousands and ten thousands: let me then +again beg you to make yourself easy on that score. As to his shape, +it is another matter: I would advise you to put him into breeches, +and then you will see better how his legs go on, and whether they are +straightened as he grows. You must let him have room to stir himself, +and unfold his little limbs: but you must put on him a pretty tight +vest, which will confine his shape. I shall receive some further +instructions, however, on this subject, which I will not fail to +transmit to you. It would be a fine thing indeed to see a Grignan +with a bad shape! Do you not remember how pretty he was in his +swaddling-clothes? I am no less uneasy than yourself at this alteration. + + [332] Grandson of Madame de Sévigné. + + +REFLECTIONS.--What you say of death taking the liberty of interrupting +fortune is admirable; this ought to comfort those who are not in the +number of her favorites, and to diminish the bitterness of death. You +ask me if I am religious: alas! my dear, I am not sufficiently so, for +which I am very sorry; but yet I think I am somewhat detached from +what is called the world. Age and sickness give us leisure enough for +serious reflection; but what I retrench from the rest of the world +I bestow upon you, so that I make but small advances in the path of +detachment; and you know that the law of the game is to begin by +effacing a little what is dearest to our heart. + + +VERSAILLES IN 1676.--I was on Saturday at Versailles with the Villars. +You know the ceremony of attending on the queen at her toilet, at mass, +and at dinner; but there is now no necessity of being stifled with the +heat, and with the crowd, while their majesties dine: for at three, +the king and queen, monsieur, madame, mademoiselle, the princes and +princesses, Madame de Montespan, and her train, the courtiers, and +the ladies, in short the whole court of France, retire to that fine +apartment of the king’s which you know. It is furnished with the utmost +magnificence; they know not there what it is to be incommoded with +heat; and pass from one room to another without being crowded. A game +at reversis gives a form to the assembly, and fixes every thing. The +king and Madame de Montespan keep a bank together. Monsieur, the queen, +and Madame de Soubise, Dangeau, and Langlé, with their companies, are +at different tables. The baize is covered with a thousand louis-d’ors; +they use no other counters. I saw Dangeau play, and could not help +observing how awkward others appeared in comparison of him. He thinks +of nothing but his game, though he scarcely seems to attend to it; he +gains where others lose; takes every advantage; nothing escapes or +distracts him; in short, his good conduct defies fortune. Thus, two +hundred thousand francs in ten days, a hundred thousand crowns in a +month, are added to his account-book under the head _received_. He +had the complaisance to say I was a partner with him in the bank, by +which means I was seated very commodiously. I bowed to the king in the +way you taught me; and he returned my salutation, as if I had been +young and handsome. The queen talked to me of my illness, nor did she +leave you unmentioned. The duke paid me a thousand of those unmeaning +compliments which he bestows so liberally. M. de Lorges attacked me in +the name of the Chevalier de Grignan; and, in short, _tutti quanti_ +(all the rest). You know what it is to receive a word from every one +who passes you. Madame de Montespan talked to me of Bourbon, and +desired me to tell her how I liked Vichi, and whether I had found any +benefit there. She said that Bourbon, instead of removing the pain from +her knee, had given her the tooth-ache. Her beauty and her shape are +really surprising; she is much thinner than she was; and yet neither +her eyes, her lips, nor her complexion are injured. She was dressed +in French point; her hair in a thousand curls, and the two from her +temples very low upon her cheeks; she wore on her head black ribbons, +intermixed with the pearls which once belonged to the Maréchale de +l’Hôpital, diamond pendants of great value, and three or four bodkins. +In a word, she appeared a triumphant beauty, calculated to raise +the admiration of all the foreign embassadors. She has heard that +complaints were made of her having prevented all France from seeing +the king; she has restored him, as you see, and you can not imagine +the delight this has occasioned, nor the splendor it has given to the +court. This agreeable confusion, without confusion, of all the most +select persons in the kingdom, lasts from three o’clock till six. If +any couriers arrive, the king retires to read his letters, and returns +to the assembly. There is always music, to which he sometimes listens, +and which has an admirable effect: in the mean time, he chats with the +ladies who are accustomed to have that honor. They leave off their game +at the hour I mentioned, without the trouble of reckoning, because they +use no marks or counters. The pools are of five, six, or seven hundred, +and sometimes of a thousand or twelve hundred louis-d’ors. + +At six they take the air in calashes; the king and Madame de Montespan, +the prince and Madame de Thianges, and Mademoiselle d’Heudicourt, upon +the little seat before, which seems to her a seat in paradise. You know +how these calashes are made; they do not sit face to face in them, but +all look the same way. The queen was in another with the princesses: +the whole court followed in different equipages, according to their +different fancies. They went afterward in gondolas upon the canal, +where there was music: at ten the comedy began, and at twelve they +concluded the day with the Spanish entertainment of _media noche_; thus +we passed the Saturday. + + +THE TELESCOPE.--Apropos, did I mention to you an excellent telescope +that amused us exceedingly in the boat? It is really a master-piece +of its kind; it is a still better one than that which the abbé left +with you at Grignan. This glass brings objects quite home that are at +three leagues’ distance; alas! that it would bring those which are two +hundred! You may easily guess the use we made of it on the banks of the +Loire, but I have found a new method of using it, which is this: you +know that one end brings objects nearer to you, and the other throws +them to a great distance; now this end I turn toward Mademoiselle du +Plessis, and in a moment I see her three leagues from me. I tried this +experiment the other day on her, and the rest of my neighbors; this +was amusing, but nobody knew what I meant by it; if there had been any +one to whom I could have given the hint, the pleasure would have been +greater. When tired with disagreeable company, it is only to send for +the glass, and look through it at the end that distances the objects. +Ask Montgobert, if she would not have laughed heartily. This is a +pretty subject to talk nonsense upon. If you have Corbinelli with you, +let me recommend the use of the glass to you. + +Adieu, my dear; we are not mountains, as you say, so I hope to embrace +you a little nearer than two hundred leagues: but you are going still +further off; I have a great mind to set out for Brest. It is very hard, +in my opinion, that the grand-duchess should not have the good Rarai as +her lady of honor; the Guisardes have appointed La Sainte-Même to the +office. I hear that La Trousse’s good fortune is doubled, and that he +will have De Froulai’s situation. + + +RULES OF LIVING.--I am never in bed more than seven hours, and I eat +sparingly: I add to your precepts walking a great deal, but the worst +is, that I can not prevent somber thoughts from intruding into my +long gloomy avenues. Sadness is poison to us, and the source of the +vapors. You are right in thinking this disorder is imaginary; you have +admirably defined it; it is sorrow that gives birth to, and fear that +nourishes it. + + +WORK.--I was employed yesterday on a piece of work as tedious as the +company I had: I never work but when I have company; when I am alone, I +walk, I read, or write. La Plessis incommodes me no more than Maria; I +am so happy as to have no inclination to listen to any thing she says, +and find as little interruption from her presence, as you do from some +whom you have the same kind of regard for. In other respects she has +the best sentiments in the world; I admire how all her good qualities +are spoiled by her impertinent and ridiculous manners. It is quite +laughable to hear what she says of my patience in bearing with her; +how she explains it; and the obligations she fancies it lays her under +to attach herself to me; and how I serve her for an excuse for not +visiting her friends at Vitré. It would make you smile, to observe her +little arts to satisfy her vanity (for vanity is the growth of every +soil); and her affected fears that I am growing jealous of a nun of +Vitré, for whom she has a partiality. All this would make an excellent +farce. + + +EVENING EMPLOYMENTS.--I was perfectly rejoiced to return here; I am +making a new walk, which employs me wholly. I pay my workmen in corn; +and find nothing so profitable as to amuse one’s self, and forget, if +possible, the evils of life. Neither do my evenings, my child, about +which you are so much in pain, hang more heavily on my hands: I am +almost always writing, or reading, and midnight overtakes me before I +know where I am. Our abbé (her uncle) takes his leave of me at ten, +and the two hours that I am alone, are no more irksome to me than the +rest. In the day I am either employed with the abbé, or among my dear +laborers, or in my favorite work. In short, my dear, life flies away +so swiftly, and we are always drawing so near our end, that I can +not conceive how people can make themselves so unhappy about worldly +affairs. I have here sufficient time for reflection, and it is my +fault, and not that of the place, if I do not indulge it. I am quite +well; all my people obey you admirably: they are ridiculously careful +of me; they come to guard me home in the evening armed cap-à-pie, and +it is against a squirrel they draw their swords. + + +AN IMPROMPTU MARRIAGE.--M. de Chaulnes concluded a marriage the other +day, which gave me pleasure, between the little Du Guesclin, and a very +pretty girl with a large fortune; when he had with great difficulty +settled the articles, he said, “Let us draw up the contract;” the +parties consented, and he immediately resumed, saying, “What prevents +their being married to-morrow?” Every one exclaimed, “There must be +wedding-clothes, a toilet, and linen.”--He laughed at this. M. de +Rennes gave a dispensation of two banns, and the next day being Sunday, +one was published in the morning, and they were married at noon; after +dinner the little bride danced like an angel; she had learned at Paris +of the duchess’ master, and had caught her air; the next day she was +Madame du Guesclin, and had saved 20,000 livres that would otherwise +have been spent in the wedding. It is consistent with good sense to +rise superior sometimes to trifles and customs. + + +A BRIDE.--Madame de Coulanges informs me that the new Madame de la +Fayette was reclined upon a magnificent bed in a noble house; the room +hung with beautiful tapestry belonging to the Keeper of the Seals; +the bed decorated with an ancient mantle of the order, and the room +hung with fine tapestry, having the arms ornamented with the staves of +the Marshal of France, and the collar of the order; looking-glasses, +chandeliers, glass plates, and crystals, according to the present +fashion, out of number; a great many servants, and valets-de-chambre +in livery; the bride in an elegant dress. In short, such taste reigns +in the house of the new-married couple and in their family, that our +Madame de la Fayette ought to be perfectly satisfied at her son’s +having formed so great and honorable an alliance. + + +BLEEDING.--You tell me you have found it necessary to be bled; the +trembling hand of your young surgeon makes me tremble. The prince said +one day to a new surgeon, “Does not the idea of bleeding me make you +tremble?”--“Faith sir,” replied the man, “your highness has most reason +to tremble.” He was in the right. + + +COMPANY.--I have for a long time adopted your opinion, that bad company +is preferable to good: how dismal it is to part with the good! and +what a pleasure it is to get rid of the bad! Do you remember how we +were tormented at Fouesnel, and how overjoyed we were when the company +thought proper to take their leave? I think we may then establish it as +a maxim, that nothing is more desirable than bad company, and nothing +more to be dreaded than good. Let whoever is puzzled with this enigma +call upon us for the solution of it. + + +QUARRELS IN HIGH LIFE.--I think I mentioned to you the quarrel between +the Duke de Ventadour and the Duke d’Aumont; the latter was returning +from Bourbon with his wife, and the Duchess de Ventadour and the +Chevalier de Tilladet. The Duke de Ventadour was at an estate he +has in the same county, called La Motte. He had desired his wife to +come to him there, and sent, at the same time, to invite the whole +company, but was refused; he then came himself, but was ill received, +because, following the company about from dinner-time till bed-time, +his conversation was mixed continually with menaces and reproaches; +in short, he was like Don Quixotte, pistol in hand, threatening and +challenging the gentlemen. The chevalier treated him as a person fit +only for Bedlam. At length the ladies arrived in great fear at Paris, +where the king, being informed of what had happened, sent a guard to +take care of Madame Ventadour, so that she is now under the protection +of his majesty. What think you the monster did? he went to the king, +attended by his neighbors, that is, the Princes de Condé, de Conti, +Messieurs de Luxembourg, Duras, Schomberg, Bellefond; and, with +incredible assurance, told the king that the Chevalier de Tilladet +had not paid him the _respect due to his rank_; mark the expression: +he places the dukedom where it was formerly. “Sire,” said he, “I want +to know why I am refused the company of my wife! what has happened +to my person of late? Am I uglier, or more ill made than formerly, +when I was as much courted as I am now avoided? If I am ugly, sire, +is it my fault? Had I been my own maker, I would have been like your +majesty; but these are things that are not in our own disposal.” In +short, partly owing to this natural and proper, and at the same time +unexpected, flattery, and partly to the justice of his argument, the +king was pleased with him, as well as the whole court, However, they +are to be separated; the difficulty is, that he insists that his +wife shall be shut up in a convent, which is a sad affair. M. de la +Rochefoucault is employed to accommodate this business, and settle +matters between the gentlemen. + + +EXTRAVAGANCE OF M. DE SÉVIGNÉ.--I have been ready to weep to see the +desolation of this estate; there were the finest trees in the world +upon it, and my son, in his last journey, gave the finishing stroke +to the last. He would even have sold a little copse, which was the +greatest ornament of the place. Is not this lamentable? He scraped +together four hundred pistoles by this plunder, of which he had not a +single penny left in a month. It is impossible to think with patience +how he acts, and what his Brittany journey cost him, notwithstanding +he discharged his coachman and footman at Paris, and took nobody but +Larmechin with him. He has found out the art of spending an immense +deal of money, without making any show for it, of losing without +playing, and of paying without discharging his debts. War or peace, he +is forever crying out for money; in short, he is a perpetual drain, and +what he does with his money I can not conceive, for he appears to have +no particular passion. I really think his hand is a crucible, which +melts money the instant it is put into it. + + * * * * * + +My son writes me word that he is going to play at reversis with his +young master:[333] this makes my blood run cold within me; two, three, +or four hundred pistoles are lost before we can look around us. “This +is nothing for Admetus, but a great deal for him.” If people, before +they play, would think that they may possibly lose a great deal, and +that debts of honor must be paid immediately, they would not be so +ready to engage in such parties; but the misfortune is, that every one +thinks he shall win, and this leads him on to destruction. If Dangeau +is one of the party, he will carry off every thing; for he is a perfect +harpy at play. However, it will all turn out as it shall please God, +and so it will be with the 6,000 francs which I expected to receive +from Nantes, and which a demon has interfered in the shape of a point +of law, that throws us as far back as ever. + + [333] The Dauphin. + + +GAMING.--They play extravagantly high at Versailles: the _hoca_[334] is +forbidden at Paris under pain of death, and yet it is played at court: +five or six thousand pistoles of a morning is nothing to lose. This is +no better than picking of pockets. I beseech you to banish this game +from among you. + + [334] A game at cards. + + * * * * * + +The other day the queen missed going to mass, and lost twenty thousand +crowns in one morning. The king said to her, “Let us calculate, madam, +how much this is a year.” And M. de Montausier asked her the next day, +if she intended staying away from mass for the _hoca_ again; upon which +she was in a great passion. I have heard these stories from persons who +have come from Versailles, and who collect them for me. + + * * * * * + +But now about this _breland_,[335] what a folly is it to lose so +much money at such a rascally game! It has been banished from us for +a downright cut-throat. We do things in a more serious manner. You +play against all chance: you lose forever: take my advice, and do not +continue it: consider it is throwing money away without having any +amusement for it: on the contrary, you have paid 5,000 or 6,000 francs +to be the mere dupe of fortune. But I am rather too warm, my dear, and +must say with Tartuffe, “’tis through excess of zeal.” + + [335] A game at cards. + + * * * * * + +I will tell you, my dear child, a thought that has occurred to me on +the frequent losses you and M. de Grignan sustain at cards. I would +have you both be cautious. It is not pleasant to be made a dupe of; +and be assured that it is not natural to be perpetually the winner or +the loser. It is not long since I was led into the tricks of the Hôtel +de la Vieuville. You remember, I suppose, how our pockets were picked +there. You are not to imagine every body plays as fairly as you do +yourself. The concern I have for your interest makes me say so much; +and as it comes from a heart entirely devoted to you, I am persuaded +you will not be displeased at it. + + +PROVIDENCE.--You say you never mention Providence but when you have +a disorder on your lungs, whereas that subject always exhausts mine, +for I can find none that furnishes so large a field for discussion, +observation and inquiry; and why may we not discourse as well on this +as on natural philosophy? Why did you not still say, as you did last +year, that our fears, our reasonings, our decisions, our wills, our +desires, are only so many means employed by God for the execution of +his purposes? Is not this an inexhaustible subject, fraught with the +most entertaining variety? + + * * * * * + +Believe me there is no experiment in natural philosophy more +interesting than the investigation of the connection and diversity of +our several sentiments; so that you see, _It is God’s will_ may be +paraphrased in a thousand different ways. + + +FREE WILL.--I have no other answer to make you upon what St. Augustin +says, except that I hear and understand him, when he tells me, and +repeats to me five hundred times in the same book, that all things +depend, as the apostle says, “not on him that willeth, nor on him +that runneth, but on God, that showeth mercy to whom it pleaseth him; +that it is not for any merit in man, that God bestows his grace, but +according to his own good pleasure; that man may not glory in his own +strength, seeing he receives all things from God.” His whole book is in +this strain, filled with passages from Scripture, the writings of the +Apostle Paul, and the Homilies of the Church. He calls our free will, +a deliverance, and an aptitude to love God, because we are no longer +under the dominion of the devil, and are chosen from all eternity, +according to the decrees of the Almighty before all ages. When I +read in this book the following passage, “How could God call men to +judgment, if they were not free agents?” I confess I am at a loss to +understand it, and am disposed to think it a mystery: but as free will +can not put our salvation in our own power, and as we must always be +dependent on God, I have no desire to understand it better, and will +endeavor, as much as possible, to remain in a state of humility and +dependence. + + +DEVICES.--As to devices, my dear child, my poor brain is in a very bad +condition for thinking of any, much less for inventing them; however, +as there are twelve hours in the day, and above fifty in the night, my +memory has furnished me with a rocket raised to a great height in the +air, with these words; _Che peri, pur che s’innalzi_.[336] I am afraid +I have seen this somewhere in the late tournaments, though I can not +exactly say where or when; for I think it too pretty to be my own. I +remember also having seen in some book, a rocket on the subject of a +lover who had been bold enough to declare himself to his mistress, with +these words, _Da l’ardore l’ardire_,[337] which is pretty but does +not apply in this instance. I am not quite sure whether the first I +have mentioned is in strict conformity to the rules of devices: for I +do not perfectly understand them; all I know is, that it pleased me, +and whether it was in a tournament, or on a seal, is a matter of no +great importance; it is scarcely possible to invent new ones for every +occasion. You have heard me a thousand times repeat that part of a line +in Tasso, _L’alte non temo_:[338] I used to repeat this so often, that +the Count de Chapelles had a seal engraved, with an eagle flying toward +the sun, and _L’alte non temo_ for the motto: a very happy device. + + * * * * * + +M. de Montmoron came hither post: among other things we were talking +about devices: he assures me he does not remember to have seen any +where the one I proposed: he knew the one with these words, _Da +l’ardore l’ardire_, but that is not the thing: the other, he says, is +much more complete, _Che peri, pur che s’innalzi_. And whether it is +my own, or borrowed, he thinks it excellent. + + * * * * * + +I have seen a device which suits me exactly; it is a leafless tree, +apparently dead, with this inscription round it, _Fin che sol +ritorni_.[339] What think you of it, my child? + + [336] Let it perish, so it be exalted. + + [337] My boldness arises from my ardor. + + [338] I rise without fear. + + [339] Till the sun returns. + + +THE USE OF REASON.--I am still alone, my dear child, without being +dull: my health is good; I have plenty of books, work, and fine +weather; these, with a little reason, go a great way. + + +PECUNIARY EMBARRASSMENTS.--You ask, why am I not with you? Alas! I +could easily answer you, if I were inclined to debase my letter with +a detail of the reasons that obliged me to quit you, of the misery +of this country, the sums that are owing me here, the delays in the +payment of them, what I owe elsewhere, and the ruin my affairs must +have sustained had I not taken this resolution in time. You well know +that I put it off for two years with pleasure; but there are extremes, +my dear child, in which we should destroy every thing in attempting to +wrestle with necessity; the property I possess is no longer my own; I +must preserve the same honor and the same probity I have all my life +professed. This, this, my child is the cruel cause that tears me from +you; and is this a subject to entertain you with? + + +AN OBSTINATE SON.--In regard to my son, I find I have courage enough +to tell him my sentiments without disguise. I wrote him a letter which +I think unanswerable; but the more I enforce my reasons, the more he +urges his arguments, and he appears so determined, that I now perfectly +understand what is meant by an unconquerable wish. There is a degree of +ardor in the desire which animates him, that no prudence can withstand. +I can not accuse myself of having preferred my own interest to his. I +wish for nothing but to see him walk in the path I have traced out for +him. He is wrong in all his arguments, and far beside the mark; I have +endeavored to set him right by incontestable arguments, corroborated by +the opinion of all our friends; and ask him if he has not some doubts, +seeing he is alone in an opinion which every one else disapproves? He +answers me always by an obstinate perseverance; so that I am reduced to +the last expedient, that of keeping him from making a rash or injurious +bargain. + + +A FORGIVING MOTHER.--As I was returning from my walk yesterday, I +met the poor _frater_,[340] at the end of the mall, who immediately +fell upon his knees, so conscious of having done wrong in having been +three weeks under ground, singing matins, that he thought he dared +not approach me otherwise. I had resolved to scold him heartily, but +I was so glad to see him, that I could not find an angry word to use. +You know how entertaining he is; he embraced me a thousand times, and +gave me the worst reasons in the world; which, however, I received as +sterling; we chat, we read, we walk, and we wear away the year; or +rather, what is left of it. + + [340] Her son. + + +LOVE--ITS SYMPTOMS.--You want to know the symptoms of this love, of +which I spoke to you the other day. _Imprimis_, To be the first on all +occasions to deny it: to affect an air of great indifference, which is +a sure mark of the contrary: the opinion of those who can judge from +being near: the public voice: an entire suspension of all motion in +the globular machine: a neglect of ordinary concerns to attend to a +single one: a continual satirizing old people who are so foolish as +to be in love. “Such nonsense! they must be idiots! fools! And with a +young woman too! Very pretty indeed! it would become me mighty well! +I had rather break both my arms and legs.” And then we make answer +internally: “Indeed what you say is very true; but, for all that you +are in love: you tell us all these fine things: your reflections are +doubtless very just, very true, very tormenting; but for all that you +are in love; reason is on your side, but love is stronger than reason; +at the same time you are sick, you weep, you are out of humor, and you +are in love.” + + +CHESS.--You tell me of chess what I have often thought before. In my +opinion, there could not have been contrived a better expedient to +humble pride than this game, which at once sets before our view the +narrowness and insignificance of the human mind. I think it would be +of real utility to any one fond of such reflections. But then, on the +other hand, the foresight, the penetration, the address in defending +ourselves, as in attacking our adversary, the success attending the +right management of the game, is so pleasing, and affords so much +inward satisfaction, that it may at the same time nourish our pride and +swell our self-sufficiency. I am still far from being cured of this +passion, and therefore want to be further convinced of my own weakness. + + +ALONE.--I am delighted to be alone; I walk out, I amuse myself with +reading and work, and I go to church; in short I ask pardon of the +company I expect, but I own I do wondrous well without them. + + +A COURTIER.--The other day the dauphin was shooting at a mark, and shot +very wide of it: M. de Montausier rallied him upon it; and told the +Marquis de Créqui, who is very skillful to fire, saying to the dauphin, +“See how well he will hit the mark.” The arch youth had the complaisance +to shoot a foot further from it than the dauphin, which turned the +laugh on M. de Montausier: “Ah! little wretch,” said he, “you deserve +to be hanged.” + + +THE KING.--The king, in reality, is well served: neither life nor +fortune is considered when his pleasure is the question. If we were as +well disposed toward God, we should be saints indeed. + + +CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.--I know very well that Jesus Christ, St. Paul, +and St. Augustine, preached and exhorted, it was their business; this +latter gives good reason for doing so. But a poor sinner, recovered +only three days from a worse state than ours, should keep silence, +penetrated with the mercy of God toward him, occupied only with his +happiness, and the true gratitude he owes to his Saviour, for having +selected and distinguished him from so many others, without any merit, +through free grace: such should be the sentiments of his heart, and if +charity should make him interest himself for his neighbor, it should +display itself in lamentations before God, and in supplicating the same +grace for others that has so plentifully been poured upon him. Such +was that penitent and holy princess, Madame de Longueville; she did +not forget her situation nor the abyss from which God had saved her; +she preserved the remembrance as a foundation for her penitence and +her lively acknowledgment to the Almighty. Thus is Christian humility +preserved and the grace of Jesus Christ honored. This does not preclude +reflection and Christian conversation with our friends; but no sermons, +no scolding; these revolt, and make us recollect and refer persons +to their past life, because we find they have forgotten it. I am +astonished that people of good sense should fall into this injustice; +but we ought to be astonished at nothing; for what do we not meet with +in our journey through life? + + +HOME LIFE.--We lead so regular a life that it is scarcely possible to +be ill. We rise at eight, and I often walk till nine, when the bell +rings for mass, to breathe the fresh air in the woods; after mass we +dress, bid each other good-day, return and gather orange-flowers, +dine, and work or read till five. Since my son’s absence, I read to +save his little wife’s lungs; I leave her at five, and return to those +delightful groves, with a servant who follows me: I take books with +me, change my route, and vary my walks; from a book of devotion I turn +to one of history, this creates a little change; I think of God, and +his over-ruling providence possesses my soul, and reflect on futurity; +at length, about eight o’clock I hear a bell. This is the summons to +supper. I prefer this life infinitely to that of Rennes; is it not a +fit solitude for a person who should think of her salvation, and who +either is or would be a Christian? In short, my dearest child, there is +nothing but you that I prefer to the tranquil repose I enjoy here; for +I own with pleasure, that I would willingly pass some more time with +you if it pleased God. + + +LIBERTY AT HOME.--What do you say my child? would you not suffer +me to have two or three hours to myself, after having been at +mass, to dinner, and till five o’clock working, or talking with my +daughter-in-law? she would, I believe, be as much vexed at this as +myself: she is a good little woman, and we agree wonderfully well +together; but we have a great taste for the liberty of parting and +meeting again afterward. When I am with you, my child, I own I never +leave you but with regret and consideration for you; with every other +person, it is from consideration for myself. Nothing can be more just +or more natural: it is impossible to feel for two persons what I feel +for you; leave us, therefore, a little to our sacred freedom; it agrees +with me, and by the help of books the time passes in this way as +quickly as it does at your brilliant castle. + + +READINGS.--Our readings are delightful. We have Abbadie[341] and the +History of the Church; this is marrying the lute to the voice. You +are not fond of wagers; I know not how we could captivate you a whole +winter here. You skim lightly, and are not fond of history; and we +have no pleasure but when we are attached to our subject and make it a +business. Sometimes, by way of change, we read _Les petites Lettres_ +of Pascal; good heavens! how delightful they are, and how well my son +reads them! I constantly think of my daughter, and how worthy of her +this extreme propriety of reasoning would be: but your brother says +you find that it is always the same thing: ah! so much the better; +can there be a more perfect style, more finely wrought, more delicate +unaffected raillery, or more nearly allied to the dialogues of Plato, +which are so very beautiful! And when, after the first ten letters, he +addresses himself to the R. P.s, what seriousness! what solidity! what +force! what eloquence! what a way of supporting it and of making it +understood! All this is to be found in the last eight letters, which +are very different from the former. I am persuaded you never did more +than glance over them, selecting the most beautiful passages; but they +should be read leisurely. + + [341] Author of _La Vérité de la Religion Chrétienne_. + + * * * * * + +You ask me what books we are reading. When we have company reading +is laid aside; but before the meeting of the states, we read some +little books that scarcely took us up a moment:--Mohammed II., who +took Constantinople from the last emperor of the East; this is a +great event, so singular, brilliant, and extraordinary, that we are +carried away with it; and it happened but two hundred and thirty-six +years ago:--the Conspiracy of Portugal, which is very fine: the +Variations of M. de Maux: a volume of the History of the Church, the +second is too full of the detail of the councils, and therefore might +be tedious: _Les Iconoclastes_ and the Arianism of Maimbourg; this +author is detestable, his style disagreeable; he is always desirous of +being satirical, and compares Arius, a princess and a courtier, to M. +Arnauld, Madame de Longueville, and Treville; but setting aside these +fooleries, the historical passages are so very fine, the Council of +Nice so admirable, that it is read with pleasure; and as he brings us +down to Theodosius, we shall find consolation for all our evils in the +elegant style of M. de Flechier.[342] + + [342] Esprit Flechier, Bishop of Nîmes, author of the Life of + Theodosius. + + +ARIANISM.--I am at present reading the history of Arianism; I neither +like the author[343] nor his style: but the history itself is +admirable; it is indeed that of the whole world: it has a share in +every thing, and seems to have springs that move all the powers of the +earth. The genius of Arius was astonishing; as it likewise is, to see +how his heresy spread itself over the world; almost all the bishops +join in the error; St. Athanasius alone stands forth to defend the +divinity of Jesus. These great events are truly worthy of admiration. +When I wish to feast my understanding and my soul, I retire into my +closet; I listen to _our fathers_, and their glorious morality, which +makes us so well acquainted with our own hearts. + + [343] Louis Maimbourg. + + * * * * * + +I am employed in reading my Arianism: it is a strange history, in +which nothing displeases me but the author and the style; but I have +a pencil, and am revenged on him, by marking some passages which I +think highly diverting from the earnest desire he shows of drawing +parallels between the Arians and the Jansenists, and the perplexity he +is under to reconcile the conduct of the Church in the first ages of +Christianity with that of the Church at present. Instead of passing +slightly over them, he says, that the Church for _good reasons_ does +not act now as it did then. + + +ADORATION.--I find communion is frequent in Provence; to my shame be it +spoken, I neglected the immaculate conception of the Mother, to reserve +myself wholly for the nativity of the Son; for this we can not be too +well prepared. + + +JEALOUSY.--You are doubtless convinced that my sentiments and yours are +the same; but I want to teach you jealousy, at least in theory, and +assure you, _credi a me pur che l’ho provato_,[344] that we often say +things we do not think; and even if we did think them, would that be a +sign of not loving? Quite the contrary; for if we were to analyze these +speeches, so full of anger and resentment, we should find a great deal +of affection and attachment at the bottom. Some hearts are remarkably +delicate; when these happen to meet with a cool or indifferent +disposition, a very considerable progress is made in the region of +jealousy. This I have thought myself obliged in conscience to say to +you; make your own reflections upon it, for I can not pretend to enter +into particulars at the distance of two hundred leagues. + + [344] Believe me for I have proved it. + + +FOLLY.--A young man came to visit me the other day, who is the son of a +gentleman of Anjou, with whom I was formerly intimately acquainted. At +his entrance I beheld a fine, graceful, handsome figure, which struck +me with pleasure; but, alas! as soon as he opened his mouth, he laughed +at every word he spoke, which made _me_ almost ready to cry. He has +a smattering of Paris and the opera; he sings; is familiar and airy; +and repeats with great gravity, “Quand on n’a point ce qu’on aime, +qu’importe, qu’importe, à quel prix?”[345] instead of _to obtain what +we love_, which you know are the words of the opera. I recommend this +charming alteration to M. de Grignan, to set it to music. + + [345] To obtain what we do not love, what price is too great? + + [Transcription note: a more accurate translation would be + “When we love but do not possess, what price is too great?”] + +THE LOT OF MANKIND.--I wish to write in my prayer-book what M. de +Comines says of the cross purposes of human life. It is pleasant to see +that, even in his time, tribulation and misery were the lot of mankind. +His style gives peculiar grace to the solidity of his argument. +For my part, I am determined to be more than ever convinced of the +impossibility of being happy in this world, since God keeps _loyally_ +to what he has promised.[346] + + [346] This is the passage from Comines. + + “No creature is exempt from suffering. All eat their bread in + pain.” + + +EXPENSES, RETRENCHMENTS, ETC.--I readily conceive that you are fearful +of looking into the expense you have incurred: it is a machine that +must not be touched, lest it fall and crush you with its weight. There +is something of enchantment in the magnificence of your castle, and the +elegance of your table. The dilapidation must be ruinous, and I can not +conceive what you mean by saying that it is not considerable. It is a +kind of black art, like that among courtiers, who, though they have not +a penny in their pockets, undertake the most expensive journeys both by +land and water, follow every fashion, are at every ball, masquerade, +and ring, in every lottery, and still go the same round, though +overwhelmed in debts. I forgot to mention gaming, which is another +curious article. Then estates dwindle away; but no matter, they still +go on. Just so it is with you. + + * * * * * + +I fancy that by this time you are somewhat cured of your Grignan +economy, where you were to live for little or nothing; for it was +nothing, it seems, nothing at all, to have four or five tables, to keep +open house, and furnish entertainment for man and horse; a thing that +no one in the world now thinks of doing: in short, say what you please, +that famous caravansera of yours appears to me to teem with ruin; this +concourse of people seems to me like the flood which carries all before +it. In short, my child, I dare not think of this vortex; Paris will +prove your resting-place: stay here at least till you have confronted +your expenses, and can look your return in the face. + + * * * * * + +There are many things yet to settle, which concern you as much as +myself, and I might as well not have made this journey at all, as to +make it too short; so that I must resolve to drain the bitter cup to +the bottom. Besides, as I observed to you in a former letter, the money +I save by being here, serves to pay off a part of my debts elsewhere; +without this expedient, what could I have done? You well know what I +mean; it has cost me many an uneasy moment: and, indeed, what could you +yourself have done, but for the assistance you received? At present, I +fancy, you have made matters up tolerably well. + + +BAPTISM.--What you said the other day, as to humor and memory, was +perfectly just; they are certainly things which are not sufficiently +known. I also intend to convict you of heresy, my child; and, be as +angry as you please, I insist, that the death of Jesus Christ is not +alone sufficient, without baptism: he requires the water, the spirit, +and the blood, and it is on these conditions alone that his death can +be of service to us. No part of the old man can enter into heaven, +but by regeneration through Jesus Christ. If you ask me my reasons, I +shall reply with St. Augustine, that I can give none, any more than I +can tell why, having come into the world to save all men, he saves so +very few; or why he concealed himself during his life-time, and would +not let any one know or follow him. I can give no reason for all these +things; but of this I am certain, that since he thought fit they should +be so, they must be right and proper, seeing that his will is truth and +justice. + + +ORDER.--If Providence delights in order, and order is no other than +the will of God, there must be many things contrary to his will. The +persecutions against St. Athanasius, and other orthodox divines, +and the calm prosperity of tyrants, are all contrary to order, and +consequently to the will of God; therefore, with leave of Father +Malebranche,[347] would it not be as well to confine ourselves to what +St. Augustine says, that God permits all things that come to pass, that +he may derive glory from them to himself, by ways unknown to man? St. +Augustine acknowledges no rule or order but the will of God, and if we +do not follow his doctrine, we shall have the mortification of finding, +that, as scarcely any thing in this world is agreeable to order, every +thing must pass contrary to his will who made all things; which, in my +mind, is a shocking supposition. + + [347] Father Malebranche says, that “all that is done in nature + is done from the nature of order.” + + +MARY BLANCHE.[348]--You give me an excellent idea of your eldest +daughter; I see her before me; pray embrace her for me; I rejoice that +she is happy. For your son, you may love him as much as you please; +he deserves it; every one speaks highly of him, and praises him in a +way that would give you pleasure; we expect him this week. I have felt +all the force of the phrase he made use of to gain esteem, “which must +come, or tell the reason why:” it brought tears into my eyes at the +moment; but esteem is come already, and will not have to say why it +staid away. The reputation of this child is already commenced, and will +now only increase. + + [348] Mary Blanche, eldest daughter of Madame de Grignan. She was + a nun at St. Mary at Aix. + + +THE YOUNG MARQUIS DE GRIGNAN.[349]--Your son was last night at the Duke +de Chartres’ ball; he was very handsome, and will inform you of his +success. You must not, however, calculate upon his studying much; he +owned to us yesterday, very sincerely, that he is at present incapable +of paying proper attention; his youth hurries him away, and he does +not understand what he reads. We grieve that he has not, at least, a +taste for reading, and that he wants inclination more than time. His +frankness prevented our scolding him; I know not what we did not say +to him; I mean the chevalier, myself and Corbinelli, who was rather +warm upon the occasion. But we must not fatigue or force him; this +taste will come in time, my dear; for it is not possible, that, with so +much spirit, good sense, and love for his profession, he should have +no desire to be made acquainted with the exploits of the heroes of +antiquity, and particularly _Cæsar at the head of his Commentaries_. +Have patience, and do not fret: he would be too perfect were he fond of +reading. + + [349] Grandson of Madame the Sévigné. + + * * * * * + +I am also of opinion, that by reading we learn to write; I know some +officers of rank, whose style is vulgar; it is, however, a delightful +thing to be able to communicate our thoughts; but it also often happens +that these people write as they think, and as they speak; every thing +is in unison. + + +PAULINA.[350]--I am pleased with Coulanges’ praise of Paulina; it +is well applied, and makes me understand what sort of charms she +possesses, curbed however by persons who have not given her the best +nose[351] in the world. If the count had given her his fine eyes and +fine person, and left the rest to you, Paulina would have set the world +on fire; she would have been irresistible; this pretty mixture is a +thousand times better, and must certainly form a very pretty personage. +Her sprightliness resembles yours; your wit always bore away the palm, +as you say of hers; I like this panegyric. She will soon learn Italian, +with the assistance of a better mistress than you had. You deserve as +excellent a daughter as mine has been. I told you that you might do +what you wished with yours, from her disposition to please you; she +appears to me worthy of your love. + + [350] Paulina de Grignan, born in 1674, and married in 1695, to + the Marquis de Simiane, was noticed at five or six years of age, + for the agreeableness of her wit, as well as the beauty of her + person. Her letters were already looked upon as performances in + which the pleasing and the natural were equally combined. She had + scarcely entered her fourth year, when she would occasionally + utter repartees full of wit and pleasantry. She was not more + than thirteen when she wrote, at Madame de Grignan’s request, a + small piece of devotion which the brightest genius might have + been proud of. It is easy to guess how a person thus favored by + nature must turn out, educated under the eyes of a mother and + grandmother whose good sense seemed as it were transfused into + her. She excelled not only in the epistolary style, but also in + the poetic, though she never wrote but for amusement. The solid + principles of true religion, in which she was brought up, shone + forth in her, amid the bustle of courts and secular affairs; and + never with so much splendor as in the last year of her life, + which she employed wholly in the exercise of the most sublime + virtues of Christianity. + + [351] Paulina’s nose resembled her grandmother’s. + + * * * * * + +Paulina then is not perfect; I could never have supposed that her chief +imperfection would have been ignorance of religion. You must instruct +her in this, which you are very capable of doing; it is your duty, and +you have good books to assist you: in return, your sister-in-law, the +abbess, will teach her the world. + + * * * * * + +You astonish me by what you say of Paulina; pray, pray, my dear child, +keep her with you; think not that a convent can repair the errors of +education, whether as to religion, with which the sisterhood are very +little acquainted, or as to any thing else. You will do much better at +Grignan, when you have time for application. You will make her read +good authors; you will converse with her, and M. de la Garde will +assist you: I am convinced that this is preferable to a convent. + + +FAITH IN CHRIST.--So then, you read St. Paul and St. Augustine; two +excellent laborers to establish the absolute will of God. They never +scruple to assert, that God disposes of his creatures as the potter +does of his clay; some he chooses, some he rejects. They are no loss +to apologize for his justice, since there is no other justice but his +will. It is justice itself, it is the rule of right; and, after all, +what does he owe to man? Is he in any way dependent on him? Not at all. +He, therefore, does them justice in rejecting them, on account of the +stain of original sin, which is communicated to all; and he selects +a few, whom he saves by his son Jesus Christ, who himself says, “I +know my sheep, and am known of mine: I will lead them forth to the +pasture, and not one shall be lost.” “I have chosen you,” saith he in +another place to his apostles, “and you have not chosen me.” There are +numberless passages of this nature; I meet with them continually, and +understand them all; and when I find others that seem to contradict +them, I say to myself, This is to be understood figuratively, as when +we read that “God was in wrath,” that “God repented him,” and the like: +and I always abide by that first and great truth, which represents God +to me as he is, the sovereign master, the supreme creator and author +of the universe; in a word, as a being infinitely perfect, agreeably +to Descartes’ idea. Such are my humble and reverential thoughts, from +which, however, I deduce no ridiculous consequences, nor do they +deprive me of the hope of being of the number of the elect of God, +after the mercies he has bestowed on me, which are so many foundations +upon which to ground my confidence. + + +THE FIRE-EATER.--Yesterday a young man came here from Vitré, whom I +knew to have lived formerly as footman with M. Coulanges. M. de Grignan +has seen him at Aix. He showed me a printed list of the feats he +performed with fire; he has the secret of the man you have heard spoken +of at Paris. Among a thousand wonderful things that he did, and which I +am astonished the government permits, on account of the consequences, +I was struck with one in particular, which is soon done; this was +the letting fall from his hand into his mouth ten or twelve drops of +flaming sealing-wax, with which he appeared to be no more affected than +if it had been so much cold water; he did not make the least grimace, +or sign of uneasiness, and his tongue looked as fair and unhurt after +the operation as before. I have often heard of these fire-eaters; but I +must confess, that to see the thing performed in my own room, and under +my very eye, struck me with astonishment. + + +BOOKS.--We pass our time here very quietly; this you can not doubt; but +very swiftly, which will surprise you: work, walking, conversation, +reading, all these are called in to our assistance. Speaking of books, +you tell me wonders of M. Nicole’s last production; I have read some +passages that appeared to me very fine; the author’s style enlightens, +as you say, and makes us enter into ourselves, in such a way as +discovers the beauty of his mind and the goodness of his heart; for +he never scolds out of season, which is the worst thing in the world, +and never produces the desired effect. I did not purchase the book +at the time, which was in Lent: I contented myself with the good Le +Tourneux.[352] We are reading a treatise of the pious man of Port-Royal +upon continual prayer, which is a sequel to certain pious works that +are very fine; but this, which is much larger, is so spiritual, so +luminous, and so holy, that though it be a thousand degrees above +our understandings, it does not fail to please and charm us. We are +delighted to find that there have been, and still are, people in the +world, to whom God has communicated his Holy Spirit and grace in such +abundance; but, good heavens! when shall we be possessed of one little +spark, of one single degree? How sad it is to find ourselves so far +behind here, and so near in other things! fie, fie, let us not name +this misfortune! we ought to humble ourselves at it a hundred times a +day. + + [352] Nicholas de Tourneux, confessor of Port-Royal, so + well-known by his excellent work, entitled “The Christian Year,” + and by a great number of other important works. + + +LIBERTY OF MIND.--There are certain periods of life in which we attend +to nothing but ourselves. You indeed have never been much occupied +in that way; but when we came down this river together, we were more +engaged in disputing about the Count des Chapelles than in admiring +the beauties of the rural scenes that surrounded us. Now, the case is +exactly the reverse: we observe a profound silence, are perfectly at +our ease, reading, musing, admiring, out of the way of all sorts of +news, and living upon our own reflections. The good abbé (her uncle) +is always praying: I listen attentively to his pious ejaculations; but +when he has got to his beads I beg to be excused, finding that I can +meditate much better without them. In short, we manage to pass twelve +or fourteen hours without being very unhappy; such a fine thing is +liberty. + + +THE NUNS OF SAINT-MARIE.--My greatest satisfaction is in visiting the +nuns of Saint-Marie; they are truly amiable women; they still retain +the remembrance of you, of which they do not fail to make a merit with +me: they are neither silly nor conceited, like some you know; they do +not believe the present Pope[353] to be a heretic; they understand +the religion they profess, and will never reject the Holy Scriptures +because they have been translated by worthy men; they pay all due +honor to the saving grace of Christ; they acknowledge the power of +providence; they educate the young girls committed to their care very +properly, and neither teach them to lie nor to dissemble; no chimeras, +no idolatry is to be found among them. In short, I have a great regard +for them. M. de Grignan would think them Jansenists; for my part, I +think them Christians: there are two of them who have an infinite deal +of wit. I shall go to their house to-morrow to write, and I shall dine +with them on Saturday: they are all the comfort I have here. + + [353] Innocent XI., who passed for favoring the Jansenists, + merely because he took no steps against them. + + +MORAL ESSAYS.--Do you not intend to read the Moral Essays, and to give +me your opinion of them? For my part, I am charmed with them; and so +I am with the funeral oration on M. de Turenne; there are passages in +it which must have affected all that were present. I do not doubt but +it has been sent you; tell me if you do not think it very fine. Do +you not intend to finish Josephus? We read a great deal of serious as +well as lighter subjects; fable and history. We are so deeply engaged +with these, that we have scarcely leisure for any other employments. +They pity us at Paris; they think us confined to a fire-side by the +inclemency of the season, and languishing under a dearth of amusement; +but, my dear, I walk; I find a thousand diversions; the woods are +neither wild nor inhospitable. It is not for passing my time here +instead of at Paris that I am to be pitied. + + +HISTORY OF THE BIBLE.--I am, moreover, reading the emblems of the Holy +Scriptures,[354] which begin from Adam. I have begun with the creation +of the world, which you are so fond of, and shall end with the death +of our Saviour, which you know is an admirable series. We find in it +every circumstance, though related concisely; the style is fine; it +is done by an eminent hand: the history is interspersed throughout +with excellent reflections, taken from the fathers, and is very +entertaining. For my own part, I go much further than the Jesuits; and +when I see the reproaches of ingratitude, and the dreadful punishments +with which God afflicted his people, I can not help concluding, that +we, who are freed from the yoke to which they were subjected, are, in +consequence, highly culpable, and justly deserve those scourges of fire +and water which the Almighty employs when he thinks fit. The Jesuits do +not say enough on this subject, and others give cause to murmur against +the justice of the Deity, in weakening the supports of our spiritual +liberty, as they do. You see what fruit I derive from my reading. I +fancy my confessor will enjoin me to read the philosophy of Descartes. + + [354] History of the Old and New Testament, by M. de Saci, Sieur + de Royaumont. He composed this book in the Bastille. It is, they + say, filled with allusions to the vicissitudes of Jansenism in + that age, M. de Saci was president of the nuns at Port-Royal. + + +AFFECTION.--I fancy myself qualified to write a treatise on affection; +there are a thousand things depending on it, a thousand things to be +shunned, in order to prevent those we love from smarting for it: there +are innumerable instances where we give them pain, and in which we +might alleviate their feelings, were we to reflect and to turn things +in all the points of view we ought, out of regard to the object of our +love. In short, I could make it appear in my book, that there are a +thousand different ways of proving our regard without talking of it; as +well as of saying by actions that we have no real regard, even while +the treacherous tongue is making protestations to the contrary. I mean +no one in particular, but what I have written, I have written. + + +SUBMISSION.--I beg you will read the second part of the second treatise +in the first volume of _Moral Essays_; I am sure you know it, but you +may not perhaps have observed it particularly; it is on the subject of +_submission to the will of God_. You will there see how clearly it is +demonstrated that Providence governs all things; that is my creed, by +that I abide: and though a contrary doctrine may be advanced elsewhere, +to keep fair with all sides, I shall consider such conduct only in the +light of a political stratagem, and follow the example of those who +believe as I do, though they may change their note. + + +PHILOSOPHY.--You say that I make God the author of every thing that +happens; read, read, I say, that part of the treatise I have pointed +out to you, and you will find that we are to look to Him for every +thing, but with reverence and humility, and consider man only as the +executor of his orders, from whose agency he can draw what effects he +thinks proper. It is thus we reason, when our eyes are lifted up to +heaven, but, in general, we are apt to confine our views to the poor +contemptible second causes that strike our bodily senses, and bear with +impatience what we ought to receive with submission; and such, alas! +is my present wretched situation. I join with you in believing that +philosophy is good for little, except to those who do not stand in need +of it. You desire me to love you more and more: indeed, you embarrass +me; I know not where to find that degree of comparison; it is beyond +my conception: but this I am certain of, that I never can, in thought, +word, or deed, evince the thousandth part of the affection I bear you; +and this is that sometimes distracts me. + + +OLD AGE.--So then you were struck with an expression of Madame de la +Fayette’s (“you are old,”) blended with so much friendship. Though I +say to myself that this is a truth which should not be forgotten, I +confess I was all astonishment at it; for I yet feel no sort of decay +that puts me in mind of it. I can not, however refrain from calculating +and reflecting, and I find that the conditions of life are very hard. +It seems to me that I have been dragged against my will to the fatal +period, when _old age_ must be endured; I see it, I have attained it; +and I would, at least, contrive not to go beyond it, not to advance +in the road of infirmities, pain, loss of memory, _disfigurements_ +which are ready to lay hold of me; and I hear a voice which says, You +must go on in spite of yourself; or, if you will not, you must die, +an alternative at which nature recoils. Such, however, is the fate +of those who have reached a certain period. + + * * * * * + +I contemplate this evil, which has not yet proved itself so, with +heroic courage; I prepare myself for its consequences with peace and +tranquillity; and seeing there is no way of escape, and that I am not +the strongest, I think of the obligation I owe to God, for conducting +me so gently to the grave. I thank him for the desire he daily gives +me to prepare for death, and the wish of not draining my life to +the dregs. Extreme old age is frightful and humiliating: the good +Corbinelli and I see a painful instance of this truth hourly, in the +poor Abbé de Coulanges, whose helplessness and infirmities make us +wish never to reach this period. + + +SERMONS.--When I am as good as M. de la Garde, if ever God grants me +this grace, I shall like all sermons; in the mean while I content +myself with the Gospels as explained by M. le Tourneux; these are real +sermons, and nothing but the vanity of man could load modern discourses +with their present contents. We sometimes read the Homilies of St. John +Chrysostom; these are divine, and please us so highly, that I persist +in not going to Rennes till passion week, to avoid being exposed to the +eloquence of the preachers who hold forth in behalf of the parliament. + + * * * * * + +The Marshal de Grammont was so transported the other day, at a sermon +of Bourdaloüe’s, that he cried out, in the middle of a passage that +struck him, “By ----, he is right.” Madame burst out a-laughing, and +the sermon was interrupted so long that nobody knew what would be the +consequence. If your preachers are as you represent them, I am apt to +think they will be in no great danger of their being interrupted by +such praises. + + +JOSEPHUS.--I am glad you like Josephus, Herod, and Aristobulus. I beg +you to go on, and see the end of the siege of Jerusalem, and the fate +of Josaphat. Take courage; every thing is beautiful in this historian, +every thing is grand, every thing is magnificent, every thing is worthy +of you; let not an idle fancy prevail with you to lay him aside. I +am in the History of France; that of the Crusades has occasioned my +looking into it, but it is not to be compared to a single leaf of +Josephus. Alas! with what pleasure we weep over the misfortunes of +Aristobulus and Mariamne. + + +HOPE EVER.--We should never despair of our good fortune. I thought my +son’s situation quite hopeless, after so many storms and shipwrecks, +without employments, and out of the way of fortune; and while I was +indulging these melancholy reflections, Providence destined, or had +destined, us to so advantageous a marriage, that I could not have +wished for a better alliance, even at the time when my son had the +greatest reason to expect it. It is thus we grope in the dark, not +knowing our way, taking good for evil, and evil for good, in entire +ignorance. + + +TWILIGHT.--I hate twilight when I have nobody to chat with; and I +had rather be alone in the woods, than alone in a room. This is like +plunging up to the neck in water to save one’s self from the rain: but +any thing rather than an arm-chair. + + +A PRESENTIMENT.--Good Heavens! my dear child, what fools your women +are, both living and dead! your top-knots[355] shock me! What a +profanation! it smells of paganism; foh! It would make me shudder at +the thoughts of dying in Provence; I would, at least, be assured that +the milliner and undertaker were not sent for at the same time. Fie, +fie, indeed! but no more of this.[356] + + [355] It was the custom in Provence to bury the dead with their + faces uncovered; and the women who wore ribbons as a head-dress, + retained them in their coffins. + + [356] This passage might deserve the name of presentiment. All + she feared came to pass. She died in Provence, and the very + head-dress which was so repugnant to her mind, adorned her in her + coffin. + + + + +LETTERS ON THE DEATH OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ. + + +LETTER I. + +FROM THE COUNTESS DE GRIGNAN TO THE PRESIDENT DE MOULCEAU. + + PARIS, April 18, 1696. + +Your politeness, sir, need not lead you to fear the renewal of my +grief,[357] in speaking to me of the afflicting loss I have sustained. +This is an object which my mind bears constantly in view, and which is +so deeply engraven in my heart that nothing has power to increase or +diminish it. I am convinced, sir, that you could not have heard the +dreadful misfortune which has happened to me without shedding tears; I +can answer for your heart: you lose a friend of incomparable merit and +fidelity; nothing is more worthy of your regret; and what, sir, do not +I lose? what perfections were not united in her to me, by different +characters, most dear and most precious? A loss so complete and so +irreparable, leads me to seek for consolation only in the bitterness +of tears and groans. I have not strength to raise my eyes to the place +whence comfort flows; I can yet only cast them around me, and I no +longer see the dear being who has loaded me with blessings, whose +attention from day to day has been occupied in adding fresh proofs of +her love to the charms of her society. It is too true, sir, that it +requires more than human fortitude to bear so cruel a disunion and +so much privation. I was far from being prepared for it: the perfect +health I saw her enjoy, and a year’s illness, which a hundred times +endangered my own life, had taken from me the idea that the order of +nature could be fulfilled by her dying first. I flattered myself that I +should never have this great evil to endure: it is come upon me, and I +feel it in all its severity. I deserve your pity, sir; and some share +in the honor of your friendship, if sincere esteem and high veneration +for your virtue can deserve it. My sentiments have been the same toward +you since I had the pleasure of knowing you; and I believe I have more +than once told you that it is impossible for any one to respect you +more than I do. + + [357] Madame de Sévigné, as it appears, died early in April. + + +LETTER II. + +FROM M. DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE.[358] + + PARIS, May 25, 1696. + + [358] The dear _Pauline_, the favorite grand-daughter of Madame + de Sévigné. See page 418. + +Far from taking it unkindly, madam, that you did not write to me with +your own hand, I am very much surprised that you even thought of me +at a time so cruel and so fatal as the present. I did not doubt your +sensibility at the loss we have sustained; and I could easily conceive +what it would cost your excellent heart. God of heaven, what a blow +is this to us all! For myself, I am lost in the thought that I shall +no longer see the dear cousin to whom I have been from infancy so +affectionately attached, and who returned this attachment so tenderly +and so faithfully. If you could see, madam, all that passes here, you +would be still better acquainted with the merit of your grandmother, +for never was worth more truly acknowledged than hers; and the public +renders her, with pious regret, all the honor which is due to her. +Madame de Coulanges is grieved to an excess that it is impossible to +describe, and I tremble for its effect upon her own health. From the +day that announced to us the fatal illness, which in the end took our +friend from us forever, we have lost all peace of mind. The Duchess +de Chaulnes is almost dead, and poor Madame de la Troche--.[359] In +short, we meet together to weep, and to regret what we have lost; and +in the midst of our grief, we are not without anxiety for the health of +your mother. Do not write to me; order one of your meanest attendants +to inform us how you are: I entreat you to believe that your mother’s +health and your own are very precious to me, for more reasons than one; +for I think I owe it to the memory of Madame de Sévigné, to be more +attached to you and Madame de Grignan than before, from knowing so +well the sentiments she entertained for her and for you. I shall not +write to your mother for a long time, for fear of increasing her grief +by my letters; but omit me not, whenever an opportunity offers; make +mention of my name; be assured that of all your servants, relations, +friends, no one is more deeply afflicted than I am, no one feels a +greater interest in all that concerns you. I shall not show your +letter immediately to Madame de Coulanges; but I shall not fail to +tell her that you do not forget her. I can assure you that you owe her +this justice on account of her love for you. Allow me to pay my sad +compliments to M. de Simiane, the Chevalier de Grignan, and M. de la +Garde. Heavens, what a scene in this royal château! Poor Mademoiselle +de Marsillac too, who has so well discharged all the duties of +friendship, how I feel for her! + + [359] This phrase is incomplete. + + +LETTER III. + +FROM MADAME DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE. + + PARIS, May 2, 1696. + +I am truly obliged to you, madame, for still thinking of me. I knew +all your excellences; but the affection of your heart, and the regard +you have felt for a person so worthy of being beloved as she whom +you regret, appear to me to be above all praise. Ah! madam, how much +reason have you to believe me to be deeply affected! I can think of +no other subject; I can talk of nothing else. I am ignorant of the +particulars of this fatal illness, and the eagerness with which I seek +for them shows that I have little power over myself. I spent the whole +of yesterday with the prior of St. Catharine’s. You may guess upon +what our conversation turned. I showed him the letter you have done me +the honor to write to me. It gave him real pleasure, for persons of +his turn of mind are so convinced that this life ought only to serve +as a passport to the other, that the dispositions in which we leave +the world are to them the only ones that are worthy of attention. But +we think of what we have lost, and we lament it. For myself, I have +no female friend left. My turn will soon come; it is reasonable to +expect it; but to hear a person of your age entertain such serious and +melancholy thoughts is rare indeed. Your understanding, madam, makes me +forget your youth; and this, added to the natural partiality I feel for +you, seems to authorize me to address you as I do. + + +LETTER IV. + +FROM THE COUNT DE GRIGNAN TO M. DE COULANGES. + + GRIGNAN, May 23, 1696. + +You, sir, can understand better than any one the magnitude of the loss +we have sustained, and my just grief. Madame de Sévigné’s distinguished +merit was perfectly known to you. It is not merely a mother-in-law +that I regret; this name does not always command esteem; it is an +amiable and excellent friend, and a delightful companion. But it is +a circumstance more worthy of our admiration than our regret, that +this noble-minded woman contemplated the approach of death, which she +expected from the moment of her attack, with astonishing firmness and +submission. She, who was so tender and so timid respecting those she +loved, displayed the utmost fortitude and piety when she believed that +she ought to think only of herself; and we can not but remark how +useful and important it is to fill the mind with good things and sacred +subjects, for which Madame de Sévigné appears to have had a peculiar +taste, not to say a surprising avidity, by the use she made of these +excellent provisions in the last moments of her life. I relate these +particulars to you, sir, because they accord with your sentiments, and +will be gratifying to the friendship you have borne for her whom we +lament; and at the same time my mind is so full of them that it is a +relief to me to find a man so well disposed as you are to listen to the +recital, and take pleasure in hearing it. I hope, sir, that the memory +of a friend who highly esteemed you will contribute to preserve to me +the regard with which you have long honored me. I prize it too highly, +and wish it too much, not to deserve it a little. + + + + +INDEX. + + + PAGE + + Adhémar, Count (see note 16), 30 + Adoration, 413 + Affection, 423 + Alone, 409 + Apparition, An, 362 + Arianism, 413 + + Baptism, 416 + Bellefond, Marshal, 75, 152 + Blanchfort, 392 + Bleeding, An anecdote, 401 + Books, 421 + Bouillon, Duchess de, 189, 191 + Bourdaloüe, 91, 111 + Brancas, 43 + Bride, A, 401 + Brinon, Madame de, 260, 270 + Brinvilliers, Madame de, 154, 155 + Brittany, Disturbances in, 124, 238 + Bussy, Count de (see note 3), 19, 350 + Bussy, Count de, Letters to, 19-28 + + Calprenedre, La, 62 + Chantal, Baroness de, 7 + Charles II. of England, 245, 246 + Chaulnes, Madame de, 66 + Châtelet, Magdelen de (see note 43), 56 + Chaulnes, Madame de, 66 + Chaulnes, Duke de, 386 + Chess, 409 + Children, Hints about, 395 + Christian Humility, 410 + Colbert, 178 + Company, 401 + Condé, Prince de, 87 + Conti, Prince de, 353, 356, 361 + Corbinelli, 181, 217, 355 + Coulanges, M. de, Letters to, 368-393 + Coulanges, M. de, Letters from, 425 + Coulanges, Madame de, 187, 212, 223, 426 + Court News, 38 + Courtier, A, 409 + + Dauphiness, 208, 216 + Death, 79 + Death of Madame de Sévigné, 428 + Departure of Madame de Sévigné, 28 + Descartes (termed _Father_ in the Letters), 238 + Devices, Several, 406 + Dreux, Madame de, 214 + Dubois, 220 + Dullness, 134 + + Elopement, 331 + Esther, Tragedy of, 283 + Evening employments, 400 + Expenses, 415 + + Faith in Christ, 419 + Fayette, Madame de La, 211, 212, 294 + Feuillade, M. de, 129 + Fire-eater, The, 420 + Flechier, (see note 185), 217 + Folly, 414 + Forgiving Mother, A, 408 + Fortune, Calculation of her, 51 + Fouquet, M., 205, 208, 297-329 + Fouquet, Madame de, 300, 303 + Free will, 405 + + Gaming, 404 + General Preface, III + Geneviève, 121 + Gourville, M., 8 + Grammont, Countess de, 182 + Grammont, Marshal de, 91, 422 + Grignan, Count de, 26, 27 + Grignan, Count de, Letter from, 427 + Grignan, Count de, Letters to, 338-346 + Grignan, Madame or Countess, Letters to, 28-296 + Grignan, Countess de, Letters from, 424 + Grignan, Mademoiselle, 357 + Grignan, the young Marquis, 417 + Guiche, Count de, 91, 92 + + Harcourt, Countess de, 63 + History of the Bible, 423 + Home Life, 411 + Hope ever, 426 + + Jealousy, 414 + Jews, their religion, 147 + Joli, Claude, 29 + Josephus, 426 + + King, The (see note 175), 410 + King of England, 265, 269, 271, 280, 282 + King of France, Anecdote of, 308 + King of France, Generosity of, 364 + + La Marans, 76, 89, 107 + La Trousse, 129 + Launoi, Mademoiselle de, 112 + Lauzun, Duke de, Marriage of, 369 + Lavardin, M. de, 228, 234, 378 + La Voisin, The prisoner, 184, 190, 200 + Liberty at Home, 411 + Liberty of Mind, 421 + Living, Rules of, 399 + Longueville, Madame de, 89, 210, 211 + Lot of Mankind, The, 414 + Louvois, M. de, 381, 383 + Love, its symptoms, 408 + Luxembourg, M. de, 185, 188, 192, 215 + + Mainbourg, Father (see note 132), 143 + Maine, Duke of, 102 + Mademoiselle de Montpensier, Marriage of, 368-373 + Maintenon, Madame de (see note 156), 181, 182, 223 + Marriage, The impromptu, 400 + Mary Blanche, 417 + Mary Stuart (see note 225), 253 + Maxims, 57, 67 + Méri, Chevalier de, 181 + Montespan, Madame de, 118, 119, 160, 396, 397 + Montmort, Abbé, 40 + Moonlight Walk, 230 + Moral Essays, 422 + Moulceau, President de, Letters to, 347-367 + + Namur, 388 + Nicole, 61, 70, 72 + Ninon de l’Enclos, 8, 39 + Noailles, Duke de (see note 302), 348 + Nuns of St. Marie, 422 + + Obstinate Son, 407 + Old age, 425 + Order, 56, 416 + Order de la St. Esprit, 255 + + Pain, 81 + Paulina, 162, 164, 279, 289, 291, 418 + Pecuniary embarrassments, 407 + Philipsburg, 252 + Philosophy, 424 + Plessis, Mademoiselle du, 49, 51, 60, 225 + Polignac, Madame de, 363 + Pomponne, M. de, his dismissal, 177, 187, 193 + Pomponne, M. de, Letters to, 297-329 + Port Royal, 395 + Potable Gold (see note 148), 167 + Preface, General, 7 + Presentiment, 427 + Providence, 405 + Puissort (see note 278), 302 + + Quarrels in High Life, 402 + Queen of England, 261, 271, 273 + Queen of France, Illness of, 312 + Queen of Spain poisoned (see note 149), 277 + + Rabutin-Chantal, Marie de, 7 + Racine, 75, 80 + Readings, 412 + Reason, Use of, 405 + Reflections, 396 + Regrets, 32 + Reproaches, 161 + Retz, Cardinal de, 114, 117, 120 + Rheims, Archbishop of, 111 + Rheumatism, 151 + Richelieu, Cardinal (see note 199), 229 + Robbery (see note 104), 109 + Rochefoucault, M. de la, 42, 82, 202, 204 + Rocks, The (Madame de Sévigné’s estate), 48 + Roquette, Gabriel de (see note 182), 210 + + Saint Simon, Duke of, 109 + Scarron, Madame de, 74, 394 + Schomberg, Count de, 253 + Schomberg, Madame de (see note 95), 102 + Selections from various letters, 394 + Sermons, 426 + Sévigné, Madame de, and her times, 5 + Sévigné, Marguerite de (see note 11), 28 + Sévigné, Marquis de, 172, 183, 198 + Sévigné, Marquis de, Letters to, 330-337 + Sévigné, Madame de, Death of, 428 + Sévigné, Marquis de, Extravagance of, 403 + Sobieski, John (see note 86), 95 + Soissons, Countess de, 186, 190 + St. Augustine, 157, 414 + St. Cyr, 275 + Submission, 424 + Supper at Madame Coulanges, 394 + + Telescope, The, 398 + Termes, M. de, 168, 169 + Thianges, Madame de, 100 + Thianges, Mademoiselle de, 341 + Transparencies, 159 + Trappe, La, 37 + Turenne, Marshall de (see note 49), 64, 126-135 + Twilight, 427 + + Vallière, Duchess de la, 33, 104, 114 + Vardes, M. de, 54, 351 + Vatel, 44, 45 + Vendôme, Chevalier, 93, 94 + Ventadour, M. de, 38 + Versailles in 1676, 396 + Villars, Abbé (see note 52), 68 + Villeroi, Marshal de, 189 + Vivonne, M. de, 93, 94, 110 + + Whims, 123 + Words, The use of, 139 + Work, 399 + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS. + + + Section Page + + Preface to the Revised Edition III + Madame de Sévigné and her times 5 + Letters of Madame de Sévigné, from 1655 to 1669, + addressed to the Count de Bussy 19 + Letters to Madame de Grignan from 1671 to 1690 28 + Letters to M. de Pomponne 297 + Letters to her son the Marquis de Sévigné 330 + Letters to the Count de Grignan from 1670 to 1696 338 + Letters to the President de Moulceau from 1681 + to 1682 347 + Letters to M. de Coulanges from 1676 to 1696 368 + Selections from various letters 394 + Letters on the death of Madame de Sévigné 428 + Index 433 + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78579 *** diff --git a/78579-h/78579-h.htm b/78579-h/78579-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7327a27 --- /dev/null +++ b/78579-h/78579-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18396 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <title>The Letters of Madame de Sévigné | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> +<style> +body {width: 85%; max-width: 44em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto} +.x-ebookmaker body {width: 100%; max-width: 100%} + +div.npage {margin-top: 4em} +.x-ebookmaker div.npage {margin-top: 1em; page-break-before: always} + +h1 {text-align: center; 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#f8f8f8;} +.x-ebookmaker .tnote {margin: 1em 1em; border: solid 2px #666; background-color: #fff; padding: .3em .3em} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 3%; font-size: small; + font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: left; + letter-spacing: normal; color: #aaa; background-color: inherit; + text-indent: 0} +.x-ebookmaker .pagenum {visibility: hidden} + +a:link {color: #66c; text-decoration: none} +a:visited {color: #66c; text-decoration: none} +a:hover {color: #000; text-decoration: underline} + +</style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78579 ***</div> + + +<div class="tnote"> + +<p class="cent ssrf">Transcription note</p> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors and some spelling inconsistencies have +been silently corrected. The translator writes consistently Livri and +Vichi instead of Livry and Vichy: we have respected this choice, but +we have corrected “Usèz” into “Uzès”.</p> + +<p>Footnotes have been numbered and grouped at the end of each +letter.</p> + +<p>The portrait of Madame de Sévigné was borrowed +from our publication of her Letters in French, <a +href="https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/43901">PG ebook 43901</a>. It +belongs to the public domain.</p> + +<p>A <a href="#toc">Table of Contents</a> has been added.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/portrait.jpg" rel="nofollow"> + <img src="images/portrait.jpg" alt="Madame de Sévigné" title="Enlarge" + style="width: 100%; border: solid 4px #bb9"></a> +<p class="caption"><i>Madame de Sévigné</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="npage"></div> + +<h1><span class="cs9 wesp">THE LETTERS</span><br> +<span class="cs5">OF</span><br> +<span class="cs16 gesp">MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ</span><br> +<span class="cs5">TO</span><br> +<span class="cs8 wesp">HER DAUGHTER AND FRIENDS</span></h1> + +<p class="sep2 cent lh1"><span class="cs7 wesp">EDITED BY</span><br> +<span class="cs12 gesp">MRS. HALE,</span></p> +<p class="cent"><span class="cs6 wesp">AUTHORESS OF “WOMAN’S RECORD,” “NORTHWOOD,” “VIGIL OF LOVE,” +“MANNERS,” ETC.</span></p> + +<div class="poem" style="margin-left: 25%"> + <div class="verse"><span style="padding-left: 8em">“There is none</span></div> + <div class="verse">In all this cold and hollow world, no fount</div> + <div class="verse">Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within</div> + <div>A mother’s heart.”—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Hemans.</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="sep2 cent cs7">REVISED EDITION.</p> + +<p class="sep2 cent lh1"><span class="gesp">BOSTON:<br> +ROBERTS BROTHERS.</span><br> +1878.</p> + +<div class="npage"></div> + +<p class="cent lh1">Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by<br> +<span class="gesp">ROBERTS BROTHERS</span>,<br> +In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.</p> + + +<p class="sep3 cent lh1 cs8">CAMBRIDGE:<br> +PRESSWORK BY JOHN WILSON AND SON.</p> + +<h2 id="page_III">PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.</h2> + +<p>The Editress has set forth so fully, in the introductory sketch of +Madame de Sévigné’s Life and Times, her object in offering this +book to the American public, that any further prologue may seem +superfluous; yet there are one or two things to be said which seem +to find their most proper expression in a Preface. Since the date +of the first edition, the changes in the manners and feelings of the +time have been rapid and continuous; and they have operated in +a twofold manner.</p> + +<p>In the first place, we have become as a nation more thoroughly +acquainted with French literature, and better able to appreciate +that world of the past in which the great letter-writer lived. +Madame de Sévigné was a woman who lived in and for others,—for +her daughter, her friends, and, at a greater distance, for the +brilliant circle of distinguished men and women of which she herself +was so important a figure. Her letters are made up of incident, +of meetings, of conversations: they are full of references to +the topics then uppermost; they draw half their charm from the +personality of the writer. Literature of this sort cannot stand +alone. To enjoy it to the full we must know with some minuteness +the history of the times in which it was written, and of the +people to whom it was written. The knowledge of these things is +now spreading wider every year, as we become familiar, through +originals or translations, with the masterpieces of foreign languages. +For instance, probably the best French sketch of Madame +de Sévigné is from the pen of M. Sainte-Beuve, the great critic +whom Mr. Arnold acknowledges for his master. This sketch has +been translated by Miss Preston, and published within the last +<span class="pagenum" id="page_IV"><small>IV</small></span> +year.<a id="fnanchor_1" href="#footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Our limits forbid quotation; but to every one who can +enjoy a criticism at once delicate and profound, we recommend +this incomparable study.</p> + +<p>Again, the times themselves in which we live call for the exercise +of just such an influence upon the mind and style as might be +wielded by these letters. We in America are almost all educated +up to a certain point; few of us, unfortunately, are educated beyond +it. The national character is pushing, energetic, ambitious; +setting great value upon money and material luxuries, but without +appreciation of the refined enjoyments that consist with a moderate +purse, or the delicacy of feeling that marks a sensitive but +well-balanced mind. The vortex of politics or of business draws +into it all our energies; we have nothing to spare for reflection, +for the observances of friendship, for the amenities of social intercourse. +A life so vulgarizing alike to the mind and to the style, +finds its best antidote in the letters of Madame de Sévigné. Here +is a beautiful existence centred in home and friends; here are +thoughts occupied by love for the dear ones around, and by sympathy +with their joys and sorrows. The tumult of the outer world +is heard faintly. The writer’s mind is busied in a calmer sphere, +and the exquisite tenderness of her heart gives that transparent +grace to her style that has been the wonder and the despair of two +centuries.</p> + +<p>We are a letter-writing people; and no better models for letters +exist than Madame de Sévigné’s. We are a practical and +energetic people; and no better complement to such virtues can +be found than the tender affection and delicate refinement of +Madame de Sévigné.</p> + +<p class="rsign"><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, Nov. 26, 1868.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_1" href="#fnanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Sainte-Beuve’s Portraits of Celebrated Women.</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="page_5">MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ AND HER TIMES.</h2> + +<p>An honorable celebrity has been universally accorded to +Madame de Sévigné. For nearly two centuries her “Letters” +have been the admiration of all lovers of elegant literature. The +natural grace, the “<i lang="la">curiosa felicitas</i>” of these epistles have rendered +them remarkable as to style, and the artist-like pictures +of manners, the lively accounts of cotemporaneous incidents give +them very great value as aids to the study of history. Then +they are trustworthy documents; every word, every circumstance +is read with particular satisfaction, because the character +and position of the writer assure us of her perfect intent to communicate +truth.</p> + +<p>Madame de Sévigné lived in what the French consider their +Augustan Age. Great men in arts, in arms, in literature gave +glory to the most splendid monarch that ever sat on the throne +of France. At the same time the position of women was both +active and brilliant. The social existence of the women of the +higher classes was one that gave scope to talent and opportunity +to energy. In those days the great dame was occupied with the +administration of her property and the exaltation of her family. +Far from being absorbed in a narrow routine of personality, she +considered the sacrifice of private feelings to family greatness a +positive duty, and the sacrifice of family greatness to the king—that +is, the state—a still more imperative obligation.</p> + +<p>As our views of moral responsibility extend, the intellectual +horizon enlarges. The woman who was accustomed to dwell +upon considerations beyond mere fireside comforts or fashionable +display, who went from the individual to the family, and from +the family to the state, must of necessity have enlarged her understanding +in proportion to the elevation and extent of her +<span class="pagenum" id="page_6">6</span> +views. It is only by a just development of the intellectual faculties +that the heart can be properly regulated, and nowhere is +this truth more strikingly illustrated than in the life of Madame +de Sévigné.</p> + +<p>Her passionate love for her daughter was always made to yield +to the dictates of a wise prudence and just propriety. Though +born with excessive sensibility, great vivacity, amiable instincts, +and warm imagination, that is to say, with the qualities and feelings +most likely to lead their possessor astray or into indiscretions, +yet this youthful widow managed her estate and her +children with admirable wisdom, and so regulated her own conduct +as to be above the slightest censure in a court of relaxed +morals and of many temptations. This was accomplished because +her brilliant qualities rested on the solid basis of serious and +valuable acquirements, a practical knowledge of business, and a +trusting and sincere piety.</p> + +<p>To make the example of this excellent woman more widely +and familiarly known in America is the main object of this volume. +As a model in private life, her conduct and character +deserve to be studied. Her “Letters” are referred to by the best +authorities, as the most charming specimens of epistolary art +extant, yet no edition has ever been issued in this country. Nor +would one be profitable, because the complete work is too large. +Still it is desirable to have access to this treasury of beautiful +sentiments and entertaining sketches; and we have here selected +such portions of her correspondence as will make her virtues +known and give those lessons of practical goodness her life so +happily illustrated.</p> + +<p>In order to do this we have arranged the correspondence on a +new plan. Hitherto the “Letters” have been thrown together +according to date, and the reader was compelled to change from +one correspondent to another, even on the same page, often finding +similar details in several consecutive epistles. In this volume +each person addressed has his or her own department—thus the +Letters to Madame de Grignan, the soul of the correspondence, +form one unbroken series. Much care has been taken to keep +the fine and often sparkling threads of narrative inwoven in the +Letters continuous, and errors in the only English translation +we have seen (published in London, in 1811) have been corrected +by comparing it with the best French editions of the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_7">7</span> +“Letters.”<a id="fnanchor_2" href="#footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> And now we will endeavor to sketch the life of +this lovely and lovable woman, though the events are in no +wise remarkable, and the truest portrait of her character and +genius must be sought in her letters.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_2" href="#fnanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +The explanatory notes, which afford useful particulars concerning +personages and events mentioned in the Letters, are partly from the +French, and partly by the English translator and the present Editor.</p> +</div> + +<p class="sep2 cent">MARIE DE RABUTIN-CHANTAL</p> + +<p class="noind">was born February 5th, 1627, in the ancestral château of Bourbilly, +between Semur and Epoisses. Her father was Celse-Bénigne +de Rabutin, Baron of Chantal; her mother, Marie de Coulanges, +was daughter of a Secretary of State, and belonged to a +family celebrated for wit, and, generally, remarkable for integrity. +The baron was slain during the siege of Rochelle, fighting +against the English in their descent on the island of Rhé; and it +was thought he was killed by the hand of Cromwell. The little +Marie was then but eighteen months old, and soon afterward +was, by the death of her mother, left an orphan indeed. The +Baroness de Chantal, her grandmother, seemed the person naturally +destined to have the guardianship of the child, but that +lady was occupied in religious duties (she was afterward a canonized +saint, and known as the “Blessed Mother of Chantal,” +and seems to have deserved the distinction, according to the +feeling of those days, as she founded eighty-seven religious +houses), and, therefore, permitted her granddaughter to pass +into the hands of her mother’s relations. She was first taken by +her grandfather, M. de Coulanges; when he died, shortly afterward, +the orphan, then about nine years of age, passed into the +family of her uncle, Christophe de Coulanges, Abbé de Livry. +This was a fortunate event for the young girl. She was brought +up and educated with her cousin, Philippe Emanuel de Coulanges, +enjoying the advantages of the most intellectual society +of the age; her learned uncle was her companion, and encouraged +her to cultivate her talents. This last advantage can hardly +be estimated now, when feminine education is common and popular; +but then the instruction of young ladies was usually limited +to the accomplishments of reading, writing, dancing, and embroidery. +Marie de Rabutin had the <i lang="fr">entrée</i> to her uncle’s +<span class="pagenum" id="page_8">8</span> +library and his encouragement, if not personal instruction, in her +literary pursuits. She was taught Latin, Italian, and Spanish; +her instructors were Menage and Chapelain, and other professors +of polite literature. The result is before the world—that the +woman’s mind is as susceptible of cultivation as that of the +man’s, and that she is made happier, better, more lovely, and +more capable of doing good by a liberal and careful cultivation +of her intellectual powers.</p> + +<p>In person and manners Mademoiselle de Rabutin is represented +as very attractive, if not positively beautiful. M. Ph. A. Gourville, +her French biographer, thus describes her:</p> + +<p>“An exact portrait of her person would savor of romance, +and would be out of place; we may, however, represent the +young Rabutin to our imagination as a truly handsome woman, +with more character of countenance than beauty; with features +more expressive than commanding; an easy figure, a stature +rather tall than short, a redundancy of fine light hair, excellent +health, a fine color, a brilliant complexion, eyes, the vivacity of +which gave additional animation to her language and agility to +her movements, a pleasing voice, as much knowledge of music +as existed in those days, and of dancing, in which she excelled +for the times. This is the idea that her portraits, her friends, or +herself give of her. And certainly her nose, tending a little +toward the square, which she herself ridicules, could not spoil +her whole appearance as much as the age of eighteen embellished +it, when, in 1644, she married Henry, Marquis de Sévigné, of an +ancient family of Brittany. To this appendage of merit and +charms she added a dower of a hundred thousand crowns, which, +at that period, were not of less value than seven hundred thousand +francs.”</p> + +<p>The Marquis de Sévigné was also rich, moreover he was young, +handsome, and gay. Her good uncle doubtless believed he had +secured the happiness of his niece by this connection; but the +sequel proved otherwise. The marquis soon showed himself to +be weak, vain, extravagant, and, finally, a profligate. Though +he always admitted the charms and merits of his wife, yet, after +a year or two, he began to neglect her for unworthy associates. +The siren of that age, Ninon de l’Enclos, drew him to her side, +and for that wanton the happiness of his home was sacrificed.</p> + +<p>Bussy de Rabutin, cousin of Madame de Sévigné’s father, an +<span class="pagenum" id="page_9">9</span> +unprincipled man, but distinguished for wit and talent, had +always admired and loved, or pretended to be in love with his +fascinating cousin, and she had always laughed at his flattery +and rejected his suit. He took advantage of her husband’s infidelity +to offer an insulting proposal, that she should take her revenge. +He was reproved in such terms of cold and calm +severity as put a final repulse to his gallantry toward her. +Though their intercourse continued friendly through life, yet, +judging from the tone of her letters to him, always constrained, +and confined chiefly to his own affairs, we feel that, though she +acknowledged their relationship, she never esteemed the man.</p> + +<p>Her husband was killed in a duel, about seven years after marriage, +and Madame de Sévigné, at the age of twenty-five, was +left a widow, with two children, the eldest, her son, the youngest, +that idolized daughter, who made the light of her mother’s +life.</p> + +<p>In spite of the faults and vices of the Marquis de Sévigné, his +sudden and shocking death greatly afflicted his wife. She was, +for a time, nearly overwhelmed with sorrow, but soon found devolving +upon her the hard and painful duty of endeavoring to +extricate her estate from utter ruin. The follies and waste of +her husband came near making her and the children penniless. +She retired to the country, and, aided by the counsel and encouragement +of her uncle the abbé, entered on her new duties. +We quote from one of her French biographers, who seems to +have searched out her history with great care:</p> + +<p>“Madame de Sévigné’s good sense, natural rectitude, and laudable +pride, gave her a taste for economy, and the advice of her +uncle taught her to understand it. Her mind, notwithstanding +the habit of sacrificing to the Graces, had no repugnance to +business. She well knew how to sell or let estates, receive her +rents, direct her workmen, etc. She did not trust to her beauty +alone for gaining law-suits. Ménage relates, that one day, recommending +an affair with great ease and simplicity to the +President de Bellièvre, she felt herself at last a little embarrassed +with the terms to be used, when she said, ‘At least, sir, I know +the air perfectly, but I forget the words.’</p> + +<p>“With regard to education, not only do the merit of her son +and daughter, as well as their virtues, show the extent of her +capacity in this respect, but it would be easy to extract from her +<span class="pagenum" id="page_10">10</span> +letters a series of maxims upon the subject, by which it would +be seen that, far from adhering to the false methods in vogue in +her days, she had foretold many of the improvements of which +we are justly vain in ours.”</p> + +<p>Though she devoted herself seduously to the duties of her +family, yet Madame de Sévigné did not long live a recluse. She +saved her property, returned to society, and passed much of her +time in Paris, where she was the idol of her circle, people of the +first rank in letters and worth of character, as well as stars in +the fashionable world. She was also a frequent visitor at court, +where the king, Louis XIV, always received her with respect.</p> + +<p>Madame de Sévigné had many adorers, among whom were the +Seigneur Turenne and the Prince de Conti, and her friends were +most devoted—Fouquet was one of them, and she was true to +him in his great misfortune, as her letters show. But she appears +never to have had the least intention of a second marriage; +to promote the happiness of her children and the enjoyment of +her friends, was the object of her life. Her son, the Marquis +de Sévigné, who entered the army, was very frivolous, weak, +and dissipated in his youth; his mother’s watchful care and patient +forbearance saved him from utter degradation. About +middle age he married an amiable wife of noble family, left the +army, and cultivated a taste for literature. To effect this marriage, +and thus secure the reformation of her son, Madame de +Sévigné gave up to him so large a portion of her estate that +she was afterward in comparatively straitened circumstances.</p> + +<p>But the daughter, Margaret Frances, was her mother’s glory, +the idol that seemed to claim the worship of the mother’s soul. +Passion rather than affection possessed Madame de Sévigné when +writing to or of her “infinitely dear child.” That the daughter +did not reciprocate this love in its full flow has been urged to +prove that Madame de Grignan was cold in temperament or selfish +in feeling. We do not find evidences to support this charge. +The mother, ambitious for her daughter, and wishing to keep +her in Paris had married her to the Count de Grignan, who was +rich, and of the high nobility, and had a place at court. But he +was also Lieutenant-Governor of Provence, and ordered, soon +after his marriage, to his government. His wife had to follow +him; she seems to have loved and respected her husband, as was +her duty. She had children; she was at the head of a great +<span class="pagenum" id="page_11">11</span> +establishment, and she could not give the whole of her heart, +thoughts, and time to her mother, as the latter did to her +daughter.</p> + +<p>The separation was a terrible privation to Madame de Sévigné, +but it was the cause of her moral and literary improvement, as +well as of the series of “Letters to Madame de Grignan,” which, +of their kind, are unequaled in any language. The mother’s +genius lives in this correspondence; her pen gives importance to +the most trifling occurrences, and makes hard facts as interesting +as fairy stories.</p> + +<p>Among other advantages of life, Madame de Sévigné retained +her good looks, as she did her cheerful disposition, to the last; +hence the name of <i lang="fr">Mère Beauté</i> (Mother Beauty) given her by M. +de Coulanges. Her constitution was good, and she managed it with +great judgment. In thirty years the only disorder she had known +was rheumatism. Happy all her life by the exercise of natural +affections, Madame de Sévigné thought less of the ravages of +time; and when death terminated her existence in 1696, her illness, +the result of the fatigue and uneasiness she had endured for +some months on her daughter’s account, took her by surprise, +and was announced by no symptom. It was short. In her last +moments she was resigned, and perfectly calm. Thus died Madame +de Sévigné, aged about seventy years, and was interred +in the Collegiate Church of Grignan, leaving to posterity in the +record of her blameless life, as in her exquisite writings, the +brightest and purest model which her age affords.</p> + +<p class="rsign">S. J. H.</p> + +<h2 id="page_19">LETTERS OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ,<br> +<span class="wesp cs6">FROM 1655 TO 1669.</span><br> +<span class="gesp cs8">ADDRESSED TO THE COUNT DE BUSSY.<a id="fnanchor_3" href="#footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></span></h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">In the Country</span>, June 26, 1655.</p> + +<p>I had no doubt that you would take some opportunity of +bidding me adieu, either at my own house or from the camp +at Landrecy. As I am not a woman of ceremony, I am content +with the latter; and have not even thought of being +angry, that you failed in coming to me before you set out.</p> + +<p>I have not stirred from this desert, since your departure; +and, to speak frankly, I am not much afflicted to find that you +are with the army. I should be an unworthy cousin of so +<span class="pagenum" id="page_20">20</span> +brave a cousin, if I were sorry to see you, during the present +campaign, at the head of the finest regiment in France, and in +so glorious a post as the one you hold. I dare say you would +disown any sentiments less worthy than these; I leave weaker +and more tender feelings to the true bagnio gentry. Every +one loves in his own way. I profess to be heroic as well as +you, and am proud to boast of these sentiments. Some +women, perhaps, would think this a little in the old Roman +style, and <i>would thank God they were not Romans</i>,<a id="fnanchor_4" href="#footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> that they +might still preserve some feelings of humanity. But on this +subject I can assure them I am not so inhuman as they suppose; +and, with all my heroism, I wish your safe return as +passionately as they can do. I trust, my dear cousin, you +will not doubt the truth of this, nor that I fervently pray your +life may be spared. This is the adieu you would have received +from me in person, and which I now beg you to accept +from hence, as I have accepted yours from Landrecy.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_3" href="#fnanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> +The Count Bussy de Rabutin, first cousin to the father of Madame +de Sévigné, was, on account of his relationship, always on terms of +intimacy with her. He was a famous wit and satirist, as his Letters +and Memoirs show, but not of principles or character to excite love or +esteem in the soul of such a woman as Madame de Sévigné. However, +they were cousins, and though she refused his suit, she seems to +have felt a deep interest in his welfare. She corresponded with him +occasionally till her death, but her letters to him have less interest +than those she wrote to others, especially to her daughter. We give a +few of her first and best letters to Count de Bussy, as preliminary to +the real work of her heart and mind, her correspondence with Madame +de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_4" href="#fnanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> +Verse from Corneille’s tragedy of the Horatii.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, July 14, 1655.</p> + +<p>Will you always disgrace your relations? Will you never +be weary of making yourself the subject of conversation in +every campaign? Do you imagine it can give us pleasure to +hear that M. de Turenne has sent word to court that you +have done nothing worthy of notice at Landrecy?<a id="fnanchor_5" href="#footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> This is +really very mortifying to us, and you may easily comprehend +how deeply I feel the affronts you bring upon your family. +But I know not why I thus amuse myself, for I have no +leisure to carry on the jest. I must tell you, therefore, that I +am delighted with the success which has attended your exploits. +I wrote you a long letter from the country, which I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_21">21</span> +fear you have not received. I should be sorry it were lost, for +you would laugh heartily at its contents.</p> + +<p>I was yesterday at Madame de Montglas’s; she had just received +a letter from you, as also had Madame de ——. I +expected one likewise, but was disappointed. I suppose you +were unwilling to effect too many wonders at once. I am +not sorry, however, and shall some day claim a whole cargo +for myself. Adieu, my cousin. The gazette speaks of you +but slightly, which has given offense to many, and to me +especially, for no one can be so much interested in your affairs +as myself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_5" href="#fnanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> +Mere jesting. Bussy had merited and obtained the praises of +Turenne.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, July 19, 1655.</p> + +<p>This is the third time I have written to you since you left +Paris, a sufficient proof that I have nothing upon my mind +against you. I received your farewell letter from Landrecy +while I was in the country, and answered it immediately. I +see plainly that my letter has never reached you, and I am +extremely vexed at it; for, besides its being written with becoming +affection, it was in my opinion a very pretty composition; +and as it was designed for you only, I am wroth that +another should have the pleasure of reading it. I have since +written to you by the servant you dispatched hither with letters +to some of your favorites. I did not amuse myself by +quarreling with you for not remembering me at the same +time, but wrote you a line or two at full speed, which, however +incoherent, would inform you of the pleasure I received +from the success of your regiment at Landrecy. This intelligence +came to us in the most acceptable manner possible, by +some of the court, who assured us that Cardinal Mazarin had +spoken very handsomely of you to the king, who afterward +joined with the whole court in extolling your conduct. You +may conceive that my joy was not inconsiderable at hearing +<span class="pagenum" id="page_22">22</span> +all this; but to return to my story. This was the subject of +my second letter, and five or six days after I received one +from you, full of complaints against me. You see, however, +my poor cousin, with how little justice you complain; and +hence I draw this fine moral reflection, that we should never +condemn a person unheard. This is my justification. Another, +perhaps, would have expressed the same thing in fewer +words. You must bear with my imperfections, in consideration +of my friendship. Every one has his peculiar style; +mine, as you see, is by no means laconic.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, November 25, 1655.</p> + +<p>You affect great things, M. le Comte: under the pretense +that you write like a second Cicero, you think yourself entitled +to ridicule people. The passage you remarked, in reality, +made me laugh heartily; but I am astonished that you +found no other equally ludicrous; for, in the way I wrote to +you, it is a miracle that you comprehended my meaning; +and I see plainly that either you have a greater share of wit, +or that my letter is better, than I imagined. I am glad, however, +you have profited by my advice.</p> + +<p>I am told that you have asked leave to stay at the frontiers. +As you know, my poor count, that mine is a blunt and honest +sort of love, I am desirous your request may be granted. +This is the road, it is said, to preferment, and you know how +interested I am in your welfare; but I shall be pleased either +way. If you remain, true friendship shall find its account; +if you return, affectionate friendship shall be satisfied.</p> + +<p>Madame de Roquelaure is returned so handsome that she +yesterday completely challenged the Louvre; this kindled +such jealousy in the beauties that were present, that they +have resolved, out of spite, she shall not be a party at any of +the <i>after-suppers</i>, and you know how gay and pleasant they +<span class="pagenum" id="page_23">23</span> +are. Madame de Fiennes would have retained her there yesterday, +but it was understood by the queen’s answer that her +presence would be dispensed with.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear cousin; believe me to be the most faithful +friend you have in the world.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, May 20, 1667.</p> + +<p>I received a letter from you, my dear cousin, when I was +in Brittany, in which you talked of our ancestors, the Rabutins, +and of the beauty of Bourbilly. But as I had heard from +Paris that you were expected there, and as I had hoped myself +to arrive much sooner, I deferred writing to you; and +now I find you are not coming at all. You know that nothing +is now talked of but war. The whole court is at camp, +and the whole camp is at court; and every place being a +desert, I prefer the desert of Livri forest, where I shall pass +the summer,</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">En attendant que nos guerriers</div> + <div class="verse">Reviennent couverts de lauriers.<a id="fnanchor_6" href="#footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></div> +</div> + +<p>There are two lines for you, but I do not know whether I +have heard them before, or have just made them. As it is a +matter of no great importance, I shall resume the thread of +my prose. My heart has been very favorably inclined toward +you, since I have seen so many people eager to begin, or +rather to revive, a business in which you acquired so much +honor during the time you were able to engage in it. It is +a sad thing for a man of courage to be confined at home +when there are such great doings in Flanders.<a id="fnanchor_7" href="#footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> As you feel, +no doubt, all that a man of spirit and valor can feel, it is imprudent +in me to revive so painful a subject. I hope you +<span class="pagenum" id="page_24">24</span> +will forgive me, in consideration of the great interest I take +in your affairs.</p> + +<p>It is said you have written to the king. Send me a copy +of your letter, and give me a little information respecting +your mode of life, what sort of things amuse you, and whether +the alterations you are making in your house do not contribute +a good deal toward it. I have spent the winter in Brittany, +where I have planted a great number of trees, and a +labyrinth, that will require Ariadne’s clew to find the way out +of it. I have also purchased some land, to which I have said, +as usual, “I shall convert you into a park.” I have extended +my walks at a trifling expense. My daughter sends +you a thousand remembrances. I beg mine to all your +family.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_6" href="#fnanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> +Waiting the return of our warriors covered with laurels.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_7" href="#fnanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> +Bussy was exiled to his estates.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, June 3, 1668.</p> + +<p>I wrote to you the last; why have you not answered my +letter? I have been expecting to hear from you, and have +at length found the Italian proverb true: <i lang="it">chi offende non perdona</i>—the +offender never pardons.</p> + +<p>Madame d’Assigny has informed me that part of a cornice +has fallen upon your head, and hurt you considerably. If +you were well, and I dared exercise a little wicked wit upon +the occasion, I should tell you that they are not trifling ornaments +like these that injure the heads of husbands in general; +and that it would be a fortunate circumstance for them if they +met with no worse evil than the fall of a cornice. But I will +not talk nonsense; I will first know how you are, and assure +you that the same reason which made me languid when you +were bled, gives me the headache from your accident. The +ties of relationship can not, I think, be carried further than +this.</p> + +<p>My daughter was on the point of marriage. The affair is +broken off, I hardly know why. She kisses your hand; I do +<span class="pagenum" id="page_25">25</span> +the same to your whole family. Have you done any thing +yet with regard to the court? Pray let me know how you +stand there.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, July 26, 1668.</p> + +<p>I begin by thanking you, my dear cousin, for your letters +to the king. They would afford me pleasure even if they +were written by a stranger. They have awakened in me sentiments +of pity, and I should think they must produce the +same effect on our sovereign. It is true, he does not bear +the name of Rabutin, as I do.</p> + +<p>The prettiest girl in France sends her compliments to you. +This title is due to her; I am, however, weary of doing the +honors of it. She is more worthy than ever of your esteem +and friendship.</p> + +<p>You do not know, I believe, that my son is gone to Candia +with M. de Roannes, and the Count de Saint Paul. He consulted +M. de Turenne, Cardinal du Retz, and M. de Rochefoucault +upon this: most important personages! and they all +approved it so highly that it was fixed upon, and rumored +abroad, before I knew any thing of the matter. In short, he +is gone. I have wept bitterly, for it is a source of great +grief to me. I shall not have a moment’s rest during his +voyage. I see all its dangers, and terrify myself to death; +but alas, I am wholly out of the question; for, in things of +this nature, mothers have no voice. Adieu.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, September 4, 1668.</p> + +<p>Rise, count; I will not kill you while prostrate at my feet, +and take your sword to resume the combat. But it is better +that I should give you life, and that we should live in peace.<a id="fnanchor_8" href="#footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> +<span class="pagenum" id="page_26">26</span> +I exact but one condition: that you own the thing as it has +happened. This is a very generous proceeding on my part; +you can no longer call me a little brute.</p> + +<p>M. de Montausier has just been appointed governor to the +Dauphin.</p> + +<p class="cent cs9 sepb1">Je t’ai comblé de biens, je t’en veux accabler.<a id="fnanchor_9" href="#footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> + +<p>Adieu, count. Now I have conquered you, I shall every +where proclaim that you are the bravest man in France; and +whenever extraordinary duels are mentioned, I shall relate +ours. My daughter sends her compliments. The idea you +express of her good fortune in the late affair is some consolation +to us.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_8" href="#fnanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> +Bussy and his cousin had frequent quarrels: the reason has before +been given. The new difference to which she alludes seems to have +been a slight one.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_9" href="#fnanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> +I have loaded thee with favors, I will add to the burden.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, December 4, 1668.</p> + +<p>Have you not received the letter, sir, in which I gave you +life, disdaining to kill you at my feet? I expected an answer +to this noble action; but you have thought it unworthy your +notice: you have contented yourself with rising from the +ground, and taking your sword as I commanded you. I hope +you will never again employ it against me.</p> + +<p>I must tell you a piece of news that will, I am sure, give +you pleasure. It is, that the prettiest girl in France is going +to be married, not to the handsomest youth, but to one of the +worthiest men in the kingdom—to M. de Grignan, whom you +have long known. All his wives died to give place to your +cousin; and, through extraordinary kindness, even his father +and mother died too; so that knowing him to be richer than +ever, and finding him besides, by birth, situation, and good +qualities, every thing we could wish, we have not trafficked +with him, as is customary, on the occasion, but confided in +the two families that have gone before us. He seems very +well pleased with the alliance, and, as soon as we have heard +<span class="pagenum" id="page_27">27</span> +from his uncle, the Archbishop of Arles, his other uncle, the +Archbishop of Uzès, being on the spot, the business will be +finished—probably before the end of the year. As I am a +lover of decorum, I could not fail asking your advice and approbation. +The public seem pleased. This is a great deal, +for we are such fools as to be almost always governed by its +opinion.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER X.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, January 7, 1669.</p> + +<p>It is as true that I did not receive an answer to the letter +in which I gave you life, as that I was in pain, lest, with the +best intention possible to pardon you, I had unintentionally +killed you, being little accustomed to wield a sword. This +was the only good reason I could assign to myself for your +silence. In the mean time you had written, though your letter +had never reached me. Allow me still to regret the circumstance. +You always write pleasantly; and if I had wished +to lose any portion of your correspondence, it would not have +been that letter. I am glad you approve of the marriage with +M. de Grignan; he is a very good man, and very gentlemanly—has +wealth, rank, holds a high office, and is much esteemed +and respected by the world. What more is necessary? I +think we are fortunate, and as you are of the same opinion, +sign the deed I sent you; and be assured, my dear cousin, that +if it depended on me, you should be first at the entertainment. +How admirably well you would act your part! Since you +left us, I have heard no wit equal to yours, and I have said to +myself a thousand times, “Good heavens, what a difference!” +War<a id="fnanchor_10" href="#footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> is talked of, and it is said the king will take the field in +person.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_10" href="#fnanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> +It was a vague report. No idea was yet entertained of breaking +the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, concluded only seven months before. +But it was in contemplation to interfere in the quarrel between the +Count Palatin and the Duke of Lorraine, and force the latter to lay +down his arms.</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="page_28">LETTERS TO MADAME DE GRIGNAN<a id="fnanchor_11" href="#footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a><br> +<small>FROM 1671 TO 1690.</small></h2> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, February 9, 1671.</p> + +<p>I receive your letters in the same way in which you received +my ring. I am in tears while I read them. My heart +seems ready to burst. Bystanders would think that you had +treated me ill in your letters, or were sick, or that some accident +had happened to you; whereas every thing is the reverse. +You love me, my dear child; you love me, and you +tell me so in a manner that makes my tears flow in torrents. +You continue your journey without any disagreeable accident.<a id="fnanchor_12" href="#footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> +<span class="pagenum" id="page_29">29</span> +To know this, is the thing I could the most desire; and yet +am I in this deplorable condition! And do you then take a +pleasure in thinking of me? in talking of me? and have more +satisfaction in writing your sentiments to me than in telling +them? In whatever way they come, they meet with a reception, +the warmth of which can only be known to those who +love as I do. In expressing yourself thus, you make me feel +the greatest tenderness for you that is possible to be felt; and +if you think of me, be assured that I, on my side, am continually +thinking of you. Mine is what the devotees call an +habitual thought; it is what we ought to have for the Divine +Being, were we to do our duty. Nothing is capable of diverting +me from it. I see your carriage continually driving on, +never, never to come nearer to me; I fancy myself on the +road, and am always in apprehensions of the carriage overturning. +I am almost distracted at the violent rains we have +had the last three days, and am frightened to death at the +thoughts of the Rhône. I have at this instant a map before +me; I know every place you sleep at. To-night you are at +Nevers, Sunday you will be at Lyons, where you will receive +this letter. I could only write to you at Moulins by Madame +de Guenegaud. I have had but two letters from you; perhaps +a third is on the road; they are my only comfort. I +ask for no other. I am utterly incapable of seeing much +company at a time; I may recover the feeling hereafter, but +it is out of the question now. The Duchesses of Verneuil +and Arpajon have used all their endeavors to divert me, for +which I am much obliged to them. Never, surely, were there +better people than in this country. I was all the day on Saturday +at Madame de Villars,<a id="fnanchor_13" href="#footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> talking of you, and weeping; +she takes a great share in my sorrow. Yesterday I heard +Monsieur d’Agen<a id="fnanchor_14" href="#footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> preach, and was at Madame de Puisieux +and Madame du Pui-du-Fou’s, who both send you a thousand +<span class="pagenum" id="page_30">30</span> +remembrances. This evening I shall sup <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i><a id="fnanchor_15" href="#footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> in the +Fauxbourgs. These are my carnivals. I have a mass said +for you every day. This is no superstitious devotion. I have +seen Adhémar<a id="fnanchor_16" href="#footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> but for a moment; I am going to write to +him and thank him for his bed, for which I am more obliged +to him even than you are. If you would give me real pleasure, +take care of your health, sleep in that little snug bed, eat +broth, and exert that courage which I want. Continue to +write to me. The friendships you left behind you here are +all increased, and I should never have done with compliments +if I were to tell you how much every one is concerned about +your health.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_11" href="#fnanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> +Margaret de Sévigné, only daughter of Madame de Sévigné, was +born in 1649, a short time before her father was killed. The education +and happiness of this “lovely and infinitely dear child,” was the +occupation, delight, and anxiety of the mother’s long life. For her, +Madame de Sévigné thought, read, observed, and wrote. The following +letters are not only charming as specimens of epistolary style, but +also full of interest and instruction to those who would study the human +mind in its most sacred development of maternal love.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_12" href="#fnanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> +In January, 1670, this idolized daughter of Madame de Sévigné was +married to the Count de Grignan, who was Lieutenant-General of the +Government of Provence, where he found it necessary to reside. The +separation of mother and daughter, which took place early the following +year, was the occasion for the world-renowned correspondence, +which has immortalized the genius of one, and the names of both.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_13" href="#fnanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> +Marie de Bellefond, Marchioness of Villars, mother to the late +marshal of that name.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_14" href="#fnanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> +Claude Joli, a celebrated preacher, afterward Bishop of Agen.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_15" href="#fnanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> +With Madame de la Fayette.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_16" href="#fnanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> +Joseph Adhémar de Monteil, brother to M. de Grignan, known at +first by the name of Adhémar, was, after the death of Charles Philip +d’Adhémar, his brother, which happened the 6th of February, 1672, +called the Chevalier de Grignan; but being afterward married to N*** +d’Oraison, he resumed the name of Count Adhémar. In 1675 he was +colonel to a regiment of horse, at the head of which he signalized +himself on several occasions, particularly at the battle of Altenheim. He +was made field-marshal in 1688, and, had not repeated attacks of the +gout prevented him from continuing in the service, he would, doubtless, +from his reputation, merit, and illustrious birth, have obtained +the most considerable military honors. He died without issue the 19th +of November, 1713, at the age of sixty-nine.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, February 11, 1671.</p> + +<p class="sepb2">I have received but three of those delightful letters that so +affect my heart. One is still on the road. If I were not so +fond of them, and loth to lose any thing that you write me, I +should not think I had lost much; for nothing can be wished +for beyond what I find in those I have already received. In +the first place, they are well written, and are besides so tender, +so natural, that it is impossible not to believe every thing +<span class="pagenum" id="page_31">31</span> +contained in them. Distrust itself would here stand convinced. +They wear that air of truth which, as I have always +maintained, carries authority with it; while falsehood and lies +skulk under a load of words, without having the power of +persuasion; the more they attempt to show themselves, the +more they are entangled. Your expressions are sincere, and +they appear so; they are used only to explain your meaning, +and receive an irresistible force from their noble simplicity. +Such, my dear child, do your letters appear to me. As for +me, I appear to myself quite divested of every thing that +made me agreeable; I am ashamed to appear in society; and +notwithstanding the endeavors that have been used to bring +me back to it, I have latterly been like one just come out of +the woods; nor could I be otherwise. Few are worthy of understanding +what I feel; I have sought those chosen few, and +avoided all others. I fancy you are at Moulins to-day; if so, +you will receive one of my letters. I did not write to you at +Briare; if I had, it must have been on that cruel Wednesday, +the very day you set off; and I was so overwhelmed +with grief that I was incapable even of tasting the consolation +of writing to you. This is the third letter; my second +is at Lyons. Be sure you let me know if you receive them. +When at a distance, we no longer laugh at a letter beginning +with, “I received yours,” etc. The thought of your going +still further and further from me, and of seeing the carriage +continually driving on, is what harrows me most. You are +always going on, and at last, as you say, you will find yourself +at two hundred leagues’ distance from me; resolved, +therefore, not to suffer such injustice without repaying it in +my turn, I shall set myself about removing further off, too, +and shall do it so effectually as to make it three hundred. A +very pretty distance you will say. And would it not be a +step highly worthy the love I have for you, to undertake to +traverse all France to find you out? I am delighted at the +reconciliation between you and the coadjutor; you know how +necessary I always thought it to the happiness of your life. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_32">32</span> +Preserve this treasure with care. You own yourself charmed +with his goodness: let him see you are not ungrateful. I +shall soon finish my letter; perhaps when you get to Lyons +you will be so giddy with the honors you will receive there, +that you will not find time to read it; find enough, however, +I beseech you, to let me hear of you, and whether you embark +upon that horrible Rhône.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Wednesday night.</p> + +<p>I have this moment received yours from Nogent; it was +given me by a very honest fellow, whom I questioned as much +as I could; but your letter is worth more than any thing that +could have been told me. It was but justice, my dear, that +you should be the first to make me smile, after having caused +me so many tears. What you tell me of Monsieur Busche is +quite original; it is what may be called a genuine stroke of +eloquence. I did laugh then, I own, and I should have been +ashamed of it had I done any thing else than cry for this +week past. I met this Monsieur Busche in the street, when +he was bringing your horses for you to set out; I stopped +him, and all in tears asked him his name, which he told me. +“Monsieur Busche,” said I, sobbing all the while, “I recommend +my daughter to your care; do not, dear Monsieur +Busche, do not overturn her; and when you have taken her +safely to Lyons, if you will call upon me with the agreeable +news, I will give you something to drink.” I shall, therefore, +certainly do so. What you say of him has greatly added to +the respect I had for him before.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Thursday, February 12, 1671.</p> + +<p>This is only a line precursory, for I shall not write to you +till to-morrow; but I wish you to know what I have just +heard. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_33">33</span></p> + +<p>Yesterday the president, Amelot, after having made a great +number of visits, toward night found himself a good deal out +of order, and was soon afterward seized with a violent apoplectic +fit, of which he died about eight o’clock this morning. +I would have you write to his wife; the whole family are in +the greatest affliction.</p> + +<p>The Duchess de la Vallière sent a letter to the king, the +contents of which have not transpired, and then a message by +the Marshal de Bellefond, to say, “that she would have quitted +the court, after having lost the honor of his good opinion +had she been able to prevail with herself to see him no more, +but that her weakness on that head had been so great that +she was scarcely capable, even now, of making a sacrifice of it +to her God; she was resolved, however, that the remains of +the passion she had felt for him should constitute part of her +penance, and, as she had devoted her youth to him, it could +not be thought much if the rest of her life were spent in cares +for her own salvation.” The king wept bitterly, and sent Monsieur +Colbert to Chaillot, to beg her to come directly to Versailles, +that he might speak to her once more. Monsieur Colbert +accordingly conducted her thither. The king had a whole +hour’s conversation with her, and wept a great deal. Madame +de Montespan ran with open arms, and tears in her eyes, to +receive her. We do not rightly understand all this. Some +say she will remain at Versailles, and continue about the +court; others that she will return to Chaillot. We shall see.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Tuesday, March 3, 1671.</p> + +<p>If you were here, my dear child, you would certainly laugh +at me. I am set down to write beforehand, but from a very +different reason to that which I once gave you for writing to +a person two days before I could send my letter: it was a +matter of indifference to me, when I wrote, as I knew I should +<span class="pagenum" id="page_34">34</span> +have no more to say to him at the two days’ end than I had +then. But here the case is otherwise. I do it now from the +regard I have for you, and to satisfy the pleasure I take in +writing to you every moment, which is the sole comfort I +have now left. To-day I am shut up by myself in my room, +through excess of ill-humor. I am weary of every thing. I +took a pleasure in dining here, and still a greater one in +writing to you out of season. Alas! you have none of these +leisure moments! I write quite at my ease, but can hardly +suppose you will be able to read what I write in the same +manner. I do not see how it is possible for you to be a minute +by yourself. On one side I behold a husband who adores +you, who is never tired of being with you, and who scarcely +knows the end of his happiness; on the other side, harangues, +compliments, visits, and honors paid you without end; all +this must be answered. Indeed, you have enough upon your +hands. I could not bear it myself in my little circle. But +what became of your favorite Indolence amid all this noise +and bustle? It suffers now; it retires into a corner, just +dead with apprehension of losing its place in your heart forever; +it seeks some vacant moment to put you in remembrance, +and just drop a word to you by the by. “Alas!” it +says, “and have you then forgotten me? Remember, I am +your oldest acquaintance; the friend that has never abandoned +you; the faithful companion of your happy hours, who made +you amends for the want of every pleasure, and for whose +sake you have sometimes hated them. It was I that prevented +your dying of the vapors while you were in Brittany. Sometimes, +indeed, your mother would break in upon our joys, +but then I knew where to have you again. Now I know not +what will become of me. These shows, all this pageantry, +will be my death, unless you take some care of me.” Methinks +I hear you speak a kind word to it as you go by; you +give it some hopes of possessing you when at Grignan; but +you are gone in an instant, and can not find time to say more. +Duty and reason are with you, and allow you not a moment’s +<span class="pagenum" id="page_35">35</span> +repose; I, who have always so highly honored these personages, +am now quite out with them, and they with me. How +then will they permit you to waste your time in reading such +trifles as these? I assure you, my dear child, I am continually +thinking of you; and I experience every day the truth of +what you once told me, that there are certain thoughts which +are not to be dwelt upon, but passed over as lightly as possible, +unless we would be forever in tears. This is my case: +for there is not a place in the house which does not give a +stab to my heart when I see it; but your room especially +deals a deadly blow from every part of it. I have placed a +screen in the middle of it, that I may at least take something +from the prospect. As for the window from which I saw +you get into D’Hacqueville’s coach, and then called you back +again, I shudder every time I think how near I was throwing +myself out of it after you. I was likely enough to have done +it, for at times I am not in my senses. The closet where I +held you last in my arms, without knowing what I did; the +Capuchins, where I used to go to mass; the tears that fell so +fast from my eyes that they wetted the ground, as if water +had been thrown on it; Saint Mary’s, Madame de la Fayette, +my return to the house, your room, that night, the next morning, +your first letter, and every one since, and still every day, +and every conversation of those who feel with me, are so +many remembrancers of my loss. Poor D’Hacqueville holds +the first rank; I shall never forget the compassion he showed +me. These are the thoughts incessantly uppermost; yet these +are to be passed over, it seems; we are not to abandon our +selves to our thoughts, and the emotions of our heart. I +had rather, however, continue my reveries on the kind of life +you are leading. It occasions a sort of diversion, without +making me abandon my principal, my beloved object. I do +then think of you. I am always wishing for letters from +you. One wish of this nature, when gratified, is followed by +another continually. I am in this state of expectation now, and +shall go on with my letter when I have received one from you.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_36">36</span></p> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, March 18, 1671.</p> + +<p>I have received two packets at once, which have been delayed +for a considerable time. By these I am at length informed +from yourself, of your entry into Aix, but you do not +mention whether your husband was with you, or in what +manner Vardes honored your triumph; but you describe the +triumph itself very humorously, as well as the embarrassment +you were under, and your many misplaced civilities. I wish +that I had been with you; not that I should have done better +than yourself, for I have not so good a gift of fixing names +upon faces—on the contrary, I daily commit a thousand blunders +in that way—but I think I could have been of some assistance +to you, at least I should have made courtesies enough. +It is true, that such a multiplicity of ceremonies and attentions +is very tiresome. You should, nevertheless, endeavor not to +be deficient in any of these points, but accommodate yourself, +as much as possible, to the customs and the manners of those +among whom you are to live.</p> + +<p>An event has just taken place, which engrosses the whole +conversation of Paris. The king has ordered Monsieur de +S—— to resign his post, and to quit Paris immediately. Can +you guess the reason? For having cheated at play, and won +upward of five hundred thousand crowns with false cards! +The man who made these cards was examined by the king +himself; he denied the fact at first; but, upon his majesty’s +promising him a pardon, he confessed that he had followed +the trade for a long time. It is said that the affair will not +stop here, for that there are several houses which he used to +furnish with these cards. It was some time before the king +could prevail upon himself to disgrace a man of Monsieur de +S——’s quality; but as, for several months past, every body +that had played with him had been in a manner ruined, he +thought he could not in conscience do less than bring such a +scene of villainy to light. S—— was so perfectly master of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_37">37</span> +his adversaries’ game, that he always made <i lang="fr">sept et le va</i> upon +the queen of spades, because he knew the spades lay all in the +other packs. The king as constantly lost one-and-thirty upon +clubs, and used to say, clubs never win against spades in +this country. This man had given thirty pistoles to Madame +de la Vallière’s <i lang="fr">valets de chambre</i> to throw all the cards they +had in the house into the river, in the pretense that they were +not good, and had introduced his own card-maker. He was +first led into this fine way of life by one Pradier, who has +since disappeared. Had S—— known himself innocent, he +would immediately have delivered himself up, and insisted +upon taking his trial; but, instead of this, he took the road to +Languedoc, as the surest way of the two; many, however, advised +him to take a journey to La Trappe,<a id="fnanchor_17" href="#footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> after such a misfortune.</p> + +<p>Madame d’Humieres has charged me with a thousand good +wishes for you. She is going to Lille, where she will receive +as many honors as you did at Aix. Marshal Bellefond, +through a pure motive of piety, has settled with his creditors. +He has given up to them the principal part of his property, +besides half the profits of his post,<a id="fnanchor_18" href="#footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> to complete the payment +of the arrears. This is a noble action, and shows that his +visits to La Trappe have not been without effect. I went the +other day to see the Duchess of Ventadour; she was as handsome +as an angel. The Duchess of Nevers came in, with her +head dressed very ridiculously. You may believe me, for you +know I am an admirer of fashion. Martin had cropped her +to the very extremity of the mode.</p> + +<p>Your brother is at St. Germain; he divides his time with +Ninon, a young actress,<a id="fnanchor_19" href="#footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> and, to crown the whole, Despréaux. +We lead him a sad life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_17" href="#fnanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> +<i lang="fr">La Trappe</i> is a society of religious monks, remarkable for the +austerity of their lives, and the severe discipline practiced among them.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_18" href="#fnanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> +That of chief maître d’hôtel, or master of the household, to the +king.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_19" href="#fnanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> +Called la Champêlée.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_38">38</div> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, April 1, 1671.</p> + +<p>I returned yesterday from St. Germain with Madame d’Arpajon. +Every one at court inquired after you; among the +rest, it will not be amiss, I think, to distinguish the queen, +who accosted me, and asked how my daughter was after her +affair upon the Rhône. I returned her majesty thanks for the +honor she did you in remembering you. She then desired +me to tell her in what manner you had like to have been lost; +I accordingly gave her an account of your crossing the river +in a storm of wind, and that a sudden gust had thrown you +under an arch, within an inch of one of the piles, which if +you had once touched, all the world could not have saved +you. But, says the queen, “Was her husband with her?” +“Yes, madam, and the coadjutor too.” “Really,” said she, +“they were greatly to blame.” She gave two or three alasses! +while I was talking to her, and said many obliging things of +you. Afterward a number of ladies came in, and among the +rest the young Duchess of Ventadour, very fine and very +handsome; it was some time before they brought her the +divine tabouret;<a id="fnanchor_20" href="#footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> “Ah,” said I, turning to the grand master,<a id="fnanchor_21" href="#footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> +“why do they not give it to her, she has purchased it dearly +enough?”<a id="fnanchor_22" href="#footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> He was of my opinion. In the midst of a silence +in the circle, the queen turned to me, and asked me who my +granddaughter was like? “M. de Grignan, madam,” replied +I. Upon which her majesty exclaimed, “Indeed! I am sorry +for it;” and added, in a low tone of voice, “She had better +have resembled her mother or grandmother.” So you see +how much I am indebted to you in making my court. +Marshal Bellefond made me promise to distinguish him from +<span class="pagenum" id="page_39">39</span> +the crowd. I made your compliments to Monsieur and Madame +Duras, and to Messieurs de Charôt and Montausier, and +<i lang="it">tutti quanti</i>, not to forget the dauphin and mademoiselle, who +both talked a great deal to me about you. I likewise saw +Madame de Ludre; she accosted me with an excess of civility +and kindness that surprised me, and talked in the most affectionate +manner of you, when all on a sudden, as I was going +to make her a suitable answer, I found she was not attending +to me, and saw her fine eyes wandering round the room. I +presently perceived it, and those who saw I took notice of it +were pleased with me, and could not help laughing.</p> + +<p>I have been extremely diverted with our hurly-burly headdresses; +some of them looked as if you could have blown +them off their shoulders. Ninon<a id="fnanchor_23" href="#footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> said that La Choiseul was +as like the flaunting hostess of an inn, as one drop of water to +another; a most excellent simile! But that Ninon is a dangerous +creature; if you only knew how she argues upon religion +it would make you shudder. Her zeal to pervert the +minds of young people is much the same as that of a certain +gentleman of St. Germain, that we saw once at Livri. She +says your brother has all the simplicity of the dove, that he is +just like his mother; but that Madame de Grignan has all +the fire of the family, and has more sense than to be so docile. +A certain person would have taken your part, and put her out +of conceit with you on that head, but she bid him hold his +tongue, and told him that she knew more of the matter than +he did. What a depravity of taste! Because she knows you +to be handsome and witty, she must needs saddle you with +the other qualification, without which, according to her rule, +there is no being perfect. I am greatly concerned for the +harm she does my son in this point; but do not take any notice +of it to him. Madame de la Fayette and I use all our +endeavors to disengage him from so dangerous an attachment. +Besides her, he has a little actress,<a id="fnanchor_24" href="#footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> and all the players of the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_40">40</span> +town upon his hands, to whom he gives suppers; in short, he +is perfectly infatuated. You know what a joke he makes of +Mascaron. I fancy your Minim<a id="fnanchor_25" href="#footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> would suit him. I never +read any thing more diverting than what you wrote to me +about that man; I read it to Monsieur de la Rochefoucault, +who laughed heartily at it. He desires me to tell you, that +there is a certain apostle who is running up and down after +his rib, which he would fain appropriate to himself, as a part +of his goods and chattels; but, unluckily for him, he is not +clever at enterprise. I fancy Mellusina is fallen into some pit, +we do not hear a single word about her. M. de la Rochefoucault +says besides, that if he was only thirty years younger, he +should certainly have a great inclination for M. de Grignan’s +third rib.<a id="fnanchor_26" href="#footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> That part of your letter, where you say he has +already had two of his ribs broken, made him laugh heartily; +we always wish for some oddity or other to divert you, but +we very much doubt whether this has not turned out rather +more to your satisfaction than ours. After all, we pity you +extremely, in not having the word of God preached in a suitable +manner. Ah, that Bourdaloüe! his sermon on the +Passion was, they say, the most perfect thing of the kind that +can be imagined; it was the same he preached last year, but +revised and altered with the assistance of some of his friends, +that it might be wholly inimitable; how can one love God, if +one never hears him properly spoken of? you must really +possess a greater portion of grace than others. We went the +other day to hear the Abbé Montmort;<a id="fnanchor_27" href="#footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> I never heard a prettier +sermon for so young a beginner. I wish you had such a +one in the room of your Minim. He made the sign of the +cross, and gave out his text; he did not anathematize his +audience, he did not load us with abuse; he told us not to be +under any apprehensions concerning death, since it was the +only passage we had to a glorious resurrection with Jesus +<span class="pagenum" id="page_41">41</span> +Christ. We agreed with him in this, and every one went +away contented. He has nothing offensive in his manner; he +imitates Monsieur d’Agen without copying him; he has a +modest confidence, is learned, and pious. In short, I was +highly pleased with him.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_20" href="#fnanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> +The tabouret is a stool to sit on in the presence of the queen, a +privilege never enjoyed but by ladies of the first quality.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_21" href="#fnanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> +The Count de Lude, grand master of the artillery.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_22" href="#fnanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> +Monsieur de Ventadour was not only very ugly and deformed, but, +at the same time, a great debauchee.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_23" href="#fnanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> +Ninon de l’Enclos, famous for her wit and free-thinking.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_24" href="#fnanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> +La Champêlée.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_25" href="#fnanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> +The priest who preached at Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_26" href="#fnanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> +That is, to Mme. de Grignan, who was M. de Grignan’s third wife.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_27" href="#fnanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> +Afterward Bishop of Bayonne.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, April 10, 1671.</p> + +<p>I wrote to you on Wednesday by the post, yesterday by +Magalotti, and to-day again by the post; but last night I lost +a charming opportunity. I went to walk at Vincennes, <i lang="fr">en +Troche</i>,<a id="fnanchor_28" href="#footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> and by the way met with a string of galley-slaves; +they were going to Marseilles, and will be there in about a +month. Nothing could have been surer than this mode of +conveyance, but another thought came into my head, which +was to go with them myself. There was one Duval among +them, who appeared to be a conversible man. You will see +them when they come in, and I suppose you would have +been agreeably surprised to have seen me in the midst of +the crowd of women that accompany them. I wish you +knew of what importance the words Provence, Marseilles, Aix, +are become to me; even the Rhône, that devilish Rhône, and +Lyons, are something to me. Brittany and Burgundy appear +like places under the pole, in which I take no sort of interest. +I may say with Coulanges, “O, the surprising power of +my orvietan!” Really, my child, it was admirable in you to +desire the abbé<a id="fnanchor_29" href="#footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> to prevent my sending you any more presents! +What nonsense! Do I in reality make you any? +You call the newspapers I send you by that name. You +never can divest me of the desire of thus giving; it is the +most sensible pleasure I can enjoy. You should rather +<span class="pagenum" id="page_42">42</span> +rejoice with me, if I indulged myself more frequently in it. +The method you took of thanking me was highly pleasing +to me.</p> + +<p>Your letters are excellent; one might venture to say they +were not dictated by the good ladies of the country where +you reside. I find that M. de Grignan, to his other connections +with you, adds that of being your companion; he seems +to me the only one who understands you. Be careful to preserve +the happiness of his heart by the tenderness of yours, +and consider that if you do not both love me, each according +to your proper degree of estimation, you will be the +most ungrateful of beings. The new opinion, that there is +no such thing as ingratitude in the world, appears to me, +for the reasons which we have so frequently discussed, like the +philosophy of Descartes, and the contrary one like that of +Aristotle. You know the deference I always paid to the +authority of the latter; it is the same with respect to my +opinion of ingratitude. I should pronounce you then, my +child, to be a little ungrateful wretch; but, happily, and the +idea constitutes all my comfort, I know you to be incapable +of such conduct, and I therefore yield without reserve to the +feelings of my heart. Adieu, my dearest love, I am going +to close this letter. I shall write you another to-night, in +which I shall give you an account of the occurrences of the +day. We are every day in hopes of letting your house; you +may suppose I can forget nothing that relates to you; I +am as interested in your affairs as the most selfish being +ever was in his own.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_28" href="#fnanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> +With her friend, Madame de la Troche.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_29" href="#fnanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> +The Abbé de Coulanges, who lived with his niece, Madame de +Sévigné.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Friday night, April 10, 1671.</p> + +<p>I make up my packet at Monsieur de la Rochefoucault’s, +who embraces you very heartily; he is delighted with your +answer about the canons and Father Desmares. There is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_43">43</span> +some pleasure in sending you these trifles, you answer them +so prettily. He begs you to be assured that you still live +strongly in his remembrance, and that if he hears any thing +worth your notice he will certainly communicate it to you. +He is at his Hôtel de Rochefoucault, having no longer any +hopes of recovering the use of his feet; he talks of going to +the waters; I am for sending him to Digne, others to Bourbon. +I dined <i lang="fr">en Bavardin</i><a id="fnanchor_30" href="#footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> and in so complete a style that +I thought we should have died. We did not talk, merely, as +we used to do; we did nothing but chatter.</p> + +<p>Brancas was overturned the other day into a ditch, where +he found himself so much at his ease, that he asked those +who came to help him out if they had any occasion for his +services. His glasses were all broken, and his head would +have been so, too, if he had not been more lucky than wise; +but all this did not seem to have destroyed his reverie in the +least. I wrote this morning to let him know he had been +overturned, and was very near breaking his neck, as I supposed +he was the only person in Paris who was ignorant of +it; and that I took the opportunity of expressing the concern +it gave me. I expect his answer.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_30" href="#fnanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> +That is, at Madame de Lavardin’s, who was extremely fond of +news.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">From <span class="smcap">Monsieur De la Rochefoucault’s</span>,<br> +<span class="pr3">Friday evening, April 24, 1671.</span></p> + +<p>Here, then, I make up my packet. I had intended to tell +you that the king arrived yesterday evening at Chantilly: +he hunted a stag by moonlight; the lamps did wonders; the +fire-works were a little eclipsed by the brightness of our serene +friend, the moon; but the evening, the supper, and the +entertainment, went off admirably well. The weather we had +yesterday gave us hopes of an end worthy of so fine a beginning. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_44">44</span> +But what do you think I learned when I came here? +I am not yet recovered, and hardly know what I write. +Vatel, the great Vatel, late maître-d’hôtel to M. Fouquet, and +in that capacity with the prince, a man so eminently distinguished +for taste, and whose abilities were equal to the government +of a state—this man, whom I knew so well, finding, +at eight o’clock this morning, that the fish he had sent for +did not come at the time he expected it, and unable to bear +the disgrace that he thought would inevitably attach to him, +ran himself through with his own sword. Guess what confusion +so shocking an accident must have occasioned. Think, +too, that perhaps the fish might come in just as he was expiring. +I know no more of the affair at present, and I suppose +you think this enough. I make no doubt the consternation +was general; it must be very disagreeable to have so +fatal an event break in upon an entertainment that cost fifty +thousand crowns.</p> + +<p>Monsieur De Menars is to be married to Mademoiselle De +la Grange-Neuville; but I do not know how I can have the +heart to speak to you about any thing but Vatel.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER X.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Sunday, April 26, 1671.</p> + +<p>This is Sunday, April 26th, and this letter will not go +out till Wednesday; but it is not so much a letter as a +narrative that I have just learned from Moreuil, of what +passed at Chantilly with regard to poor Vatel. I wrote to +you last Friday that he had stabbed himself—these are the +particulars of the affair: The king arrived there on Thursday +night; the walk, and the collation, which was served in +a place set apart for the purpose, and strewed with jonquils, +were just as they should be. Supper was served, but there +was no roast meat at one or two of the tables, on account of +Vatel’s having been obliged to provide several dinners more +<span class="pagenum" id="page_45">45</span> +than were expected. This affected his spirits, and he was +heard to say, several times: “I have lost my honor! I can +not bear this disgrace!” “My head is quite bewildered,” +said he to Gourville. “I have not had a wink of sleep these +twelve nights; I wish you would assist me in giving orders.” +Gourville did all he could to comfort and assist him; but the +failure of the roast meat (which, however, did not happen at +the king’s table, but at some of the other twenty-five), was +always uppermost with him. Gourville mentioned it to the +prince, who went directly to Vatel’s apartment, and said to +him: “Every thing is extremely well conducted, Vatel; nothing +could be more admirable than his majesty’s supper.” +“Your highness’s goodness,” replied he, “overwhelms me; +I am sensible that there was a deficiency of roast meat at +two tables.” “Not at all,” said the prince; “do not perplex +yourself, and all will go well.” Midnight came: the fire-works +did not succeed, they were covered with a thick cloud; +they cost sixteen thousand francs. At four o’clock in the +morning Vatel went round and found every body asleep; he +met one of the under-purveyors, who was just come in with +only two loads of fish. “What!” said he, “is this all?” +“Yes, sir,” said the man, not knowing that Vatel had dispatched +other people to all the sea-ports around. Vatel waited +for some time; the other purveyors did not arrive; his +head grew distracted; he thought there was no more fish to +be had. He flew to Gourville: “Sir,” said he, “I can not +outlive this disgrace.” Gourville laughed at him. Vatel, +however, went to his apartment, and setting the hilt of his +sword against the door, after two ineffectual attempts, succeeded +in the third, in forcing his sword through his heart. +At that instant the carriers arrived with the fish; Vatel was +inquired after to distribute it. They ran to his apartment, +knocked at the door, but received no answer, upon which +they broke it open, and found him weltering in his blood. +A messenger was immediately dispatched to acquaint the +prince with what had happened, who was like a man in +<span class="pagenum" id="page_46">46</span> +despair. The duke wept, for his Burgundy journey depended +upon Vatel. The prince related the whole affair to his majesty +with an expression of great concern; it was considered +as the consequence of too nice a sense of honor; some +blamed, others praised him for his courage. The king said +he had put off this excursion for more than five years, because +he was aware that it would be attended with infinite trouble, +and told the prince that he ought to have had but two tables, +and not have been at the expense of so many, and declared +he would never suffer him to do so again; but all this was +too late for poor Vatel. However, Gourville attempted to supply +the loss of Vatel, which he did in great measure. The +dinner was elegant, the collation was the same. They supped, +they walked, they hunted; all was perfumed with jonquils, +all was enchantment. Yesterday, which was Saturday, the +same entertainments were renewed, and in the evening the +king set out for Liancourt, where he had ordered a <i lang="es">media-noche</i>;<a id="fnanchor_31" href="#footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> +he is to stay there three days. This is what Moreuil +has told me, hoping I should acquaint you with it. I wash +my hands of the rest, for I know nothing about it. M. +D’Hacqueville, who was present at the scene, will, no doubt, +give you a faithful account of all that passed; but, because +his hand-writing is not quite so legible as mine, I write too; +if I am circumstantial, it is because, on such an occasion, I +should like circumstantiality myself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_31" href="#fnanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> +<i lang="es">Media-noche</i> is a flesh-meal just after midnight, among the Roman +Catholics.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Monday, May 18, 1671<br> +<span class="pr2">Just going to set out.</span></p> + +<p>At last, my dear child, I am just ready to step into my +carriage: there!—I am in—adieu! I never shall use that +word to you without real grief. I am now on my way for +<span class="pagenum" id="page_47">47</span> +Brittany. Is it possible that any thing can increase the distance +between us, when we are already separated from each +other more than two hundred leagues? But so it is; I have +found a way to complete it; and as you thought your town +of Aix not quite far enough from me, I also, look upon Paris +as too much in your neighborhood. You went to Marseilles +to fly me, and I, to pay you in your own coin, am going to +Vitré. But to be serious, my dear, our correspondence will +suffer by this; it used to be a great source of consolation and +amusement to me. Alas! what shall I have to say to you +from the midst of my woods? I shall have nothing to entertain +you with but accounts of Mademoiselle du Plessis and +Jaquine;<a id="fnanchor_32" href="#footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> charming subjects these! I am very happy in +what you tell me of your health, but, in the name of God, if +you have any love for me, take care of yourself; do not dance, +do not fall, take a good deal of rest, and, above all things, arrange +your plans so as to lie-in at Aix, where you may have +the best and the most timely assistance. You know how expeditious +you are on those occasions; be sure to have every +thing ready rather too soon than too late. Good Heavens! +what shall I not suffer at that period!</p> + +<p>You relate the dispute you had with our friend Vivonne +very agreeably. I think the fault lies entirely on his side. +You laid a famous trap in which you caught him completely. +His confusion made me sweat for him, and he did so himself, +I dare say; but in the end you made it up and embraced him! +a great<a id="fnanchor_33" href="#footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> undertaking that, for one in your situation. If your +quarrels must end thus, you ought to have no quarrels nor +enemies upon your hands.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_32" href="#fnanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> +A pretty servant girl of Madame de Sévigné’s at her house in +Brittany.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_33" href="#fnanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> +Monsieur de Vivonne was remarkable for his great bulk.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_48">48</div> + +<h3>LETTER XII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">From the Rocks</span>,<a id="fnanchor_34" href="#footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> Sunday, May 31, 1671.</p> + +<p>At last, my child, I am at the Rocks. Can I behold these +walks, can I view these ornaments, this little closet, these +books, these rooms, and not die with grief? Some recollections +are agreeable, but there are others again so lively and so +tender that they are hardly supportable; such are mine with +respect to you. And you may easily guess the effect this is +likely to produce in a heart like mine.</p> + +<p>If you continue pretty well, my dear child, I believe I shall +not come to you till next year. Brittany and Provence are +not very compatible; long journeys are strange things. If we +were always to continue in the same mind we are in at the +end of a journey, we should never stir from the place we were +then in; but Providence, in kindness to us, causes us to forget +it. It is much the same with lying-in women. Heaven permits +this forgetfulness that the world may be peopled, and +that folks may take journeys to Provence. Mine, therefore, +will afford me the greatest joy I ever received in my life, but +how cruel a thought is it to see no end to your stay there! I +more and more admire and applaud your prudence, though, +to tell you the truth, I am greatly affected with this impossibility; +but I hope time will make us see things in a different +light. We must always live in hope; without that consolation +there would be no living. I sometimes pass such melancholy +moments in the woods, that I return as changed as +one just out of a fever. I fancy you pass your time pretty +well at Marseilles. Do not fail to tell me how you were received +at Grignan. The people here had designed to make a +kind of triumphal entry for my son; Vaillant had drawn out +near fifteen hundred men under arms, very well dressed, with +new ribbons round their necks, and had marched them within +a league of the Rocks. But guess what happened! Our +<span class="pagenum" id="page_49">49</span> +abbé had written word that we should be there on Tuesday, +and afterward forgot to mention it to us. Accordingly these +poor people were waiting under arms the whole day till ten +o’clock at night, when they returned home very much chagrined +at their disappointment; and behold the next day, +which was Wednesday, we came in as quiet and peaceable as +lambs, without dreaming that a little army had been drawn +out to receive us! We were a good deal vexed at this mistake, +but there was no remedy; so much for our first setting +out. Mademoiselle du Plessis is just as you left her. She +has formed a new acquaintance at Vitré that she plumes herself +mightily upon, because she is a great genius, has read all +the romances, and, more than that, has had two letters from +the Princess de Tarante. I was wicked enough to set Vaillant +upon telling her that I was jealous of this new friend of hers, +and that, when I heard of their intimacy, it had given me the +greatest uneasiness, though I had taken no notice of it to her. +It requires the pen of a Molière to describe all she says upon +the occasion; and it is highly amusing to see how artfully +she manages me, and with what care she avoids speaking of +my supposed rival before my face; I too play my part very +well. My little trees are grown surprisingly; Pilois<a id="fnanchor_35" href="#footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> is raising +their stately heads to the clouds. In short, nothing can +be more beautiful than these walks, which you first saw +planted. You may remember I once gave you a little device +which was thought very suitable. Here is a motto I wrote +the other day upon a tree, which I intend for my son, who is +just returned from Candia. <i lang="it">Vago di fama</i>.<a id="fnanchor_36" href="#footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> Is it not pretty, +notwithstanding its conciseness? Yesterday I had another +inscribed in honor of the idlers, <i lang="it">Bella cosa far niente!</i><a id="fnanchor_37" href="#footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> Ah! +my dear child, what a wild romantic air my letters have! +What is become of the time when I used to talk of Paris like +other people? Now you will hear of nothing but myself; and, +to show you what confidence I have in your affection, I am +<span class="pagenum" id="page_50">50</span> +persuaded this will be the most agreeable intelligence I can +give you. I am highly pleased with my company here. Our +abbé is at all times an excellent companion. La Mousse and +my son are satisfied with me, and I with them. We always +seek one another; and if business at any time takes me from +them, they are at their wit’s end, and think it very odd in me +to prefer a farmer’s account to a tale of La Fontaine’s. They +are all passionately in love with you. I fancy you will hear +from them soon. I choose however to be beforehand with +them, for I do not love talking to you in a crowd. My dearest +child, will you always love me? my life depends upon +your affection! That, as I told you the other day, constitutes +all my joy and all my sorrow.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_34" href="#fnanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> +The name of Madame de Sévigné’s estate in Brittany.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_35" href="#fnanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> +The gardener at the Rocks.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_36" href="#fnanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> +Anxious for fame.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_37" href="#fnanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> +What a fine thing it is to do nothing.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER XIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, June 10, 1671.</p> + +<p>I am going to entertain you to-day, my dear child, with +what is called rain and fine weather. I had not your letters +till Friday, and I answered them the Sunday following. I +begin then with the rain, for fair weather is out of the question. +For this week past it has rained incessantly; I say incessantly—for +the rain has only been interrupted by storms. +I can not stir abroad, my workmen are all dispersed, and I am +devoured with melancholy; La Mousse, too, is very low-spirited. +We read, indeed, and that just keeps us alive. My son is +gone to Rennes, whither we thought it necessary to send him, +to pay a visit to the first president, and several other friends +that I have there; if he has time, I shall prevail on him to go +and see Monsieur de Coëtquen; he is old enough now for +these things. There was a ball at Vitré again on Sunday. I +very much fear that my son will become too fond of the company +of ten or a dozen men that supped with him the other +night at the castle of Sévigné; they may be borne with, but +he should be very cautious of forming too great an intimacy +<span class="pagenum" id="page_51">51</span> +with them. A dispute arose between two of the party about +some trifle or other; the lie was given; to it they went; the +company endeavored to part them; there was a great deal of +talk and very little sense; however, monsieur le marquis<a id="fnanchor_38" href="#footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> had +the honor of making up the difference, and afterward set out +for Rennes. There have been great cabals at Vitré: Mademoiselle +de Croqueoison complains that, at a ball the other day, +Mademoiselle du Cerni did not offer her part of some oranges +she had. We must hear what Mademoiselle du Plessis and +the Launayes have to say on this subject, as they know all the +circumstances relating to it. As to Mademoiselle du Plessis, +she lets all her affairs at Vitré run to ruin, because she will +not stir in them, from the fear of making me jealous on account +of her new friend; and it was but the other day that, to +make me quite easy, she said as many ill-natured things of +her as she could. When it is fine weather, this nonsense +makes me laugh, but when it is bad and gloomy, I could give +her a box on the ear, as you once did. Madame de Coulanges +writes me word that she has heard nothing of Brancas, except +that out of his six coach-horses he has only one left, and that +he was the last person to discover it. I hear no news. Our +little Alégre is at her mother’s, and it is thought that M. de +Seignelai is to be married to her. I suppose you are in want +of persons to furnish you with intelligence; for my part, I +despise trivial occurrences; I am only for those that surprise +and astonish; such a one I met with this very morning while +the abbé and I were in his study together. We found, in +reckoning with those counters of his which are so good, that +with all that has fallen to me, I ought to be worth 530,000 +livres.<a id="fnanchor_39" href="#footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> Do you know that what our dear abbé has left me +will not amount to less than 80,000 francs? And do you +think I am not impatient to be in possession? And 100,000 +francs from Burgundy; this has come since you were married, +the rest, viz.: 100,000 crowns by my marriage; 100,000 +<span class="pagenum" id="page_52">52</span> +crowns since by M. de Chalons, and 20,000 francs, in little +legacies, from one or two of my uncles; but do you not wonder +whither my pen is running with me? I should do much +better to tell you what I suffer every day, when I reflect in +what places Providence has destined us to pass our lives. +This is a continual source of uneasiness to me, but let it not +be so to you; you have not the same reason; you are with a +husband that adores you, and in the midst of honors and +splendor; but endeavor, if possible, to work some miracle in +your affairs, so that your return to Paris may be retarded only +by the duties of your post, and not from necessity. It is very +easy to talk thus; I wish it was as easily carried into execution, +and wishes are not forbidden us. They write me word +that Madame de Valavoire is at Paris, and that she is forever +talking of your beauty, politeness, wit, talents, and, in short, +of the new head-dress you have invented, which it seems you +have executed in as good a style as if you had been in the +midst of the court. Madame de la Troche and I have at least +the honor of having described it so well as to put you in the +way of performing these wonders. She is at Paris still, that +La Troche. She is going to her own house about the latter +end of this month. As for me, I do not know what the States +intend doing; but I fancy I shall run away for fear of being +ruined. It is a mighty pretty thing to put myself to the expense +of near a thousand crowns in dinners and suppers, and +all for the honor of keeping a summer-house for M. and +Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Rohan, M. de Lavardin, +and half Brittany, who, without knowing any thing of me, will, +to be in the fashion, honor me with their company. Well, +we shall see how it will turn out. I shall only regret leaving +M. d’Harroüis and this house, before I have half finished my +business. But, my dear child, the greatest inclination I have +at present is to be a little religious. I plague La Mousse about +it every day. I belong neither to God nor to the devil. I +am quite weary of such a situation, though, between you and +me, I look upon it as the most natural one in the world. I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_53">53</span> +am not the devil’s, because I fear God, and have at the bottom +a principle of religion; then, on the other hand, I am not properly +God’s, because his law appears hard and irksome to me, +and I can not bring myself to acts of self-denial; so that altogether +I am one of those called lukewarm Christians, the +great number of which does not in the least surprise me, for I +perfectly understand their sentiments and the reasons that influence +them. However, we are told that this is a state highly +displeasing to God; if so, we must get out of it. Alas! this +is the difficulty. Was ever any thing so mad as I am, to be +thus eternally pestering you with my rhapsodies? My dear +child, <i>I ask excuse</i>, as they say here; but I must chat with +you, it is so truly delightful to me. Be sure, however, not to +return me an answer, only let me hear of your health, with a +little spice of your sentiments, that I may see that you are +happy, and that you like Grignan; that is all. Love me; +though we have turned the world into ridicule, it is natural, it +is good.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_38" href="#fnanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> +Meaning her son, the Marquis of Sévigné.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_39" href="#fnanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> +Upward of 20,000<i>l.</i> sterling, reckoning a livre at 10<i>d.</i> halfpenny.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, June 28, 1671.</p> + +<p>You have amply made up to me my late losses; I have received +two letters from you which have filled me with transports +of joy. The pleasure I take in reading them is beyond +all imagination. If I have in any way contributed to the improvement +of your style, I did it in the thought I was laboring +for the pleasure of others, not for my own. But Providence, +who has seen fit to separate us so often, and to place us +at such immense distances from each other, has repaid me a +little for the privations in the charms of your correspondence, +and still more in the satisfaction you express in your situation, +and the beauty of your castle; you represent it to me with an +air of grandeur and magnificence that enchants me. I once +saw a similar account of it by the first Madame de Grignan; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_54">54</span> +but I little thought, at that time, that all these beauties were +one day to be at your command. I am very much obliged to +you for having given me so particular an account of it. If I +could be tired in reading your letters, it would not only betray +a very bad taste in me, but would likewise show that I +could have very little love or friendship for you. Divest yourself +of the dislike you have taken to circumstantial details. +I have often told you, and you ought yourself to feel the truth +of this remark, that they are as dear to us from those we love, +as they are tedious and disagreeable from others. If they are +displeasing to us, it is only from the indifference we feel for +those who write them. Admitting this observation to be true, +I leave you to judge what pleasure yours afford me. It is a fine +thing, truly, to play the great lady, as you do at present. I +perfectly comprehend Monsieur de Grignan’s feelings in seeing +you so much admire his castle; had you appeared insensible, +or even indifferent, on the occasion, it would have given him +a chagrin that I can conceive better perhaps than any other; +and I share in the pleasure he has in seeing you pleased. +There are some hearts which sympathize for each other so +truly, that they judge by themselves what others feel. You +do not mention Vardes<a id="fnanchor_40" href="#footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> often enough to me, nor poor Corbinelli. +Was it not very agreeable to you to be able to speak +their language? How goes on Vardes’ love for the fair T——? +Tell me whether he is much hurt by the infinite length of +his banishment, or whether his philosophy, and a little dash of +misanthropy, can support his heart against these vicissitudes +of love and fortune. The books you read are well chosen. +Petrarch must certainly give you a good deal of pleasure, especially +with the notes you have. Those of Mademoiselle de +Scuderi on some of his sonnets, rendered them very agreeable. +As for Tacitus, you know how much I was charmed with it, when +we read it together here; and how often I used to interrupt +<span class="pagenum" id="page_55">55</span> +you, to make you observe the periods, where I thought the +harmony particularly striking. But if you stop half way I +shall scold you; it will be doing great injustice to the dignity +of the subject, and I shall say to you, as a certain prelate did +to the queen mother, “This is history; you know what stories +are already.” A reluctance, in this respect, is only pardonable +in romances, which I know you do not like. We read +Tasso with pleasure, and I am a pretty good proficient in the +language, from the excellent masters I have had. My son +makes La Mousse read Cleopatra,<a id="fnanchor_41" href="#footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> and I listen to him, +whether I will or not, and am amused. My son is going to +Lorraine; we shall be very dull in his absence. You know +how it vexes me to see the breaking up of an agreeable party, +and how transported I am when I see a train of carriages +driving off that have wearied me to death for a whole day; +upon which we made this just observation, that bad company +is more desirable than good. I recollect all the odd things +we used to say when you were here, and all you said yourself, +and all you did; your idea never leaves me; and then again, +on a sudden, I think where you are; my imagination represents +to me an immense space, and a great distance; on a +sudden your castle bounds the prospect, and I am displeased +at the walls that inclose your mall. Ours is surprisingly +beautiful, and the young nursery is delightful. I take pleasure +in rearing their little heads to the clouds, and frequently, +without considering consequences or my own interest, cut +down large trees, because their shade incommodes my young +ones. My son views all these proceedings, but I do not allow +him to interfere. Pilois<a id="fnanchor_42" href="#footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> continues to be a very great favorite +with me, and I prefer his conversation to that of many who +have the title of chevalier in the parliament of Rennes. I am +grown rather more negligent than you; for the other day I +let a coachful of the Fouesnelle family go home through a tremendous +rain, for want of pressing them with a good grace to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_56">56</span> +stay; but I could not get the compliment to pass my lips. It +was not the two young women, but the mother, and an old +woman from Rennes, and the two sons. Mademoiselle du +Plessis is exactly as you represent her, only if possible, more +impertinent. What she says and does every day to keep me +from being jealous, is perfectly original, and I am quite provoked, +sometimes, that I have nobody to laugh at it with me. +Her sister-in-law is very pretty, without being ridiculous, and +speaks Gascon in the midst of Brittany. I think you are very +happy in having Madame de Simiane<a id="fnanchor_43" href="#footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> with you; she has a +fund of knowledge that will relieve you from all kinds of restraint; +this is a great deal. You will have, too, a very +agreeable companion in her.</p> + +<p>I now return to you, that is, to the divine fountain of Vaucluse! +How beautiful! Well might Petrarch make such +frequent mention of it! But, remember, I shall some day +see all these wonders with my own eyes; I, who have such a +veneration for antiquities. I shall certainly be transported +with them, and the magnificence of Grignan. The abbé will +find employment enough there. After the Doric orders and +splendid titles of your house, nothing is wanting but the order +you are going to establish there; for, let me tell you, +without something substantial at the bottom, all is bitterness +and anxiety. I have great pity for those who ruin +themselves; it is the only affliction in life that is felt alike +by all, and which is increased, instead of being diminished, +by time. I have frequent conversations on this subject with +a certain friend of ours. If he has a mind to benefit by +them, he has had opportunity enough to lay in a good stock, +and of such a nature he need not forget them. I am glad +that you are to have two of your brothers-in-law with you +this autumn. I think you have planned your journey well. +We can travel a great way without being fatigued, provided +we have something to amuse us by the way, and do not lose +<span class="pagenum" id="page_57">57</span> +our courage. The return of fine weather has brought all my +workmen back again, which is a great amusement to me. +When I have company, I work at that fine altar-piece you +saw me drawing when you were at Paris; when I am alone, +I read, I write, or am with the abbé in his closet upon business. +I wish him with you sometimes, but it is for two or +three days only.</p> + +<p>I consent to the commerce of wit which you propose. The +other day I made a maxim off-hand, without once thinking of +it, and I liked it so well that I fancied I had taken it out of +M. de la Rochefoucault’s. Pray tell me whether it is so or +not, for in that case my memory is more to be praised than +my judgment. I said, with all the ease in the world, that +“ingratitude begets reproach, as acknowledgment begets new +favors.” Pray where did this come from? Have I read it? +did I dream it? is it my own idea? Nothing can be truer +than the thing itself, nor than that I am totally ignorant how +I came by it. I found it properly arranged in my brain, and +at the end of my tongue. As for that sentence, “<i lang="it">bella cosa +far niente</i>,” you will not think it so dull when I tell you it is +intended for your brother: remember last winter’s disaster. +Adieu, my dearest child; take care of yourself, continue +handsome, dress well, amuse yourself, and take proper exercise. +I have just been writing to Vivonne,<a id="fnanchor_44" href="#footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> about a captain +of a troop of Bohemians, whose confinement I have begged +him to render as easy as possible, without detriment to the +king’s service. You must know that there was among the +troop of Bohemians<a id="fnanchor_45" href="#footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> that I was mentioning to you the other +day, a young girl who danced extremely well, and put me +very much in mind of your manner. I was pleased with her. +She begged me to write to Provence in favor of her grandfather. +“Where is he?” said I. “He is at Marseilles,” said +she, with as much composure and unconcern as if she had +said, “He is at Vincennes.” He was a man of singular +<span class="pagenum" id="page_58">58</span> +merit, it seems, in his way;<a id="fnanchor_46" href="#footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> in short, I promised her to write +about him; I immediately thought of Vivonne. I send you +my letter; if you are not sufficiently upon terms with him +to allow of my jesting with him, you may burn it; if it is an +ill-written letter you may burn it; but if you are friendly +with his corpulency, and my letter will save you the trouble +of writing one, seal it and send it to him. I could not refuse +this request to the poor girl, and to the best-danced minuet +that I have seen since the days of Mademoiselle de Sévigné. +She had just your air, was about your height, has good teeth, +and fine eyes. Here is a letter of so enormous a length that +I can easily forgive your not reading it through. Monsieur +de Grignan can not conceive how one can possibly read such +long letters; but, in good earnest, can you read them in a +day?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_40" href="#fnanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> +The Marquis de Vardes was banished to Provence in 1665, for +having been concerned in some court intrigues, and remained in exile +till the year 1682. He was a man of amiable manners.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_41" href="#fnanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> +A famous romance of La Calprenede’s.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_42" href="#fnanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> +The gardener.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_43" href="#fnanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> +Magdelen Hai-du-Châtelet, wife to Charles Louis, Marquis of +Simiane; she was afterward mother-in-law to Paulina de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_44" href="#fnanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> +General of the galleys.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_45" href="#fnanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> +Gipseys.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_46" href="#fnanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> +And had been condemned to the galleys for having distinguished +himself rather too much in his Bohemian faculty.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, July 5, 1671.</p> + +<p>It is a great proof of your love, my dear child, that you +can bear with all the nonsense I send you from hence. You +defend Mademoiselle de Croqueoison extremely well. In return, +I assure you there is not a single word in your letters +that is not dear to me. I am afraid to read them for fear of +ending them, and if it were not for the consolation that I can +read them over as often as I please, I should make them last +much longer; but then, on the other hand, my impatience +makes me ready to devour them. What should I do if your +writing was as illegible as D’Hacqueville’s? Would the +greatness of my affection help me to decipher it? Really, I +am afraid not; but I have heard of such instances. In short, +I greatly esteem D’Hacqueville, and yet I can not accustom +myself to his handwriting; I never can read his letters; I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_59">59</span> +hunt out word by word; I puzzle myself with guessing at +them; I say one word for another, and at last, when I can +make neither head nor tail of it, away I fling the letter in a +rage. But I tell you this as a secret, for I would not have +him know that his letters give me all this trouble. He thinks, +poor man, his hand is like print; but you, who know the contrary, +tell me how you manage. My son set out yesterday, +greatly concerned at parting with us. I endeavored to inspire +him with every good, just, and noble sentiment that I +was mistress of, and to confirm all the good qualities I had +remarked in him. He received my advice with all imaginable +sweetness and marks of approbation; but you know the +weakness of human nature; I leave him, therefore, in the +hands of Providence, reserving to myself the comfort of having +nothing to reproach myself with in regard to him. As +he has a fund of wit and humor, we shall necessarily miss +him extremely. We are going to begin a moral treatise of +Nicole’s. If I were at Paris I would send it to you; I am +sure you would admire it. We continue to read Tasso with +pleasure. I am almost afraid to tell you that I am returned +to Cleopatra; and, by good fortune, the short memory I have +makes it still pleasing to me. I have a bad taste, you will +say; but you know I can not affect a prudery which is not +natural to me, and as I am not yet arrived at a time of life +that forbids the reading such works, I suffer myself to be +amused with them, under the pretense that my son brought +me into it. He used to read us some chapters, too, out of +Rabelais, which were enough to make us die with laughing; +in return, he seemed to take a good deal of pleasure in talking +with me; and, if he is to be believed, he will remember +what I have said to him. I know him well, and can often +discern good sentiments through all the levity of his conversation. +If he is dismissed this autumn, we shall have him +again.</p> + +<p>I have mentioned Launaye to you; she was bedaubed the +other day like a twelfth-day taper; we thought she resembled +<span class="pagenum" id="page_60">60</span> +the second volume of a sorry romance, or the Romance of the +Rose, exactly. Mademoiselle du Plessis is always at my +elbow; when I read the kind things you say of her, I am as +red as fire. The other day La Biglesse played Tartuffe to the +life. Being at table, she happened to tell a fib about some +trifle or other, which I noticed, and told her of it; she cast +her eyes to the ground, and with a very demure air, “Yes, indeed, +madam,” said she, “I am the greatest liar in the world; +I am very much obliged to you for telling me of it.” We all +burst out a-laughing, for it was exactly the tone of Tartuffe: +“Yes, brother, I am a wretch, a vessel of iniquity.” She attempts +sometimes to be sententious, and gives herself airs of +understanding which sit still worse upon her than her own +natural way. There! I think you know every thing about +the Rocks.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, July 12, 1671.</p> + +<p>I have received but one letter from you, my dear child, +which vexes me; I used generally to have two. It is a bad +thing to use one’s self to such dear and tender cares as yours; +there is no being happy without them. If M. de Grignan’s +brothers come to you this summer, they will be good company +for you. The coadjutor has been a little indisposed, but is +now perfectly recovered; he is incredibly lazy, and is the +more to blame, as he can write extremely well when he sets +about it. He has a great regard for you, and intends visiting +you about the middle of August—he can not before. He protests, +but I believe it is false, that he has no branch to rest +upon, which hinders him from writing, and makes his eyes +ache. This is all I know about Seigneur Corbeau. How odd +it is of me to tell you all this, when I do not know myself +how I stand with him! If you should know any thing of the +matter, pray inform me. I reflect every hour of the day upon +<span class="pagenum" id="page_61">61</span> +the times when I used to see you always about me, and am +perpetually regretting the loss of those happy moments. Not +that I can reproach my heart with having been insensible of +the pleasure of your company; for I solemnly protest to you, +I never looked on you with the indifference or coolness that +grows upon long acquaintance; no, I can not reproach myself +with that. What I regret is, that I did not see you so constantly +as I could now wish I had, but suffered cruel business +sometimes to tear me from you. It would be a fine thing to +fill my letters with what fills my heart; alas! as you say, we +should glide over many thoughts, without seeming to regard +them. Here then I rest, and conjure you, if I am at all dear +to you, to be particularly careful of your health. Amuse +yourself, do not study too much, carry yourself safely through +your pregnancy; after that, if M. de Grignan really loves you, +and is resolved not to kill you outright, I know what he will +do, or rather what he will not do.</p> + +<p>Have you cruelty enough not to finish Tacitus? Can you +leave Germanicus in the midst of his conquests? If you +really intend to serve him so paltry a trick, let me know where +you leave off, and I will finish for you, which is all I can do +to serve you at present. We have gone through Tasso, and +with a great deal of pleasure; we found beauties in him, that +are unknown to those who are only half read in the language. +We have begun our <i>morality</i>,<a id="fnanchor_47" href="#footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> it is of much the same nature +as Pascal’s. Talking of Pascal, I have taken into my head to +almost adore those gentlemen, the postillions who are incessantly +carrying our letters backward and forward. There is +not a day in the week, but they bring one either to you or to +me; there is one every day, and every hour of the day, upon +the road. Kind-hearted people, how obliging it is of them! +What a charming invention is the post, and what a happy +effect of Providence is the desire of gain! I sometimes think +of writing to them to show my gratitude; and I believe I +should have done it before, had I not remembered that chapter +<span class="pagenum" id="page_62">62</span> +in Pascal, and been afraid that they might have perhaps +thought proper to thank me for writing to them, as I thanked +them for carrying my letters. Here is a fine digression for +you. But to return to our reading. It was without prejudice +to Cleopatra that I laid a wager I would read it through; +you know how I support my wagers. I often wonder how I +could like such ridiculous stuff; I can hardly comprehend it. +You may perhaps remember enough of me to know how much +a bad style displeases me; that I have some taste for a good +one, and that no person is more sensible to the charms of eloquence. +I well know how wretched La Calprenedre’s style is +in many places, on account of its long-winded periods, and +bad choice of words. I wrote a letter to your brother in that +style the other day, which was pleasant enough. However, +though I find such glaring faults in Calprenedre, though I +know how detestable that way of writing is, yet I can not leave +it. The beauty of the sentiments, the violence of the passions, +and the miraculous success of their redoubtable swords, entices +me away like a child; I become a party in all their designs, +and if I had not the example of M. de la Rochefoucault and +D’Hacqueville to comfort me, I should be ready to hang myself +for being guilty of such a weakness. You appear before +me, and cry “Shame!” yet still I go on. I shall have great +honor in being intrusted by you with the care of preserving +you in the abbé’s friendship. He loves you tenderly; you are +often the subject of our conversation, with your state, your +grandeur, and so forth. He would not willingly die without +having first taken a trip to Provence, and rendered you some +service. I am told, that poor Madame de Montluet is on the +point of losing her senses; she has been raving hitherto without +once shedding a tear, but now she has a violent fever, and +begins to cry. She says she will be damned, since her dear +husband is inevitably so. We go on with our chapel. The +weather is very hot; but the mornings and evenings are delightful +in the woods, and under the shade of the trees before +the house. My apartment is extremely cool. I am afraid you +suffer from the heat in Provence.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_47" href="#fnanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> +M. Nicole’s Moral Essays.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_63">63</div> + +<h3>LETTER XVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, August 19, 1671.</p> + +<p>You describe very humorously the disorder my perfumed +paper occasioned you. Those who saw you read my letters +must have thought I was dead, and could never imagine that +they contained nothing but chit-chat. I am very far from +correcting myself in the way you imagined. I shall always +run into extremes in what is for your good, if it depends on +me. I already began to think that my paper might do you +harm, but I did not intend to change it till about November. +However, I begin from this day, and for the future you will +have nothing to guard against but the smell.</p> + +<p>You have a tolerable number of the Grignans with you; +the Lord deliver you from the aunt,<a id="fnanchor_48" href="#footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> I feel her troublesome +even here. The chevalier’s sleeves must have had a curious +effect at table; but though they draw every thing along with +them, I much question whether they would draw me; fond as +I am of fashion, I have a great aversion to slovenliness. Vitré +would be a famous place for him. I think I never saw such +profusion before. There is not a table at court that can come +up to the meanest of the twelve or fifteen that are constantly +kept up here; and, indeed, there is occasion for all this, for +there are no less than three hundred people to be provided for, +who have nowhere else to eat. I left this good town last Monday, +after having made your compliments to Mme. de Chaulnes +and Mme. de Murinais. Nothing could be more cordially received, +or more warmly returned. All Brittany was drunk on +that day. We dined apart. Forty gentlemen dined in a lower +room, each of whom drank forty toasts; the king’s was the first, +and then the glasses were broken. All this was done under pretense +of extreme joy and gratitude for a hundred thousand +crowns which his majesty had remitted out of the free gift the +province had made him, as a recompense for their having so +<span class="pagenum" id="page_64">64</span> +cheerfully complied with his request. So now there is only +two millions two hundred thousand livres, instead of five +hundred thousand. The king, too, has written a letter with +his own hand, full of the kindest expressions to his good province +of Brittany. This letter the governor read to the States +assembled, and a copy of it was registered. Upon this they +shouted <i lang="fr">Vive le roi!</i> and immediately fell to drinking; and +drink they did, God knows! M. de Chaulnes did not forget +the gouvernante of Provence; and a Breton gentleman +going to toast you by your name, and not well remembering +it, got up, and, in a loud voice, exclaimed, “Here is to Madame +de <i>Carignan</i>.” This ridiculous mistake made M. de Chaulnes +laugh till the tears came into his eyes. The Bretons drank +it, thinking it was right; and, for a week to come, you will be +nothing but Madame de Carignan; some called you the Countess +of Carignan. This was the state of things when I left +them.</p> + +<p>I have shown Pomenars what you say of him. He is highly +delighted with it; but I assure you he is so hardened and impudent, +that once or twice in a day he makes the first president +leave the room, to whom he is a mortal enemy, as well +as to the procurator-general. Madame de Coëtquen had just +received the news of the death of her little girl, and fainted +away. She is in great affliction, and says she shall never have +so pretty a one. Her husband is quite inconsolable; he is +just returned from Paris, after having made matters up with +Le Bordage. This was a most extraordinary affair; he has +transferred all his resentments to M. de Turenne.<a id="fnanchor_49" href="#footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> I suppose +you know nothing of this, but it fell unintentionally from my +pen. There was a pretty ball on Sunday. We saw a girl of +Lower Brittany who, they said, bore away the palm. She was +the most ridiculous creature I ever saw, and threw herself into +such attitudes as made us die with laughing. But there were +<span class="pagenum" id="page_65">65</span> +other dancers, both men and women, that were really admirable.</p> + + +<p>If you ask me how I like my Rocks after all this hurry, I +shall tell you that I am delighted to be here again. I shall +stay for a week or ten days at least, in spite of their endeavors +to get me back. I want rest more than I can describe to you. +I want to sleep; I want to eat, for I am starved at these fêtes. +I want the fresh air; I want silence, for I was attacked on all +sides, and my lungs were almost worn out with talking. In +short, my dear, I found our abbé, La Mousse, my dog, my mall, +Philois, and my masons, all as I left them, and they are the +only things that can do me any good in my present condition.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_48" href="#fnanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> +Ann d’Ornano, Countess of Harcourt, aunt to M. de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_49" href="#fnanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> +Glory, which is the last passion of the sage, was not the only passion +of Turenne; for, at the age of sixty, he was in love with Madame +de Coëtquen.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, August 23, 1671.</p> + +<p>You were with the president of Charme’s lady, then, when +you wrote to me. Her husband was the intimate friend of +Monsieur Fouquet. Am I right in this? In short, my +dear, you were not alone; and M. de Grignan acted wisely +in making you leave your closet to entertain your company. +He might, however, have spared his capuchin’s beard, +though he did not appear much the worse for it in your eyes, +for when he was at Livri, with <i>his bushy tuft</i>,<a id="fnanchor_50" href="#footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> you thought +him handsomer than Adonis. I often repeat these four verses +with admiration. It is surprising what an impression the remembrance +of any particular time makes upon the mind, +whether good or bad. Sometimes I think of that delicious +autumn; and then again, when I reflect on the latter part of +it, I sweat with horror;<a id="fnanchor_51" href="#footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> yet we ought to be thankful to Providence, +who delivered you out of the danger you were in.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_66">66</span> +Your reflections upon the death of M. de Guise are admirable; +they have made me plow up my mall with my eyes; for +it is there I meditate with most pleasure. Poor La Mousse +has been afflicted with the tooth-ache, so that for a long time +I have walked alone till night, and thought of—God knows +what I have not thought of. Do not be under apprehensions +of my growing weary of solitude: set aside the ills that arise +from my own heart, and against which I have not strength to +struggle, and I am not to be pitied in any respect. I am of a +happy temper; I can accommodate myself to, and be pleased +with any thing; and I prefer my retirement here to all the +noise and pageantry of Vitré. I have been here a week, and +the tranquillity I have enjoyed has cured me of a dreadful +cold. I have drank nothing but water; have talked very little; +have left off suppers; and by this method, without having +shortened my walks, I am quite well again. Madame de +Chaulnes, Madame de Murinais, Madame Fourché, and a very +fine girl from Nantes, came here last Thursday. Madame de +Chaulnes told me, as she came into my room, that she could +exist no longer without seeing me; that she had the weight +of all Brittany upon her shoulders, and should die with fatigue. +She then flung herself upon my bed; we sat round +her, and she was fast asleep in a minute, from mere fatigue, +though we continued talking. At last she awoke, highly +charmed with the ease and freedom we enjoy at the Rocks. +We then took a walk. Afterward she and I sat down to rest +ourselves in the center of the wood, and while the rest were +diverting themselves at mall, I made her tell me how she +came to marry M. de Chaulnes; for I always love to fish out +something by way of amusement; but in the midst of our entertainment +there came on just so treacherous a shower like +the one you may remember at Livri, that we were nearly +drowned. The water ran from our clothes in streams; it +came through the trees in a moment, and we were instantly +wet to the skin. We ran as fast as we could, some screaming, +others sliding, others falling. At last we got in, a roaring +<span class="pagenum" id="page_67">67</span> +fire was made, we changed our dress from head to foot, I +furnishing the whole wardrobe. We dried our shoes, and +were ready to die with laughing all the while. In this manner +was the gouvernante of Brittany treated in her own government. +After this we had a slight repast, and then the +poor woman left us, more vexed, I dare say, at the part she +had to play when she got home, than at the affront she +had received here. She made me promise to relate this adventure +to you, and to come and assist her to-morrow in entertaining +the States, which will break up in about a week. I +engaged to do both; of the one I now acquit myself, and of +the other I shall acquit myself to-morrow, as I can not help +showing her this civility.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_50" href="#fnanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> +<i lang="fr">Sa touffe ébouriffée</i>. Part of a <i lang="fr">bout rimé</i>, filled up by Madame de +Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_51" href="#fnanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> +On account of a miscarriage that Madame de Grignan had at +Livri, the 4th November, 1669.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, September 16, 1671.</p> + +<p>I am wicked to-day, my child. I am just in the same humor +as when you used to say, “<i>You are wicked</i>.” I am very +dull and spiritless: I have not heard from you. “Warm affections +are never tranquil;” <i>a maxim</i>. It rains; we are quite +alone; in short, I wish you a pleasanter day than I am likely +to have. What greatly perplexes the abbé, La Mousse, and +the rest of my party, is, that there is no remedy for the evil. +I want it to be Friday, that I may have a letter from you, and +it is but Wednesday. This puzzles them. They do not +know what to do for me in this case, for if, in the excess of +their friendship, they were to assure me it was Friday, that +would be still worse; for if I had not a letter from you then, +I should be lost to all reason. I am obliged to have patience; +though patience, you know, is a virtue that I am not much in +the habit of practising; but I shall be easy before three days +have passed. I am very anxious to know how you are after +your alarm. These alarms are my aversion; for though I am +not with child myself, they make me become so, that is, they +<span class="pagenum" id="page_68">68</span> +put me in a condition that entirely destroys my health. +However, my uneasiness does not at present reach so far; for +I am persuaded you have been prudent enough to keep your +bed, and that will have set all matters right again. Do not +tell me, that you will not let me know any thing about your +health; that would make me desperate, and having no longer +any confidence in what you say, I should be always in the +way I am in at present. We are, it must be owned, at a fine +distance from each other, and if either of us had any thing +upon the mind that required immediate relief, we should have +plenty of time to hang ourselves in.</p> + +<p>I thought it necessary yesterday to take a small dose of +morality, and I found myself a great deal the better for it; +and still more so for a little criticism on the Bérénice of Racine, +which I thought very diverting and ingenious. It is by +the author<a id="fnanchor_52" href="#footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> of the sylphs, gnomes, and salamanders. There +are a few words which are not quite so good as they should +be, and even unbecoming a man who knows the world; these +grate the ear; but, as they occur only here and there, they +ought not to prejudice us against the whole, which, I assure +you, upon examination, I found a very well-written critique. +As I fancied this trifle would have diverted you, I heartily +wished for you by my side in the closet, provided you could +return again to your magnificent castle as soon as you had +read it. And yet I own I should have felt some pain in letting +you go so soon. I know too well what the last parting +cost me. It would partake of the humor I have just been +complaining of. I can not think of it even now without shuddering; +but you are safe from this inconvenience. I hope this +letter will find you cheerful; if so, I beg you will burn it +directly, for it would be very extraordinary if it should be +agreeable to you, considering the horrid humor I write it in. +It is very happy for the coadjutor that I do not answer his +letter to-day.</p> + +<p>I have a great inclination to ask you a thousand questions +<span class="pagenum" id="page_69">69</span> +by way of finishing this performance worthily. Have you +many grapes? you tell me only of figs. Is the weather very +hot? you do not say a word about it. Have you such charming +cattle as we have at Paris? Has your aunt D’Harcourt +been with you long? You see that, having lost so many of +your letters, I am quite ignorant how matters stand, and have +entirely lost the thread of your discourse. Ah! how I long +to beat somebody! and how much I should be obliged to any +Breton that would come and say something very silly, to put +me in a passion! You told me the other day that you were +glad I was returned to my solitude that I might think of you. +Very pretty that! as if I did not think sufficiently of you in +every other place. Farewell, my dear—this is the best part of +my letter. I finish, because I think I talk foolishly, and I +must preserve my credit.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_52" href="#fnanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> +The Abbé Villars, author of the Count de Gabalis.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, Sept. 30, 1671.</p> + +<p>I believe the <i>Leonic</i> opinion is now the most ascertained. +He understands the subject completely, can tell whether matter +reasons or not, what kind of intelligence God has given to +the brute creation, with other subjects that occupied his +thoughts. You may perceive by this that I suppose him in +heaven, <i lang="it">O che spero!</i><a id="fnanchor_53" href="#footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> He died on Monday morning; I was +then at Vitré and saw him, but I wish I had not seen him. +His brother seems inconsolable; I invited him to my woods +that he might weep at liberty, but he told me he was too +deeply afflicted to seek consolation. The poor bishop was +only five and thirty years of age; he was well provided for, +and had an admirable taste for science; this was, in fact, the +cause of his death, as it was of Pascal’s—he wore himself out +with study. You are not much interested in this detail; but +it is the news of the place, and you must, therefore, bear with +<span class="pagenum" id="page_70">70</span> +it. Death, in my opinion, is the concern of every one, and its +consequences strike home to our bosoms.</p> + +<p>I read M. Nicole with a degree of pleasure that lifts me +above the earth. I am particularly charmed with his third +treatise on the means of preserving peace and harmony among +mankind. Read it, I beseech you, and with attention; you +will see how clearly he develops the intricacies of the human +heart, in which every sect is alike included—philosophers, +Jansenists, Molinists, in short, all mankind: this may truly be +called searching to the bottom of the heart with a lantern. +He discovers to us sensations that we feel daily, but which we +have neither the wit to comprehend nor the sincerity to acknowledge. +In a word, I never read any thing like it, except +Pascal. Were it not for the amusement of our books we +should be moped to death for want of employment. It rains +incessantly. I need say no more to make you conceive how +dull our situation is. But you who enjoy a sunshine which is +so much the object of my envy, how do I pity you to be torn +from Grignan, while the weather is delightful, in the middle +of autumn, and from an agreeable society, and all this to be +shut up in a little dirty town! I can not bear the idea. +Could not M. de Grignan have put off the assembly a little +longer? Is he not master in this respect? And poor Coulanges, +what will become of him? Our recluse mode of life +has so turned our brains that we make matters of consequence +of every thing. Receiving and answering letters takes up +some of our time, indeed, but we have always enough left +upon our hands. You make our abbé proud by the kind +things you say of him in your letters. I am satisfied with +him on your account. As for La Mousse, he catechises Sundays +and holidays; he is resolved to go to heaven. I tell him +it is only out of curiosity, to see whether the sun is a heap of +dust, continually in motion, or a globe of fire. The other day +he assembled all the children of the village about him, and was +catechising them, but after several questions they had so confounded +things, that when he asked them who the Blessed +<span class="pagenum" id="page_71">71</span> +Virgin was, they all with one accord answered, “The Creator +of heaven and earth.” His faith was not shaken by the children, +but finding the men and women, and even the old people, +all in the same story, he began to doubt, and at length +joined in the opinion; in short, he did not know what he was +about, and if I had not luckily come to his aid he would never +have got out of the scrape. This new opinion would certainly +have been productive of more mischief than that of the motion +of atoms. Farewell, my dear child, you see we tickle +ourselves in order to laugh, to so low an ebb are we reduced.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_53" href="#fnanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> +O, how I wish it!</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, October, 7, 1671.</p> + +<p>You know I am always carried away by what I read, so +that it is for the interest of those I converse with, that I should +read none but the best books. I can think of nothing at present +but M. Nicole’s Moral Reflections. His treatise on the +means of preserving peace among men, delights me. I never +met with any thing so truly practical, yet so full of fire and +imagination. If you have not yet read it, I beg you will. If you +have read it, read it again with additional attention. For my +part, I think all mankind are included in it. I am persuaded +it was made for me, and hope to profit by it; at least I shall +endeavor to do so. You know I could never bear the old saying, +“I am too old to mend;” I could much sooner pardon the +young for saying, I am too young. Youth is in itself so +amiable, that were the soul as perfect as the body, we could +not forbear adoring it; but when youth is past, it is then we +ought to think of improvements, and endeavor to supply the +loss of personal charms by the graces and perfections of the +mind. I have long made this the subject of meditation, and +am determined to work every day at my mind, my soul, my +heart, and my sentiments. I am full of this at present, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_72">72</span> +therefore fill my letter with it, having besides nothing of +greater consequence to tell you.</p> + +<p>I suppose you are at Lambesc, but I can not see you clearly +from hence; there is a mist about my imagination that conceals +you from my sight. I had formed an idea of Grignan, +I saw your apartment, used to walk upon your terrace, and +went to mass at your beautiful church. But now I am quite +at a loss; I wait with great impatience for intelligence from +your new quarters. I will write no more to-day, though I +have a great deal of time upon my hands; for I have nothing +but trifles to tell you, which would be an affront to the lady-lieutenant +of a province, who is holding the States, and, consequently, +has weighty affairs upon her hands. It may do +well enough when you are in your little palace of Apollo. +Our abbé and La Mousse are very much yours; and I, my +dear child, need I tell you what I am, or what you are to me?</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>. Wednesday, November 4, 1671.</p> + +<p>Let us talk of M. Nicole, it is a long time since we have +said a word about him. There is a great deal of justice in +your observation respecting the indifference he requires us to +show to the opinion of the world; I think with you, that +philosophy will hardly be found sufficient of itself, without the +assistance of grace. He lays so great a stress on preserving +peace and good fellowship with our neighbor, and recommends +so many things to us in order to attain these, that it is next +to an impossibility, after this, to be indifferent to what the +world thinks of us. Guess what I am doing; I am beginning +this treatise again—methinks I could wish to swallow it, like +Ezekiel’s roll. I am delighted with what he says on the subject +of pride and self-love, which enter into all disputes, under +the feigned name of the love of truth. In short, this treatise +will apply to more than one in the world; but I can not help +<span class="pagenum" id="page_73">73</span> +thinking that he had me principally in view when he wrote it. +He says, eloquence, and a flow of words, give a <i>luster</i> to the +thoughts. I greatly admire that expression; I thought it +beautiful and new. The word <i>luster</i> is extremely apposite +there, do you not think so? We must read this book together +at Grignan. I pass my time in having masses said for +you every day, and in a multitude of disagreeable thoughts, +which can be of no service to you, but which, however, it is +impossible to avoid. I have at present ten or twelve workmen +in the air, raising the timbers of our chapel. They run backward +and forward upon the outside of it like so many rats; +they hold by nothing, and are every instant in danger of +breaking their necks, and make my back ache with endeavoring +to help them below. One can not but admire the wonderful +effects of Providence in the desire of gain, and be +thankful such people are created, who are willing to do for a +shilling what others would not do for a hundred thousand +pounds. “O, thrice happy they who plant cabbages! when +they have one foot on the ground, the other is not far off.” I +have this from a very good author.<a id="fnanchor_54" href="#footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> We have planters too +with us, who are forming new avenues. I hold the young +trees myself while they set them in the ground, unless it rains +so that there is no being abroad; but the weather almost +drives me to despair, and makes me wish for a sylph to transport +me to Paris. Madame de la Fayette says, that since you +tell the story of Auger in so serious a manner, she is persuaded +nothing can be more true, and that you are by no +means jesting with me. She thought at first that it had been +a joke of Coulanges’, and it looks very like it. If you write +to him upon the subject, pray let it be in that style.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_54" href="#fnanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> +Panurge, in Rabelais.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_74">74</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Jan. 13, 1672.</p> + +<p>For Heaven’s sake, my dear child, what do you mean? +What pleasure can you take in thus abusing your person and +understanding, vilifying your conduct, and saying, that one +must have great good-nature to think of you sometimes? +Though I am certain you can not believe all you say, yet it +hurts me to hear it; you really make me angry with you; +and though, perhaps, I ought not to answer seriously things +that are only said in jest, yet I can not help scolding you before +I go any further. You are excellent again, when you say +you are afraid of wits. Alas! if you knew how insignificant +they are when you are by, and how encumbered they are +with their own dear persons, you would not value them at all. +Do you remember how you used to be deceived in them +sometimes? Do not let distance magnify objects too much; +but it is one of its common effects.</p> + +<p>We sup every evening at Madame Scarron’s; she has a +most engaging wit, and an understanding surprisingly just +and clear. It is a pleasure to hear her sometimes reason upon +the horrid confusion and distractions of a country with which +she is very well acquainted. The vexations that Heudicourt +undergoes in a place that appears so dazzling and glorious; +the continual rage of Lauzun; the gloomy chagrin and cares +of the court ladies, from which the most envied are not always +exempt; are things which she describes in the most agreeable +and entertaining manner. Such conversations as these lead +us insensibly from one moral reflection to another, sometimes +of a religious, sometimes of a political kind. You are frequently +one of our subjects; she admires your wit and manners; +and, whenever you return hither, you are sure of being +highly in favor.</p> + +<p>But let me give you an instance of the king’s goodness and +generosity, to show you what a pleasure it is to serve so amiable +<span class="pagenum" id="page_75">75</span> +a master: He sent for Marshal Bellefond into his closet +the other day, and thus accosted him: “Monsieur le maréchal, +I insist upon knowing your reasons for quitting my service. +Is it through a principle of devotion? Is it from an +inclination to retire? Or is it on account of your debts? If +it be the latter, I myself will take charge of them, and inform +myself of the state of your affairs.” The marshal was sensibly +affected with this goodness: “Sire,” said he, “it is my debts; +I am overwhelmed with them, and can not bear to see some of +my friends, who assisted me with their fortunes, likely to +suffer on my account, without having it in my power to satisfy +them.” “Well, then,” said the king, “they shall have +security for what is owing to them: I now give you a hundred +thousand francs on your house at Versailles, and a grant +of four hundred thousand more, as a security in case of your +death. The hundred thousand francs will enable you to pay +off the arrears, and so now you remain in my service.” That +heart must be insensible indeed, that could refuse the most +implicit obedience to such a master, who enters with so much +goodness and condescension into the interest of his servants. +Accordingly the marshal made no further resistance; he is +now reinstated in his place, and loaded with favors. This is +all strictly true.</p> + +<p>Not a night passes at St. Germain without balls, plays, or +masquerades. The king shows an assiduity to divert this +madame that he never did for the other. Racine has brought +out a new piece called Bajazet, which they say carries every +thing before it: indeed it does not go <i lang="it">in emperando</i>, as the +others did. Monsieur de Tallard says, that it as much exceeds +the best piece of Corneille’s, as Corneille’s does one of +Boyer’s; this now is what you may call praising by the lump; +there is nothing like telling truth; however, our eyes and ears +will inform us more fully; for</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse" lang="fr">Du bruit de Bajazet mon âme importunée<a id="fnanchor_55" href="#footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></div> +</div> + +<p class="noind"><span class="pagenum" id="page_76">76</span> +obliges me to go immediately to the play; we shall see what +it is.</p> + +<p>I have been at Livri. Ah, my dear child, how well did I +keep my word with you, and how many tender thoughts of +you filled my breast! It was delightful weather, though very +cold; but the sun shone finely, and every tree was hung with +pearls and crystals, that formed a pleasing diversity of colors. +I walked a great deal. The next day I dined at Pomponne. +It would not be an easy matter to recount all that passed during +a stay of five hours; however, I was not at all tired with +my visit. Monsieur de Pomponne will be here in three or +four days. I should be very much vexed if I was obliged to +apply to him about your Provence affairs; I am persuaded he +will not hear me. You see I give myself airs of knowledge. +But really nothing comes up to M. d’Uzès; I never saw a man +of better understanding, nor one more capable of giving sound +advice. I wait to see him, that I may inform you of what he +has done at St. Germain.</p> + +<p>You desire me to write you long letters; I think you have +now sufficient reason to be contented; I am sometimes frightened +at the length of them myself; and were it not for your +agreeable flattery, I should never think of venturing them out +of my hands. Madame de Brissac is excellently provided for +the winter, in M. de Longueville and the Count de Guiche; +but nothing is meant but what is fair and honorable, only she +takes a pleasure in being adored. La Marans is never seen +now, either at Madame de la Fayette’s or at M. de la Rochefoucault’s; +we can not find out what she is doing; we are apt +to judge a little rashly now and then; she took it into her +head this summer, that she should be ravished, as if she +wished it; but I am of opinion that she is in no great danger. +Good Heavens, what a mad creature she is, and how long have +I looked on her in the same light as you do now! But now +let me tell you, my dear, it is not my fault that I do not see +Madame de la Valavoire.<a id="fnanchor_56" href="#footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> I am sure there is no occasion to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_77">77</span> +bid me go and see her, it is enough that she has seen you, for +me to run after her; but then she is running after somebody +else; for I might forever desire her to wait at home for me; +I can not get her to do me that favor. Your jest applies admirably +to M. le Grand, and a very good one it is. Poor +Châtillon is every day teasing us with the most wretched ones +imaginable.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_55" href="#fnanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> +A line in Despréaux.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_56" href="#fnanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> +A lady of quality in Provence, who was just then come to Paris.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, June 20, 1672.</p> + +<p>I send you M. de Rochefoucault’s Maxims, revised and corrected, +with additions; it is a present to you from himself. +Some of them I can make shift to guess the meaning of; but +there are others that, to my shame be it spoken, I can not understand +at all. God knows how it will be with you. There +is a dispute between the archbishop of Paris and the archbishop +of Rheims about a point of ceremony: Paris will have +Rheims ask leave of him, as his superior, to officiate, which +Rheims will not consent to. It is said that these two right +reverends will never agree till they are thirty or forty leagues +asunder; if that is the case, they are both of them likely to +continue as they are. The ceremony it relates to is the canonization +of one Borgia, a Jesuit. The whole opera band is to +exert itself on the occasion; the streets will be illuminated, +even to the Rue St. Antoine; the people are all mad about it: +old Mérinville, however, has died without having seen it.</p> + +<p>Do not deceive yourself, my child, by entertaining too good +an opinion of my letters. The other day an impertinent fellow, +seeing the monstrous length of a letter I was writing to +you, asked me very seriously, if I thought any body could possibly +read it all: I trembled at the thought of it, but without +any intention of amendment; for the correspondence I have +with you is my existence, the sole pleasure of my life; and +every other consideration is but mean, when put in competition +<span class="pagenum" id="page_78">78</span> +with it. I am uneasy about your brother; poor fellow! The +weather is very cold: he lies in camp, and is still on the +march to Cologne, for the Lord knows how long! I was in +hopes of seeing him this winter, and see where he is now! +After all, I find little Mademoiselle Adhémar must be the comfort +of my old age: I wish you could but see how fond she is +of me; how she cries after me, and hangs about me. She is +not a beauty, but she is very pleasing—has a delightful voice, +and a skin as clear and white ... In short, I doat on her. You, +it seems, doat on your boy; I am very glad of it; we can not +have too many things to amuse us; real or imaginary, it does +not signify.</p> + +<p>To-morrow there is to be a ball at Madame’s. I saw a heap +of jewels tossing about at mademoiselle’s, which put me in mind +of past troubles: and yet, would to Heaven we were at the +same work again! For how can I be unhappy while you +are with me? Alas! my whole life is one continued scene of +sorrow and disappointment. Dear Monsieur Nicole! have +pity on me; and teach me to bear, with patience, the dispensations +of Providence. Farewell, my dearest child, I dare not +say I adore you; but I can not conceive any degree of love +superior to mine: the kind and pleasing assurances you give +me of yours, at once lighten and increase my sorrows.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, March 16, 1672.</p> + +<p>You talk to me of my departure: alas! my dear, I languish +in the pleasing hope of it; nothing now stops me, but my poor +aunt,<a id="fnanchor_57" href="#footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> who is dying with violent pain and dropsy: it breaks +my heart to see her sufferings, and to hear the tender and +affecting manner in which she talks to me: her courage, +patience, and resignation, are all together admirable. M. +d’Hacqueville and I observe her distemper from day to day; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_79">79</span> +he sees my inmost heart, and knows what grief it is to me not +to be at liberty at present: I am entirely guided by him, and +we shall see, between this and Easter, whether her disorder +increases as much as it has done since I came hither; if it +does, she will die in our arms; but if she receives any relief, +and is likely to languish for any length of time, I shall then +set out as soon as M. de Coulanges comes back. Our poor +abbé is as vexed at this as myself; but we shall be able to +judge how it will turn out by next month. I can think of +nothing else: you can not wish to see me so much as I do to +embrace you; so put some bounds to your ambition, and do +not hope ever to equal me in that respect.</p> + +<p>My son tells me, they lead a wretched life in Germany, and +are working all in the dark. He was greatly concerned at the +death of the poor chevalier. You ask me if I am as fond of +life as ever: I must own to you that I experience mortifications, +and severe ones too; but I am still unhappy at the +thoughts of death: I consider it so great a misfortune to see +the termination of all my pursuits, that I should desire nothing +better, if it were practicable, than to begin life again. I +find myself engaged in a scene of confusion and trouble: I +was embarked in life without my own consent, and know +I must leave it again: that distracts me; for how shall I +leave it? in what manner? by what door? at what time? in +what disposition? Am I to suffer a thousand pains and torments +that will make me die in a state of despair? Shall I +lose my senses? Am I to die by some sudden accident? +How shall I stand with God? What shall I have to offer to +him? Will fear and necessity make my peace with him? +Shall I have no other sentiment, but that of fear? What +have I to hope? Am I worthy of heaven? or have I deserved +the torments of hell? Dreadful alternative! Alarming +uncertainty! Can there be greater madness than to place +our eternal salvation in uncertainty? Yet what is more natural, +or can be more easily accounted for, than the foolish manner +in which I have spent my life? I am frequently buried in +<span class="pagenum" id="page_80">80</span> +thoughts of this nature, and then death appears so dreadful +to me that I hate life more for leading me to it, than I do for +all the thorns that are strewed in its way. You will ask me +then, if I would wish to live forever? Far from it; but if I +had been consulted, I would very gladly have died in my +nurse’s arms; it would have spared me many vexations, and +would have insured heaven to me at a very easy rate: but let +us talk of something else.</p> + +<p>I am quite provoked that you have received Bajazet from +any hand but mine; that fellow Barbin<a id="fnanchor_58" href="#footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> has served me this +trick, out of spite, because I do not write Princesses of Clèves +and Montpensier.<a id="fnanchor_59" href="#footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> You form a very just and true judgment +of Bajazet, and you will find that I am of your opinion: I +wish I could send you Champmêlée to enliven it a little. The +character of Bajazet wants life, and the manners of the Turks +are ill preserved: their marriages have less ceremony; the +plot is badly managed; and we are at a loss to account for so +much slaughter: the piece has doubtless its beauties; but +there is nothing superlative; nothing perfect; none of those +fine strokes, that, like Corneille’s, make one tremble. Let us +be cautious how we compare Racine with him; the difference +between them is great: the pieces of the latter are in many +places cold and feeble; nor will he ever be able to surpass +his Alexander and Andromache. Many persons consider Bajazet +as inferior to both these, and it is my opinion also, if +I may be allowed to give it. Racine’s plays are written for +Champmêlée, and not for posterity;<a id="fnanchor_60" href="#footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> whenever he grows old +and ceases to be in love, it will be seen whether I am mistaken +or not. Long live then our old friend Corneille; let us forgive +the bad lines we occasionally meet with for the sake of those +<span class="pagenum" id="page_81">81</span> +divine sallies that so often transport us, those masterly strokes +that bid defiance to imitation. Despréaux has said as much +before me; and it is in general the opinion of every one of +good taste; let us therefore maintain it.</p> + +<p>I send you a witticism of Madame de Cornuel’s, which has +highly diverted the crowd. Young M. Tombonneau has quitted +the long robe, and taken to the jacket and trowsers: in +short, he is resolved to go to sea; I do not know in what way +the land has offended him; however, somebody told Madame +de Cornuel that he was going to sea. “Lord bless the man!” +said she, “has he been bitten by a mad dog?” As this was +said off hand, it raised a great laugh.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_57" href="#fnanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> +Henrietta de Coulanges, Marchioness de la Trousse.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_58" href="#fnanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> +A famous bookseller of that name.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_59" href="#fnanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> +Two romances written by Madame de la Fayette, by which +Barbin got a great deal of money.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_60" href="#fnanchor_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> +The event has proved, by Mithridates, Phædra, and +Athaliah, that Madame de Sévigné’s judgment partook of the prejudice of +the times in which she wrote.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER XXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, May 4, 1672.</p> + +<p>It is impossible, my dear child, to tell you how much I +pity, how much I praise, and how much I admire you: thus I +divide my discourse into three heads. First, <i>I pity you</i> in +being so subject to the vapors and low spirits, as they will +certainly do you much harm. Secondly, <i>I praise you</i> for subduing +them when there is occasion, especially on M. de Grignan’s +account, whom they must make very uneasy; it is +a pleasing proof of the regard and consideration you have for +him. Thirdly and lastly, <i>I admire you</i> for suppressing your +natural inclination, to appear what you are not: this is really +heroic, and the fruit of your philosophy: you have ample +matter in yourself to call it into exercise. We were saying +the other day that there is no real evil in life, except great +pain; all the rest is merely imaginary, and depends on the +light in which we view things. All other evils are curable +either by time, moderation in our wishes, or strength of mind; +and may be lightened by reflection, religion, or philosophy. +But pain tyrannizes over both soul and body. Confidence in +<span class="pagenum" id="page_82">82</span> +God may indeed enable us to bear it with patience, and turn +it to our advantage, but it will not diminish it.</p> + +<p>This seems to savor of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain,<a id="fnanchor_61" href="#footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> but +it comes from my poor aunt’s apartment, where I was the +leader of the conversation. The subject arose naturally from +her extreme sufferings, which, she maintains, are infinitely superior +to every evil that life is subject to. M. de la Rochefoucault +is of the same opinion: he is still tormented with the +gout; he has lost his true mother,<a id="fnanchor_62" href="#footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> and he lamented her +death so tenderly and affectionately that I almost adored +him: she was a woman of extraordinary merit, and was the +only person in the world, he said, who was unchangeable in +her love to him. Fail not to write to him; both you and M. +de Grignan. M. de Rochefoucault’s affection for his family is +unparalleled: he maintains that it is one of the chains that attach +us to one another. We have discovered, and related, and +reconciled many things relative to his foolish mother (Madame +de Marans), which explain to us clearly what you once said, +that it was not what we thought, but quite another thing; +yes truly it was quite another thing, or perhaps better still, it +was this and that too; one was without prejudice to the +other; she wedded the lute to the voice, and spiritual things +to coarseness and indelicacy. My child, we have found a +good vein, and one which explains the mystery of a quarrel +you once had in the council-chamber of Madame de la Fayette. +I will tell you the rest in Provence.</p> + +<p>My aunt is in a state which does not seem likely to terminate. +Your journey is exceedingly well-timed, perhaps ours +may tally with it. We have a great desire to pass some part +of our Whitsuntide on the road, either at Moulins or at Lyons. +The abbé wishes it no less than myself. There is not a +man of quality (of the sword I mean) in Paris. I went on +Sunday to hear mass at the Minims. “We shall find our poor +<span class="pagenum" id="page_83">83</span> +Minims quite deserted,” said I to Mademoiselle de la Trousse, +“we shall not find a creature there, except the Marquis d’Alluye.”<a id="fnanchor_63" href="#footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> +Well, we went into the church, where the first and +only creature we saw was the Marquis d’Alluye: I could not +help laughing till I fairly cried at the oddity of the thing; +in short he is left behind, and is going to his government on +the sea-coast. The coast must be guarded, you know.</p> + +<p>The lover of her whom you style <i>the incomparable</i>,<a id="fnanchor_64" href="#footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> did not +meet her at the first stage, but on the road, in a house of +Sanguin’s, a little beyond that which you know; he remained +there two hours. It is thought he then saw the children for +the first time. The fair one stays there, attended by a guard +and a female friend; she is to be there for four or five months. +Madame de la Vallière is at St. Germain. Madame de Thianges +is here with her father; I saw her daughter the other +day, she is beautiful beyond all imagination. Some people +pretend that the king went straight to Nanteuil, but it is certain +that the fair one is at the house called Genitoi. I tell you +nothing but the truth; there is nothing I have a greater aversion +and contempt for than idle stories.</p> + +<p>You have taken your departure, then, my dear. Well, I +will live in the hope of hearing from you at every stage. I +shall not be behindhand on my side. I have managed so +well as to find a friend at the post-office, who is very careful +of our letters. I have for these several days past been occupied +in adorning my cottage; Saint Aubin has effected wonders. +I shall sleep there to-morrow. I swear to you that the +reason I like it so well is because it is intended for you. You +will be very well accommodated in my apartment, and I shall +not be less so. I will tell you how charmingly every thing is +contrived. I am extremely uneasy about your poor brother; +this terrible war makes us tremble for those we love; whenever +I think of it it fills me with horror; but then, again, I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_84">84</span> +comfort myself with the thought that it may not be so bad as +I apprehend, for I have remarked that things seldom happen +as we expect them to do.</p> + +<p>Pray let me know what has happened between the Princess +Harcourt and you.<a id="fnanchor_65" href="#footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> Brancas is dreadfully chagrined that +you do not love his daughter. M. d’Uzès has promised to re-establish +peace between all parties: I should be glad to know +what has occasioned the coolness between you.</p> + +<p>You tell me of your son, that his beauty grows less, and +his merit increases: I am sorry for the loss of his beauty, and +I am rejoiced to find that he loves wine; this is a little spice +of Brittany and Burgundy together, which will produce a +charming effect with the prudence of the Grignans. As for +your daughter, she is quite the reverse; her beauty increases, +and her merit lessens. I assure you, she is very pretty, but as +obstinate as a demon; she has her little wills and little designs +of her own; she diverts us extremely; she has a beautiful +complexion, blue eyes, black hair, a nose neither handsome +nor ugly; her chin, her cheeks, and the turn of her face are +faultless. I shall say nothing of her mouth, it will do very +well. She has a very sweet voice: Madame de Coulanges +thinks it suits her mouth admirably.</p> + +<p>I fancy, my dear child, that I shall at last be a convert to +your opinion. I meet with vexations in life that are insupportable, +and find, notwithstanding my fine reasoning at the +beginning of this letter, there are many evils which, though +less severe than bodily pain, are nevertheless equally to be +dreaded.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_61" href="#fnanchor_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> +That is, from Madame de la Fayette, at whose house M. de Rochefoucault, +and some of the most select company in Paris, used to meet.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_62" href="#fnanchor_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> +Gabrielle du Plessis Liancourt.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_63" href="#fnanchor_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> +Paul d’Escloubleau, Marquis d’Alluye and de Sourdis, governor of +the city and country of Orleans, and of the Pays Chartrain.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_64" href="#fnanchor_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> +The king and Madame de Montespan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_65" href="#fnanchor_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> +Frances de Brancas, wife of Alphonso Henry Chartres, of Lorrain, +Prince of Harcourt, and daughter of Charles de Brancas, gentleman +of honor to Queen Anne of Austria.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER XXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, May 30, 1672.</p> + +<p>I had no letter from you yesterday, my poor child. Your +journey to Monaco had put you quite out of sorts. I was +<span class="pagenum" id="page_85">85</span> +afraid some little disaster of this kind would befall me. I now +send you news from M. de Pomponne; the fashion of being +wounded is already begun; my heart is very heavy with the +fears of this campaign. My son writes by every opportunity; +he is at present in good health.</p> + +<p>My aunt is still in a deplorable state, and yet we have the +courage to think of appointing a day for our departure, assuming +a hope which in reality we can not entertain. I can +not help thinking that many of the events of life are ill-arranged; +they are, as it were, rugged stones lying across our +way, too unwieldy to be removed, and which we must get +over as well as we can, though not without pain and difficulty. +Is not the comparison just? I shall not bring my little girl +with me; she goes on very well at Livri, and is to stay there +during the summer. You never saw Livri in such perfection +as it is at present; the trees are beautifully green, and the +honeysuckles are every where in profusion. I am not yet +tired of their perfume. But you despise our shrubberies since +you have been accustomed to your groves of orange-trees.</p> + +<p>I have a very tragical history to communicate to you from +Livri. Do you remember that pretended devotee, who walked +so steadily without turning his head that you would have +thought he was carrying a glass of water upon it? His devotion +has turned his brain. One night he gave himself five or +six stabs with a knife, and fell on his knees in his cell, naked, +and weltering in his blood. On entering, he was found in this +posture. “Good God! brother, what have you done? Who +has treated you thus?” He replied, very calmly, “Father, I +am doing penance.” He fainted away; he was put to bed; +his wounds, which were found very dangerous, were dressed; +with uncommon care and attention he recovered at the end of +three months, and was sent back to his friends.</p> + +<p>If you do not think such a head sufficiently disordered, tell +<span class="pagenum" id="page_86">86</span> +me so, and you shall have the story of Madame Paul,<a id="fnanchor_66" href="#footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> who +is fallen desperately in love with a great booby of five or six +and twenty, whom she had taken to be her gardener. The +lady has managed her affairs admirably; she has married him. +The fellow is a mere brute, and has not common sense; he +will beat her soon, he has already threatened to do it; no +matter, she was resolved to have him. I have never seen +such violent love; there is all the extravagance of sentiments +imaginable, were they but rightly applied; but they are like +a rough sketch of an ill painting; all the colors are there, +they want only to be properly disposed. It is extremely +amusing to me to meditate on the caprices of love. I feel +frightened for myself when I see such things! What insolence, +to attack Mme. Paul—that is to say, austere, old, straight-laced +virtue herself!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_66" href="#fnanchor_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> +Widow to the gardener at Livri.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, June 20, 1672.</p> + +<p>I can not reflect upon the situation you have been in, without +great emotion; and though I know you are out of danger, +yet I can not turn my eyes on what has passed without +a horror that distracts me. Alas, how much was I in the +dark about a health that was so dear to me! If any one had +told me that my daughter was in greater danger than if she +had been in the army, how little should I have believed it! +Must I suffer this useless grief in addition to so many other +sorrows that afflict my heart? The extreme danger my son +is in; the war, which rages every day with greater violence; +the couriers, who bring no other news but the death of some +friend or acquaintance, and may bring accounts more fatal; +the fear of hearing ill news, and yet the curiosity of knowing +it; the desolation of those who are in excess of grief, and with +whom I pass a great part of my time; the strange state of +health my aunt is in, and my extreme desire of seeing you; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_87">87</span> +all this afflicts and consumes me, and forces me to lead a life +so contrary to my inclination, that I have need of more than +a common share of health to support it.</p> + +<p>You have never seen Paris as it is at present; all the world +is in tears, or fears to be so. Poor Madame de Nogent is +almost beside herself. Madame de Longueville pierces every +heart with her complaints. I have not seen her indeed, but +this is what I am told. Mademoiselle de Vertus returned two +days since from Port-Royal, where she resides. They sent for +her and M. Arnauld, to impart to Madame de Longueville the +terrible news. The very sight of Mademoiselle de Vertus was +sufficient; her sudden return was too sure a sign that some +fatal accident had happened. As soon therefore as she +appeared—“Ah! mademoiselle, how is it with my brother?”<a id="fnanchor_67" href="#footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> +She did not dare, even in thought, to inquire further. “Madam, +he is recovered of his wound—there has been a battle—” +“And my son?” No answer was made. “Ah! mademoiselle, +my son, my dear child! answer me; is he dead?” “I +have no words to answer you, madam.” “Oh, my dear son! +Was he killed on the spot? Had he not a single moment? +Oh, God! what a sacrifice is this!” And she threw herself +upon the bed, and by expressions of the most lively sorrow, by +fainting-fits, by convulsions, by the silence of despair, by +stifled cries, by sudden bursts of passion, by floods of bitter +tears, by eyes uplifted to heaven, and by heart-rending complaints, +she exhibited all the various emotions of grief. She +sees a few friends; and, in pure submission to Providence, +consents to receive such nourishment as is just sufficient to +keep life and soul together. She takes no rest; her health, +before in a declining state, is visibly altered for the worse. +For my part, I wish her death earnestly, as I can not think she +can survive such a loss. There is a certain gentleman<a id="fnanchor_68" href="#footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> who +is scarcely less affected. I can not help thinking, that if they +had met, in the first moments of their grief, and had been +alone together, all other sentiments would have given place +<span class="pagenum" id="page_88">88</span> +to sighs and tears, redoubled without intermission; there +would have been a dumb scene of sorrow, a dialogue of inarticulate +sighs and groans. This is a mere thought of my own. +But, my dear, how great affliction is this! The very mistresses +of poor De Longueville do not constrain themselves; +his domestics are disconsolate; and his gentleman, who came +yesterday with the ill news, scarcely appears a reasonable creature. +This death effaces the thoughts of all others.</p> + +<p>A courier, who arrived yesterday evening, brings an account +of the death of the Count du Plessis,<a id="fnanchor_69" href="#footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> who was killed by a +cannon-shot, as he was giving directions for making a bridge. +Arnheim is besieged by M. Turenne. They did not attack +the fort of Skeing, as it was defended by eight thousand men. +Alas! these successful beginnings will be followed with a +tragical end for a great number of families. May Heaven preserve +my poor son! He was not upon this expedition; but +the campaign is not yet finished.</p> + +<p>In the midst of our afflictions, the description you have +given me of Madame Colonna and her sister,<a id="fnanchor_70" href="#footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> is really divine; +it rouses one under the most melancholy circumstances. It is +an admirable picture. The Countess de Soissons, and Madame +de Bouillon,<a id="fnanchor_71" href="#footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> are quite in a rage with these fools, and +say they ought to be confined. It is thought that the king +will not disoblige the constable<a id="fnanchor_72" href="#footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> (Colonna), who is certainly +one of the greatest men in Rome. In the mean time we are +in expectation of seeing them arrive here like Mademoiselle de +l’Etoile;<a id="fnanchor_73" href="#footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> this comparison is good.</p> + +<p>The accounts I send you are from the best authority; you +will find by all you receive, that M. de Longueville has been +the cause of his own death, as well as of the death of many +<span class="pagenum" id="page_89">89</span> +others; and that the prince has showed himself, through the +whole of this expedition, more like a father than the general +of an army. I said yesterday, and others agreed with me, +that if the war continues, the duke<a id="fnanchor_74" href="#footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> will certainly occasion the +death of the prince. His love for him surpasses every other +consideration.</p> + +<p>La Marans affects to appear overwhelmed with grief. She +says that she sees very plainly there is something in the news +from the army which is concealed from her; and that the +prince and the duke are dead, as well as M. de Longueville. +She conjures people, by all that is sacred, to speak out, and +not to spare her; and tells them, that in her deplorable situation, +it is in vain to hide any thing from her. If it were possible +to laugh under these circumstances, we should laugh at +her. Alas! if she knew how little any of us think of concealing +any thing from her, and how much every one is taken +up with his own griefs and his own fears, she would not have +the vanity to believe we paid so much attention to her as to +deceive her.</p> + +<p>The news I send you comes, as I before said, from good +authority; I had it from Gourville, who was with Madame de +Longueville when she heard of her son’s death. All the +couriers come straight to him. M. de Longueville had made +his will before he set out. He leaves a great part of his property +to a son he has, who, as I believe, will take the title of +Chevalier d’Orleans,<a id="fnanchor_75" href="#footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> without expense to his relations. Have +you heard how the body of M. de Longueville was disposed +of? It was laid in the same boat in which he passed the +river two hours before. The prince, who was wounded, ordered +him to be placed near him, covered with a cloak, and, with +several others who were wounded, repassed the Rhine to a +town on this side of the river, where they came to have their +<span class="pagenum" id="page_90">90</span> +wounds dressed. It was the most melancholy sight in the +world. They say the Chevalier de Monchevreuil, who was attached +to M. de Longueville, will not have a wound dressed +which he received as he stood next to him.</p> + +<p class="sepb2">I have received a letter from my son: he is very much +grieved at the death of M. de Longueville. He was not in +this expedition, but he is to be in another. What safety can +be hoped for in such a profession? I advise you to write to +M. de la Rochefoucault, on the death of the chevalier, and the +wound of M. de Marsillac. This fatal event has given me an +opportunity of seeing his heart without disguise: for constancy, +worth, tenderness, and good sense, he infinitely surpasses +any one I have ever met with; his wit and humor are +nothing in comparison. I will not amuse myself at present +with telling you how much I love you. I embrace M. de +Grignan, and the coadjutor.</p> + +<p class="rdate">The same evening, at 10 o’clock.</p> + +<p>I made up my packet two hours ago, and on my return to +town I found a letter for me, with the news that a peace was +concluded with Holland. It may easily be imagined that the +Dutch are in the greatest consternation, and glad to submit to +any terms; the king’s success is beyond all that has ever been +known. We shall once more breathe again; but what a +cruel addition must this be to the grief of Madame de Longueville, +and all those who have lost children and near relations! +I have seen Marshal du Plessis; he is greatly afflicted, but demeans +himself like a brave soldier. His lady<a id="fnanchor_76" href="#footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> weeps bitterly; +the countess<a id="fnanchor_77" href="#footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> is only disconcerted at not being a duchess. I +think, my dear child, that if it had not been for the rashness +of M. de Longueville, we should have gained Holland without +losing a man.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_67" href="#fnanchor_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> +The Prince of Condé.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_68" href="#fnanchor_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> +M. de la Rochefoucault.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_69" href="#fnanchor_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> +Alexander de Choiseul, Count du Plessis, son of Cæsar de Choiseul, +Marshal of France.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_70" href="#fnanchor_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> +Hortensia Mancini, Duchess of Mazarin.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_71" href="#fnanchor_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> +Sisters to Mesdames de Colonna and Mazarin.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_72" href="#fnanchor_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> +The father of these ladies, and of one of the most powerful families +in Rome.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_73" href="#fnanchor_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> +In Scarron’s comic romance.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_74" href="#fnanchor_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> +Henry Juliers de Bourbon, son of the prince.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_75" href="#fnanchor_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> +He appeared under the name of the Chevalier de Longueville, and +was accidentally killed at Philipsbourg in 1688, by a soldier, who was +shooting at a snipe. See the letter of the 8th of July following.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_76" href="#fnanchor_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> +Columba de Charron.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_77" href="#fnanchor_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> +Maria Louisa le Loup de Bellenave.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_91">91</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Dec. 8, 1673.</p> + +<p>I must begin, my dear child, by telling you of the death of +the Count de Guiche: this is the chief subject of conversation +at present. The poor youth died of sickness and fatigue in +M. de Turenne’s army; the news came on Tuesday morning. +Father Bourdaloüe went to acquaint the Marshal de Grammont +with it; who feared it the moment he saw him, knowing +the declining state of his son. He made every one go out +of his chamber, which was a little apartment near the convent +of the Capuchins, and as soon as he found himself alone with +Bourdaloüe, he threw himself upon his neck, saying, that he +guessed but too well what he had to tell him; that it was his +death-stroke, and that he received it as such from the hand +of God; that he lost the true, the only object of his tenderness +and natural affection; that he had never experienced any +real joy, or violent grief, but through his son, who was not a +common character. He threw himself on a bed, unable to +support his grief, but without weeping, for this is a situation +that denies the relief of tears. Bourdaloüe wept, but had not +yet spoken a word. At last he began to comfort him with +religious discourse, in which he employed his well-known zeal +and eloquence. They were six hours together; after which +Bourdaloüe, to induce him to make a complete sacrifice, led +him to the church of these good Capuchins, where vigils were +said for his son. He entered the church fainting and trembling, +supported more by the crowd that pressed round him +on every side, than by his feet; his face was so much disfigured +with grief, that he could scarcely be known. The duke +saw him in this lamentable condition, and related it to us at +Madame de la Fayette’s, with tears. The poor marshal returned +at last to his little apartment, where he remains like a +man under sentence of death. The king has written to him. +No one is admitted to see him. Madame de Monaco<a id="fnanchor_78" href="#footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_92">92</span> +inconsolable, and refuses to see company. Madame de Louvigny<a id="fnanchor_79" href="#footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> +is likewise incapable of receiving comfort; but it is +only because she is not at all grieved. Do not you wonder at +her good fortune? She is in a moment become Duchess of +Grammont. The chancellor’s lady<a id="fnanchor_80" href="#footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> is transported with joy: +the Countess de Guiche<a id="fnanchor_81" href="#footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> behaves admirably well; she weeps +when they tell her all the kind things her husband said, and +the excuses he made to her when he was dying. “He was a +very amiable man,” she says; “I should have loved him passionately, +if he had loved me in the slightest degree; I suffered +his contempt with grief, and his death affects me with +pity; I always hoped he would change his sentiments with +regard to me.” This is certainly true; there is not the least +fiction in it. Madame de Verneuil<a id="fnanchor_82" href="#footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> feels real concern on this +occasion. I believe it will be sufficient, if you only desire me +to make your compliments to her; so you need only write to +the Countess de Guiche, to Madame de Monaco, and Madame +de Louvigny. The good D’Hacqueville has been desired to go +to Frasé, thirty leagues from hence, to tell the news to Madame +de Grammont, and to carry her a letter written by the +poor youth a little before he died. He made a full confession +of the faults of his past life, asked pardon publicly, and sent to +tell Vardes a great many things which may benefit him. In +a word, he ended the comedy well, and has left a rich and a +happy widow.<a id="fnanchor_83" href="#footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> The chancellor’s lady is so fully sensible, she +<span class="pagenum" id="page_93">93</span> +says, of the little happiness this poor lady must have had in +her marriage, that she thinks of nothing but repairing this +misfortune. We are at a loss for a proper match for her. +You will perhaps name for her M. de Marsillac, as we did; +but they do not like each other: the other dukes are too +young. M. de Foix is destined for Mademoiselle de Roquelaure. +Think a little for us, for the affair is pressing. I have +sent you, my dear child, a tedious account, but you sometimes +tell me you like minuteness.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_78" href="#fnanchor_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> +Catherine Charlotte de Grammont, sister to the Count de Guiche.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_79" href="#fnanchor_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> +Maria Charlotte de Castelnau, sister-in-law to the Count.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_80" href="#fnanchor_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> +Relict of the late Chancellor Seguier, and grandmother to the +Countess de Guiche.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_81" href="#fnanchor_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> +Margaret Louisa Susan de Bethune Sulli.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_82" href="#fnanchor_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> +Charlotte de Seguier, mother to the Countess de Guiche: she first +married the Duke de Sulli, and afterward Henry de Bourbon, Duke de +Verneuil.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_83" href="#fnanchor_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> +She was married afterward to the Duke de Lude, in 1688. The +Count de Guiche had been the lover of Henrietta of England. He +also entered into the intrigues of M. de Vardes. He had made a brilliant +campaign in Poland, and to him was owed the passage of the +Rhine. He was as handsome and witty as he was brave.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, Dec. 11, 1673.</p> + +<p>I am just returned from St. Germain, where I have been +two whole days with Madame de Coulanges at M. de la Rochefoucault’s. +In the evening we went to pay our court to the +queen, who said a thousand obliging things to me of you; but +if I were to enumerate all the how-d’ ye-do’s and compliments +that I had, both from men and women, old and young, who +crowd about me to inquire after you, I should have to name +the whole court. “And how does Madame de Grignan do? +and when will she return?” and so on. In short, only figure +me to yourself in the midst of a crowd of idle people, who, +having nothing else to do, would every one ask me some question, +so that I was frequently obliged to answer twenty at +once. I dined with Madame de Louvois: it was who should +be the first to invite me. I would have returned yesterday, +but we were stopped by force to sup with M. Marsillac in his +enchanted apartments with Madame de Thianges, Madame +Scarron, the duke, M. de la Rochefoucault, M. de Vivonne, +and a band of heavenly music. This morning, with much ado, +we got away.</p> + +<p>A quarrel of a singular nature is the news of the day at +St. Germain. The Chevalier de Vendôme, and M. de Vivonne +are the humble servants of Madame de Ludre. The chevalier +<span class="pagenum" id="page_94">94</span> +expressed a wish of compelling M. de Vivonne to resign his +pretensions. But on what grounds? he was asked. Why, he +would fight M. de Vivonne. They laughed at him. It was, +however, no joke, he said, he would fight him; and he mounted +his horse to take the field. But the best of the story was Vivonne’s +reply to the person who brought him the challenge. +He was confined to his room by a wound in his arm, and, receiving +the condolence of the whole court, ignorant of the +threat of his rival: “I, gentlemen,” said he, “I fight! He +may fight if he pleases, but I defy him to make me fight. Let +him get his shoulder broken, let the surgeon make twenty incisions +in his arm, and then”—it was thought he was going +to say, <i>we will fight</i>—“and then,” said he, “perhaps we may +be friends. But the man must be jesting to think of firing at +me! A pretty project, truly! He might as well fire at the +door of a house.<a id="fnanchor_84" href="#footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> I repent, however, having saved his life in +crossing the Rhine, and will do no more such generous actions +till I have the nativity cast of those I intend to assist. Would +any one have thought, when I was remounting this fellow on +his horse, that a few weeks afterward he would want to shoot +me through the head for my kindness?” This speech, from +the tone and manner in which it was delivered, had so droll +an effect, that nothing else is talked of at St. Germain.</p> + +<p>I found your siege of Orange very much magnified at court. +The king had spoken of it very agreeably, and it was thought +highly honorable to M. de Grignan, that, without the king’s +order, and merely to follow him, seven hundred gentlemen +should have assembled upon the occasion; for the king having +said <i>seven hundred</i>, every one else said <i>seven hundred</i>; it was +added, with a laugh, that two hundred litters also followed +him. But it is thought, seriously, that few governors could +have obtained such a retinue.</p> + +<p>I have had two hours’ conversation at two different times +with M. de Pomponne. He exceeds my most sanguine hopes. +Mademoiselle de Lavocat is in our confidence: she is a very +<span class="pagenum" id="page_95">95</span> +amiable girl. She knows all our affairs—the business of the +syndic, of the procurator, our gratuity, opposition, deliberation, +etc., as well as she does the map of the empire and the interest +of princes; that is, she has them at her finger’s end. We call +her the <i>little minister</i>. We have interludes in our conversation, +which M. de Pomponne calls flashes of rhetoric to secure +the good humor of the audience. There are some points in +your letters I can not reply to; we often answer ridiculously +when we write from such a distance. You know how grieved +we once were at the loss of some town, when they had been +rejoicing for ten days at Paris because the Prince of Orange +had raised the siege; but this is one of the evils of distance. +Adieu, my beloved child; I embrace you very affectionately.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_84" href="#fnanchor_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> +M. de Vivonne was remarkably corpulent.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Dec. 22, 1673.</p> + +<p>A piece of political news is just come into my head, and, +contrary to my custom, I shall give it you. You know the +King of Poland<a id="fnanchor_85" href="#footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> is dead. The grand marshal,<a id="fnanchor_86" href="#footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> the husband +of Mademoiselle d’Arquien, is at the head of an army against +the Turks; he has lately gained so complete a victory over them, +that fifteen thousand were left dead on the field of battle, two +bashaws are taken prisoners, and he himself occupies their +general’s tent. After so distinguished a victory, it is not in the +least doubted that he will be declared king, especially as he +is at the head of such an army, and that fortune generally +declares in favor of numerous battalions. This piece of news +has given me pleasure.</p> + +<p>I never now see the Chevalier de Buous. He is enraged at +<span class="pagenum" id="page_96">96</span> +not being made a <i lang="fr">chef d’escadre</i>.<a id="fnanchor_87" href="#footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> He is at St. Germain, and +I am in hopes he will manage his affairs so well as to obtain +his desire at last: I sincerely wish it. The Archbishop +(of Arles) has written to assure me of the joy the affair of +Orange has given him, and that he hopes that of the Syndicate +will end no less happily. He finds himself obliged to +own, by the event, that your vigor was of more service than +his prudence, and that from your example he is become a perfect +bravo. This has rejoiced me exceedingly.</p> + +<p>And now, my dear child, when I picture you to myself, pale +and thin, when I think of the agitations you endure, and that +the slightest degree of fever endangers your life, I suffer night +and day from apprehensions for you. What happiness would it +be to have you with me, in a less destructive climate, in your +native air, which would again restore you to health and vigor! +I am surprised that loving you as the Provençals do, they do +not urge this remedy to you. I consider you as having been +so useful till now, and as having relieved M. de Grignan so +much in all his affairs, that I dare not regret I did not bring +you with me; but when every thing is finished, why not give +me this satisfaction? Adieu, my dearest child, I am very impatient +to hear from you. You would throw yourself into the +fire, you say, to convince me of your love: my child, I have +no doubt of your affection, and without this extraordinary +proof of it, you may give me a much more pleasing and a +much more convincing one.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_85" href="#fnanchor_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> +Michael Koribert Wiesnowieski, who died November 1673.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_86" href="#fnanchor_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> +John Sobieski, elected King of Poland, May 20, 1674. He married +the grand-daughter of Marshal d’Arquien, who, after his death, +returned to France. The victory Sobieski gained in 1685, under the +walls of Vienna, and which saved the emperor and the empire, is still +more celebrated than that which is here spoken of.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_87" href="#fnanchor_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> +A rank somewhat inferior to that of rear-admiral.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, December 29, 1673.</p> + +<p>M. de Luxembourg is a little pressed near Maestricht, by +the army of M. de Monterei<a id="fnanchor_88" href="#footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> and the Prince of Orange; he +dares not venture to remove his camp, and he must perish +<span class="pagenum" id="page_97">97</span> +where he is, unless they send him speedy and effectual succor. +The prince is to set out four days hence with the duke and +M. de Turenne; the latter is to serve under the two princes, +and there is a perfectly good understanding between the +three. They have twenty thousand foot, and ten thousand +horse; the volunteers and those companies which are not to +march, do not go, but all the rest do. La Trousse and my +son, who arrived here yesterday, are to be of the number; +they have scarcely had time to pull off their boots before they +are in the mud again. The rendezvous is appointed at Charleroi, +on the 16th of January. D’Hacqueville has written you +word of this, but you will read it more distinctly in my letter.<a id="fnanchor_89" href="#footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> +It is certainly very important news, and has occasioned a great +bustle every where. We know not what to do for money. It +is certain M. de Turenne is not on terms with M. de Louvois, +but it is not generally known; and while he continues to +keep in with M. Colbert, there will be nothing said about it. +This afternoon I had some great folks with me, who desired +their compliments to M. de Grignan, and to <i>Grignan’s wife</i>. +They were the grand-master, and the <i>charmer</i>.<a id="fnanchor_90" href="#footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> I had besides, +Brancas, the Archbishop of Rheims, Charôt, La Trousse, +etc., who all in like manner desired to be remembered to you. +They talk of nothing but war. The <i>charmer</i> knows all our +affairs, and enters admirably into our little perplexities. He +is governor of a province, which is sufficient to give him an +idea of our feelings on those subjects. Adieu, my dearest +child. I participate in all the joys of your conquests.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_88" href="#fnanchor_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> +Governor of the Spanish Low Countries.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_89" href="#fnanchor_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> +M. d’Hacqueville wrote a hand very difficult to be read.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_90" href="#fnanchor_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> +The Count de Lude and the Duke de Villeroi.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, New Year’s Day, 1674.</p> + +<p>I wish you a happy year, my child; and in this wish I comprehend +so many things, that I should never have done if I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_98">98</span> +were to enumerate them. I have not yet asked leave for you +to return to Paris, as you feared; but I wish you had heard +what La Garde said of the necessity of your coming hither, +that you may not lose your five thousand francs, and of what +he thinks proper for M. de Grignan to say to the king. If it +were a suit which you were obliged to solicit against any one +who designed to injure you, you would doubtless come to solicit +it; but as it is to come to a place where you have a +thousand other affairs, you are both guilty of the greatest indolence. +Ah, what an enchanting thing is indolence! you +feel its power too much; read La Garde upon this subject, +chapter the first. Consider, in the mean time, that you would +have the pleasure of seeing the king, and receiving his approbation.</p> + +<p>The edicts are revoked which gave us so much uneasiness +in our province. The day that M. de Chaulnes declared it to +the States, there was a cry of “Long live the king!” which +made every one present weep for joy. They embraced each +other, broke out into the highest expressions of rapture, ordered +Te Deum to be sung, made bonfires; and the thanks of +the public were given to M. de Chaulnes. But do you know +what we are to give the king as a mark of our gratitude? six +hundred thousand livres, and as much more by way of a voluntary +gratuity. What think you of this little sum? You +may judge by this of the favor that has been done us, in taking +off the burden of these edicts.</p> + +<p>My poor son has arrived here, as you know; he is to return +on Thursday, with many others. M. de Monterei is a very +clever fellow; he disturbs the whole world, he fatigues the +army, and puts it out of condition to take the field, and begin +the campaign, till the end of the spring. The troops were all at +ease in winter-quarters; and when, after a tedious march, they +are arrived at Charleroi, he has only a single step to take to +make good his retreat—till when, M. de Luxembourg can not +be extricated. By appearances, the king will not set out so +soon as he did last year. If, when in the field, we had to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_99">99</span> +make an attack on some great town, or the enemy would +come out and oppose our two heroes, as we should probably +beat him, peace might almost be depended upon. This is +what is said by persons of the profession. It is certain that +M. de Turenne is out of favor with M. de Louvois; but as he +is in favor with the king and M. Colbert, it has not made +much noise.</p> + +<p>Five ladies of the palace are appointed: Madame de Soubise, +Madame de Chevreuse, the Princess d’Harcourt, Madame +d’Albret, and Madame de Rochefort. The maids of honor are +to serve no more, and Madame de Richelieu as a lady of +honor, is also discharged. There are to be only the gentlemen +in waiting, and the maîtres-d’hôtel, as formerly. But +that the queen may not be without women, Madame de +Richelieu and four other ladies are to wait constantly behind +her chair. Brancas is in raptures that his daughter<a id="fnanchor_91" href="#footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> is so well +provided for.</p> + +<p>The Grand Marshal of Poland has sent a letter to the king, +in which he tells his majesty, that if he has any person in +view to raise to the crown of Poland, he will assist him with +all the forces under his command; and if not, requests his +protection and assistance for himself. The king has promised +it to him. However, it is imagined he will not get himself +elected, because he is not of the established religion of the +nation.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_91" href="#fnanchor_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> +The Princess d’Harcourt.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Jan. 5, 1674.</p> + +<p>It is a year ago this very day since we supped with the +archbishop: at this moment perhaps you are supping with the +intendant: I am afraid, my dear child, your mirth is feigned. +All you say on this subject to me, and to Corbinelli, is admirable. +My heart thanks you for the good opinion you have +<span class="pagenum" id="page_100">100</span> +of me, in believing I hold in abhorrence all villainous proceedings. +You are not deceived.</p> + +<p>M. de Grignan tells you true; Madame de Thiange has left +off paint, and covers her neck; you would hardly know her +in this disguise. She is frequently with Madame de Longueville, +and is the very pink of modish devotion. But she is +still good company, and has not at all the air of a recluse. +I dined with her the other day; a servant brought her a glass +of liquor; she turned to me and said, “The fellow does not +know that I am become a devotee;” this made us all laugh. +She spoke very naturally of her intentions, and of her change. +She is very cautious of saying any thing that may injure the +reputation of her neighbor, and stops short when any thing of +that nature escapes her; for my part, I think her more agreeable +than ever. Wagers are laid that the Princess d’Harcourt +will not turn nun these twelve months, now she is become +a lady of the palace, and paints again: this rouge is the +law and the prophets; it is the great point that our new devotion +turns upon. As for the Duchess d’Aumont, her taste +is burying the dead.<a id="fnanchor_92" href="#footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> They say the Duchess de Charost kills +people for her, with ill-compounded medicines, and then buries +them in a religious retreat. The Marchioness d’Huxelles is +very good; but La Marans is more than good. Madame de +Schomberg tells me very seriously that she is of the first +order for seclusion and penitence, not admitting any society, +and refusing even the amusements of devotion; in a word, +she is a penitent in the true sense of the word, and in all the +simplicity of the primitive church.</p> + +<p>The ladies of the palace are kept in great subjection. The +king has explained himself upon this subject, and will have +the queen always attended by them. Madame de Richelieu, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_101">101</span> +though she does not serve any longer at table, is always present +when the queen dines, with four ladies, who wait by turns. +The Countess d’Ayen<a id="fnanchor_93" href="#footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> is the sixth: she does not like the confinement +of this attendance, and of being constantly at vespers, +sermons, and other religious ceremonies; but there is no +perfect happiness in this world. The Marchioness de Castelnau +is fair, blooming, and perfectly recovered from her grief. +<i lang="fr">L’Eclair</i>, they say, has only changed her apartment at court, +not very much to her satisfaction. Madame de Louvigny does +not seem sufficiently delighted at her good fortune. She is +thought unpardonable for not adoring her husband in the +same manner as when she was first married; this is the first +time the public was ever offended at a thing of this nature. +Madame de Brissac is beautiful, and follows the Princess of +Conti like her shadow. La Coëtquen is still the same as ever. +She has a petticoat of black velvet, embroidered with gold and +silver, and a brocade cloak. This dress cost her an immense +sum; and when she thought she made the most splendid figure +imaginable, every one said she was dressed like an actress; +and she has been so much rallied in consequence, that she has +thrown it aside. La Manierosa<a id="fnanchor_94" href="#footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> is a little vexed at not being +a lady of the palace. Madame de Duras, who would not accept +this honor, laughs at her. La Troche is, as usual, very +much interested in your affairs; but I can not express how +strongly Madame de la Fayette and M. de la Rochefoucault +have your interest at heart.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Fayette and I went to see M. de Turenne a +few days ago; he has a slight fit of the gout. He received +us with great civility, and talked much of you. The Chevalier +de Grignan has given him an account of your victories; +he would have offered you his sword if there had been any +occasion for it. He intends to set out in three days. My son +went yesterday very much out of humor: I was not less so, +at this ill-judged and in every respect disagreeable journey.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_102">102</span> +The dauphin saw Madame Schomberg the other day; they +told him his grandfather had been in love with her: he asked +in a whisper, “How many children has she had by him?” +They informed him of the manners<a id="fnanchor_95" href="#footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> of that time.</p> + +<p>The Duke du Maine<a id="fnanchor_96" href="#footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> has been seen at court, but he has not +yet visited the queen: he was in a coach, and saw only his +father and mother.</p> + +<p>The Chevalier de Châtillon has no longer any thing to seek +for; his fortune is made. Monsieur chose rather to give him +the office of captain of his guards, than Mademoiselle de +Grancey that of lady of the wardrobe. This young man +therefore has the post of Vaillac, and is well provided for: +they say Vaillac is to have D’Albon’s, and that D’Albon is discarded. +I told you how our States ended, and that they repurchased +the edicts at two millions six hundred thousand +livres, and gave the same sum as a gratuitous gift, making together +five million two hundred thousand livres; that the air +was rent with cries of “Long live the king!” that we had +bonfires, and sung <i lang="la">Te Deum</i>, because his majesty was kind +enough to accept it. Poor Sanzei is ill with the measles; it is +a disorder that soon passes, but is alarming from its violence.</p> + +<p>I see no reason to ask the king’s pardon for the humane +gentleman who was guilty of assassination; the crime is of +too black a nature. The criminals who were pardoned at +Rouen were not of this stamp; it is the only crime the king +refuses to pardon. So Beavron has mentioned it to the Abbé +de Grignan.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_103">103</span> +I have heard the ladies at the palace spoken of in a way +that made me laugh. I said with Montaigne, “Let us avenge +ourselves, by slandering them.” It is, however, true that they +are under extreme subjection.</p> + +<p>The report still prevails, that the prince sets out on Monday. +The same day M. de Saint Luc is to espouse Mademoiselle de +Pompadour; about this I am quite indifferent.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear; this letter is growing too long; I conclude +it for no other reason but because every thing must have an +end. I embrace Grignan, and beg him to forgive me for +opening Madame de Guise’s letter; I was very desirous to see +her style: my curiosity is satisfied forever.</p> + +<p>Guilleragues said yesterday, that Pelisson abused the permission +men have to be ugly.<a id="fnanchor_97" href="#footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_92" href="#fnanchor_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> +If we may believe Bussy, she rendered a service of a different kind +to the living. The Duchess of Charost was the daughter of the Superintendent +Fouquet. She apparently had her recipe from her grandmother, +by whom we have a printed collection in two volumes, under +the title of <i>Family Recipes by Madame Fouquet</i>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_93" href="#fnanchor_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> +A feigned name.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_94" href="#fnanchor_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> +Mary Frances de Bournouville, afterward Marchioness de Noailles.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_95" href="#fnanchor_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> +Madame de Schomberg who is here spoken of, mother of the marshal +then living, captivated Louis XIII. when she was only a maid of +honor, by the name of Mademoiselle d’Hautefort. The king’s gallantry +exacted so little, that she even jested upon the subject, and said +he talked to her of nothing but dogs, horses, and hunting. She was +handsome and discreet. She attached herself to Queen Anne of Austria, +and shared her disgrace during the life of Louis XIII. She afterward +quarreled with her during the regency, for having spoken too +freely against Cardinal Mazarin.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_96" href="#fnanchor_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> +The king’s eldest son by Madame de Montespan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_97" href="#fnanchor_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> +An expression that is become common, but which was new at +that time, or it would not have been worth noticing.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Jan. 12, 1674.</p> + +<p>Well, your peace is then concluded at last. The Archbishop +of Rheims and Brancas received their letters before I did +mine; M. de Pomponne sent to inform me of this important +event from St. Germain; I was ignorant, however, of the particulars, +but now I know all. I advise you, my child, to regulate +your conduct by circumstances; and since it is the king’s +will that you should be friendly with the bishop,<a id="fnanchor_98" href="#footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> endeavor to +obey him. But to return to St. Germain: I was there three +days ago; I went first to M. de Pomponne’s, who had not yet +applied for your leave of absence, but is to send for it to-day. +From thence we went to the queen’s; I was with Madame de +Chaulnes; there was nobody to talk but me, and you may be +sure I was not deficient. The queen said without hesitation +that you had been absent for more than three years, and that +<span class="pagenum" id="page_104">104</span> +it was time for your return. From court we went to Madame +de Colbert’s, who is extremely civil and well bred. Mademoiselle +de Blois<a id="fnanchor_99" href="#footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> danced; she is very pleasing and graceful. +Desairs says she is the only one who reminds him of you: he +asked me what I thought of her dancing, for my applause was +required, and I gave it with the greatest readiness. The +Duchess de la Vallière was there; she calls her little daughter +<i lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, and the young princess in return calls her <i>pretty +mamma</i>. M. de Vermandois was there too. No other children +have yet made their appearance. We afterward went +to pay our respects to monsieur and madame; the former has +not forgotten you, and I never fail to present your dutiful acknowledgments +to him. I met Vivonne there, who accosted +me with, “<i>Little mamma</i>, I beg you will embrace the Governor +of Champagne.”<a id="fnanchor_100" href="#footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a>—“And pray who is he?” said I.—“Myself,” +replied he.—“You!” said I; “pray who told you +so?”—“The king has just informed me of it.” I instantly congratulated +him. The Countess de Soissons was in hopes of +getting this post for her son.</p> + +<p>There is no talk of taking the seals from the chancellor;<a id="fnanchor_101" href="#footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> +the good man was so surprised at this additional honor, that +he began to fear a snake in the grass, and could not comprehend +the reason of being thus loaded with dignities: “Sire,” +said he to the king, “does your majesty intend to take the +seals from me?”—“No, no, chancellor,” replied the king, “go, +sleep in peace.” And, indeed, they say he is almost always +asleep; there are many wise conjectures on the subject, and +people can not understand the reason of this augmentation of +favors.</p> + +<p>The prince set out the day before yesterday, and M. de +Turenne is to follow to-day. Write to Brancas to congratulate +<span class="pagenum" id="page_105">105</span> +him on his daughter’s being in the queen’s household, for he +is very proud of it. La Troche returns you many thanks for +your kind remembrance of her. Her son has still nose enough +to lose half of it at the next siege, without the loss being very +apparent. It is said that the <i>Dew</i><a id="fnanchor_102" href="#footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> begins to be less friendly +with the <i>Torrent</i>, and that after the siege of Maestricht, they +entered into a league of mutual confidence, and saw the <i>Fire</i> +and the <i>Snow</i> every day of their lives. You know all this +could not last long without occasioning great tumult, nor without +being discovered. The <i>Hail</i><a id="fnanchor_103" href="#footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> seems to me, with respect +to the reconciliation between you and him, like a man who +goes to confession, and keeps one great sin upon his conscience—by +what other name can you call the trick he has played +you? Still the wise heads say you must speak, you must ask, +you have time, and that is sufficient; but do not wonder at +the faggoting of my letters. I leave one subject, you think I +have done with it, and suddenly I resume it again, <i lang="it">versi sciolti</i>. +Do you know that the Marquis de Sessac is here, that he will +have a situation in the army, and will probably soon be presented +to the king? This is manifestly predestination.</p> + +<p>Corbinelli and I talk of Providence every day, and we say, +as you know, from day to day and hour to hour, that your +journey is determined. You are very glad that you have not +to answer for this affair, for a resolution is a wonderful thing +for you, quite a wild beast. I have seen you a long time deciding +on a color: it is a proof of a too enlightened mind, +which, seeing at one glance all the difficulties, remains suspended, +as it were, like Mohammed’s tomb: such was M. Bignon, +the greatest wit of the age; I, who am the least of the present +age, hate uncertainty, and love decision. M. de Pomponne +<span class="pagenum" id="page_106">106</span> +informs me you received your leave of absence to-day; I am +consequently ready to do every thing you wish, and to follow, +or not to follow, the advice of your friends.</p> + +<p>It is said here that M. de Turenne has not yet begun his +march, and that there is no further occasion for it, because M. +de Monterei has at last retreated, and M. de Luxembourg is +freed, with the assistance of five or six thousand men, whom +M. de Schomberg assembled, and with whom he so extremely +harassed M. de Monterei, that he was obliged to retire with +his troops. The prince is to be recalled and all our poor +friends with him. This is the news of the day.</p> + +<p>The ball was dull, and ended at half past eleven. The king +led out the queen; the dauphin, madame; monsieur, mademoiselle; +the Prince de Condé, the great mademoiselle; the +Count de Roche-sur-Yon, Mademoiselle de Blois, handsome as +an angel, dressed in black velvet, with a profusion of diamonds, +and an apron and stomacher of point lace. The Princess +d’Harcourt was as pale as the Commandeur in the play <span lang="fr">Du Festin +de Pierre</span>. M. de Pomponne has desired me to dine with +him to-morrow, to meet Despréaux, who is to read his Art of +Poetry.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_98" href="#fnanchor_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> +Of Marseilles.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_99" href="#fnanchor_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> +She had been educated by Madame Colbert.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_100" href="#fnanchor_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> +This government was vacated by the death of Eugene Maurice, of +Saxony, Count de Soissons, which happened June 7, 1673.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_101" href="#fnanchor_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> +Stephen d’Aligre was keeper of the seals in 1672, upon the death +of Chancellor Seguier, who was made Chancellor of France in 1674.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_102" href="#fnanchor_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> +The <i>Dew</i>, the <i>Torrent</i>, the <i>Fire</i>, and the <i>Snow</i>, etc., are ciphers between +the mother and daughter. These ciphers do not always mean +the same persons. In this place, it seems that Madame de Montespan +is the <i>Torrent</i>, Madame de Vallière the <i>Dew</i>, the king is the <i>Fire</i>, and +the <i>Snow</i> represents the queen.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_103" href="#fnanchor_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> +Apparently the Bishop of Marseilles.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, January 15, 1674.</p> + +<p>Saturday last I dined with M. de Pomponne, as I told you, +and was there till five o’clock, enchanted, transported, enraptured +with the beauties of Despréaux’s Art of Poetry. +D’Hacqueville was there, we often talked of the pleasure you +would have received from it. M. de Pomponne recollected +that one day when you were a very little girl at your Uncle +de Sévigné’s, you got behind a large window with your +brother, and said you were a prisoner, a poor unfortunate +princess driven from your father’s house; your brother, who +was as handsome as yourself, and you were as handsome as an angel +played his part extremely well. You were nine years of age. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_107">107</span> +He made me remember the day perfectly. He never forgets +one moment that he has seen you, and promises himself great +pleasure in seeing you again, which is very gratifying to me. I +own to you, my dear, that my heart is bursting with joy, +but I shall conceal it till I know your resolution.</p> + +<p>M. de Villars is returned home from Spain, and has given +us a thousand amusing anecdotes respecting the Spaniards. I +have at length seen La Marans in her cell, for it is nothing else. +I found her quite in dishabille, not a single hair to be seen, +with a coarse coif of old Venice point, a black handkerchief +on her neck, a faded gray gown, and an old petticoat. She +seemed very glad to see me; we embraced each other tenderly. +She does not seem at all changed. We began the conversation +by talking of you; she appears to love you as well as she +ever did, and seemed so humble that it is impossible to help +loving her. We then talked of the religious life she had lately +embraced. She assured me it was true that God had vouchsafed +her a great portion of grace, of which she had the most +grateful sense; that this grace consists in great faith, profound +love of God, horror of the world and its vanities, and a thorough +distrust of herself, adding, that if she were to go abroad +for only an hour, this divine spirit would evaporate. In short, +she seems to preserve it carefully in her solitude like a bottle +of fine perfume; she believes the world would make her lose +this precious liquor, and she even fears the parade of devotion +might spill it. Madame de Schomberg says she is not to be +compared to Madame de Marans. Her savage disposition is +softened into a passion for retirement; the disposition does not +change; she is even exempt from the folly common to most +women, to love their confessor; she does not approve this tie, and +never speaks to him but at confession. She goes on foot to her +parish church, reads all our books of religion, works, prays, has +a fixed time for every thing, takes all her meals in her own +room, sees Madame de Schomberg at a certain hour, hates +news as much as she used to like it, is as charitable to others +as she used to slander them, and loves the Creator as much as +<span class="pagenum" id="page_108">108</span> +she loved the creature. We laughed a good deal at her former +manners, and turned them into ridicule. She has not the +least air of the Collette sisters. She speaks very sincerely and +very agreeably of her situation. I was two hours with her +without being at all dull. She reproached herself even for +this pleasure, but without the least affectation; in short, she is +much more amiable than she ever was. I do not think, my +dear child, you can complain that I have not been particular +enough.</p> + +<p>I have just received your letter of the 7th. I own to you, my +dearest, that the joy it has given me is so lively that my heart +can scarcely contain it. You know how strongly it feels, and +I should hate myself if I were so warmly interested in my +own affairs as in yours. At last, my child, you are coming; +this is the most delightful to me of all. But I am going to +tell you something you do not expect, which is, that I solemnly +swear to you that if M. de la Garde had not deemed +your journey expedient, and that if it really were not so for +your own affairs, I would not have taken into consideration, +at least for this year, the ardent desire I have to see you, nor +what you owe to my infinite affection. I know how to keep +within the bounds of reason, whatever it cost me, and I have +sometimes as much strength in my weakness as those who are +wiser. After this sincere confession I can not conceal from +you that I am penetrated with joy, and that, reason concurring +with my wishes, I am, at the moment I write to you, +perfectly satisfied, so that I think of nothing now but of receiving +you. Do you know, the best thing after yourself and +M. de Grignan, would be to bring the coadjutor? You will +not perhaps always have La Garde; and if he fails you, you +well know M. de Grignan is not so zealous in his own affairs +as in those of the king, his master. He has a religious care +of those, which can only be compared to his negligence with +regard to his own. When he will take the trouble to speak, +no one does it better, and we can not therefore but wish it. +You are not like Madame de Cauvisson, to act alone; you +<span class="pagenum" id="page_109">109</span> +must wait eight or ten years. But M. de Grignan, you, and +the coadjutor, would do admirably together. Cardinal de +Retz is just arrived, and will be delighted to see you. What +joy, my dear child, will your return occasion! but, above all +things, come prudently. It is to M. de Grignan I give this +charge, and I expect him to be accountable to me. I have +written to the coadjutor, to entreat him to accompany you. +He will facilitate our audience with the two ministers, and +will support his brother’s interest. The coadjutor is bold and +fortunate, and you will mutually heighten each other’s consequence. +I could talk till this time to-morrow upon the subject. +I have written to the archbishop. Gain my point with +the coadjutor, and give him my letter.</p> + +<p>The prince has come back, after having been thirty leagues +on his journey. M. de Turenne did not go. M. de Monterei +has withdrawn his forces, and M. de Luxembourg is now at +liberty. Within these twenty-four hours the chapel at St. +Germain has been robbed of a silver lamp, worth seventy +thousand francs, and six candlesticks of the same metal, each +of them taller than I am. This is a daring insolence.<a id="fnanchor_104" href="#footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> The +ropes they made use of to get in were found by the Richelieu +gallery. No one can conceive how the robbery could have +been committed, for there are guards continually going that +way, and patrolling about all night.</p> + +<p>Do you know that peace is talked of? M. de Chaulnes is +since come from Brittany, and is to set out again immediately +for Cologne.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_104" href="#fnanchor_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> +The Duke of Saint-Simon relates a still more extraordinary robbery +that took place at Versailles. In one night all the gold ornaments and +fringes were stolen from the state apartment, from the gallery to the +chapel. Whatever inquiries were made, no trace could be found of the +robber. But five or six days after, the king being at supper, an enormous +packet fell suddenly upon the table at some distance from him; +it contained the stolen fringes, with a note fastened to it with these +words, “Bontems, take thy fringes again, the pleasure pays not half +the pain.” Saint-Simon was a witness of this.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_110">110</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, February 5, 1674.</p> + +<p>It is many years ago, to-day, that there came into the world +a creature destined to love you beyond every other thing in +existence.<a id="fnanchor_105" href="#footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> I beg you not to suffer your imagination to wander +either to the right hand or to the left:—<i lang="fr">Cet homme-là, +sire, c’était moi-même.</i><a id="fnanchor_106" href="#footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a></p> + +<p>It was yesterday three years that I felt the most poignant +grief of my whole life. You set out at that time for Provence, +and you remain there still. My letter would be very long, if +I attempted to express all the sorrow I then felt, and what I +have since felt, in consequence of this separation. But to +leave this melancholy digression. I have received no letters +from you to-day. I know not whether I am to expect any, +and I fear not, as it is so late; I have, however, expected +them with impatience; I wanted to hear of your departure +from Aix, and to be able to compute, with some exactness, the +time of your return. Every one teases me, and I know not +what to answer. I think but of you and your journey. If I +receive any letters from you after this is sent away, you may +make yourself perfectly easy; for I will certainly take care +to do whatever you desire me.</p> + +<p>I write to-day a little earlier than usual. M. Corbinelli, and +Mademoiselle de Méri, are here, and have dined with me. I +am going to a little opera of Molière’s, that is to be sung at +Jellison’s. It is an excellent composition; the prince, the +duke, and the duchess, will be there. I shall, perhaps, sup at +Gourville’s, with Madame de la Fayette, the duke, Madame de +Thianges, and M. de Vivonne, of whom we are to take our +leave, as he sets out from hence to-morrow. If this party is +broken up, I shall, perhaps, go to Madame de Chaulnes, where +<span class="pagenum" id="page_111">111</span> +I am earnestly invited, as well by the mistress of the house as +by Cardinals de Retz and Bouillon, who made me promise +them. The first of these is very impatient to see you; he +loves you dearly.</p> + +<p>It was apprehended that Mademoiselle de Blois had the +small-pox, but it does not prove so. There is not a word said +of the news from England; this makes me conclude there is +nothing good from thence. There has been only a ball or two +at Paris during the whole carnival; there were masques at +noon, but not many. It is a very dull season. The assemblies +at St. Germain are mortifications for the king, and only show +the falling off of the carnival.</p> + +<p>Father Bourdaloüe preached a sermon on the purification +of our Lady, which transported every body. There was such +energy in his discourse as made the courtiers tremble. Never +did preacher enforce with so much authority, and in so noble +a manner, the great truths of the Gospel. His design was to +show that every power ought to be subject to the law, from +the example of our Lord, who was presented at the temple. +This was insisted on with all the strength and clearness imaginable; +and certain points were urged with a force worthy +of St. Paul himself.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop of Rheims, as he returned yesterday from +St. Germain, met with a curious adventure. He drove at his +usual rate, like a whirlwind. If he thinks himself a great man, +his servants think him still greater. They passed through +Nanterre, when they met a man on horseback, and in an insolent +tone bid him clear the way. The poor man used his +utmost endeavors to avoid the danger that threatened him, +but his horse proved unmanageable. To make short of it, the +coach and six turned them both topsy-turvy; but at the same +time the coach too was completely overturned. In an instant the +horse and the man, instead of amusing themselves with having +their limbs broken, rose almost miraculously; the man remounted, +and galloped away, and is galloping still for aught I +know; while the servants, the archbishop’s coachman, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_112">112</span> +the archbishop himself at the head of them, cried out, “Stop +that villain, stop him; thrash him soundly.” The rage of the +archbishop was so great, that afterward, in relating the adventure, +he said, “if he could have caught the rascal, he would +have broke all his bones, and cut off both his ears.”</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear, delightful child, I can not express my eagerness +to see you. I shall direct this letter to Lyons; it is the +third; the two first were to be left with the <i lang="fr">chamarier</i>. You +must be got thither by this time or never.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_105" href="#fnanchor_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> +She refers to her birth-day, 5th February, 1626.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_106" href="#fnanchor_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> +A line of Marot, in an epistle to Francis I. <i>This man, sire, was +myself.</i></p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, May 31, 1675.</p> + +<p>I have received only your first letter yet, my dear child; +but that is invaluable. I have seen nothing since your absence, +and every fresh person reminds me of it; they talk to +me of you; they pity me; they——but stop; is it not such +thoughts as these we should pass lightly over? Let us then +do so.</p> + +<p>I was yesterday at Madame de Verneuil’s in my way from +St. Maur, where I had been with Cardinal de Retz. At the +Hôtel de Sully, I met Mademoiselle de Launoi,<a id="fnanchor_107" href="#footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> who is just +married to the old Count de Montrevel; the wedding was kept +there; you never saw a bride so pert; she bustles about the +house, and calls <i>husband</i>, as if she had been married for +twenty years. This same husband of hers, you must know, is +very much troubled with the ague; he expected his fit the +day after he was married, but missed it; upon which Fieubet +said, “We have found a remedy for the ague, but who can +tell us the dose?” Mesdames des Castelnau, Louvigny, Sulli, +and Fiesque, were there. I leave you to guess what these +<span class="pagenum" id="page_113">113</span> +charming women said to me. My friends are too solicitous +about me; they harass me; but I do not lose a single moment +that I can spend with our dear cardinal. These letters +will inform you of the arrival of the coadjutor; I saw and embraced +him this morning. He is to have a conference this +evening with his eminence and M. d’Hacqueville on the steps +he is to take. He has hitherto remained incog.</p> + +<p>The Duchess has lost Mademoiselle d’Enghien; one of her +sons is going to die besides; her mother is ill; Madame de +Langeron is already under ground; the prince and the duke +in the army; ample subjects for tears, and, as I am told, she +is not sparing of them. I leave D’Hacqueville to tell you the +news of the war; and the Grignans to write to you about the +chevalier; if he should return hither, I will take as much care +of him as of my own son. I imagine you are now upon the +tranquil Saône; our minds ought to resemble this calm view, +but our hearts perpetually seduce them; mine is wholly with +my daughter. I have already told you, that my greatest difficulty +is to divert my thoughts from you, for they all tend to +the same point.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_107" href="#fnanchor_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> +Adriana-Philippa-Theresa de Launoi, who had been maid of honor +to the queen, was married to James-Mary de la Baume Montrevel in +1675, and not in 1672, as it is said by mistake in the history of the +great officers of the crown.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XXXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, June 5, 1675.</p> + +<p>I have not received any of your letters since that from Sens; +you will therefore easily conceive how anxious I am to be informed +of your health and safety. I am fully persuaded you +have written to me, and complain of nothing but the management, +or rather mismanagement of the post. According to +the calculations of your friends here, you should be by this +time at Grignan, unless you were detained at Lyons during +the holidays. In short, my dear child, I have accompanied +you step by step all the way, and am in hopes the Rhône behaved +with proper respect to you. I have been at Livri with +Corbinelli; but returned here with all the haste I could, that +<span class="pagenum" id="page_114">114</span> +I might not lose a moment in seeing our dear cardinal. The +great affection he has for you, and the long friendship which +has subsisted between him and me, have attached me to him +very sincerely; I see him every evening from eight till ten, +and I think he is very glad to have me with him till his bed-time. +Our conversation is constantly about you; this is a +subject we are fond of expatiating upon, and indeed it seems +the master-sentiment of both hearts. He is for coming hither, +but I can not bear this house when you are not in it.</p> + +<p>The nuncio informed him yesterday that he had just learned +by a courier from Rome that he was appointed to a cardinalship. +The pope<a id="fnanchor_108" href="#footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> has lately made a promotion of his creatures, +as it is called. The crowns are put off for these five +or six years, and consequently M. de Marseilles.<a id="fnanchor_109" href="#footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> The nuncio +told Bonvoulour, who went to congratulate him on his promotion, +that he hoped his holiness would not now accept Cardinal +de Retz’s resignation of his hat; that he should use all his +endeavors to dissuade his holiness from doing so, as he had +the honor of being his colleague: so now we have another +cardinal, Cardinal de Spada. Cardinal de Retz sets out on +Tuesday; I dread the day; for I shall suffer extremely in losing +so valuable a friend: his courage seems to increase in proportion +as that of his friend diminishes.</p> + +<p>The Duchess de la Vallière pronounced her vows yesterday.<a id="fnanchor_110" href="#footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> +Madame de Villars promised to take me to see it; but +by some misunderstanding we thought we should not get places. +Nothing more, however, was necessary than to present +<span class="pagenum" id="page_115">115</span> +ourselves at the door, though the queen had given out that the +admission should not be general; and, after all, we did not go. +Madame de Villars was very much vexed at it. The beautiful +duchess performed this action like every other of her life, in +the most charming manner possible: she is surprisingly handsome: +but you will be astonished to hear that M. de Condom’s +(Bossuet’s) sermon was not so good as was expected. +The coadjutor was there; he will tell you how well the affair +goes on with respect to M. de Paris and M. de St. Paul; but +he finds the shade of M. de Toulon and the spirit of M. de +Marseilles every where.</p> + +<p>Madame de Coulanges goes from hence on Monday with +Corbinelli: this deprives me of my companions. You know +how good Corbinelli is to me, and how kindly he enters into +all my sentiments. I am convinced of his friendship, and feel +his absence; but, my child, after having lost you, of what else +can I complain? It is true that you are interested in my complaints, +because he is one of those with whom I most enjoyed +the consolation of speaking of you; for you must not imagine, +that those to whom I can not speak freely are as +agreeable to me as those who enter into my feelings. You +seem to me to be apprehensive that I make myself ridiculous, +and that I am too apt to divulge my sentiments on this pleasing +subject. No, no, my dear, fear nothing; I am able to +govern the torrent. Trust to me, and let me love you, till it +shall please God to take you out of my heart, in order to +place himself there; for you can yield to none but him. In +short, my heart is so entirely occupied with, and so full of +you, that finding myself incapable of any other thought, I have +been restrained from performing the devotions of the season. +Adieu, my dear child, for the present. I shall finish my letter +this evening.</p> + +<p>I have just received a letter from Macon; I can not yet +read it without the fountain playing its old tricks: my heart +is so extremely sensible that the least thing that affects it +quite overcomes me. You may imagine that, with this fine +<span class="pagenum" id="page_116">116</span> +disposition, I frequently meet with opportunities to try it; but, +pray, have no fears for my health. I can never forget the +philosophy you inspired me with the evening before we parted; +I improve by it as much as I can; but I have such an +habitual weakness, that in spite of your good lessons, I often +yield to my emotion.</p> + +<p>Our cardinal will have left me before you receive this; it +will be a melancholy day to me, for I am extremely attached +to his person, his merit, his conversation, which I enjoy as +much as I can, and the friendship he expresses for me. His +soul is of so superior an order that it is not to be expected +that his life should be attended with only common events. He +that makes it a law to himself, to do always what is most great +and heroic, must place his retreat in some proper part of his +life, like a shade beautifully disposed in a piece of painting, +and leave his friends to lament it.</p> + +<p>How facetious you are, my child, with the newspaper in +your hand! What! can you derive amusement from it already? +I did expect that you would at least have waited till +you had crossed the vile Durance. The conversation between +the king and the prince appears to me very humorous; I +think you would have been entertained with it even here. I +have just received a letter from the chevalier, who is well; +he is with the army, and has only had five attacks of the +ague: this is one subject of uneasiness less; but his letter +which is full of friendship, is in the true German style; for he +will not believe a syllable of the retreat of Cardinal de Retz: +he desires me to tell him the truth, which I shall not fail to do. +I shall distribute all your compliments, and I am sure, they +will be well received; every body thinks it an honor to be remembered +by you; M. de Coulanges was quite proud of it. +The coadjutor will relate to you the success of his journey; +but he will not boast that he was on the point of being stifled +at Madame de Louvois’ by twenty women, who each supposed +they had a right to embrace him: this occasioned a confusion, +an oppression, a suffocation, of which the bare idea almost +<span class="pagenum" id="page_117">117</span> +suffocates me, accompanied by the most high-flown, reiterated, +and affected compliments that it is possible to conceive: Madame +de Coulanges describes the scene very drolly. I wish you +may have the company at Grignan you mention. My son is +well; he sends you a thousand remembrances. M. de Grignan +will be very willing for me to embrace him, now that he +is no longer occupied with the bustle of the boat.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_108" href="#fnanchor_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> +Clement X.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_109" href="#fnanchor_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> +Toussaint de Forbin-Janson, Bishop of Marseilles, and afterward +Bishop of Beauvois, was not made cardinal till 1690, at the promotion +by Alexander VIII.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_110" href="#fnanchor_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> +For more than three years she had only received at court insults +from her rival and unkindness from the king. She remained there, she +said, merely from a spirit of penitence, and added, “When the life of +a Carmelite appears to me too severe, I have only to call to mind what +those persons made me suffer,” pointing to the king and to Madame de +Montespan.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XL.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, June 14, 1675.</p> + +<p>Instead of visiting you in your apartment, my dear child, I +sit down to converse with you by letter; when I am so unfortunate +as not to have you with me, the most natural consolation +I can find is to write to you, to receive your letters, to +speak of you, or to take some step in your affairs. I passed +the afternoon yesterday with Cardinal de Retz; you can not +possibly guess what we talk of when we are together. I always +begin by telling you that you can not love him too well, +and that I think you happy in having so firmly fixed the kindness +and affection he before felt for you. Let me know how +you bear the air at Grignan, and whether it has already begun +to prey upon you; how you enjoy your health and how you +look. Your picture is very pleasing, but far less so than your +person, without reckoning that it wants the power of speech. +Be not uneasy about my health; the rule I observe at present +is, to be irregular; I am not sensible of any indisposition; I +dine alone; stay at home till five or six o’clock, and go in the +evening, when I have no business of importance to keep me +within, to the house of one of my friends. I walk or ride according +to the distance, but I make every thing yield to the +pleasure of being with our cardinal. I lose not a moment he +can spare me, and he is very obliging in this respect. I shall +feel more sensibly his departure and his absence; but this +does not prevent my indulging myself in the pleasure of his +<span class="pagenum" id="page_118">118</span> +conversation; I never think of sparing myself; after having +endured the pangs of parting with you, I have nothing to fear +from any less tender attachment. Were it not for him, and +for your affairs, I should go a little to Livri; but I make +every consideration yield to these, which are above all my +little pleasures.</p> + +<p>The queen went to see Madame de Montespan at Clagny +on the day I told you she took her up in her carriage as she +passed; she went into her room, where she staid half an hour; +she then went into M. du Vexin’s, who was a little indisposed, +and afterward took Madame de Montespan to Trianon, as I +informed you. Some ladies have been at Clagny; they found +the fair lady so occupied with the building and enchantments +that are preparing for her, that I fancy her like Dido building +Carthage; but the resemblance will not hold good in any +other respect. M. de la Rochefoucault and Madame de la +Fayette have entreated me to present their compliments to +you. We fear you will have too much of the grand-duchess.<a id="fnanchor_111" href="#footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> +A prison is preparing for her at Montmartre, with which she +would be frightened, if she did not hope to change it; but she +will be caught; they are delighted in Tuscany to have got rid +of her. Madame de Sully is gone; Paris is become a desert. +I already wish myself out of it. I dined yesterday with the +coadjutor at the cardinal’s: I have left him in charge to inform +you of that part of ecclesiastical history. M. Joli<a id="fnanchor_112" href="#footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> +preached at the opening of the assembly of the clergy, but as +he took an ancient text, and preached only ancient doctrine, +his sermon seemed a piece of antiquity altogether. It was a +fine subject too for reflection.</p> + +<p>The queen dined to-day at the Carmelites de Bouloi, with +Madame de Montespan, and Madame de Fontevraud; you will +see how this friendship will end. They say that M. de Turenne, +as it were, conducts the enemy’s troops to their quarters. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_119">119</span> +My heart is much oppressed with the thoughts of losing +the cardinal; the repeated intercourse of friendship and conversation +which has so lately passed between us, redoubles my +grief; he goes to-morrow. I have not yet received your letters. +Believe, my dear, that it is not possible to love you +more than I love you; nothing animates me but what has +some relation to you. Madame de Rochebonne has written +to me very affectionately; she told me with what feelings you +received and read my letters at Lyons. I see, my dear, you +are grown weak as well as I.</p> + +<p>D’Hacqueville has sent you such a large packet that it +would be ridiculous to pretend to tell you any news now.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_111" href="#fnanchor_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> +Marguerite-Louise d’Orléans, daughter of Gaston de France Duke +of Orléans, and of Marguerite de Lorraine, his second wife.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_112" href="#fnanchor_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> +Claude Joli, Bishop of Agen.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, June 28, 1675.</p> + +<p>Madame de Vins expressed herself very affectionately about +you yesterday, my dear; that is, in her way, but it is not a bad +one; there seemed no <i>interlineations</i> in what she said.</p> + +<p>We have no news. The king’s good star has brought the +Duke of Lorraine and the Prince of Orange across the Meuse +again. M. de Turenne has now elbow-room, so that we are no +longer confined in any part. I am rejoiced that my letters +are so pleasing to you; I can hardly think they are so agreeable +as you say they are. I know they have no stiffness in +them. Our good cardinal is gone to solitude; his departure +gave me sorrow, and reminded me of yours. I have long remarked +our cruel separations to the four corners of the world. +It is very cold; we are obliged to have a fire, and so are you, +which is more astonishing still. You judge well respecting +<i>Quantova</i>;<a id="fnanchor_113" href="#footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> if she can not return to her old ways, she will push +her authority and grandeur beyond the clouds; but she must +prepare to be loved the whole year without scruple: in the +mean time her house is crowded by the whole court, visits are +<span class="pagenum" id="page_120">120</span> +paid alternately, and her consequence is unbounded. Be not +uneasy respecting my journey to Brittany; you are too good +and too attentive to my health. I will have nothing to do with +La Mousse; the dullness of others weighs me down more than +my own. I have no time to go to Livri. I have made a vow +to expedite your affairs. I shall give your compliments to +Madame de Villars and Madame de la Fayette. The latter +has still a little fever upon her. Adieu, my dearest child, believe +me to be most sincerely yours.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_113" href="#fnanchor_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> +Quantova is Mme. de Montespan.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, July 5, 1675.</p> + +<p>I sit down, my dear, to talk to you a little of our good cardinal. +I send you a letter he has written to you. Pray advise +him to write his history, it is what all his friends press +him much to do. He tells me he is very well pleased with +his desert, that he can look upon it without the least horror, +and humbly hopes that God will support him in his weakness. +He expresses the most sincere regard for you, and desires me +not to think of leaving Paris till I have finished all your affairs. +He remembers the time when you had the ague, and that he +desired me, for his sake, to be careful of your health. I answer +him in the same tone. He assures me that the most frightful +solitude would not make him forget the friendship he owes us. +He was received at St. Michael’s<a id="fnanchor_114" href="#footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> with transports of joy; the +people were all on their knees, and received him as a protector +sent by God. The troops, who were quartered there, are taken +off, the officers having waited on him for his orders to send +away or to leave as many as pleased. Cardinal Bonzi has assured +me that the pope, without staying to receive our cardinal’s +letter, had sent him a brief, to tell him that he supposes, +and even desires, he will keep his hat; that the preserving his +<span class="pagenum" id="page_121">121</span> +rank and dignity will in no wise impede the work of his salvation; +and it is moreover added, that his holiness expressly +commanded him not to make choice of any other place of retirement +than St. Denis; but I much doubt this latter part of +the report, so I only tell you my author for the former part.</p> + +<p>I am convinced he thinks no more about the cassolette. If +I had desired him not to send it, it would only have served to +put him in mind of it, so I thought it was best to take no +notice of it. There is no news of importance stirring. Every +thing goes on with spirit on M. de Turenne’s side.</p> + +<p>The other day there was a Madame Noblet, of the Vitri +family, playing at basset with monsieur. Mention was made +of M. de Vitri, who is very ill, upon which she said to monsieur, +“Ah! sir, I saw him this morning, poor man! his face +looked just like a <i>stratagem</i>.” What could she mean? Madame +de Richelieu has received such kind and affectionate letters +from the king, that she is more than repaid for what she +has done.<a id="fnanchor_115" href="#footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> Adieu, my dearest and best-beloved.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_114" href="#fnanchor_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> +The place of the cardinal’s retreat, a remote village in the province +of Brittany.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_115" href="#fnanchor_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> +The singular attachment of the queen and Madame de Montespan.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, July 19, 1675.</p> + +<p>Guess from whence I write to you, my dear—from M. de +Pomponne’s, as you will perceive by the few lines which +Madame de Vins sends you with this. I have been with her, +the Abbé Arnauld, and D’Hacqueville, to see the procession +of St. Genevieve pass; we returned in very good time; we +were back by two o’clock; there are many that will not return +till night. Do you know that this procession is considered +a very fine sight. It is attended by all the religious +orders, in their respective habits, the curates of the several +parishes, and all the canons of Notre-Dame, preceded by the +archbishop of Paris in his pontificals, and on foot, giving his +<span class="pagenum" id="page_122">122</span> +benediction to the right and left as he goes, till he comes to +the cathedral; I should have said to the left only, for the +Abbé de St. Genevieve marches on the right, barefoot, and preceded +by a hundred and fifty monks, barefoot also; the cross +and miter are borne before him, like the archbishop, and he +gives his benedictions in the same manner, but with great apparent +devotion, humility, and fasting, and an air of penitence, +which show that he is to say mass at Notre-Dame. The parliament, +in their red robes, and the principal companies follow +the shrine of the saint, which glitters with precious stones, and +is carried by twenty men clad in white, and barefoot. The +provost of the merchants, and four counselors, are left as hostages +at the Church of St. Genevieve, for the return of this +precious treasure. You will ask me, perhaps, why the shrine +was exposed. It was to put a stop to the continual rains we +have had, and to obtain warm and dry weather, which happened +at the very time they were making preparations for the +procession, to which, as it was intended to obtain for us all +kinds of blessings, I presume we owe his majesty’s return, who +is expected here on Sunday next. In my letter of Wednesday +I will write you all that is worth writing.</p> + +<p>M. de La Trousse is conducting a detachment of six thousand +men to Marshal de Créqui, who is to join M. de Turenne. +La Fare and the others remain with the dauphin’s gens-d’armes, +in the army commanded by the prince. The other day madame +and Madame de Monaco took D’Hacqueville, at the Hôtel +de Grammont, to walk about the streets and the Tuileries incog.; +as her highness is not much given to a disposition for +gallantry, her dignity sits very easy on her. The Tuscan +princess is expected every hour. This is another of the blessings +obtained by the shrine of St. Genevieve. I saw one of +your letters yesterday to the Abbé de Pontcarré; it is the best +letter that ever was written; there is no part of it which has +not some point and wit. He has sent a copy of it to his eminence, +for the original is kept as sacred as the shrine.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dearest and best-beloved; you are so remarkable +<span class="pagenum" id="page_123">123</span> +for your inviolable love of truth, that I do not abate myself a +single expression of your kindness toward me, and you may +judge, then, how happy it makes me.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XLIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, July 24, 1675.</p> + +<p>The weather is so extremely hot, my dear, that instead of +tossing and tumbling in my bed the whim took me to get up +(though it is but five o’clock in the morning) and chat a little +with you.</p> + +<p>The king arrived at Versailles on Sunday morning; the +queen, Madame de Montespan, and all the other ladies, went +to take possession of their former apartments. In a short time +after his arrival, his majesty began to make the usual visits: +the only difference is that they play in the state-apartments. +I shall have more intelligence before I conclude my letter. +The reason of my being so ill-informed of what passed at Versailles +is, that I came but last night from M. de Pomponne’s; +Madame de Pomponne had invited D’Hacqueville and me in +so pressing a manner that there was no refusing. Indeed, M. +de Pomponne appeared delighted to see us; you were spoken +of with all the friendship and esteem imaginable, during the +short time we were there, and there was no want of conversation. +One of our whims was to wish we could see through a +great many things which we think we understand, but which, +in fact, we do not; we should then see into what passes in +families, where we should find hatred, mistrust, anger, and contempt, +in the room of all those fine things that are set to outward +show, and pass upon the world for realities. I was +wishing for a closet hung with mirrors of this kind instead of +pictures. We carried this odd notion very far, and diverted +ourselves extremely with it. We were for opening D’Hacqueville’s +head to furnish ourselves from thence with some of these +curious anecdotes, and pleased ourselves with thinking how +<span class="pagenum" id="page_124">124</span> +the world is in general imposed upon by what they see and +take for truth. You think that things are so and so in such a +house; that such a couple adore each other; but stay a while +and turn up the cards, and you will see that they hate each +other most completely. You would imagine that such an event +proceeded from such a cause—the little demon that drew aside +the curtain would undeceive you; and so through life. This +afforded us infinite amusement. You see, my dear, I must +have plenty of time to entertain you with such trifles. This is +the consequence of rising so early in the morning; this is +doing as M. de Marseilles does. If it had been winter I should +have visited by torch-light.</p> + +<p>You have your cool north-east wind at last. Ah! my child, +how uncomfortable it is; we are broiling with heat in this +country, and in Provence you are starving with cold. I am +convinced that our shrine has effected this change; for, before +the procession, we discovered, like you, that the sun and the +seasons had changed their course. I thought I had discovered, +too, like you, that this was the true reason that had occasioned +the days we so much regret to fly so rapidly. For my part, +my dear child, I experience as much sorrow to see these days +passed and gone forever, as I formerly experienced joy in +spending winter and summer, and every season, with you; this +painful thought must give way to the hope of seeing you +again.</p> + +<p>I wait for cooler weather before I take physic, and for +cooler councils in Brittany<a id="fnanchor_116" href="#footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a> before I venture thither. Madame +de Lavardin, De la Troche, M. d’Haroüis, and I, shall consult +together about a proper time for our journey, having no design +to run ourselves into the midst of the commotions that at +present rend our poor province. They seem to increase daily, +and those concerned in them have got as far as Fougères, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_125">125</span> +burning and ransacking all the way as they go along. This +is rather too near the <i>Rocks</i>. They have begun a second time +to plunder the <i>bureau</i><a id="fnanchor_117" href="#footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> at Rennes: Madame de Chaulnes is +terrified almost to death at the continual menaces she hears. +I was told yesterday that some of the mutineers had actually +stopped her in her coach, and that even the most moderate of +them had sent notice to M. de Chaulnes, who is at Fort Louis, +that if the troops he had sent for took a single step toward +entering the province, his wife would run the hazard of being +torn to pieces by the insurgents. It is necessary, however, +that some troops should march against them, for things are +come to such a height that lenitives are no longer of service. +But it would not be prudent for us to set out before the storm +is a little subsided, and we see the issue of this extreme confusion. +It is hoped that the approaching harvest will help to +disperse the rioters, for after all they must get in their grain; +and there are nearly six or seven thousand of them, not one of +whom can speak a word of French.</p> + +<p>M. de Boucherat told me the other day, that a curate having +received a clock that had been sent him from <i>France</i>, as +they call this part of the country, in the sight of some of his +parishioners, they immediately cried out in their language, +that it was a new tax, they were sure of it, they saw it plainly. +The good curate, with great presence of mind, and without +seeming at all confused, said to them, “My children, you +are mistaken, you know not what you are talking of; it is an +<i>indulgence</i>.” This brought them all immediately upon their +knees. You may, by this specimen, form a judgment of the +understandings of these people. Let the consequence be what +it may, I must wait till the hurricane is past; but I am sorry +to be obliged to defer my journey. It was fixed at the most +convenient time for me, and it can not be put off without interfering +with my plans. You know my resignation to Providence; +we must all return to this at last, and take things as +<span class="pagenum" id="page_126">126</span> +they come. I talk wisely, as you see, but I do not always +think wisely. You well know there is one point in which I +can not practice what I preach.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_116" href="#fnanchor_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> +The exorbitant taxes that had been imposed upon these unhappy +people had obliged numbers of them to have recourse to arms, in order +to free themselves from the load of exactions that it was impossible for +them to bear.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_117" href="#fnanchor_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> +A kind of exchequer established in all the principal towns in +France for the collection of the king’s revenues.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, August 16, 1675.</p> + +<p>I could wish all you write to me of M. de Turenne inserted +in a funeral oration. There is an uncommon beauty and energy +in your style; it has all the force of eloquence that can +be inspired by grief. Think not, my child, that the remembrance +of him can be lost in this country. The torrent that +sweeps every thing away can not remove a memory so well +established; it is consecrated to immortality. I was the other +day at M. de la Rochefoucault’s, with Madame de Lavardin, +M. de Marsillac, and Madame de la Fayette. The premier +joined us. The conversation, which lasted two hours, turned +wholly on the divine qualities of this true hero. The eyes of +every one were bathed in tears, and you can not imagine how +deeply the grief of his loss is engraved on all their hearts. You +have exceeded us in nothing, but in the satisfaction of sighing +aloud, and of writing his panegyric. We remarked one thing, +which was, that it is not at his death only, that the largeness +of his heart, the extent of his knowledge, the elevation of his +mind are admired; all this the world acknowledged during +his life. How much this admiration is increased by his death +you may easily suppose. In a word, my dear, do not think +that the death of this great man is regarded here like that of +others. You may talk of it as much as you please; but +do not suppose your grief can exceed ours. That none of +the devotees have yet taken it into their heads to doubt +whether his soul was in a good state, proceeds from the perfect +esteem every person felt for him. It is not possible that sin or +guilt could find a place in his heart; his conversion,<a id="fnanchor_118" href="#footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> so sincere, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_127">127</span> +appeared to us like a baptism. Every one speaks of the +innocence of his manners, the purity of his intentions, his unaffected +humility, the solid glory that filled his heart, without +haughtiness or ostentation, his love of virtue for its own +sake, without regarding the approbation of men, and, to crown +all, his generous and Christian charity. Did not I tell you of +the regiment he clothed? It cost him fourteen thousand +francs, and left him almost penniless. The English told M. +de Lorges, that they would continue to serve this campaign to +avenge his death; but that they would afterward retire, not +being able to serve under any other general after M. de +Turenne. When some of the new troops grew a little impatient +in the morasses, where they were up to their knees in +water, the old soldiers animated them thus: “What! do you +complain? It is plain you do not yet know M. de Turenne; +he is more grieved than we are when we are in any difficulty. +He thinks of nothing at this moment but of removing us +hence; he wakes, while we sleep; he is a father to us; it is +easy to see that you are but young soldiers.” It was thus +they encouraged them. All I tell you is true; I do not load +you with idle stories to amuse you because you are at a distance; +this would be cheating you, and you may rely upon +what I write to you as firmly, as on what I should tell you if +you were here. I return to the state of his soul. It is really +remarkable that no zealot has yet thought fit to doubt +whether it has pleased God to receive it with open arms, as +one of the best and noblest he ever created. Reflect a little +upon this general assurance of his salvation, and you will find +it is a sort of miracle, scarcely known but in his case.</p> + +<p>The king has said of a certain person, whose absence last +winter delighted you, that he had neither head nor heart; +these were his very words. M. de Rohan, with a handful of +men, has dispersed and put to flight the mutineers, who were +formed in troops in his Duchy of Rohan. Our troops are at +Nantes, commanded by Fourbin; for Vins is still a subaltern. +Fourbin’s orders are to obey M. de Chaulnes; but as M. de +<span class="pagenum" id="page_128">128</span> +Chaulnes is at Fort Louis, Fourbin in effect has the command. +You understand what these imaginary honors are, which remain +without action in those who have the name of commanders. +M. de Lavardin wished much to have this command; he has +been at the head of an old regiment, and pretends it was an +honor due to him; but his claim was not admitted. It is +said that our mutineers have sued for pardon; I suppose they +will obtain it, after a sufficient number have been hanged. +M. de Chamillart, who was odious to the province, is removed; +and M. de Marsillac, who is a worthy man, is made intendant. +These disorders no longer prevent me from taking my journey; +but there is something here I am unwilling to leave. I +have not yet been able to go to Livri, however my inclination +may tempt me. Time must be taken as it comes; we wish +to be in the center of news in these critical times.</p> + +<p>Let me add a word more concerning M. de Turenne. He +had made an acquaintance with a shepherd, who knew the +roads and the country well; he used to take him along with +him, and order his troops to be posted according to his direction. +He had a great affection for this shepherd, and esteemed +him as a man of good plain sense. He said that Colonel Bec +owed his rise to a similar quality; and that he believed this +shepherd would make his fortune as he had done. He was +pleased with having contrived to make his troops pass without +danger; and said to M. de Roye, “In good earnest this seems +to me no ill performance, and I believe M. de Montecuculi +will not find it so.” It is indeed esteemed a masterpiece of +military skill. Madame de Villars has seen another account +since the day of battle, in which it is said that the Chevalier +de Grignan performed wonders, both in respect of valor and +prudence. God preserve him! for the courage of M. de Turenne +seems gone over to the enemy; and they think nothing +impossible, since the defeat of Marshal de Créqui.</p> + +<p>M. de la Feuillade went post to Versailles the other day, +where he surprised the king, and said to him, “Sire, some +(meaning Rochefort) send for their wives, and some come to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_129">129</span> +see them: I am come only to see your majesty, and to thank +you a thousand and a thousand times. I shall see nobody besides +your majesty, for it is to you I owe every thing.” He +talked a long while with the king, and then taking his leave, +said, “Sire, I am going; I beg you to make my compliments +to the queen and the dauphin, and to my wife and children.” +And he mounted his horse; and in reality saw no other person. +This little sally pleased the king much; he told the +court, laughing, how he had been made the bearer of M. de +Feuillade’s compliments. It is a great thing to be happy; +every thing then succeeds; nothing is taken amiss.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_118" href="#fnanchor_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> +He was originally a Protestant.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday Evening, Aug. 16, 1675.</p> + +<p>At length, my dear, M. de la Trousse is found. I admire +his good fortune in this affair: after having performed wonders +at the head of his battalion, he was surrounded by two +squadrons of the enemy’s horse, so completely, that no one +knew how it would end; when on a sudden he finds himself +prisoner to——Whom? The Marquis de Grana, with whom +he was intimate for six months at Cologne, and with whom he +had cultivated a close friendship. You may judge how he +will be treated; he has a pretty little wound, which will furnish +him with an excellent plea for passing the vintage at La +Trousse; for there is no reason to doubt that he will be released +on his parole; and, what is still better, will meet with +the most favorable reception at court. Nothing can exceed +the congratulations and compliments that have been made +him by all his friends on this occasion. I really pity him for +having so many thanks to return: if he were to have carved +his own fortune, could he have done it more completely to his +wish? As for honest Sanzei, we have no news of him, which +does not look well. Marshal de Créqui is at Trèves, at least +it is so reported, and that his people saw him cross the river, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_130">130</span> +with three others, in a miserable little boat. His wife is distracted +with grief, not having heard a syllable from himself; +for my part I really think he has been drowned, or else killed +by the peasants on his way to Trèves. In short, matters appear +to go badly on all sides, La Trousse excepted.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XLVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Aug. 28, 1675.</p> + +<p>If I had the means of sending letters to you every day I +could easily contrive to write them. I sometimes do so even +now, though my letters do not go; but the pleasure of writing +is reserved for you alone: to every one else I write, because +I must. I have particulars to relate respecting M. de +Turenne. Madame d’Elbeuf,<a id="fnanchor_119" href="#footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> who is for a few days at the +Cardinal de Bouillon’s, invited me to dine with them yesterday, +and to share in their grief. Madame de la Fayette was +likewise there; the purpose of our meeting was fully answered, +for there was not a dry eye among us. Madame d’Elbeuf +had a picture of the hero, admirably executed. All his people +arrived at eleven o’clock; the poor creatures were already in +deep mourning, and bathed in tears; three gentlemen came in +who were ready to die at the sight of the picture; their cries +pierced every heart; they could not utter a word; his footmen, +his pages, his trumpeters, were all in tears, and made every +body else weep to see them. The first who was able to speak, +answered our mournful questions, and we prevailed on him to +relate the manner of his death. It seems he was desirous of +confessing, and when he retired for that purpose, he gave his +orders for the evening, and was to have communicated the +next day, which was Sunday, when he expected to give battle. +He mounted on horseback at two o’clock the Saturday, after +having taken a little refreshment, and as he had many people +with him, he left them all at about thirty paces from the hill, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_131">131</span> +and said to young d’Elbeuf, “Nephew, stay you there: you +move round me so much, that I shall be known.” M. Hamilton, +who happened to be near the place where he was going, +said to him, “Sir, come this way if you please, the enemy’s +fire is directed to the place in which you are.” “You are +right, sir,” replied M. de Turenne; “I would not willingly be +killed to-day; this will do extremely well.” He had scarcely +turned his horse, when he saw St. Hilaire, who, coming up to +him with his hat in his hand, desired him to cast his eye on a +battery he had just raised, pointing to the place. M. de Turenne +turned back, and at that very instant, without having +time to stop his horse, he had his arm and part of his body +torn to pieces by the same ball that carried off St. Hilaire’s arm +and hand in which he held his hat. The gentleman, who was +watching him attentively, did not see him fall, for his horse +ran away with him as far as the spot where he had left young +d’Elbeuf; he was leaning with his face over the pommel of +the saddle. The moment his horse stopped, this great man +fell off into the arms of his people, who were gathered round +him, twice opened wide his eyes, moved his lips a little, and +sank to eternal rest. Think of his death, and of part of his +heart being carried away! His people immediately burst into +loud cries of lamentations, but M. Hamilton quieted them as +well as he could, and had young d’Elbeuf removed, who had +thrown himself upon his uncle’s body frantic with grief, and +would not be dragged from it without violence. A cloak was +immediately thrown over the body, and it was placed by the +side of a hedge, where they kept watch over it in silence till a +carriage could be sent for to carry it to his tent; there it was +met by M. de Lorges, M. de Roye, and several others, who +were ready to expire with grief; but they were obliged to restrain +themselves, and think of the important business that +had devolved on them. A military service was performed in +the camp, where tears and sorrow were the mourning; the +officers, however, had each a crape scarf, the drums were covered +with the same, they beat only a single stroke, the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_132">132</span> +soldiers marched with their pikes trailing and pieces reversed; +but the cries and lamentations of a whole army can not be +described without emotion. His two nephews assisted at this +mournful ceremony, I leave you to judge in what condition. +M. de Roye, though much wounded, would be carried thither. +I suppose the poor Chevalier de Grignan was overwhelmed +with grief. When the body was removed from the camp, to +be brought to Paris, the same scene of grief was renewed, +and in every place through which it passed, nothing was heard +but lamentations: at Langres, however, they exceeded even +this; the bier was met by more than two hundred of the +principal inhabitants in mourning, followed by the common +people, and all the clergy in sacerdotal habits. In the town a +solemn service was performed, and they all voluntarily entered +into a contribution toward defraying the expenses, which +amounted to five thousand francs; for they conducted the +body as far as the next town. What say you to these natural +marks of affection, founded on the most extraordinary merit? +He is to be brought to St. Denis this evening; the people are +all gone to meet the body at a place about two leagues distant, +from whence they will conduct it to a chapel, where it is +to be deposited for the present; there will be a service performed +at St. Denis, till that at Notre-Dame is celebrated, +which will be a solemn one. Such was our entertainment at +the cardinal’s; we dined, as you may suppose, melancholy +enough, and afterward did nothing but sigh till four o’clock. +Cardinal de Bouillon mentioned you, and took upon him to +answer for you, that, had you been in Paris you would have +made one in our sad party; I assured him that you took no small +share in his grief. He intends to answer both your letter and +M. de Grignan’s; he desired me to say a thousand kind things +to you, and so did the worthy d’Elbeuf, who, as well as her +son, has lost every thing. It was a good idea to undertake +thus to tell you what you know already as well as myself; but +these originals struck me, and I was glad to show you in what +way we forget M. de Turenne in this part of the world.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_133">133</span> +M. de la Garde told me the other day, that in the enthusiasm +of the wonders which were related of the Chevalier de +Grignan, he had advised his brothers<a id="fnanchor_120" href="#footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> to bestir themselves on +the occasion, to support his interest at least for the present +year; and that he found them both very well disposed to do +extraordinary things. This good La Garde is at Fontainebleau, +from whence he is to return in three days, to set out at last; +for he longs to be gone, though courtiers in general seem to +be very leaden-heeled. The situation of poor Madame de +Sanzei is really deplorable; we know nothing yet respecting +her husband; he is neither dead nor alive, wounded nor prisoner. +His people do not take the least notice of him in their +letters. M. de la Trousse, after having mentioned the report +of his being killed (this was the day of the action), has never +since mentioned a syllable about him, either to Madame de +Sanzei or to Coulanges,<a id="fnanchor_121" href="#footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> so that we are quite at a loss what to +say to this distracted woman; and yet it is cruel to let her remain +in this state of uncertainty; for my part, I am persuaded +her husband is killed; the dust and blood must probably disfigure +him so much as not to be known again, and he has +been stripped with the rest of the slain. Or he was perhaps +killed at a distance from any of the rest; or by the country-people +on the road, and thrown into a hedge. I think it is +more probable that he has met with some such melancholy +fate, than that he has been taken prisoner without a word having +been heard respecting him.</p> + +<p>And now, my dear, I must tell you that the abbé thinks +my journey so necessary, that I no longer oppose it; I shall +not have him always with me, and therefore I ought to take +advantage of his good intentions toward me. It will be only +a trip of two months, for the good abbé is not the least disposed +to pass the winter there. He expresses himself very +sincerely on the subject, and you know I am always the dupe +<span class="pagenum" id="page_134">134</span> +of every thing that has the appearance of sincerity; so much +the worse for those who deceive me. I conceive that it would +be very dull there in the winter; long evenings may be compared +to long marches for tediousness. I was not dull the +winter you were with me; you, who are young, might have +felt so, but do you remember our readings? It is true, that +if every thing had been taken away that surrounded the table, +and even the book too, it is impossible to tell what would have +become of me. Providence will arrange every thing. I treasure +up all your sayings; we get out of our dullness as we do +out of bad roads; we see no one stop short in the middle of a +month, because he has not the courage to go through it; it is +like dying, we see no one who does not know how to keep out +of this dilemma; there are parts in your letters which I neither +can nor will forget. Are my friends Corbinelli and M. de +Vardes with you? I hope they are. In that case, I dare say, +there has been no deficiency of conversation among you; you +have talked incessantly of the state of affairs, of the death of +M. de Turenne, and are at a loss to guess what will be the +consequences of it; in fact, you are just like ourselves, though +you are in Provence. M. de Barillon supped here last night. +The conversation turned upon M. de Turenne, and the universal +grief occasioned by his loss; he entered largely into his +virtues, his love of truth, his love of virtue for its own sake, +and his reward in the practice of it; he finished this eulogium +with adding, that no one could love and esteem M. de Turenne +without being the better for it. His company and conversation +inspired such hatred of deceit and double-dealing, as raised +his friends above the generality of mankind. In this number +the chevalier was particularly distinguished as one for whom +this great man showed more than common esteem and affection, +and who, on his side, was one of his greatest admirers. +We shall never see his equal in any age: I do not think we +are quite blind in the present day, at least those I meet are +not so, and this perhaps is boasting that I keep good company. +But I must tell you one word more of M. de Turenne, which I +heard yesterday. You know Pertuis well, and his adoration +<span class="pagenum" id="page_135">135</span> +and attachment to M. de Turenne; as soon as he heard of his +death, he wrote his majesty the following note: “Sire, I have +lost M. de Turenne; I feel my heart unable to support this +blow; and being incapable of serving your majesty as I ought +to do, I humbly request your permission to resign my government +of Courtrai.” Cardinal de Bouillon prevented the letter +from being given to the king; but, fearing he might come in +person, he informed his majesty of the effect Pertuis’ grief +had on him. The king appeared to enter with great goodness +and indulgence into his sentiments, and told Cardinal de +Bouillon that he esteemed Pertuis the more for this mark of +attachment to his friend and benefactor,<a id="fnanchor_122" href="#footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> and that he thought +him too honest a man not to discharge his duty in whatever +situation he was in. This is a specimen of grief for this hero. +He had a patrimony of 40,000 livres a year; and M. Boucherat +says, that after all his debts, and the several legacies he +has bequeathed, are paid, there will not remain more than +10,000. These are the vast treasures he had amassed during +a service of fifty years! Adieu, my dearest child, I embrace +you a thousand times, and with inexpressible tenderness.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_119" href="#fnanchor_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> +Sister to Cardinal de Bouillon.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_120" href="#fnanchor_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> +The Coadjutor of Arles, and the Abbé de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_121" href="#fnanchor_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné was sister to M. de Coulanges, and M. de la +Trousse was first cousin to both.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_122" href="#fnanchor_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> +He had been captain of the guard to M. de Turenne.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Tuesday, September 17, 1675.</p> + +<p>Here is an odd date for you:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Je suis dans un bateau,</div> + <div class="verse">Dans le courant de l’eau,</div> + <div class="verse">Fort loin de mon château.<a id="fnanchor_123" href="#footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a></div> +</div> + +<p>I think I might add,</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Ah quelle folie!<a id="fnanchor_124" href="#footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a></div> +</div> + +<p class="noind">for the water is so very low, and we are so often aground, that +<span class="pagenum" id="page_136">136</span> +I heartily wish for my carriage again, but that is out of reach +for some time. The water becomes dull when one is alone. A +Count des Chapelles and a Mademoiselle de Sévigné are wanting +to enliven the scene. In short, it is mere folly to take a +boat at Orléans, or even at Paris; but it is the fashion, as it is +at Chartres to buy chaplets. I told you I saw the Abbé +d’Effiat at his noble mansion. I wrote to you from Tours; +from thence we went to Saumur, where we saw Vineuil, and +wept again over M. de Turenne. He seems greatly affected +with his loss; you will pity him when I tell you he is in a +place where no one ever saw this hero. Vineuil is grown very +old, very phthisicky, very driveling, and very devout; but he +is still witty. He sends you a thousand and a thousand +compliments. It is thirty leagues from Saumur to Nantes; +we determined to go there in two days, and to get into Nantes +this day. With this view we were upon the water some +part of the night, but fortunately we ran aground about two +hundred yards from the place where we were to go ashore to +sleep, and could not get out of the boat, so we put back and +landed at another place, and, following the barking of a dog, +we got, about midnight, to a little hut, but the most wretched +place you can possibly conceive; there we found two or three +old women spinning, and some fresh straw, upon which we all +lay down without taking off our clothes. I should have +laughed heartily at this scene, had it not been for thinking +of our poor abbé, whom I was vexed to have exposed to such +a fatiguing journey. At daybreak we re-embarked, but were +again so completely stranded, that it was above an hour before +we could get afloat again; however, we were resolved to get +to Nantes, though against both wind and tide. We were +forced to row all the way. When we got there, I received +your letters, and as I find the post must pass through Ingrande, +I shall leave this little note by the way. I am very well, and +only want somebody to chat with. I shall write to you from +Nantes, as you may suppose. I am very impatient to hear +from you, and about M. de Luxembourg and his army, for my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_137">137</span> +head has been in a sack these nine days. The History of the +Crusades is very amusing, particularly to those who have read +Tasso, and who see their old friends again in prose and in history, +but with respect to the author’s style, I am his very +humble servant. The Life of Origen is divine.<a id="fnanchor_125" href="#footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0"><a id="footnote_123" href="#fnanchor_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> + <span class="fnverse">I am here in a boat,</span><br> + <span class="fnverse2">On the water afloat,</span><br> + <span class="fnverse2">From my castle far remote.</span></p> + + +<p><a id="footnote_124" href="#fnanchor_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> +<span class="fnverse">Ah, what folly is this!</span></p> + +<p><a id="footnote_125" href="#fnanchor_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> +This is the work of Dufosse, of Port Royal. It had just been published, +with the Life of Tertullian, by the same author.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XLIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, Oct. 20, 1675.</p> + +<p>I can not sufficiently admire the diligence and fidelity of the +post. I received on the 18th your letter of the 9th, that is, +in nine days only after date, which is all that can be desired. +But, my dear, we must soon put an end to our admirations; +for, as you say, you are going still further off, that we may +both be exactly in the spot which Providence has assigned us. +For my part, God knows, I acquit myself very ill in my residence; +but you, heavens! M. d’Angers (H. Arnauld) can not +do more. When I think, however, of our separation, and how +much I deserve to enjoy the pleasure of being with you, and +of all your affection for me, and then reflect that we are placed +at two different ends of the globe, you must excuse me if I +can not view this part of our history with gayety of heart. +Common sense opposes it, and my infinite love still more. I +have nothing to do but take refuge in submission to the will +of Providence. I am very glad you have seen M. de la Garde; +he does me great honor in approving my turn of mind: he is +a very good judge. I am sorry you are going to lose him so +soon, for he is really a worthy man. Your conversations must +have been endless. So he is to take the archbishop away to +La Garde. It was very well said of him, that he was like a +river which fertilized and made every country flourish through +which it passed. I find he did wonders at Grignan.</p> + +<p>M. de Chaulnes is at Rennes with four thousand men; he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_138">138</span> +has removed the parliament to Vannes, which has occasioned +a terrible desolation. The ruin of Rennes brings with it that +of the whole province. Madame de Marbeuf is at Vitré; she +has brought me a thousand compliments from Madame de +Chaulnes, and from M. de Vins, who intends paying me a visit. +I am not under the least apprehension about these troops on +my own account, but I can not help feeling for the despair and +desolation our poor province suffers at present. It is supposed +we shall not have any assembly of the states here, or if we +have, it will be only to buy off the taxes which we gave two +million five hundred thousand livres to have taken off only two +years ago, and which have been all laid upon our shoulders +again; and, perhaps, they may set a price too upon bringing +the parliament back to Rennes. M. de Montmoron<a id="fnanchor_126" href="#footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> is fled +out of the town, to a seat belonging to one of his friends, at +about three leagues distance from hence, that he may avoid +hearing the cries and lamentations of the people at seeing their +dear parliament removed. You see I am quite a Breton, but, +you know, it is owing to the air I breathe, and to something +else, for every creature, without distinction, is in affliction +throughout the province. Be under no concern about my +health, my dearest child; I am extremely well. Madame de +Tarente has given me an essence that has cured her of vapors +that were worse than mine: two drops are to be taken for fifteen +days following, in any beverage that is drunk at table, +and it cures effectually. She has told me circumstances of its +efficacy, which have all the air of those in the comedy of the +<span lang="fr">Médecin Forcé</span>; but I believe them all, and I would take some +of the essence now if it were not that I think it a pity to make +use of so admirable a remedy when I have no real occasion for +it. I will send you, some time or other, the remainder of the +prosperities of the boat. You will make La Plessis too vain, +for I shall tell her how much you love her. Except what I +told you the other day, I do not think a better creature +exists. She is here every day. I have some of your excellent +<span class="pagenum" id="page_139">139</span> +Hungary water in my pocket; I am quite in love with it; it +cures all my sorrows; I wish I could send some of it to Rennes.</p> + +<p>My woods continue very beautiful still, and the verdure is a +hundred times finer than at Livri; I do not know whether +this proceeds from the nature of the trees themselves, or from +the refreshing rains we have here; but there is certainly no +comparison; every thing here looks as green now as in the +month of May. The leaves that fall are brown, it is true, but +those that remain on the trees are not at all faded; you never +observed this beauty in them. As to that blessed tree that +saved your life, I am often tempted to build a little chapel +there. It seems to carry its head above all the rest, and exceeds +them in bulk as well as stature, and with very good +reason, for it saved you. I may, at least, repeat to it the +stanza of Medor, in Ariosto, in which he wishes happiness and +peace to the cave that had given him so much pleasure. Our +sentences are not at all disfigured; I visit them frequently. +I think they are rather increased, and two trees that are close +to each other, often present us with two contrary sentiments, +“<i lang="it">La lontananza ogni grand piaga salda</i>,”<a id="fnanchor_127" href="#footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> and “<i lang="it">Piaga +d’amor non si sana mais</i>.”<a id="fnanchor_128" href="#footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> There are five or six thus contradictory. +The good princess was charmed with them, as I am +with the letter you have written our good abbé, on Jacob’s +journey to the land of promise, in your closet.</p> + +<p>Madame de Lavardin has informed me of what is still to be +kept secret for a few days longer, that D’Olonne is going to +marry his brother to Mademoiselle de Noirmoutier. He gives +him all his lands in Poitou, besides a great quantity of jewels +and furniture. They are at La Ferté-Milon, where this curious +affair is to be made up. I never thought D’Olonne would +have given himself any concern about his name or family.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_126" href="#fnanchor_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> +He was a Sévigné, and dean of the parliament of Brittany.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_127" href="#fnanchor_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> +Time is a cure for wounds however deep.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_128" href="#fnanchor_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> +The wounds of love are never to be healed.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_140">140</div> + +<h3>LETTER L.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, November 6, 1675.</p> + +<p>What a delightful letter have you written to me, my dear +child! What thanks do I not owe you for employing your +hand, your eyes, your head, your time, in composing so agreeable +a volume! I have read it over and over, and shall read +it again with pleasure and attention. I can read nothing that +is more interesting; you satisfy my curiosity in every thing I +wish. I admire your care in giving me such punctual answers. +This makes a conversation perfect, regular, and extremely +entertaining. But I must beg you not to destroy +yourself; this fear makes me renounce the pleasure of having +frequently such entertainments. You can not doubt my +generosity in sparing you the fatigue of immoderate writing.</p> + +<p>I comprehend with pleasure the high esteem that is paid to +M. de Grignan in Provence, after what I have seen of it. +This is a pleasure you are scarcely sensible of; you are too +much accustomed to be loved and honored in a province +where you command. If you saw the horror, the detestation, +the hatred, that the people have here for their governor, you +would feel more than you do the pleasure of being adored +every where. What affronts! what injuries! what menaces! +what reproaches! the very stones fly round him. I do not +believe M. de Grignan would accept this post upon such conditions.</p> + +<p>You mention to me the paper you have signed so heroically +in favor of M. de Grignan.<a id="fnanchor_129" href="#footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> You say you had no doubt +which way the honorable sentiments of Cardinal de Retz<a id="fnanchor_130" href="#footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> inclined. +I do not say any thing of mine; it was enough that +you could discern what his counsels tended to. In certain +delicate affairs, we do not presume directly to advise, but we +represent the case; the common friends of both do what is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_141">141</span> +proper, that there may be no jarring opposition in the interest +of those they love. But with a soul so perfectly generous and +good as yours, we consult only ourselves, and act precisely as +you have done. Have you not seen how much you have +been admired? Are you not pleased that you owe to none +but yourself so noble a resolution? You would have done +nothing blamable, if you had refused to sign—you would +only have acted like the rest of the world; but by consenting +to it, you have exceeded all the world. In a word, my child, +enjoy the beauty of your own action, and do not think meanly +of us for not having prompted you to it. On a similar occasion, +we should perhaps have acted as you have done, and you +would have advised as we did; it is all well, I am very +much pleased that M. de Grignan is so good as to recompense +this mark of your friendship and affection by a greater attention +to his affairs. The prudence you commend him for, is +the truest mark of his gratitude you could have wished.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_129" href="#fnanchor_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> +It appears that Madame de Grignan had entered into a bond for +her husband.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_130" href="#fnanchor_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> +Cardinal de Retz advised her not to sign.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER LI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, December 1, 1675.</p> + +<p>Well, my dear, it seems now settled that I am to receive +two of your packets together, and miss one post; you should +see the faces I make, and how I receive it in comparison with +those that come regularly. I am of your opinion, my child, +and would give a great deal to be as easy about answering +letters as the coadjutor is, and keep them in my pocket for +a month or two without troubling my head about them. +Well, it is a gift from heaven certainly, this happy indifference! +Madame de Langeron used to say of visits, and I apply +it to every thing: “What I do fatigues me, and what I omit +to do vexes me.” I think this is very well said, and I feel it +sensibly. I am always exact, however, in my answers. It is +with pleasure I give you the top of the basket; that is, you +have the very flower of my mind, my head, my eyes, my pen, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_142">142</span> +my desk—the rest fare as they can. I have as much amusement +in chatting to you, as labor and fatigue in writing to +others. I am perfectly stunned with the great news that +abounds in Europe.</p> + +<p>I suppose the coadjutor has shown Madame de Fontevraud +the letter he received from you. You are ignorant of its +value. You write like an angel; I read your letters with admiration. +You no sooner set out than you reach the goal. +Do you remember the minuet which you danced so well, and +closed in such excellent time, when the other creatures were +not at the end of theirs till the next day? The late madame +and yourself were famous for this; we used to call it <i>gaining +ground</i>. Your letters are just the same.</p> + +<p>As for your poor little <i lang="it">frater</i>, I know not where he has hid +himself; it is three weeks now since I had a line from him. +He made no mention of the pretty airing upon the Meuse, +though every body believes it here; his fortune is really very +hard, poor lad. I do not see how he can manage the affair of +his promotion, unless Lauzun will take the guidonage in part +of payment, with some other little additions we will endeavor +to raise; but to buy the ensign’s place, and have the guidonage +left upon our hands, will never do. Your reasoning upon +the matter is very just; we all acquiesce in it, and shall be +very well contented to mount after the other two,<a id="fnanchor_131" href="#footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a> provided +the guidon serves as the first step.</p> + +<p>I shall finish the year here very peaceably. There are +times when all places are indifferent, and a solitude like this +not unpleasant. Madame de la Fayette returns you all your +civilities; she has very bad health, and poor M. de Limoges +still worse; he has resigned all his benefices to the king; I +fancy his son, the Abbé de la Fayette, will have one of his +abbeys. Poor Gascony has been as roughly handled as we +have been. We have six thousand troops sent down to pass +<span class="pagenum" id="page_143">143</span> +the winter among us: if it were not for the misconduct of +the provinces, I do not know how they would be able to dispose +of their troops. I can not think peace is so near: do +you remember all our reasoning upon the subject of war, +and how many there must be killed? This is always a certain +prophecy, and so is that, that your letters can never tire me, +long as they may be: ah! you will find no chimera in this +hope, they are my choicest reading. Ripert brings you a +third volume of the Moral Essays, which are worth your perusal. +I never met with greater energy than there is in the +style of these writers: they make use of no words but what +are in common use, and yet they appear perfectly new, by the +elegant manner in which they dispose them. In the morning +I read the history of France; in the afternoon, some serious +subjects in my woods; such as the Essays, the Life of Saint +Thomas of Canterbury, which I think delightful, or the Iconoclastes; +and in the evening, things of a lighter nature: this is +my constant rule. I hope you continue to read Josephus; +take courage, my dear, and go on boldly to the end. If you +read the history of the Crusades, you will meet with two +illustrious men who were your ancestors, but not a word about +the great family of V***, that holds its head so high at present: +but I am persuaded there are some passages which will +make you throw aside the book, and curse the Jesuit;<a id="fnanchor_132" href="#footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> and +yet upon the whole it is an admirable history.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_131" href="#fnanchor_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> +The Marquis de la Trousse, and the Marquis de la Fare; the one +captain-lieutenant, and the other sub-lieutenant, in the dauphin’s gens-d’armes.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_132" href="#fnanchor_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> +Father Maimbourg, author of the History of the Crusades. The +physician, in the Lettres Persanes, gives as a recipe for the asthma, to +read all the works of this father, stopping only at each period.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, Dec. 11, 1675.</p> + +<p>A little patience, my dear child, brings us to the accomplishment +of our wishes: I have received the two packets of letters +from you that I should have received before; but they are +<span class="pagenum" id="page_144">144</span> +come at last, and you will do me no more than justice to believe +that I am highly delighted to have them. I thank you +that notwithstanding all your philosophy, you enter into all my +melancholy reflections on the immense distance that separates +us; you sympathize with me; you seem afflicted as well as +myself with this disposition of Providence; but you encounter +it with more courage than I do, who always feel from it +some new increase of sorrow. I am continually meditating +on the past, for which the present and the future can never +make me amends. It is an ample field in which to exercise a +heart so tender and ill-defended as mine. I can not but admire +those good ladies who make a duty of their inclination; +there is La Troche for instance, who has so well turned and +wound her good fortune, that she is at length settled at her +ease in the good city of Paris, making it the seat of her empire +and the field of all her operations. She has fixed her son +at court, in spite of wind and tide, and makes it her business to +be always near him. As for Marbeuf, she had begun, even in +her husband’s time, and now lays no restraint upon herself; +she has taken a lease of a house in Paris for a hundred years, +and most humbly takes her leave of poor Brittany: while you, +my dear child, who were born and bred in this country, you +whom I have always so fondly loved, and so ardently wished +to have forever with me, are driven to the furthest end of the +world by the storms of adverse fortune; but, if I mean to +put an end to my letter, I must pass lightly over these reflections, +and resume my courage in the flattering hope of a +change: d’Hacqueville and I indulge some pleasing dreams of +that kind; but this is not a time to communicate them to you. +Let us return to the miseries of this poor province.</p> + +<p>Every place is full of warriors; there are to be some at +Vitré, notwithstanding the princess is there. Monsieur, when +he writes to her, styles her his good aunt; his dear aunt; but +I do not find that she is better treated than others. There are +to be troops at Guerche, the estate of the Marquis de Villeroi; +and from thence they are to spread themselves among the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_145">145</span> +country people, to rob and strip them. This is a heavy disaster +upon poor Brittany, that never experienced any thing of +the kind before. Our governor has received a power to grant +a general amnesty, which he disperses with one hand, and +with the other lets loose eight thousand soldiers, over whom +he has as much command as you have: they have all their +orders. M. de Pommereuil is expected here every day; he +has the inspection of this little army, and may very soon boast +a fine government. He is the best and wisest of the robe; +he is my friend; but I doubt whether he will be as tractable +as your intendant, whom you manage so excellently; I am +afraid he will be changed. I can give you no information to-day +respecting Languedoc; in the mean time content yourself +with some from Guienne; I find they are well protected, +and have procured a considerable mitigation of their burden. +Alas! we are not so happy; our protections, if we had any, +would do us more harm than good, by the animosity against +us of two individuals. I believe we may still find, or at least +promise to find, the three millions demanded of us, without +ruining our friend;<a id="fnanchor_133" href="#footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> for he is so beloved by the states, that +they would do any thing rather than he should suffer. And +this, I think, is enough upon the subject.</p> + +<p>I am rejoiced that you are not returned to Grignan; it +would have been only an additional fatigue and expense to +you. Prudence and economy, for which the good abbé desires +me to thank you, have rendered that step unnecessary. +Let me know if the dear little ones are to come to you. We +have most delightful weather here, and we are making some +new walks, which will be very beautiful. My son is very +good, and helps to amuse us; he enters into the spirit of the +place, and has brought no more of the warrior or of the courtier +with him into this retreat, than is sufficient to enliven +conversation. When it does not rain we are not so much to +be pitied as at a distance it may be supposed; the time we +have fixed to spend here will pass like the rest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_146">146</span> +My letter has not been given to Louvois; the whole affair +is negotiating between Lauzun and myself; if he will take the +guidonage, we have offered to make a small addition to it; if +he resolves to sell his post outright, which would be very unreasonable, +he must look for a purchaser on his side, as we +shall on ours; that is all. I have written to the chevalier to +condole with him on our not having met at Paris; we should +have made curious lamentations together on our last year’s +party, and should have renewed our tears for the loss of M. de +Turenne. I know not what idea you have of our princess; I +assure you she is no Artemisia;<a id="fnanchor_134" href="#footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> her heart is like wax, it easily +takes impression; she makes a boast of it, and says pleasantly +enough that she has a ridiculous heart; this is spoken in general +terms, but the world is rather more particular in its applications. +I am in hopes I shall be able to keep this folly within +bounds, by the frequent speeches I make (as if I intended +nothing by them) on the detestable light in which those women +are held, who give too great a rein to their passions, and +how much they subject themselves thereby to contempt. I +talk miraculously sometimes; I am heard and approved as +much as can be expected. Indeed, I consider it quite a duty +to talk thus; and should think it an honor to be instrumental +in working a reformation.</p> + +<p>I am tired to death with the barrenness of news; we stand +in great need of some event, as you say, let it be at whose expense +it will; as long as we have no more Turennes to lose, +<i lang="fr">vogue la galère</i>. You tell me extraordinary things; I read +them, admire them, believe them, and then you send me word +they are not true; I well know the style and braggart of the +provinces. You judge superficially of our governor, when +you say you should have acted as he did, had you been in his +place; I know you would not; neither did the king’s service +require it. Ah! what is become of the excellent understanding +<span class="pagenum" id="page_147">147</span> +you had last winter? This is no time to think of deputations; +let us see peace restored, and then we shall have time +to think of every thing.</p> + +<p>As to the religion of the Jews, I said, when reading their +history, that “if God had given me grace to have been born a +Jew,”<a id="fnanchor_135" href="#footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> I should have liked it better than any other except the +true religion. I admire its magnificence; but you must admire +it still more, on account of its year of rest, and of dressing-gowns, +which would have given you an opportunity of +being a shining example of piety in your elbow-chair; never +would sabbath have been better kept. Ripert has received +the Moral Essays; they contain several treatises, and among +the rest one that is particularly pleasing; you will guess which +I mean. I am delighted with your good health and beauty, +for I love you truly. I often wish for you in these woods, the +air of which, as well as that of Livri, is a great preservative to +the complexion. Our good abbé praises you highly for your +care in discharging your debts; for that, in his estimation, is +the law and the prophets; and as M. de Grignan is so prudent, +I will embrace him notwithstanding his beard; but do you +know that your little brother’s beard has the presumption to +rival it? it is to much purpose! Send me word of your success +at play. It seems to me as if I saw your little fingers +taking out of the pool; but these times are past; good and +evil travel on the same road, but they leave different impressions. +You have given a great dinner; where was I? for I +know all; I see all the magnificence from hence. You express +yourself admirably on the marriage of the little prince (De +Marsan) and the maréchale; the disproportion is doubtless +great, but suppose he should have escaped it! Believe me, +you have no need of my letters, you can write delightfully +without a theme. But I must reduce myself at last to Solon’s +<span class="pagenum" id="page_148">148</span> +rule, “Nothing is to be praised on this side the grave;” which +is a heavy restriction for me, who dearly love to praise what is +praise-worthy; besides, who can stay so long? For my part, +I shall always go on in my old way: adieu, my ever-lovely +and beloved child.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_133" href="#fnanchor_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> +M. de Harroüis.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_134" href="#fnanchor_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> +The affectionate and chaste wife of Mausolus, king of Caria, whose +ashes she drank after his death.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_135" href="#fnanchor_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> +In allusion to an expression of M. de Rochefoucault, who said, +“If God had given me grace to have been born a Turk, I should have +died a Turk.”</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday January 12, 1676.</p> + +<p>You may fill your letters with whatever you please, and still +be assured that I read them with great pleasure and equal approbation; +no one can write better than you do, and it is not +my friendship only that leads me to form this opinion.</p> + +<p>You delight me by saying you like the Moral Essays; did I +not tell you they would suit your taste? As soon as I began +to read them, I could think of nothing but of sending them to +you; you know I am communicative, and do not like to enjoy +a pleasure alone. If this book had been written on purpose +for you, it could not have been more calculated to please +you. What language! what energy in the arrangement of +the words! I think I never read French but in this book. +The resemblance of charity to self-love, and of the heroic +modesty of M. de Turenne and the prince to Christian +humility—but I forbear. This work deserves to be praised +from beginning to end, but I should write a strange letter if I +were to do so. I am very glad, however, you like it, and I +have a better opinion of my own judgment in consequence. +You do not admire the life of Josephus; but it is sufficient if +you approve his actions and his history. Did you not think +him very happy in the cave, where they drew lots who should +stab himself the last?</p> + +<p>We laughed till we cried at the story of the girl who sung +the indecent song, for which she confessed aloud in the +church. Nothing can be more novel and amusing. I think +she was in the right; the confessor certainly wished to hear +<span class="pagenum" id="page_149">149</span> +the song, for he was not satisfied with the girl’s accusation of +herself. I fancy I see him bursting with laughter the first at +this adventure. We often send you ridiculous stories, but we +can not surpass this. I always talk of Brittany, and it is to +encourage you to talk of Provence; it is a country in which I +am more interested than in any other. My journey thither +takes away all possibility of being tired with what you tell +me, because I am acquainted with every body, and understand +every thing perfectly. I have not forgotten the beauty of +your winters. Our season is very fine here; I walk every day, +and have almost made a new park round the waste land at +the end of the mall. I am planting four rows of trees there; +it will be a great improvement, for all this part is now uniform +and cultivated.</p> + +<p>But I shall take my departure, in spite of all these charms, +in February. The abbé’s affairs are still more urgent than +yours, which has prevented me from offering our house to +Mademoiselle de Méri; she has complained of this to several +persons, I understand, but I know not what reason she has to +do so. The <i>worthy</i> is in raptures with your letters; I often +show him passages that I know will please him. He thanks +you for what you say of the Moral Essays; he was delighted +with them himself. The little girl is still with us; she has an +active little mind which has never been exercised, and we take +pleasure in improving it. She is in perfect ignorance; it is an +amusement to us to give her some general knowledge: a few +words of this great universe, of empires, countries, kings, religions, +and wars, of astronomy and geography. It is pleasant +to see the unfolding of all these things in a little head which +has never beheld a town or a river, and who thought the +whole world extended no further than our park; she amuses +us highly. I informed her to-day of the capture of Wismar; +she knows we are sorry for it, because the king of Sweden +is our ally. Such are our amusements. The princess is +delighted that her daughter has taken Wismar; she is a +true Dane. She has asked monsieur and madame to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_150">150</span> +exempt her entirely from the soldiery, so that we shall all be +safe.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Fayette is very grateful for your letter; she +thinks you very polite and obliging. But does it not appear +strange to you that her brother-in-law is not dead, and that +such mistakes should arise at the short distance of Toulon and +Aix? Upon the questions you put to the <i lang="it">frater</i> I decide +boldly, that he who is angry, and shows his anger, is preferable +to the deceiver, who conceals his malignity under fair and +specious appearances. There is a stanza in Ariosto descriptive +of guile.<a id="fnanchor_136" href="#footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> I would transcribe it, but I have not time to +look for it. The good D’Hacqueville stills talks to me of the +journey of St. Geran, and to prove how short her stay will be, +he says she can only receive one of my letters at Palisse. +This is how he treats an acquaintance of a week; he is just +the same with respect to others, but this is excellent. I forgot +to say that I had thought like you of the different ways of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_151">151</span> +painting the human heart, some white and others blacker than +black. You know what color mine is of for you.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_136" href="#fnanchor_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> +We shall probably gratify the reader by inserting this stanza:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem" lang="it"> + <div class="verse">Havea piaceval viso, abito onesto,</div> + <div class="verse">Un umil valger d’occhi, un andar grave,</div> + <div class="verse">Un parlar si benigno, e si modesto</div> + <div class="verse">Che parea Gabriel, che dicesse: Ave,</div> + <div class="verse">Era brutta e deforme in tutto il resto</div> + <div class="verse">Ma nasconde queste fattezze prave</div> + <div class="verse">Con lungo abito, e largo, e sotto quello</div> + <div class="verse">Attosicato avea sempre il coltello.</div> +</div> + +<div class="fnattrib">Orlando Furioso. Canto xiv.</div> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">Her garb was decent, lovely was her face,</div> + <div class="verse">Her eyes were bashful, sober was her pace;</div> + <div class="verse">With speech whose charms might every heart assail,</div> + <div class="verse">Like his who gave the blest salute of—Hail!</div> + <div class="verse">But all deformed and brutal was the rest,</div> + <div class="verse">Which close she covered with her ample vest,</div> + <div class="verse">Beneath whose folds, prepared for bloody strife,</div> + <div class="verse">Her hand for ever grasped a poisoned knife.</div> +</div> + +<div class="fnattrib">Hoole’s Translation. Book xiv.</div> + +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LIV.</h3> + +<p class="cent cs8 sepb1">(MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ DICTATES—HER SON WRITES.)</p> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Monday, Feb. 3, 1676.</p> + +<p>Guess, my dear child, what it is that comes the quickest, +and goes off the slowest; that brings you nearest to health, +and removes you the furthest from it; that throws you into +the most agreeable situation imaginable, and, at the same time, +hinders you from enjoying it; that flatters you with the most +pleasing hopes, and keeps you the longest from the accomplishment +of them. Can not you guess? Do you give it up? +Why, it is the rheumatism. I have had it these three and +twenty days; since the fourteenth day I have been free from +fever and pain, and in this delightful situation, thinking myself +strong enough to walk, which is the summit of my wishes, +I find myself swelled all over—feet, legs, hands, arms; and this +swelling, which they call my cure, and in reality is so, is the +sole occasion of my present vexation; were I good for any +thing, I might gain myself some credit by it. However, I believe +the enemy is conquered, and that in two days I shall be +able to walk. Larméchin gives me great hope of this. I every +day receive letters from our friends at Paris, congratulating +me on my recovery. I have taken M. de Lorme’s opening +powders, which have been of great service to me; I am going +to take them again; they are a never-failing remedy in these +cases. After this attack I am promised an eternal succession +of health. God grant it. My first step will be to return to +Paris. I desire you, therefore, my dear, to calm all your +fears; you see what a faithful account we have given you of +the affair; let that make you easy.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_152">152</div> + +<h3>LETTER LV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, April 15, 1676.</p> + +<p>I am very melancholy, my dear; my poor boy is just gone; +he has so many little social virtues that are the charm of society, +that were he only an acquaintance I should regret his +loss. He desired me, over and over again, to tell you that he +forgot to take notice to you of the story of your Proteus, who +was at one time a capuchin, at another time a galley-slave; he +was highly amused at it. It is supposed we are going to undertake +the siege of Cambray; this is so extraordinary a step, +that every one thinks we have had intelligence with some one +in the place. If we lose Philipsburg, it will be very difficult +to repair the breach: <i lang="it">vederemo</i>, we shall see. But still we +reason and make almanacs, all of which end with, <i>the king’s +star will prevail</i>.</p> + +<p>At length Marshal Bellefond has cut the thread that tied +him here. Sanguin has purchased his place<a id="fnanchor_137" href="#footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> for 55,000 livres, +and a brevet de retenue of 350,000. This is a fine settlement, +and an assurance of a cordon bleu.<a id="fnanchor_138" href="#footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> M. de Pomponne has +paid me a very cordial visit; all your friends have exerted +themselves wonderfully. I do not go out yet. The cold winds +retard the cure of my hands, and yet I write better than I did, +as you may see. I turn myself at night on my left side; I +eat with my left hand: these are left hand performances. My +face is very little altered; you would soon discover that you +have seen it somewhere before; it is because I have not been +bled, and have endeavored to get cured of my illness without +such remedies. I thank you for mentioning the pigeons to +me. Where has the little one acquired this timidity? I am +afraid you will throw the blame upon me: you cast a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_153">153</span> +suspicious eye toward me. This humor will, I dare say, pass off, +and you will not be obliged to make a monk of him. I am +resolved to go to Vichi; they have set me against Bourbon on +account of the air. The Maréchale d’Estrées wishes me to go +to Vichi; she says it is a delightful country. I have told you +what I think of that affair; either resolve to return hither +with me, or do not come at all; for a fortnight will only disturb +me with constant thoughts of a separation, and will be +on the whole a foolish and useless expense. You know how +dear the sight of you is to me, so take your own measures.</p> + +<p>I wish you had finished the bargain about your estate: M. +de Pomponne tells me it is raised to a marquisate. I desired +him to make it a dukedom: he assured me it would give him +great pleasure to do so, and that he would use all expedition +in drawing up the patents. This is a considerable step. I am +delighted to hear the pigeons are so well. How does the little +tiny, or rather the great fat one do? I love him dearly, for +resolving to live against wind and tide. But I can not forget +my little girl;<a id="fnanchor_139" href="#footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> I suppose you will determine on putting her +to Saint Marie, according to the resolutions you adopt this +summer; all depends upon that. You seem satisfied with the +devotions of Passion and Easter weeks: you shut yourself up +at Grignan. For my part, my thoughts were not affected with +any thing. I had no object to strike the senses. I ate meat till +Good Friday, and had only the comfort of being very distant +from any opportunity of committing sin. I told La Mousse +you remembered him, and he advises you to make the most +of your man of wit. Adieu, my dear child.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_137" href="#fnanchor_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> +Of premier maître-d’hôtel, or lord chamberlain, to the king.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_138" href="#fnanchor_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> +M. de Sanguin was not created a knight of the king’s order at the +promotion in 1688, but the Marquis de Livri his son, who was premier +maître-d’hôtel, was comprehended in that of 1724.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_139" href="#fnanchor_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> +Marie-Blanche d’Athémar, born the 15th November, 1670.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, April 29, 1676.</p> + +<p>I must begin by telling you that Condé was taken by storm +on Saturday night. The news at first made my heart beat; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_154">154</span> +I feared the victory had cost us dear, but it does not prove so; +we have lost some men, but none of any note; this may be +reckoned a complete happiness. Larei, the son of M. Lainé, +who was killed in Candia, or his brother, is dangerously +wounded. You see how soon our old heroes are forgotten.</p> + +<p>Madame de Brinvilliers is not so comfortable as I am; she +is in prison, and endeavors to pass her time there as pleasantly +as she can; she desired yesterday to play at piquet, because +she was dull. Her confession has been found; it informs us +that at the age of seven years she ceased to be a virgin; that +she had ever since gone on at the same rate; that she had +poisoned her father, her brothers, one of her children, and +herself; but the last was only to make trial of a counter-poison. +Medea was a saint compared with her. She has owned +this confession to be her own writing; it was an unaccountable +folly; but she says she was in a high fever when she wrote +it, and that it was an act of madness or frenzy, which does +not deserve a serious thought.</p> + +<p>The queen has been twice at the Carmelites with Madame +de Montespan. The latter set on foot a lottery; she collected +every thing that could be useful to the nuns; this was a great +novelty and amusement in the convent. She conversed a long +time with sister Louise<a id="fnanchor_140" href="#footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> de la Miséricorde, and asked her +whether it was really true that she was as happy there as it +had been generally reported. She replied, “I am not happy, +but I am contented.” Quanto talked to her a great deal of +the brother of monsieur; and asked her if she had no message +to send him, and what she should say to him for her. She +replied in the sweetest tone and manner possible, though perhaps +a little piqued at the question; “Whatever you please, +madam, whatever you please.” Fancy this to be expressed +with all the grace, spirit, and modesty, which you so well understand. +Quanto afterward wished for something to eat, and +sent to purchase some ingredient that was necessary for a sauce +she prepared herself, and which she ate with a wonderful +<span class="pagenum" id="page_155">155</span> +appetite. I tell you the simple fact without the least embellishment. +When I think of the letter you wrote me last year +about M. de Vivonne, I consider all I send you as a burlesque. +To what lengths will not folly lead a man who thinks himself +deserving of such exaggerated praise!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_140" href="#fnanchor_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> +Madame de la Vallière.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, July 17, 1676.</p> + +<p>At length it is all over: La Brinvilliers is in the air; after +her execution her poor little body was thrown into a large fire, +and her ashes dispersed by the wind, so that whenever we +breathe, we shall inhale some particles of her, and by the communication +of the minute spirits, we may be all infected with +the desire of poisoning, to our no small surprise. She was +condemned yesterday; and this morning her sentence was +read to her, which was to perform the <i lang="fr">amende honorable</i> in the +church of Notre-Dame; and, after that, to have her head cut +off, her body burned, and her ashes thrown into the air. They +were for giving her the question, but she told them there was +no occasion for that, and that she would confess every thing; +accordingly, she was till five o’clock in the evening relating +the history of her life, which has been more shocking than +was even imagined. She gave poison to her father ten times +successively, but without effect, and also to her brother, and +several others, at the same time preserving the appearance of +the greatest love and confidence. She has said nothing against +Penautier. Notwithstanding this confession, they gave her +the question, ordinary and extraordinary, the next morning; +but this extorted nothing more from her. She desired to +speak with the procurator-general: no one yet knows the subject +of their conversation. At six o’clock she was carried in a +cart, with no other covering than her shift, and with a cord +round her neck, to the church of Notre-Dame, to perform the +<i lang="fr">amende honorable</i>; after which, she was put again into the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_156">156</span> +same cart, where I saw her extended on a truss of straw, with +a confessor on one side, and the hangman on the other; indeed, +my child, the sight made me shudder. Those who saw +the execution say she mounted the scaffold with great courage. +I was on the bridge of Notre-Dame, with the good d’Escars; +never was Paris in such commotion, nor its attention so fixed +upon one event. Yet, ask many people what they saw, and +they will tell you they saw no more than I did, who was not +present; in short, the whole day has been dedicated to this +tragedy.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Wednesday, Nov. 4, 1676.</p> + +<p>Nothing can be more true than the proverb which says, +that liberty is destroyed by uncertainty. Were you under +any sort of restraint, you would have determined what to do +long ago, and not have been like Mohammed’s coffin, suspended +between heaven and earth; one of the loadstones would certainly, +by this time, have got the better of the other. You +would no longer be <i>dragooned</i>, which is a very unpleasant +state. The voice you heard, in passing the Durance, exclaim, +<i>Ah, mother! mother!</i> would pierce to Grignan: or at least, +that which counseled you to leave it, would not haunt you at +Briare; for which reason, I maintain that nothing can be more +opposite in its nature to liberty than indifference and indecision. +Can it be possible that the sage La Garde, who has, it +seems, resumed all his wonted wisdom, has likewise lost his +free will? is he incapable of advising you? can he be at a +loss to decide in this important point? you have seen that I +decide like one of the councils. But how is it that La Garde, +who is coming to Paris himself, can not contrive that his journey +may take place at the same time with yours? If you do +come, it would be no bad thought to take the way of Sully; +the little duchess would certainly convey you as far as Nemours; +at least, you would find some friend or other, from +<span class="pagenum" id="page_157">157</span> +day to day, so that you would have a relay of friends, till you +found yourself in your own apartment. You would have met +with a better reception last time, but your letter came so late +that you took every body by surprise, and had nearly missed +me, which would have been a fine circumstance indeed; but +we will contrive to keep clear of this inconvenience in future. +I can not help praising the chevalier,<a id="fnanchor_141" href="#footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> who arrived in Paris on +Friday evening, and dined here on Saturday; was it not very +good of him? I was delighted to see him, and I assure you +we spoke with great freedom of your scruples. I am now +going to take a trip to Paris. I must see M. de Louvois on +your brother’s account, who is still here without leave, which +vexes me not a little. I want to talk to M. Colbert likewise, +about your pension: these two visits are all I have to make. I +have some thoughts of going to Versailles, but will acquaint +you whether I do so or not. In the mean time, we have the +finest weather imaginable; the country has yet put on none +of its horrors, and St. Hubert has favored the hunter extremely.</p> + +<p>We are still reading Saint Augustine with pleasure: there +is something so great and noble in his ideas, that all the mischief +that weak minds can possibly receive from his doctrine, +falls infinitely short of the good which others may derive from +the perusal. You will imagine I give myself airs of a learned +lady; but when you see in what a familiar style this is written, +you will cease to wonder at my capacity. You tell me +that if you did not love me a great deal more than you say, +you should love me very little: I am strangely tempted to +scold you for this, even though I should risk the saying an +unkind or an uncivil thing: but no; I am fully persuaded +you love me; and God knows much better than it is possible +for you to do, what a strong affection I entertain for you. I +am glad to hear Pauline is like me, she will serve to put you +in mind of me. “<i>Ah! mother, there is no need of that.</i>”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_141" href="#fnanchor_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> +De Grignan.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_158">158</div> + +<h3>LETTER LIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Friday, Nov. 6, 1676.</p> + +<p>Surely there never was so brilliant a letter as your last; I +had some thoughts of sending it back, that you might have +the pleasure of perusing it. I could not help wondering while +I read it, how it was possible to wish so ardently to receive no +more. This, however, is the affront I put on your letters: you +seem to treat mine much more civilly.</p> + +<p>This Reimond is certainly <i>hem! hem!</i> with the head-dress +you know so well; she has dressed in this style, as you properly +observe, that she might seem qualified to hear the music +of the blessed above; and our sisters have done the same +from the wish of obtaining a fund of seven thousand livres, +with a pension of a thousand, by which she is enabled<a id="fnanchor_142" href="#footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> “to +go abroad when she likes, and she likes it very often.” We +have never had such merchandize before; but the beauty of +our house causes us to overlook every thing; for my own part, +I am quite delighted with it: for in my opinion both her +apartments and her voice are divine, <i>hem, hem</i>.</p> + +<p class="sepb2">The dates you mention in speaking of Madame de Soubise, +are, thank God, among those which have escaped my memory. +Some marked incivility must certainly have been +shown during the festivities at Versailles. Madame de Coulanges +informs me that the tooth has disappeared since the +day before yesterday; in that case, you will conclude they can +have no tooth against her. You are very amusing upon my +friend’s<a id="fnanchor_143" href="#footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> illness, and at the same time it is all true. The +quartan ague of our friend of the suburbs,<a id="fnanchor_144" href="#footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a> is happily at an +end. I have sent your letter to the chevalier,<a id="fnanchor_145" href="#footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> without apprehension +or reproof. I love him sincerely; and as for my +<i>pigeon</i>, I wish I could give him a kiss; I have some idea in +<span class="pagenum" id="page_159">159</span> +my head, I know not how truly, that leads me to think I shall +one day or other see all these little folks. I can not understand +the eight months’ child; pray is she likely to live a +century? I fancy the gentlemen that fought it out so bravely +in the streets, are in a fair way to live as long. It would +really be a very pretty and just punishment for a battle in the +midst of summer. Adieu, my dear lovely child, I shall finish +this in the good city of Paris.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Friday, at Paris.</p> + +<p>So! here I am. I have been dining at the worthy Bagnol’s, +where I found Madame de Coulanges in this charming +apartment, embellished with the golden rays of the sun, +where I have often seen you, almost as beautiful and as brilliant +as he. The poor convalescent gave me a hearty welcome, +and is now going to write two lines to you; it is, for +aught I know, something from the other world, which I am +sure you will be very glad to hear. She has been giving me +an account of a new dress called transparencies. Pray, have +you heard of it? It is an entire suit of the finest gold and +azure brocade that can be seen, over which is a black robe, +either of beautiful English lace, or velvet chenille like the +winter laces you have seen; this occasions the name of transparency, +which is, you see, a black suit, and a suit of gold +and azure, or any other color, according to the fancy of the +wearer, as is all the fashion at present. This was the dress +worn at the ball on St. Hubert’s day, which lasted a whole +half-hour, for nobody would dance. The king pushed Madame +d’Heudicourt into the middle of the room by main force; +she obeyed, but at length the combat ended for want of combatants. +The fine embroidered boddices destined for Villers-Côterets +serve to walk out on an evening, and were worn on +St. Hubert’s day. The prince informed the ladies at Chantilly, +that their transparencies would be a thousand times more +beautiful if they would wear them next their skin, which I +very much doubt. The Granceis and Monacos did not share +in the amusements, because the mother of the latter is ill, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_160">160</span> +the mother of the <i>angels</i> has been at death’s door. It is said, +the Marchioness de la Ferté has been in labor there, ever +since Sunday, and that Bouchet is at his wit’s end.</p> + +<p>M. de Langlée has made Madame de Montespan a present +of a robe of gold cloth, on a gold ground, with a double gold +border embroidered and worked with gold, so that it makes +the finest gold stuff ever imagined by the wit of man. It was +contrived by fairies in secret, for no living wight could have +conceived any thing so beautiful. The manner of presenting +it was equally mysterious. Madame de Montespan’s mantua-maker +carried home the suit she had bespoke, having made it +to fit ill on purpose; you need not be told what exclamations +and scoldings there were upon the occasion. “Madam,” said +the mantua-maker, trembling with fear, “as there is so little +time to alter it in, will you have the goodness to try whether +this other dress may not fit you better?” It was produced. +“Ah!” cried the lady, “how beautiful! What an elegant +stuff is this? Pray, where did you get? It must have fallen +from the clouds, for a mortal could never have executed any +thing like it.” The dress was tried on; it fitted to a hair. +In came the king. “It was made for you, madam,” said the +mantua-maker. Immediately it was concluded that it must +be a present from some one; but from whom? was the question. +“It is Langlée,” said the king. “It must be Langlée,” +said Madame de Montespan; “nobody but Langlée could +have thought of so magnificent a present—it is Langlée, it is +Langlée!” Every body exclaims, “It is Langlée, it is Langlée!” +The echoes repeat the sound. And I, my child, to be +in the fashion, say, “It is Langlée.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_142" href="#fnanchor_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné recants a little. See the Letter of the 21st +October.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_143" href="#fnanchor_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> +Madame de Coulanges.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_144" href="#fnanchor_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> +Madame de la Fayette.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_145" href="#fnanchor_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> +De Grignan.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER LX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, June 30, 1677.</p> + +<p>At length you inform me that you are arrived at Grignan. +The pains you have taken to keep our correspondence uninterrupted, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_161">161</span> +is a continual mark of your affection. I can assure +you that you are not mistaken in the opinion that I stand in +need of this support; indeed no one can be more in want of +it. It is true, however, and I too often think so, that your +presence would have been of much greater service to me; but +your situation was so extraordinary, that the same considerations +that determined you to go, made me consent to your departure, +without doing any thing more than stifle my sentiments. +It was considered a crime in me to discover any uneasiness +with regard to your health. I saw you perishing +before my eyes, and was not permitted to shed a tear. It was +killing you, it was assassinating you; I was compelled to suppress +my grief. I never knew a more cruel or more unprecedented +species of torture. If, instead of that restraint, which +only increased my affliction, you had owned that you were ill; +and if your love for me had been productive of complaisance, +and made you evince a real desire to follow the advice of +physicians, to take nourishment, to observe a regimen, and to +own that repose and the air of Livri would have done you +good, this would indeed have comforted me, but your opposition +to our sentiments aggravated my grief and anxiety. In +the end, my child, we were so circumstanced, that we could +not possibly avoid acting as we did. God explained to us +his will by that conduct; but we should endeavor to see +whether he will not permit us mutually to reform, and +whether, instead of that despair to which you condemned me +from a motive of affection, it would not be more natural +and more beneficial to give our hearts the liberty they require, +and without which it is impossible for us to lead a life +of tranquillity. Thus I have declared my mind to you freely +once for all. I shall mention the subject no more, but let us +each reflect upon the past, that, whenever it pleases God to +bring us together again, we may carefully avoid falling into +the same errors. The relief which you have found in the fatigues +of so long a journey, sufficiently proves the necessity +you are under of laying aside restraint. Extraordinary remedies +<span class="pagenum" id="page_162">162</span> +are necessary for persons of an extraordinary character; +physicians would never have dreamed of such a one as that I +have just mentioned. God grant it may continue to produce +the same good effect, and that the air of Grignan may not +prove injurious to you! I could not avoid writing to you in +this manner, in order to relieve my heart, and intimate to you +that we must endeavor, when next we meet, not to give any +one an opportunity of paying us the wretched compliment of +saying very civilly, that to keep quite well, we should never +see one another again. I am astonished at the patience that +can bear so cruel a thought.</p> + +<p>You brought the tears into my eyes in speaking of your +little boy. Alas, poor child; who can bear to see him in +such a situation! I do not retract what I always thought of +him; but am of opinion that, even from affection, we ought +to wish him already in a happier world. Paulina appears to +me worthy of being made your play-thing; her resemblance +even will not displease you, at least, I hope it will not. That +little quadrangular nose is a feature you can not possibly dislike +to find at Grignan.<a id="fnanchor_146" href="#footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> It seems to me somewhat odd that +the noses of the Grignan family should admit no shape but +this, and should be altogether averse to a nose like yours, +which might have been sooner formed; but they dreaded extremes, +though they did not care about a trifling modification. +The little marquis is a very pretty fellow; you should not be +at all uneasy at his not being altered for the better. Talk to +me a great deal about the persons you associate with, and the +amusements they afford you.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_146" href="#fnanchor_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> +This alludes to Madame de Sévigné’s nose, which inclined to the +square.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Saturday, July 3, 1677.</p> + +<p>Alas, how grieved I am at the death of your poor child!<a id="fnanchor_147" href="#footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> +it is impossible not be affected at it. Not that I was ever of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_163">163</span> +opinion he could live; the description you gave convinced me +that his case was desperate. But, it is a great loss to you, +who had lost two boys before: God preserve to you the only +one that remains! He discovers an admirable disposition; I +am much better pleased with sound sense and just reasoning, +at his age, than with the vivacity of those who turn out fools +at twenty. Be satisfied with him, therefore; lead him like a +horse that has a tender mouth, and remember what I told you +respecting his bashfulness; this advice comes from persons +much wiser than myself; and I am sure it is good. With regard +to Paulina, I have one word to say to you; from your +description of her she may, perhaps, in time, become as handsome +as yourself; when a child, you were exactly like her. +God grant she may not resemble me in having a heart so susceptible +of tenderness! I see plainly that you love her, that +she is amiable, and that she amuses you. I wish I could embrace +her, and recognize that face again <i>which I have seen +somewhere</i>.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_147" href="#fnanchor_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> +The child that was born in February 1676.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Friday, July 16, 1677.</p> + +<p>I wish, my dear child, that you had a tutor for your son; +it is a pity his mind should be left uncultivated. I doubt +whether he is yet of an age to eat all sorts of food promiscuously; +we should examine whether children are strong and +robust, before we give them strong meats; otherwise we run +the hazard of injuring their stomachs, which is of great consequence. +My son stays behind to take leave of his friends; he +will then come to me here; he must afterward join the army, +and after that he may go and drink the waters. An officer, +named M. D****, has lately been cashiered for absenting himself; +I know the answer you will make, but this instance sufficiently +shows the severity of military discipline. Adieu, my +dear child; be comforted for the loss of your son; nobody is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_164">164</span> +to blame concerning him. His death was occasioned by +teething, and not by a defluxion upon the lungs; when children +have not strength sufficient to force out the teeth at a +proper time, they are never able to bear the necessary motion +to make them all come at once; I talk learnedly. You know +the answer of Sully’s green bed to M. de Coulanges, made by +Guillerague; it is droll enough; Madame de Thianges repeated +it to the king, who sings it; it was said at first, that he had +ruined himself by it; but it is not true, it will perhaps make +his fortune. If this discourse does not come from a green +mind, it comes from a green head, which is the same, and the +color of the thing can not be disputed.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Wednesday Evening, July 24, 1677.</p> + +<p>Love Paulina, love Paulina, my child! indulge yourself in +that amusement; do not destroy your peace of mind by depriving +yourself of her; what are you afraid of? You may +still send her to a convent for a few years, when you think it +necessary. Enjoy maternal affection for a while; it is exquisite +when it springs from the heart, and the choice falls upon an +amiable object. Dear Paulina! methinks I see her here; she +will resemble you, notwithstanding she bears the mark of the +workman. It is true, this nose is a strange affair; but it will +improve, and I will answer for it, she will be handsome.</p> + +<p>Madame de Vins is still here; she is now in my closet, engaged +in conversation with D’Hacqueville and my son. His +heel is still so bad that he may perhaps go to Bourbon when +I go to Vichi. Be under no concern about this journey; and +since it is not the will of Heaven that I should enjoy the +charms of your society, we must yield obedience to his will; +it is a bitter evil, but it must be endured; we are the weakest, +and to attempt resistance is vain. I should be too happy if +your friendship was clothed in all its realities; it is still +<span class="pagenum" id="page_165">165</span> +extremely dear to me, though divested of the charms and pleasures +which your presence and company bestow upon it. My +son and I will answer all you have said on the subject of epic +poetry. The contempt I know he has for Eneas, makes me +apprehensive he will be of your opinion. Yet all the great +wits have a taste for every thing written by the ancients.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Epoisses</span>, Wednesday morning, August 25, 1677.</p> + +<p>I have here, my beloved child, received your letter of the +11th, which I expected with so much impatience; I am not +used to such delays; it renders my whole journey uncomfortable +to be thus disappointed. M. Guitaut does all he can to +convince me how extremely glad he is to see me here. All +our people are at Bourbilly, where the farmer treated us yesterday +with a most plentiful dinner. M. de Guitaut and M. de +Trichâteau were there; this gave an air of comfort to the +frightful Bourbilly-house. I shall continue here till Sunday, +and will write to you once more from this place. There is no +sort of constraint in this house, so that I can read, work, or +walk out, when I please. My host and I have a great deal of +conversation together, and there is hardly a country you can +name where we have not been travelers. He tells me a thousand +stories of Provence, of the intendant and Vardes, which +I was ignorant of till now. He seems very devout; follows +good teachers; has a great desire to pay his old debts, and to +contract no new ones. This is the first step to be taken when +we become acquainted with true religion.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Vichi</span>, Wednesday evening, Sept. 22, 1677.</p> + +<p>I have just received a letter of the 15th. I fancy it has +taken a trip to Paris. The chevalier has received one from +<span class="pagenum" id="page_166">166</span> +the handsome abbé, of the same date, which shows me you +were well, at least on that day. It is true that if Vardes had +mentioned your illness to me, in terms ever so little stronger +than those he used, no consideration would have kept me from +you; but he managed so well, that I have no food for uneasiness +but what is passed by. I conjure you, my beloved child, +to send me word of the return of your health and beauty. I +can not dispense with this intelligence, nor can I endure the +thoughts of your being less handsome at your age. Do not +fancy, therefore, that you can reconcile me to your extreme +thinness, which is too plain a proof of your ill state of health: +mine is as perfect as it can be. I put an end to-morrow to all +my business, and take my last medicine. I have drunk the +waters sixteen days, have twice used the pump and the hot-bath; +but the pump was too much for me, and I am sorry for +it, but it made me too hot and giddy; in short, I had no occasion +for it, and drinking the waters was sufficient. I set out +on Friday for Langlar. My messmates, Termes, Flamarens, +and Jussac, will follow me thither. The chevalier will come to +see me on Saturday, and will return on Monday to begin the +pump. He will be only a week without me. He will receive +in my absence a thousand presents from my friends, and is very +well satisfied with me. My hands are better; the inconvenience +is so very slight, that I shall use no remedy but time. +I am perfectly in despair, my child, at the frightful ideas you +entertain. Heavens! is it possible, that in my present state +of health, I can do you any injury? It is certainly very much +against my inclination if I do. I know not whether it is your +intention to write me such admirable passages as you are accustomed +to do. You could not possibly fail to succeed in +such attempt, and I can assure you they would not be suffered +to be forgotten: you are not sensible of the brilliancy of +what you say, and so much the better. You have some little +inclination to divert yourself at the expense of your humble +servant, as well as at her stays and head-dress; but you would +certainly have fallen in love with me had you seen the fine +<span class="pagenum" id="page_167">167</span> +figure I cut at the well. I have a notion the Hôtel de Carnavalet +will suit us better than the other house we heard of, +which is so small that not one of your people could possibly +have been accommodated there. We shall see what the great +D’Hacqueville will do. I tremble lest Madame de l’Islebonne +should take it into her head to stay. I am still very uneasy +about Corbinelli; he has been very severely handled by his +ague, his delirium, and every thing that is frightful. He takes +the potable gold; we shall see what effect it produces.<a id="fnanchor_148" href="#footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> I +desire you would still talk to me of yourself and your health. +Do you use no method to repair the loss of your two bleedings? +Good heavens! what a disorder! and what apprehensions +must it give to those who love you! Here come the +chevalier and the rest of my old companions, with one who certainly +plays a better fiddle than Baptiste. We should be delighted +to send you and M. de Grignan a chacone and an echo +with which he charms us, and with which you would likewise +be charmed. You shall hear him this winter.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_148" href="#fnanchor_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> +The time was at hand when the most pompous names given to the +most complicated mixture, served to vail the ignorance of the chemists, +physicians, and apothecaries, and to increase their bills. Potable gold +was one of those whimsical remedies, of which muriatic acid was the +basis. The solution of gold, which was added to it, was only used to +swell the expense. Powdered pearls were also sometimes used to make +their drugs still dearer. The severe Guy-Patin had no mercy upon these +quacks. He calls them <i>Arabian cooks</i>, and laughs at their <i>farrago</i>. He, +and some of his medical friends, prided themselves upon having destroyed +this <i>colossal extortion</i>. Their triumph was premature. The +cheap medicines they pretended to have restored, were not at that time +received by people of rank; and it appears that Corbinelli was treated +like a nobleman, whether he would or not.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, October 15, 1677.</p> + +<p>We have been at Livri for these two days; Madame de +Coulanges, who is quite well, doing the honors of the house, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_168">168</span> +and I the company. We had the Abbé Têtu and Corbinelli +with us. Mademoiselle de Méri, who was returning from La +Trousse, came there too, thinking to spend some days with +Madame de Coulanges; but this lady has ended her campaign, +and we all returned yesterday to Paris. Mademoiselle de +Méri went directly to Madame de Mereuil’s, for her own house +was, it seems, in complete disorder; and Madame de Coulanges, +the Abbé Têtu and I, paid some visits in the country, +like Madame de la Fayette at Saint Maur, and Madame de +Schomberg at Rambouillet. I thought of sleeping at Madame +de Coulanges’, but for that night only. I returned here to +visit the good abbé, who has been bled, and is still much indisposed +with his cold; I am sorry I could not help leaving +him for this little moment. We live quite in the open air; all +my people are as busy as bees in packing up for our removal. +I encamped in my own bed-chamber; and am now in that of +the <i>worthy</i>, my whole furniture being a little table, on which +I now write to you, and that is sufficient. I fancy we shall all +be pleased with our Hôtel de Carnavalet. We think it strange +not to have seen Termes, though we have been home these +nine days. It is easy to guess that he has returned to his college, +and that his regent gives him not a moment’s relaxation. +I am not at all sorry, as you may very well suppose, and shall +not reproach him for it; but ask the chevalier, whether, after +the great pleasure he took in talking with me at Vichi, such +extreme indifference be not very singular. It would certainly +be very indiscreet, if the lady stood in need of being directed, +and such conduct would be something to talk of; but it is +impossible to do her any injury. I thought he seemed quite +delighted at Vichi, on account of the vocation as you say, and +to be with a good sort of woman, in full assurance of having +no demands made upon him. This repose charmed him; +there is sometimes great pleasure in passing from one extreme +to another. He was mightily taken with the perpetual gossip +of Vichi. You see what the consequence of this has been, +at which I am under no sort of concern, but I tell it you as I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_169">169</span> +do a thousand things else. When excess and imprudence are +pushed to a certain extreme, I am persuaded they are more +injurious to men than women; at least their fortunes are +always sure to pay considerably for it. But let us leave +Termes under the ferula; there is a good deal to be said of +another <i>old ferula</i>,<a id="fnanchor_149" href="#footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> which discovers its severity too much. +As for you, my child, you enjoy a real vacation, and make an +admirable use of the fine weather; to dine at home in your +own house is a very extraordinary affair. You write to me +from Rochecourbière—what a pretty place to date from! +what a delightful grotto! How amiable you are to remember +me at that delightful place, and to be sorry that I am not +there to share its pleasures with you! Let us leave Providence +to dispose of affairs at his pleasure; we shall see one another +again, my love. In the mean time I shall prepare to receive +you at Carnavalet, where I shall again have the pleasure of rendering +you a thousand little services, which are of no real importance; +but I am happy in the opportunity, because you +wrote me word the other day, that little attentions were a +stronger proof of friendship than any other. It is true, we +can not set too high a value upon them; self-love has certainly +too large a share in what we do on great occasions. +<i>Tender interest is swallowed up in pride</i>; this is an idea of +yours which I would not for the world deprive you of, as I +find my account in it but too well.</p> + +<p>I am, in regard to the loss of Bayard, precisely in the same +disposition you guessed I was. Madame de la Fayette is utterly +inconsolable. I have presented your compliments to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_170">170</span> +her. She was then living on a milk diet, which she has discontinued +on account of its turning acid on her stomach; so +that we have lost this sole ground of hope of the recovery of +her desperate state of health. That of M. de Maine is certainly +far from being good. He is at Versailles, where no one +has seen him; they say he walks worse than he did. In +short, I really fancy there is something in it.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_149" href="#fnanchor_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> +This <i>old ferula</i> is apparently the Marchioness de Castelnau, who +was long and publicly the mistress of M. de Termes. The <i lang="fr">Amours des +Gaules</i>, in which this is found, has very much defamed this marquis. +If this part was written by Bussy as well as the rest, he must have been +very wicked, for his letters show that the Marquis de Termes was his +steady friend. He also possessed all the requisites to excite his jealousy. +He was one of those in whom Boileau acknowledged a superior +mind. “M. de Termes,” said he, “is always of the opinion of others, +and this is true politeness.” (Vide la Boleana.)</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, October 27, 1677.</p> + +<p>I shall no longer, my child, ask you why. In three words, +my horses are thin, my tooth is loose, and my preceptor has +got the king’s evil. All this is dreadful. One might well +make three grievances of these three answers, and especially +of the second. I shall not ask you after this, whether your +watch goes right, for you will then tell me it is broken. +Paulina answers much better than you do; nothing can be +more amusing than the little rogueries she means to be guilty +of, when she says she will be a <i>rogue some day or other herself</i>. +Ah, how sorry I am that I can not see this dear child! +I fancy you will soon console me for this, if you pursue the +plan I have laid down to you; you will set out at furthest in +a week, and will not receive this letter at Grignan. M. de +Coulanges is to set out to-day by the stage-coach for Lyons, +where you will find him; he will inform you how delightfully +we are accommodated. There was no hesitation in choosing +the upper part of the house for you and me, and the lower for +M. de Grignan and his daughters; so that all will be perfectly +well.</p> + +<p>I recommend to all your Grignans, who are so careful of +your health, to see that you do not fall into the Rhône, by the +cruel pleasure you take in exposing yourself to its greatest +dangers. I entreat them to turn cowards, and to land with +you. I find, besides, that I shall be very happy to administer +<span class="pagenum" id="page_171">171</span> +to you some of my chicken-broth. The place you desire at +my table, you may be assured is yours. The regimen which +your Grignans prescribe for you is my ordinary fare. I agree +with Grisoni to banish all ragouts.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, Wednesday, October 25, 1679.</p> + +<p>I am here alone; I was loath to suffer any irksomeness but +my own. No company tempts me to begin my winter so +soon. If I chose it, I could assume an air of solitude; but +after hearing Madame de Brissac say, the other day, that she +was wholly engaged in her meditations, and had rather too +much of her own company, I am proud to boast that I have +passed this whole afternoon in the meadow, in conference with +our sheep and cows. I have store of good books, especially +Montaigne; what could I desire more, since I can not have +you? I have the favor of your last letter at this place. You +fancy I am at Paris, sitting in the chimney-corner, and have, +no doubt, sitting by your own, received my lamentations on +the fatigue of your journey; what a dreadful thing it is to be +at such a distance! It is impossible to be more astonished +than I was to find you with M. and Madame de Mêmes; I fancied +you had been deceived, and that you were to have received +them at Livri. They write to me to express how much +they are charmed at the reception you have given them: they +are very desirous to see me, which is the strongest inducement +for my returning so speedily.</p> + +<p>You are in the right to suppress Paulina’s modesty; it will +be worn out by the time she is fifteen; a premature and ill-timed +modesty may have sad consequences. You are in jest, +to thank Corbinelli for the compliment he paid your good +sense. He merely thinks you superior to others; and when +he says so, he says what he thinks, and has no intention to +flatter you. He would have said a word or two in my letter, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_172">172</span> +on the compliments you were pleased to make him; but this +I intend to wave till my return. M. and Madame de Rohan +have not thought of making him a present, out of the two +thousand five hundred pistoles they received at the assembly +of the States, under the title of the little prince of Leon. Some +people have a strange destiny; Corbinelli’s seems to be to +hold in the most sovereign contempt what other folks prize in +the highest degree. It is true, I was very much amused with +his conversation, and that of the Abbé de Piles;<a id="fnanchor_150" href="#footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> they agreed +in many things, though there were some of harder digestion, +which they seemed to chew upon. M. de Rochefoucault calls +this eating hot peas: I am sure they had a good dish of them; +for this forest is adapted for such things. The fat abbé has +entered on his office of gazetteer, so you need be under no uneasiness +about answers; he is better calculated for the office +than I am.</p> + +<p>Your brother is a strange creature; he could not, for the +soul of him, help spoiling all the wonders he performed at the +assembly of the States, by an absurd fancy and a pretense of +being in love perfectly ridiculous. The object is a Mademoiselle +de la Coste, upward of thirty years of age, without fortune +or beauty; even her father says he is very sorry for it, +and that it is by no means a fit match for M. de Sévigné; he +writes me so himself; I commend and thank him for his prudence. +What do you suppose your brother has done since? +he has never quitted his damsel, but has followed her to +Rennes and Lower Brittany, where she has gone under pretense +of visiting Tonquedec; he has almost turned her brain, +and has put her out of conceit with a very proper match she +had in some degree contracted; it is the talk of the whole +province. M de Coulanges, and all my friends in Brittany, +write to me about it, and are all persuaded he will certainly +<span class="pagenum" id="page_173">173</span> +marry her. For my own part, I am convinced of the contrary; +but I ask him why he so unnecessarily disgraces his poor +head, after such a promising commencement? why he makes +the lady reject an offer she now looks upon with the most +sovereign contempt? and why this perfidy? If it is not perfidy, +it will have some other name, since I am determined, let +what will happen, never to sign the marriage-contract. If he +be really in love, so much the worse, for this is a source of the +most extravagant actions; but as I think him incapable of that +passion, I should scruple, were I in his place, thus wantonly to +wound the repose and the fortune of one he can so easily dispense +with. He is now at the Rocks, from whence he writes +to me about this journey to Tonquedec’s, but not a syllable of +his Dulcinea, or of this noble flame. Only in general terms, +a great many fine things, and compliments without number. +In short, it is an affair I leave entirely to the disposal of Providence.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_150" href="#fnanchor_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> +The same, probably, who has made himself known by his works +on painting. He studied in the Sorbonne. He afterward went to +Italy with the younger Amelot, whom he educated. He was also employed +in several negotiations.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Nov. 10, 1679.</p> + +<p>I am no longer a shepherdess, my poor child; I have left +with regret my solitary conversation with your letters, and +your image, aided by <i>Louison</i>, our cows and sheep, and the +twilight, which I embraced with eagerness, because I would +neither spare nor flatter myself. I am now in the refinements +of the Hôtel de Carnavalet, where I find I am not less occupied +with you, that your letters are not less dear to me, or that any +thing in the world is capable of driving you from my thoughts. +I shall have little news to tell you; I know scarcely any at +present; but what I hear comes from good authority, and may +be depended on. You assure me, my dearest child, you are +perfectly well. God grant it be so; this is soon said. I wish +you would not write me such long letters; I am certain they +do you harm. Were it not for this consideration, you may +<span class="pagenum" id="page_174">174</span> +believe I should be glad they were as long as possible; but +this apprehension damps all the pleasure I receive from them. +Du Chêne told me the other day nothing could be worse for +you than much writing. The time must come, my child, +when you will write less; and when you are here, you must +think of your health, and your recovery. We will take care +to put the Hôtel de Carnavalet in as good order as possible +for you. The good abbé wishes this as much as I do. Pray, +write me no more bad accounts of yourself, nor imagine that +your letters are better than your conversation; I should be +unworthy of your love were I capable of entertaining such +a thought. I am convinced of your affection, and I have as +much relish for your society as those who are most delighted +with your conversation. Ah! did you know the power of a +word, a look, a kind expression, or a caress from you, and from +what distant countries one of these could bring me, you would +be convinced, my beauty, that nothing is equal to your presence! +The account of your devotion on All-Saints’ day has +affected me strangely. It was delightful to cram all your little +ones into the same litter—dear little party! Had I been +of your council, I should have given my vote for doing just +as you did, as you will see by my advice to Paulina, in the +regular answer I have written her. Lovely child! it is impossible +she can ever tire you. Enjoy, my love, all these little +comforts, and instead of thinking of depriving yourself of them, +think of the numberless evils of this mortal and transitory +life.</p> + +<p>I finish this letter at Mademoiselle de Méri’s, where I also +close my packet. She is quite exhausted with the vapors and +evacuations, and is incapable of writing a single syllable; she +tells you by me all she should write to you if she were able. +I have been just visiting that poor chevalier who keeps his bed +with pains in his neck and hip. This rheumatic humor never +leaves him; I have more compassion than other people for +this disorder. I am of opinion his illness will not be of long +continuance. He feels the serosities already beginning to dissipate. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_175">175</span> +He wants a good pumping, if the season permitted it. +He gave me his letter to inclose in my packet; these poor +sick people must be taken care of; all the rest of Paris is ill +of a cold:</p> + +<p class="cent cs9">Ils ne mouraient pas tous; mais tous étaient frappés.</p> + +<p class="cent cs9">They died not all; though none escaped a wound:<a id="fnanchor_151" href="#footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a></p> + +<p class="sep1 noind">as you used to say. Adieu, my dear girl! I embrace you +with the warmest affection, with all your great and little +party.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_151" href="#fnanchor_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> +A verse of La Fontaine, in his fable of <span lang="fr">Les Animaux Malades de +la Peste</span>.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Nov. 22, 1679.</p> + +<p>What I am going to tell you, my dear child, will both surprise +and vex you. M. de Pomponne is out of favor; he +had orders on Saturday evening, as he was returning from +Pomponne, to resign his office. The king has directed that +he should receive seven hundred thousand livres, and that his +pension of twenty thousand livres a year, which he had as +minister, should be continued to him; intending, by this, to +show that he was satisfied with his fidelity. It was M. Colbert +who gave him his information, assuring him at the same +time that he was extremely mortified to be obliged, etc. M. de +Pomponne asked him whether he might not be allowed the +honor of speaking to the king, to learn from his own mouth +what fault he had committed that brought this stroke upon +him: he was told, he could not; so he wrote to the king, expressing +his extreme sorrow, and his utter ignorance of what +could have contributed to his disgrace. He mentioned his numerous +family, and besought him to have compassion on his +eight children. Immediately after, he caused the horses to be +put into his carriage, and returned to Paris, where he arrived +<span class="pagenum" id="page_176">176</span> +at twelve at night. M. de Chaulnes, Caumartin, and I, had +been, as I wrote you, on the Friday at Pomponne, where we +found him and the ladies, who received us with all the pleasure +imaginable. We chatted all the evening, and played at +chess: ah! what a checkmate they were preparing for him at +St. Germain! He went thither the next morning, because a +courier waited for him; so that M. Colbert, who thought to +find him on Saturday evening, as usual, knowing he was set out +for St. Germain, returned instantly, and had nearly killed his +horses. For ourselves, we did not leave Pomponne till after +dinner, where we left the ladies. It was necessary to inform +them of what had happened, by letter; this was brought by one +of M. de Pomponne’s valets, who arrived at nine on the Sunday +at Madame de Vins’ apartment; the man’s precipitation, +and his altered looks, made Madame de Vins fancy he had +brought the account of M. de Pomponne’s death; so that on +finding he was only disgraced, she breathed again; but she +felt the extent of his misfortune, and when she was sufficiently +recovered went to acquaint her sister with it. They set out +that instant, leaving all the little boys in tears; and arrived +in Paris at two in the afternoon, overwhelmed with grief. +You may figure to yourself this interview with M. de Pomponne, +and what they felt on meeting each other in so different +a situation from what they were in the evening before. I +learned this sad intelligence from the Abbé de Grignan, and I +confess to you it pierced me to the heart. I went to their +house in the evening; they saw no company in public. I went +up stairs, and found them all three. M. de Pomponne embraced +me without being able to utter a word; the ladies +could not restrain their tears, nor I mine. You would have +wept too, my child; it was really a melancholy spectacle; the +circumstance of our quitting each other at Pomponne so +differently, augmented our sorrows. Poor Madame de Vins, +whom I left in such spirits, could hardly be recognized; a +fever of a fortnight could scarcely have altered her more. She +mentioned you to me, and said she was persuaded you would +<span class="pagenum" id="page_177">177</span> +feel for her and M. de Pomponne’s affliction, which I assured +her you would. We spoke of the blow she felt from this disgrace, +both in regard to her affairs, her situation, and her husband’s +fortune. I do assure you, she feels all this in its greatest +horror. M. de Pomponne, it is true, was not a favorite, +but his situation gave him an opportunity to obtain certain +common things, which often make our fortune. There are +many inferior situations sufficient to make the fortunes of individuals. +It was besides pleasant to be thus in a manner settled +at court. What a change! what retrenching, what economy, +must now be made use of in his family! Eight children, +and not to have had time to obtain the smallest favor! They +are thirty thousand livres in debt; you may suppose how little +they will have left: they are going to a miserable retreat at +Paris and Pomponne. It is said so many journeys, and sometimes +the attendance of couriers, even that of Bavaria, who +arrived on the Friday, and whom the king waited for with +impatience, have contributed to draw this misfortune upon +them.<a id="fnanchor_152" href="#footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> But you will easily comprehend in this the ways of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_178">178</span> +Providence, when I tell you, the President Colbert has his +place; as he is in Bavaria, his brother officiates in his absence, +and wrote to congratulate him, and to surprise him, on the +back of the letter, as if by mistake; “To M. Colbert, Minister +and Secretary of State.” I paid my compliments of condolence +to the unfortunate family. Reflect a little on the +power of this family, as well at home as abroad, and you will +easily perceive it far exceeds that of the other house where a +wedding is going on.<a id="fnanchor_153" href="#footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> My poor child, this is a long and circumstantial +account; but I think, on such occasions, we can +not be too particular; you are pleased we should always be +talking to you, and in this instance I have perhaps complied +with your desires too much. When your courier arrives, I +shall have nowhere to send him; and it is an additional mortification +to me to find I shall henceforth be entirely useless to +you; though it is true, I was already so, by means of Madame +de Vins; but that was meant in mere jest. In short, +my child, all is now at an end, and such is the way of the +world. M. de Pomponne is better qualified than any man +upon earth to support this misfortune with courage and with +truly Christian resignation. Those who have acted like him +in prosperity, can not fail to be pitied in their misfortunes.</p> + +<p>I must, however, add a word or two respecting your letter; +it gave me real consolation. You tell me the little boy is +quite recovered, and that I should be satisfied with yourself if +I were to see you. Ah, my child, it is indeed true; what a +delightful sight would it be to me to see you really occupied +with the care of your health, by taking the necessary repose +to recruit your wasted strength; it is a pleasure you have +never yet afforded me. You find this care is by no means +useless: you already discover its salutary effects; and if I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_179">179</span> +torture myself here by my endeavors to inspire you with the +same attention to your welfare, you plainly see I have good +reason.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_152" href="#fnanchor_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> +The memoirs and letters of the cotemporary writers all agree +that M. de Pomponne’s negligence was the cause of his disgrace. The +more modern historians, even Hénault, keep to the received opinion. +How could they fail to remark, that Louis XIV., in a memorandum +written in his own hand, and mentioned by Voltaire, has himself explained +very differently the cause of this minister’s dismissal? “All +that passed through his hands, lost the grandeur and strength it ought +to have displayed, as being the orders of a king of France.” These +are his own words. Every one knows, in reality, that it was from the +treaty of Nimeguen, a single year prior to M. de Pomponne’s disgrace, +the dominion and authority of Louis XIV. affected over all Europe, +were dated. From this period his ministers treated the foreign embassadors +with insulting arrogance. The famous chambers of reunion +were established. Strasbourg was taken possession of by violence. +Advances were made into Italy. No conciliatory measures were +adopted. All the states were irritated.</p> + +<p>But besides M. de Pomponne’s having the crime of leaning toward +the Jansenists, Louvois and Colbert, though enemies to each other, +both labored to ruin him; the first to place his friend M. Courtin in +his situation, and the second, his brother Colbert de Croissy. The last +succeeded, to the great rage of Louvois.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_153" href="#fnanchor_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> +Madeleine-Charlotte le Tellier, daughter of M. de Louvois, married +the next day, 23d November, Francis Duke of Rochefoucault and +of Rocheguyon, grandson of M. de la Rochefoucault.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXI</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Nov. 24, 1679.</p> + +<p>What a charming letter have I just received from you! +what exquisite pleasure is it to hear you reason thus! What +you say on the subject of medicine delights me. I am persuaded +that, with that understanding and quickness of apprehension +with which God has endowed you, you might, with a +little application, soon outstrip the physicians themselves. You +might, indeed, want a little experience, and perhaps, too, you +might not kill with impunity as they do; but I would much +sooner trust your judgment of a disease than theirs. The only +real concern of life is undoubtedly the care of our health; the +world seems to agree in this. The general question is, “How +are you? how are you?” and yet we are in general wholly +ignorant of every particular relating to this important science. +Go on then, go on, my child; finish the course of your studies; +the scarlet gown is all the diploma you will stand in need of, +as in the play.<a id="fnanchor_154" href="#footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> Pray, what do you mean by sending us your +little physician? I assure you ours have entirely lost their +credit here, except three or four of our acquaintance, and who +prescribe the Englishman’s recipe; all the rest are held in +utter abhorrence. This Englishman recovered Marshal de +Bellefond the other day from death’s door. I do not think +the first physician has the right secret.</p> + +<p>Is it then true, my child, you have got the better of your +complaints? No more pains in the chest, no colic, no pain in +the legs? This is as it should be. You see the advantage of +repose and taking care to recruit yourself. Can you be angry +with me for chiding you when you neglect yourself, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_180">180</span> +inhumanly abandon all care of your health? I could talk for +ten years about this wicked conduct in you, and the benefits +that result from a contrary conduct. Why can not I embrace +you and enjoy your company here in the evenings? I enter +this house with a heavy heart. From nine till twelve at night +I am as desolate as I was at Livri, and yet I prefer this silence +and repose to all the evening parties I am invited to in this +part of the town. I hate going out of an evening. When I +am not tormented with fears for your health, I feel your absence +more. The thought of your lungs is like pinching the +ear to prevent the pain of boring it from being felt: this comparison +I heard from you, but the former pain soon returns +when I am not checked by the other. I confess I never bear +your absence so well as when I am in fear for your health, and +I thank you a thousand times for removing the pincers from +my ears. Madame de Vins stands in need of some equally +powerful means to remove her affliction at M. de Pomponne’s +disgrace, by which she loses her all. I often visit her, and no +misfortune shall ever drive me from the house. M. de Pomponne +will easily resolve on what is to be done, and will bear +his ill-fortune with dignity; he will again display the virtues +of a private station, for which we so much admired him at +Frêne. They say he was rather remiss in his office, and made +the couriers wait too long for their dispatches. He justifies +himself fully. But, good heavens! do we not plainly see where +the fault lies! Ah! how would poor Madame du Plessis have +adored him now! and how would this similarity of situation +have cemented their union! Nothing in the world would +have been so fortunate for him. I have mentioned this to no +one but Madame de Vins; I suppose you understand me. I +can answer for the justice of my opinion, which is, I dare say, +your own. The whole court pities him, and have been to pay +him their compliments of condolence on the occasion. You will +soon see him recommence the thread of his perfections. We +have talked a great deal about Providence, a doctrine he understands +perfectly well. Surely there never was so worthy a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_181">181</span> +minister. M. Colbert, the embassador,<a id="fnanchor_155" href="#footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> is to succeed in this +office; he is a great friend of the chevalier’s. Write all your +thoughts to the latter; perhaps Fortune, capricious as she is, +intends you should reap more advantage through his means +than from our intimate acquaintance. You will easily strike +into the right road by what I tell you. How is it possible for +us to know what Providence has in store for us?</p> + +<p>I continue my attentions to Mademoiselle de Méri; the impression +the misfortune of her little domestic makes on her is +very extraordinary. She tells me she fancies, when any one +speaks to her, they are shooting at her, as if they had an intention +to kill her. This really does her as much harm as her +illness. It is a circle; her anger increases her disorder, and +her disorder increases her anger. The sum total is, that it is +a very strange affair, and I employ all my attention to administer +to her relief.</p> + +<p>Corbinelli gives up the Chevalier de Méri, with his pitiful +style,<a id="fnanchor_156" href="#footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> and the ridiculous critique he makes on a wit so free, +so playful, so charming, as Voiture’s: those are to be pitied +who do not understand him.<a id="fnanchor_157" href="#footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> I would not have you depend +on receiving the definition you asked of him, for he has read +nothing these three months but the Code and the Cujas. He +is delighted with you for resolving to study medicine: you are +<span class="pagenum" id="page_182">182</span> +a prodigy in his opinion. The calm ingratitude of M. and +Madame Richelieu is indeed a prodigy; you describe it very +pleasantly. M. le Grand, and some others, said seriously the +other day at St. Germain, that M. Richelieu had made an admirable +siege: it was supposed he had been reading some book +about the great Richelieu’s in the civil wars; not so, he meant +Richelieu the tapestry-maker, who has made an admirable +siege that hangs in his wife’s apartment.</p> + +<p>Madame de Coulanges has been at court this fortnight; +Madame de Maintenon had a cold, and would not part with +her. I must tell you of a quarrel she had with the Countess +de Grammont.<a id="fnanchor_158" href="#footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> The latter was scorching her fine complexion +over the fire, making chocolate; Madame de Coulanges would +have saved her the trouble. The Countess bid her leave her +to herself, for it was the only pleasure she had left. Madame +de Coulanges answered, “<span lang="fr">Ah, ingrate</span>!” This expression, +which at any other time would have made her laugh, embarrassed +and disconcerted her so highly, that she could not get +the better of it, and they have not spoken since. The Abbé +Têtu said, very rudely, to our neighbor, “But, madame, had +she answered you, ‘The pot calls the kettle black,’ what would +you have found to say?” “Sir,” said she, “I am no pot, +though she is a kettle.” So here is another quarrel. <i>Quanto</i> +and the sick lady are both on the high ropes; the latter is so +much in favor with the fountain of all good things, that it occasions +a great deal of animosity. I could tell you a thousand +trifles if you were here.</p> + +<p>Ah, my child, you tell me I have nothing to do but laugh, +when I have your absence to support; I could almost find in +my heart to say, “<span lang="fr">Ah! ingrate</span>!” Do not you remember +what this absence of yours has made me suffer? Are not you +the sensible and true occupation of my heart? You well +know, and you ought to feel, what a terrible addition the fear +of hearing you are indisposed, and chilled by the piercing air +<span class="pagenum" id="page_183">183</span> +of Grignan, makes to this apprehension. You are unjust if +you are at a loss to guess my sentiments, which are so very +natural, and so full of true affection for you.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_154" href="#fnanchor_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> +Molière’s Malade Imaginaire.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_155" href="#fnanchor_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> +Mons. de Colbert de Croissy, brother to the comptroller-general, +was then in Bavaria, in order to conclude a marriage between Monseigneur +and Maria Anna Victoria of Bavaria.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_156" href="#fnanchor_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> +M. de Méri had known and loved Madame de Maintenon from her +infancy. He had brought her out into the world under the name of the +Young Indian. He cultivated her friendship in all circumstances. But +what is singular is, that he would have married her, and that he made +her the offer of his hand at the very time that Louis thought of making +her his wife. The letters of M. de Méri, which were found in Madame +de Maintenon’s collection, were indeed emphatic, heavy, and pedantic, +and well deserved the name “pitiful style” (<span lang="fr">chien de style</span>).</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_157" href="#fnanchor_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> +The French editors observe, justly enough, that as much may be +said in regard to those who can not find out the value of these letters +of Madame de Sévigné.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_158" href="#fnanchor_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> +Elizabeth Hamilton, lady of the bed-chamber to Queen Maria +Theresa, of Austria.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, January 26, 1680.</p> + +<p>I begin with the state of your health, as the subject nearest +my heart. It is without disparagement to this favorite idea, +that I see and hear what passes in the world. Events are +more or less interesting to me as they are more or less connected +with you; even the attention I pay to news springs +from the same source. I find you well nursed, my dear child, +and kept in cotton. You are not in the whirlwind, so that I +am perfectly easy with regard to your quiet; but then I am +by no means so with respect to that heaviness, and those heats +you are troubled with; and then again that pain you endure, +with no north-easterly winds, or extraordinary fatigue to occasion +it. I could wish to have a little further information +on this particular, which is of so much importance to me. +The care that is taken of you can not be wholly owing to precaution, +nor without good reason. I wish you may be sincere +in your resolution, no longer to destroy yourself with your +writing-desk. Confirm me, I beseech you, in my good opinion +of you, and never again write me such long letters, since +Montgobert acquits herself so well of the office; and, as I have +already told you, may also save you the trouble of dictating. +I could wish, too, she would now and then add a word or +two of her own, relative to the state of your health.</p> + +<p>I have at last received a letter from my son, who is at +Nantes. He was but twenty days on the road; he traveled +only ninety leagues from Brittany in the month of January, to +spend the holidays, and without one spark of love in his +heart! I have written to him to take care how he tells this +story to others, and that, to save his reputation, he ought to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_184">184</span> +allege some flame, real or pretended; otherwise he would appear +more a Breton than the Bretons themselves. I have +also entreated him not to stay at Nantes, on account of my +affairs; they are not a plausible excuse, and I should be sorry +to pass for so silly or so covetous a being, as to prefer things +which are of no consequence to the necessity of his paying +his attendance at court on such an occasion as the present. +He seems to me to be under some embarrassment; but he +will return soon enough to set out with M. de Chaulnes. +Mark my goodness, I have secured him a place in his carriage.</p> + +<p>Madame de Soubise is no longer talked of; she even seems +forgotten already. In fact, there are a thousand other things +to employ our attention at present; and I am foolish enough +myself to venture on some other topic. For these two days it +has been, as in the affair of mademoiselle and M. de Lauzun, +a constant bustle, sending to learn the news, paying visits +from house to house, to learn what is passing; curiosity is +on the stretch, and this is what has come out, in expectation +of the remainder.<a id="fnanchor_159" href="#footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_185">185</span> +M. de Luxembourg was at Saint Germain on Wednesday; +the king frowned on him more than usual; he was told there +was a warrant issued to apprehend him; he asked to be permitted +to speak to the king; you may conjecture what was +said. The king told him that if he were innocent, he had +nothing to do but to throw himself voluntarily into prison, and +that he had appointed such upright judges to make inquiry +into affairs of this kind, that he left every thing to them. M. +de Luxembourg immediately took coach, and went to Father +de la Chaise; Mesdames de Lavardin and De Mouci met him +as they were coming here, in a very melancholy mood, in the +Rue Saint Honoré; after passing an hour at the convent of +the Jesuits, he repaired to the Bastille, and delivered to Barsemeaux<a id="fnanchor_160" href="#footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a> +the order he brought from Saint Germain. He was +at first shown into a tolerably handsome chamber. Madame de +Meckelbourg<a id="fnanchor_161" href="#footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a> came there to visit him, and was almost drowned +in tears. About an hour after she left him, an order came +to confine him in one of those horrible places in the towers, +of which the windows are closed with iron bars, so as scarcely +to admit the light of day, and to suffer no one to see him. +This, my child, is ample subject for reflection; think of the +brilliant fortune of such a man, raised to the honor of commanding +in chief the king’s armies, and then figure to your +self what his feelings must be on hearing those grating bolts +shut upon him, and, if it were possible for him to sleep, what +his thoughts must be when he awakes! No one thinks there +has been any poison in his affair. This is a misfortune that +seems to obliterate every other.</p> + +<p>Madame de Tingres is summoned to give evidence on the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_186">186</span> +trial. The Countess de Soissons could not endure the thoughts +of a prison; she has been allowed time to make her escape, if +she really is guilty. She was playing at basset on the +Wednesday when M. de Bouillon came in; he begged her to +step with him into the closet, where he told her she must either +leave France, or go to the Bastille; she was not long in determining +what to do. She immediately called the Marchioness +d’Allure from the card-table, and they have never appeared +since. When the hour of supper came, they were told the +Countess supped in town; the whole company broke up, +thinking something very extraordinary had happened. In the +mean time, parcels are packed up, with money, jewels, etc., +the male servants have gray liveries, and eight horses are put +to the carriage. She made the Marchioness d’Allure, who they +say was unwilling to go, sit behind, on the same side with her, +and two female servants in the front. She told her people +not to be uneasy on her account, that she was innocent, but +that some vile women<a id="fnanchor_162" href="#footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a> had taken pleasure in implicating her; +she wept, called on Madame de Carignan, and left Paris at +three in the morning. It is said she is gone to Namur; you +may be sure nobody wants to follow her. She will, notwithstanding, +be tried in her absence, if it be only to clear her +reputation to the world; there is a great deal of detraction in +what La Voisin says. It is believed the Duke de Villeroy<a id="fnanchor_163" href="#footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a> is +very much concerned at it; he keeps his room, and sees nobody. +Perhaps I may be able to tell you more before I seal +my letter.</p> + +<p>Madame de Vibraye has fallen into the old train of devotion; +God, as you well remarked, would not suffer her to pass +her whole life in the company of her enemies. Madame de +Buri turns her talking-mill with very great address. If the +princess is to be seen at Paris, Madame de Vins wishes me to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_187">187</span> +accompany her when she goes there. Pomenars has been cut +for the stone; did I not tell you so? I have seen him; it is +pleasant to hear him talk of the poisons; one is almost tempted +to say to him, “Is it possible this crime alone should be unknown +to you?” Volonne gives his opinion, without any hesitation, +and wonders how any one could hold a correspondence +with these <i>vile women</i>. The Queen of Spain is, in a manner, as +much confined as M. de Luxembourg. Madame de Villars +wrote to Madame de Coulanges the other day, that were it not +for her love to M. de Villars, she would not have consented to +pass the winter at Madrid. She gives Madame de Coulanges +many pleasant and entertaining narratives, as she thinks they +will go further.<a id="fnanchor_164" href="#footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a> I am overjoyed to have the pleasure of perusing +her letters, without the trouble of answering them. +Madame de Vins thinks as I do. M. de Pomponne is gone to +breathe the air of Pomponne, where he means to stay three +days; he has received all, and given up all; so that affair is +finished. It really pains me to hear him always asking, What +news? He is as much a stranger to what is passing as one +living on the banks of the Marne; he is in the right to make +his mind as happy as he can. Mine, as well as the abbé’s, +was much affected at what you wrote with your own hand; +you did not feel it, my dear child, but it was impossible to +read it without tears. Good heavens! you pronounce yourself +as good for nothing, as an encumbrance to the earth; to +one who sees no object in existence but you! Think of the +consequences your talking thus may produce. I beseech you, +never henceforth to say any ill of your humor. Your heart +and mind are too perfect to suffer such light clouds to be perceived; +be a little more tender of truth and justice, as well as +of the sole object of my vows and prayers. I shall think myself +really dead till I have the gratification of seeing you.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_159" href="#fnanchor_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> +La Voisin, La Vigoreux, and a priest of the name of Le Sage, +known at Paris as conjurers and casters of nativities, added to this jugglery +the secret practice of poisons, which they denominated <i>succession +powder</i>. They did not fail to accuse those who applied to them for one +thing, of having had recourse to them for another. It is thus Marshal +de Luxembourg was exposed, by his intendant Bonard, for having +made some extravagant exorcism with Le Sage, for the purpose of recovering +his lost papers. The vindictive Louvois seized the opportunity +to ruin, or, at least, to torment him.</p> + +<p>Besides the persons here named, Madame de Polignac was decreed to +be imprisoned, and Madame de la Ferté, as well as the Countess du +Roure, to be personally summoned.</p> + +<p>The Countess de Soissons was accused of having poisoned her husband; +Madame d’Alluie, her father-in-law; Madame de Tingry, her +children; Madame de Polignac, a valet who was in possession of her +secret; and this secret was, that she wished to give the king a charm, +to make herself beloved by him.</p> + +<p>The king gave the Duchess de Foix a note, written by her to La +Voisin, expressed in these terms, “The more I rub the less they project.” +He required an explanation. It alluded to a recipe to increase +the size of the bosom. She informed La Voisin that her drug was +ineffectual.</p> + +<p>It may be supposed that La Voisin had many of these secrets for the +use of ladies.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_160" href="#fnanchor_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> +Governor of the Bastille.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_161" href="#fnanchor_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> +Sister of M. de Luxembourg, formerly Madame de Châtillon.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_162" href="#fnanchor_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> +La Voisin and her associates in their witchcrafts, etc.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_163" href="#fnanchor_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> +Francis Neuville, afterward Marshal of France. He had been the +lover, and was the intimate friend, of the Countess de Soissons.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_164" href="#fnanchor_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> +Madame de Coulanges, passing her life at court, with Madame de +Maintenon, and even with Mademoiselle de Fontanges, could easily report +these agreeable narratives to the king.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_188">188</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, January 31, 1680.</p> + +<p>It is impossible for me to see your hand-writing without +emotion. I well know the injury writing does you; and +though you say the most affectionate and most amiable things +to me possible, I regret exceedingly the purchase of that pleasure +at the expense of your lungs; I know you are still far +from well. You tell me the weather is extremely mild, and +that you do not fatigue yourself, and that you write less than +usual: whence, then, proceeds this obstinacy in your disorder? +You are dumb on that subject, and Montgobert has the cruelty, +though she has the pen in her hand, not to say a single +word about it. What is the rest of the world to me, and +what pleasure can I receive from the account of all the rejoicings +at Aix, when I find you are obliged to go to bed at +eight in the evening? “But,” say you, “do you then wish +me to sit up late and fatigue myself?” No, my dearest; God +forbid I should be capable of forming so depraved a wish; +but when you were here, you were not wholly incapable of +relishing the sweets of society. I have at length seen M. de +Gordes; he told me, with great sincerity, that you were in a +very feeble state in the boat, and that you were much better +at Aix: but then, with the same simplicity he assures me, +that the air of Provence is too keen, too piercing, and too drying, +in your present condition. When we are in health, nothing +is amiss; but when the lungs are attacked, and we are thin and +delicate, like you, we run the risk of putting it out of our +power ever to recover. Tell me no more that the delicacy of +your lungs draws our ages nearer together. God forbid that +the order established by Providence, so agreeable to nature +and reason, and at the same time so dear to me, should be deranged +with respect to us.</p> + +<p>I must resume the article of news, which I always suffer to +rest awhile when I get upon the subject of your health. M. +de Luxembourg has been two days without eating; he asked +<span class="pagenum" id="page_189">189</span> +for several Jesuits, but has been refused every one of them: +he asked to have the Lives of the Saints, and it has been given +him; you will see he is at a loss <i>to which of the Saints he +shall devote himself</i>. He was interrogated for four hours on +Friday or Saturday, I can not recollect which; after that his +mind appeared much relieved, and he ate some supper. It is +thought he would have done better to have made his innocence +take the field, and to have left word he would return, +when his proper judges<a id="fnanchor_165" href="#footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> should think fit to summon him. He +has done a real injury to the dukedom, in acknowledging the +chamber; but he was willing to yield a blind obedience to the +commands of his majesty. M. de Cessac has followed the example +of the countess. Mesdames de Bouillon and De Tingry +were interrogated on Monday at the chamber of the arsenal. +Their noble families attended them to the gate: there is yet +no appearance of blackness in the follies which have been laid +to their charge, nor even so much as a shade of gray. Should +nothing further be discovered, this is a scandal which might +very well have been spared, especially to families of their +high quality. Marshal de Villeroy<a id="fnanchor_166" href="#footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a> says, these gentlemen +and ladies do not believe in God, though they believe in the +devil. In reality, a great many ridiculous things are related +respecting the private transactions of these abominable women. +Madame de la Ferté, who is so properly named, went +out of complaisance (to La Voisin’s) with the Countess (de +Soissons), but did not go up stairs; M. de Langres accompanied +Madame de la Ferté; this is very black; the circumstance +has given her a pleasure not often enjoyed by her, +which is, to hear it said that she is innocent.<a id="fnanchor_167" href="#footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a> The Duchess +de Bouillon went to ask La Voisin for a small dose of poison, +to kill an old tiresome husband she had, and a nostrum to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_190">190</span> +marry a young man she loved. This young man was M. de +Vendôme, who led her by one hand, and M. de Bouillon, her +husband, by the other. When a <i>Mancine</i><a id="fnanchor_168" href="#footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a> is guilty only of +a folly like this, information is given of it; and these witches +explain it seriously, and shock all Europe with a mere trifle. +The Countess de Soissons asked whether she could not recover a +lover who had deserted her? this lover was a great prince; +and it is asserted that she declared, unless he returned to her, +she would make him repent his ingratitude: that is understood +to be the king, and every thing is of importance that +has relation to him; but let us look to the sequel; if she has +committed any greater crime, she has not mentioned it to +these baggages. One of our friends says there is an elder +branch of the poison, to which they never refer, as it is not a +native of France. What we have here, are younger branches +only, without shoes to their feet. La T***<a id="fnanchor_169" href="#footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a> gives us to understand +there is something of greater consequence behind, +as she was schoolmistress to the novices. She says, “I admire +the world; it really believes I have had children by M. +de Luxembourg.” Alas! God knows whether she has or not; +the present prevailing opinion, however, is in favor of the innocence +of the persons denounced, and a universal horror for +the defamers; to-morrow it may be the reverse. You well +know the nature of these general opinions; I shall give you a +faithful account of them; it is the only subject of conversation +here: indeed there is scarcely an example of such scandal +in any court in Christendom. It is said La Voisin put all +the infants, whose abortion she had procured, into an oven; +and Madame de Coulanges, as you may suppose, when speaking +of La T***, says, <i>it was for her the oven was heating</i>.</p> + +<p>I had a long chat yesterday with M. de la Rochefoucault, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_191">191</span> +on a subject we have already discussed. There is nothing to +oblige you to write; but he entreats you to believe that what +could give him the highest gratification in the world would +be to have it in his power to contribute to your changing +the place of your residence, should an opportunity offer. I +never saw so obliging or so amiable a man.</p> + +<p>What I am going to tell you, I have heard from good authority. +Madame de Bouillon entered the chamber like a +queen, sat down on a chair placed there on purpose for her, +and, instead of answering to the first question that was asked +her, demanded that what she should say might be taken down +in writing; it was, “that her sole reason for coming there was +from the respect she bore to the king’s command, and not in +obedience to the chamber, whose authority she in nowise +acknowledged, as she would not derogate from the privileges +of the dukedom.” Every word was written down. When she +took off her glove, she discovered a very beautiful hand. Her +answers were very sincere; those respecting her age not excepted. +“Do you know La Vigoureux?” “No.” “Do you +know La Voisin?” “Yes.” “What reason had you to desire +the death of your husband?” “Desire the death of my +husband! ask him whether he believes a syllable of it. He +gave me his hand to the very gate.” “But what was your +reason for so often visiting La Voisin?” “Because I wanted +to see those Sibyls she promised me I should see; a company +which certainly well deserved all this noise and scrutiny.” +“Did you not show that woman a bag of money?” She answered, +“I did not, and for more reasons than one;” and then +with a smiling, and at the same time a disdainful air, “Well, +gentlemen, have you done with me?” “Yes, madame.” She +rose, and, as she was going out, said loud enough to be heard, +“I really could not have believed that men of sense would +have asked so many foolish questions.” She was received by +all her friends and relations with adoration, she was so pretty, +easy, natural, firm, unconcerned, and tranquil.<a id="fnanchor_170" href="#footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_192">192</span> +La T*** was by no means so cheerful. M. de Luxembourg +is perfectly disconcerted: he is neither a man, nor half a man, +nor even a woman, unless it be a foolish woman. “Shut this +window; light a fire; give me some chocolate; give me that +book; I have abandoned God, and God has abandoned me.” +This is the conduct he displayed before Baisemeaux and his +commissaries, with a countenance pale as death. With nothing +better than this to carry to the Bastille, he had better have +gained time, as the king, with infinite goodness, had put into +his power to do, till the very moment before he committed +himself; but we must of necessity have recourse to Providence, +in spite of our efforts to the contrary. It was by no means +natural to behave as he has done, weak as he appears to be.<a id="fnanchor_171" href="#footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> +I was misinformed: Madame de Meckelbourg has not seen +him; and La T***, who came with him from St. Germain, +never intended, any more than himself, to give Madame de +Meckelbourg the least notice of it, though he had time enough +to have done it if he had been so inclined; but La T*** kept +every one from seeing him, and watched him so closely, that +not a soul came to him but herself. I have been to see this +Meckelbourg at the nunnery of the Holy Sacrament, where she +has retired. She is in great affliction, and complains loudly +of La T***, whom she blames for all her brother’s misfortunes. +I made your compliments to her by way of anticipation, +and assured her you would be extremely grieved to hear of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_193">193</span> +her ill-fortune. She expressed great regard for you. One +might, at this time, do almost what one pleased at Paris, it +would not be noticed.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_165" href="#fnanchor_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> +The parliament of Paris.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_166" href="#fnanchor_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> +Nicholas de Neufville, Marshal Duke de Villeroy, father to the last +marshal of that name.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_167" href="#fnanchor_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> +The Amours des Gaules have rendered notorious her gallantries, +which may be called by a term less mild.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_168" href="#fnanchor_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> +Madame de Bouillon, as well as the Countess de Soissons, was the +niece of Cardinal Mazarin. It will be seen that she was innocent.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_169" href="#fnanchor_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> +Madame de Tingry being named twice in this letter and the preceding +one, is it not probable that she is intended by the initial T.? +She was related to M. de Luxembourg.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_170" href="#fnanchor_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> +To render this picture complete, it is necessary to cite another +stroke related by Voltaire. “La Reynie, one of the presidents of this +chamber, was so ill-advised as to ask the Duchess de Bouillon if she +had seen the devil. She replied that she saw him at that moment; +that he was very ugly, and very dirty, and was disguised as a counselor +of state. The questioner proceeded no further.”</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_171" href="#fnanchor_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné seems to have adopted, at this moment, the +ridiculous reports spread abroad, in regard to M. de Luxembourg. But +is it to be credited that a soul like his was capable of such weakness +as was laid to his charge? And does it not rather exhibit the common +conduct of envy and malignity, which, in the life-time of men of the +first order, are incessantly endeavoring to tarnish the luster of their +reputation?</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, February 7, 1680.</p> + +<p>So, my child, you sometimes play at chess. For my own part, +I am an enthusiast in this game, and would give the world if +I could learn to play it like my son or you. It is the finest +and most rational game of any; chance has nothing to do with +it; we blame or applaud ourselves, and our success depends +upon our skill. Corbinelli would fain make me believe I shall +acquire it. He says I have some ideas and schemes of my +own; but I can not see three or four moves forward into the +game. I assure you I shall be much ashamed and mortified +if I do not, at least, attain mediocrity. Every one played it at +Pomponne when I was last there—men, women, and children; +and while the master of the house was beating M. de Chaulnes, +he met with a strange <i>check</i> at St. Germain.</p> + +<p>There has been a sad melancholy Monday, which you will +easily comprehend. M. de Pomponne is at length gone to +court. He dreaded this very much. You may guess what +his thoughts were on the road, and when he beheld the court +at Saint Germain, and received the compliments of the courtiers +who surrounded him. He was quite overcome; and +when he entered the chamber where the king was waiting for +him, what could he say, or how begin? The king assured +him he had always been satisfied of his fidelity and services; +that he was perfectly at ease as to the state secrets he was acquainted +with; and that he would give him and his family +proofs of his regard. M. de Pomponne could not help shedding +tears when he mentioned the misfortune he had to incur +his displeasure. He added, that with respect to his family, he +left it entirely to his majesty’s goodness; that his only grief +<span class="pagenum" id="page_194">194</span> +was the being removed from the service of a master to whom +he was attached, as well by inclination as duty; that it was +next to impossible not to feel so heavy a loss in all its severity; +that this cut him to the quick, and caused him to betray those +marks of weakness, which he hoped his majesty would forgive. +The king told him he was himself affected at them, that they +proceeded from goodness of heart, and that he ought not to +be offended. The whole discourse turned on this, and M. de +Pomponne came away with eyes somewhat red, and the looks +of a man who had not merited his misfortune. He told me +all this yesterday evening: he could have wished to have been +more firm, but he could not get the better of his emotion. +This is the only occasion in which he has appeared too much +affected; though it might be said he had not paid his court +badly, if to pay court had been his object. He will soon recover +his philosophy, and in the mean time an affair of some +importance is concluded; these are renewals which we can not +help feeling with him. Madame de Vins has been at Saint +Germain: good God, what a difference! She had attentions +enough paid her; but to reflect that that had been her home, +where she has not now a corner to shelter her head in! I felt +what she underwent in that journey. Adieu, my beloved +child; I am always impatient to hear from you, but pray write +only two words to me; renounce long letters forever, and +spare me. It is horrible to think that those who love you, and +who are beloved by you, should be the ruin of your health.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Feb. 9, 1680.</p> + +<p>I see you are in the midst of the pleasures of the carnival, +my beautiful dear; you give little <i>private</i> suppers to eighteen +or twenty ladies; I am well acquainted with your mode of +life, and the heavy expenses you incur at Aix; but yet, amid +all this bustle, I fancy you contrive to have plenty of rest. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_195">195</span> +We say sometimes, I will have pleasure for my money; but I +think I hear you say, I will have rest for mine: take your rest +then, and enjoy, at least, this advantage. I can not help being +surprised that a minuet-tune does not tempt you sometimes; +what! not a single step! no motion of the shoulders! quite +insensible! it is not to be believed, it is unnatural; I never +yet knew you sit still on these occasions, and, were I to draw +such inferences as I commonly do, I should imagine you much +worse than you say you are.</p> + +<p>There was, yesterday evening, an enchanting entertainment +at the Hôtel de Condé. The Princess of Conti named one of +the duke’s daughters, with the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon. +First was the christening, then the dinner; but what a dinner! +then a play, but what a play! interspersed with fine pieces of +music, and the best opera-dancers. A theater built by the +fairies; such perspectives, orange-trees loaded with fruits and +flowers, festoons, pilasters, scenes, and other decorations; in +short, the whole expense of the evening cost no less than two +thousand louis-d’ors, all for the sake of the pretty princess.</p> + +<p>The opera (of Proserpine) is superior to every other. The +chevalier tells me he has sent you several of the airs, and that +he saw a gentleman<a id="fnanchor_172" href="#footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a> who said he had sent you the words; I +dare say you will like it. There is a scene in it,<a id="fnanchor_173" href="#footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a> between +Mercury and Ceres, which requires no interpreter to be understood; +it must have been approved, since it has been performed; +but you will judge for yourself.</p> + +<p>The poisoning affair is grown quite flat; nothing new is said +of it. The report is, that there will be no more blood spilled; +you will make your own reflections, as we do. The Abbé +Colbert is made Coadjutor of Rouen. They talk of a journey +into Flanders. No one knows what this assembling of +the forces portends.</p> + +<p>Friar Ange has raised Marshal de Bellefond from the dead; +he has cured his lungs, that were incurable. Madame de +<span class="pagenum" id="page_196">196</span> +Coulanges and I have been to visit the grand-master,<a id="fnanchor_174" href="#footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a> who +has been almost at death’s door for a fortnight past; his gout +had returned; add to this an oppression, which made every +one suppose he was at his last gasp; cold sweats, light-headedness; +in short, he was ill as it was possible to be. The +physicians could give him no relief; he sent for Friar Ange, +who has cured him, and brought him from the very gates of +death, by the gentlest and most agreeable medicines; the oppression +went off, the gout fell back into his knees and feet, +and he is now out of danger.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear child! I still lead the same life, either in +the suburbs, or with these good widows; sometimes here, +sometimes eating chicken with Madame de Coulanges; but +always pleased to think I am gliding down the stream with +old Time, and hastening the happy moment when I shall see +you again.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_172" href="#fnanchor_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> +Quinault.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_173" href="#fnanchor_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> +See the second scene of the first act.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_174" href="#fnanchor_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> +The Duke de Lude.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Feb. 14, 1680.</p> + +<p>I think you extremely fortunate in the society of Madame +du Janet, who is come on purpose for you; this is a friendship +that pleases me. I am fully persuaded her whole employment +will be to take care of your health; pray embrace her for +me. You give yourself very little concern about the vanities +of this world; I think I see you constantly retiring and going +to bed, leaving the rest to sing and dance by themselves; you +will have rest for your money, as I told you the other day.</p> + +<p>Montgobert has related to me, very pleasantly, the maneuvers +of the beautiful Iris, and the jealousy of the count; I dare +say he will often see the moon with this beauty; he has revenged +himself for this time, by a very pretty song. Montgobert +made me laugh at her respect for M. de Grignan. She +had written, that he came to the ball <i lang="fr">la gueule enfarinée</i> (full +<span class="pagenum" id="page_197">197</span> +of expectation): she recollected herself, erased the <i lang="fr">gueule</i>, and +wrote the <i lang="fr">bouche</i>, so that it is now <i lang="fr">la bouche enfarinée</i>.</p> + +<p>The gendarmes are quite bewildered. My son goes to Flanders, +instead of meeting the dauphiness. The army is assembling, +they say, to take Charlemont.<a id="fnanchor_175" href="#footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> We know nothing certain, +except that the officers are going to the army, and that +in a month there will be an army of fifty thousand infantry. +The chevalier’s regiment is not one of them.</p> + +<p>The chamber of the arsenal is again sitting. One of the +committee, whose name is not mentioned, said to M. de la +Reynie: “But, sir, as far as I see, we are only employed about +sorceries and witchcraft, such diabolical proceedings, of which +the parliament of Paris never takes cognizance. Our commission +is, to try the case of poisoning; how comes it that we +inquire into any thing else?” La Reynie was surprised, and +said, “Sir, we have secret orders.” “Be so good, sir,” replied +the other, “as to communicate those orders to us, and we will +obey them as well as you; but, as we are without your knowledge, +I think I say nothing contrary to reason and justice, in +thus expressing myself.” I am of opinion you will not blame +this man’s honesty, though he does not wish to be known. +There are so many, persons of worth belonging to this chamber, +that you will find it difficult to guess who he is.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_198">198</span> +The little Prince de Léon was baptized yesterday at Saint +Gervais, by a bishop of Brittany; M. de Rennes stood godfather, +as representing the States of Brittany; the duchess was +godmother. The rest were all Brittany folks: the Governor +of Brittany, the Lieutenant-General of Brittany, the Treasurer +of Brittany, the Deputies of Brittany, several Lords of Brittany, +the Presidents of Brittany, father and son. In short, +had there been a dance, they would have danced Brittany +dances; and have eaten Brittany butter, had it been a meager +day. I assure you, my son feels all the secret power which +attaches the Bretons to their country; he is returned perfectly +enchanted with it. He has begun, for the first time in his +life, to admire Tonquedec, and to think him worthy of imitation. +It would be like stopping the course of the Rhône, to +oppose this torrent, which carries him so far as even to dispose +him to sell his place. He said this to Gourville and +several others, before he mentioned it to me. He assigns very +good reasons. He looks forward. He fears the disgusts which +may be occasioned by means of M. de la Trousse. He is sorry +for those who are appointed to the gendarmerie, and has no +wish to be ruined. The sum of the matter is, that by thus +discovering his inmost heart, he would reduce us to the necessity +of saying, “Certainly, he is perfectly in the right to sell +his place.” I can not reproach myself with concealing what +my duty obliged me to say on this strange resolution, in which +I expressed myself with the freedom I sometimes indulge myself +in. I desired him to wait for at least some pretext, some +shadow of dissatisfaction; in short, to stay for something that +may serve to keep his real thoughts undiscovered. But it was +to no purpose; for all M. de la Garde and I have been able to +do, is to beg he will not interfere. We are overjoyed at his +absence, as it may be a means of preventing his doing injury +to his affairs, by decrying his own goods. I told him it was +very unfortunate to value commissions merely from whim and +caprice, by his liking and disliking; to pay an exorbitant price +for the ensigncy, because he was wild for it—to rate the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_199">199</span> +sub-lieutenancy at nothing, because he is disgusted with it. Is it +thus we would buy and sell, unless we were fools, ignorant of +business, and wished to ruin ourselves? Adieu, my beloved +child; be not uneasy on this account. Let us adore the dispensations +of Providence, whose kindness sends us no greater +subject of complaint. I shall still possess my mind in liberty, +for I shall still be as much yours as ever. This will make no +change in me; quite the contrary, quite the contrary.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_175" href="#fnanchor_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> +One of the conditions of the treaty with Spain was, that France, +with other places that were given up to her, should have either Dinant +or Charlemont. But the emperor, whose consent was necessary, having +preferred keeping Dinant, France was put in possession of Charlemont. +There was only a military demonstration. It was upon this +acquisition of Charlemont, M. de Coulanges wrote some verses ending +with,</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">Louis est un enfant gâté;</div> + <div class="verse">On lui laisse tout faire.</div> +</div> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">“Louis is a spoiled child; he is suffered to do what he pleases.”</div> +</div> + +<p class="sep1">This complaisance throughout Europe cost dear to France. The +king, habituated thus to have his own way, adopted three fatal resolutions: +he revoked the Edict of Nantes, protected James II., and accepted +the testament of the King of Spain.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, February 23, 1680.</p> + +<p>Indeed, my child, this has been a very pretty week for the +Grignans; should Providence favor the elder brother in proportion +as it has the younger, we might soon expect to see +him in a charming situation. In the mean time, I think it no +disagreeable thing to have brothers in such favor. The +chevalier had scarcely returned thanks for his pension of a +thousand crowns, when he was chosen, out of eight or ten persons +of quality and merit, to be an attendant upon the +dauphin, with a salary of two thousand crowns; so here are +appointments to the value of nine thousand livres a year, in +the space of three days. He immediately went back to Saint +Germain with his second acknowledgments, for it seems he +had been appointed in his absence, while he was here in Paris. +His personal merit has greatly contributed to this choice. +His distinguished reputation, his strict honor and probity, and +the regularity of his conduct, have been remarked; and it is +the general opinion, that his majesty could not have made a +better choice. There are but eight persons named yet, Dangeau, +D’Antin, Clermont, Sainte-Maure, Matignon, Chiverni, +Florensac, and Grignan.<a id="fnanchor_176" href="#footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a> The last is universally approved. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_200">200</span> +Permit me, then, to pay my compliments of congratulation to +M. de Grignan, the coadjutor, and yourself.</p> + +<p>My son sets out to-morrow; he has read the reproaches +you make him. Possibly the charms of the court he wishes +to leave, and where he has so handsome an establishment, +will make him change his opinion. We have prevailed on +him not to be in a hurry, but to wait quietly till he meets +with the temptation of a greater sum than he gave.</p> + +<p>You have given me a specimen of M. de Grignan’s joy by +my own, in hearing that you are better. As your complaints +are no longer continual, I am in great hopes that, by taking +care of yourself, using a milk diet, and giving up writing, you +will in the end restore my daughter to me as lovely as ever.</p> + +<p>I am charmed with Montgobert’s sincerity. Had she always +written me word you were well, I should never have +given credit to her. She has managed the whole business to +a miracle, and has won my heart by her candor; so natural +is it for us to love not to be deceived. May Heaven preserve +you, my dear, in this prosperous state! which gives us all +such flattering hopes. But to return to the Grignans, for we +seem to have forgotten them. Nothing else is talked of here. +Nothing but complimenting passes in this house; one has +scarcely done when another begins. I have not seen either +of them since the chevalier has been made a lady of honor, as +M. de Rochefoucault calls it. He will write you all the news +much better than I can possibly do. It is supposed that Madame +de Soubise will not be one of the traveling party. See +how long my letter is growing! Well, I will only mention +La Voisin’s affair, and conclude.</p> + +<p>She was not burned on Wednesday, as I wrote you word; +the sentence was not executed till yesterday. She knew her +fate on the Monday, a very extraordinary circumstance! In +the evening, she said to those who guarded her, “What! no +medianoches!” She ate with them at midnight out of whim, +for it was no fast-day, drank plentifully of wine, and sang several +drinking songs. On Monday she received the question +<span class="pagenum" id="page_201">201</span> +ordinary and extraordinary. She had now dined, and slept +nearly eight hours. She was confronted while under the torture +with Mesdames de Dreux and Le Feron, and several more. +Her answers have not yet transpired, but every one expects to +hear strange things. She supped in the evening, and, lacerated +and disjointed as she was, gave a loose to her excess, to the +disgust of every one present. They endeavored to make her +sensible of her ill conduct, and that she would be much better +employed in thinking of God, and singing devout hymns, than +such songs; upon which she sang a psalm or two in mockery, +and then fell asleep. Wednesday was spent in the like confronting, +drinking, and singing; she absolutely refused to let a +confessor come near her. In short, on the Thursday, that is, +yesterday, they denied her all kinds of food, excepting only a +little broth, of which she complained greatly, seeming to be +apprehensive that she should not have strength to carry her +through the business of the day.</p> + +<p>She came from Vincennes to Paris in a coach; she seemed +embarrassed, and as if she wished to conceal what she felt. +They would have had her confess, but she would not hear of +it. At five o’clock she was bound and set on the sledge, +dressed in white, with a taper in her hand. She was extremely +red in the face, and was seen to push away the confessor and +the crucifix with great violence. Madame de Chaulnes, Madame +de Sully, the Countess (De Fiesque), myself, and several others, +saw her pass by the Hôtel de Sully. When she came to the +Church of Notre-Dame, she refused to pronounce the amende-honorable; +and at the Grêve, she struggled with all her might +to prevent their taking her out of the sledge; she was, however, +dragged out by main force, and made to sit down on the +pile, to which she was bound by iron chains, and then covered +over with straw. She swore prodigiously, and pushed away +the straw five or six times: but at length the fire increased, +she sunk out of sight, and her ashes are by this time floating +in the air. This is the end of Madame Voisin, celebrated for +her crimes and her impiety. One of the judges, to whom my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_202">202</span> +son happened to mention his surprise at persons being burned +alive in a slow fire, made answer: “My dear sir, there are +some indulgences granted to the women in favor of their sex.” +“How, pray sir? are they strangled?” “No, sir; they are +covered with faggots, and the executioner tears off their heads +with iron hooks.” So you see, my child, this is not so dreadful +as we have been told it was. How do you find yourself +after this little story? It made my blood run cold in my +veins.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_176" href="#fnanchor_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> +These were afterward reduced to six, viz., MM. Dangeau, D’Antin, +Saint-Maure, Chiverni, Florensac, and Grignan.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, March 15, 1680.</p> + +<p>I am much afraid we shall lose M. de la Rochefoucault. His +fever still continues. He received the sacrament yesterday. +The tranquillity of his mind is really worthy of admiration. +He has settled all affairs of conscience, and his disorder and +the prospect of approaching dissolution give him no concern; +you would think it was his neighbor at the point of death. +He hears the physicians dispute without being the least affected +by it, and the contentions of the Englishman and Friar Ange, +without saying a word. I return to this verse:</p> + +<p class="sep1 cent cs9 sepb1" lang="fr">Trop au-dessus de lui, pour y prêter l’esprit.<a id="fnanchor_177" href="#footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a></p> + +<p>He would not see Madame de la Fayette yesterday, on account +of her tears, and because he was to receive the sacrament; but +he sent about noon to know how she was. Believe me, my +child, he has not passed his life in making useless reflections: +he has rendered death so familiar that the prospect is neither +new nor terrific to him. M. de Marsillac arrived the day before +yesterday, at midnight, so overwhelmed with grief, that I +do not think even you could feel more for me. It was a long +time before he could compose himself; at length he came in, +when he found M. de Rochefoucault sitting in his chair, with +<span class="pagenum" id="page_203">203</span> +an air very little different from that he usually wore. As M. +de Marsillac is the only one of his children who may be said +to enjoy his friendship, it was thought he would be himself +affected at seeing him; but of this, however, there was not the +smallest appearance, and he even did not name his illness to +him. His son, unable to contain himself any longer, withdrew +to give vent to his grief; when, after a great deal of altercation, +Gourville being against, and Langlade for the Englishman, +each of them supported by different parties in the family, and +the two Esculapian chiefs keeping up all the warmth of their +natural animosity, M. de Marsillac decided in favor of the +Englishman; and yesterday, at four in the afternoon, M. de la +Rochefoucault took his medicines, and at eight repeated them +again. As there is no getting admittance at present, it is +difficult to learn the truth; however, I have been told that +after having been last night within an instant of giving up the +ghost through the struggle between the medicine and the +gouty humor, he had so considerable an evacuation that +though the fever has not yet abated, there is reason to hope +for a favorable issue. I am convinced in my own mind that +he will recover, though M. de Marsillac does not yet venture +to admit a ray of hope. I can compare him, in his affections +and grief, to no one but yourself, my dear child, who can not +bear the thoughts of my death. You may well believe that I +shall not give him M. de Grignan’s letter at present: it shall +go, however, with those that may come afterward; for I am +convinced, with Langlade, from whom I learned all I tell +you, that the remedy given will complete the cure.</p> + +<p>I want to know how you are, after your journey to Marseilles; +I must chide M. de Grignan for taking you with him; +I can not approve of such useless jaunts. Must not you also +show Toulon, Hieres, Saint Baume, Saint Maximin, and the +Fountain of Vaucluse, to the Mademoiselles de Grignan?</p> + +<p>I am almost constantly with Madame de la Fayette, who +must be totally insensible to the charms of friendship, and the +affections of the heart, were she less afflicted than she is. I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_204">204</span> +close this packet at her house, at nine in the evening; she has +read your little note; for, in spite of her fears, she has hope +enough to be able to read it. M. de la Rochefoucault is still +the same; his legs begin to swell, which the Englishman does +not like; he seems certain, however, that his medicines will +have the desired effect. If this be true, I shall admire the +great humanity of the physician in not tearing him piecemeal, +for this will be the ruin of them all; to take the fever out of +their hands, is to take the bread out of their mouths. Du +Chêne is very easy about the matter, but all the others are +stark mad.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_177" href="#fnanchor_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> +Too superior to himself to pay any attention to it.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Sunday, March 17, 1680.</p> + +<p>Though this letter will not go till Wednesday, I can not +help beginning it to-day, to inform you that M. de la Rochefoucault +died last night. I am so much engrossed with this +misfortune, and with the extreme affliction of our poor friend,<a id="fnanchor_178" href="#footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> +that I must relieve my mind by communicating the painful +event to you.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, which was Saturday, the Englishman’s medicine +had done wonders; all the favorable symptoms of Friday, +which I mentioned to you, were increased; his friends began +to sing Te Deum in their hearts; his lungs were clear, his +head free, his fever less, his evacuations such as indicated a +salutary crisis: in this state yesterday, at six o’clock in the +evening, he relapsed, so as to leave no hopes of recovery; his +fever redoubled in an instant, with an oppression of the chest +and delirium; in a word, he was suffocated by the treacherous +gout, and, notwithstanding he had a great degree of +strength left even after all his bleeding, it carried him off in +less than five hours, so that he expired at midnight in the +arms of the Bishop of Condom. M. de Marsillac did not +<span class="pagenum" id="page_205">205</span> +leave him a moment; he is under inexpressible affliction: he +will find, however, some consolation in the king and the court; +and so will the rest of the family, from the place he enjoys: +but when will poor Madame de la Fayette find again such a +friend, such a companion, such kindness, such attention, such +confidence, and such consideration for her and her son! She +is infirm, confined to her room, and not like other people eternally +from home. M. de Rochefoucault was also of a sedentary +disposition; their situation rendered them necessary to +each other; so that the mutual confidence and delightful +friendship that subsisted between them was unequaled. Think +of this, my child, and you will be convinced with me that no +one could sustain a greater loss, for this is not to be repaired +or obliterated even by time. I have never once quitted this +disconsolate friend; she did not mix in the hurry and confusion +of the family, so that she really stood in need of some +pity. Madame de Coulanges has likewise acquitted herself +very well on this occasion, and we shall continue to discharge +our duty even at the hazard of our eyes, which are almost +always filled with tears. You see how unluckily your letters +came; they have hitherto had no admirers but Madame de +Coulanges and myself; when the chevalier returns he may +possibly find a proper season for presenting them; meantime +you must write one out of condolence to M. de Marsillac; he +does honor to filial affection, and is a living proof that you +are not alone in this respect; but, in fact, I doubt that either +of you will meet with many imitators. The melancholy that +reigns around me has awakened all my sensibility, and makes +me feel the anguish of separation in all its horrors.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_178" href="#fnanchor_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> +Madame de la Fayette.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, April 3, 1680.</p> + +<p>My dear child, poor M. Fouquet is dead,<a id="fnanchor_179" href="#footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> and I am affected +at the intelligence: I never knew so many friends lost in a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_206">206</span> +manner at once, and it overwhelms me with sorrow to see so +many dead around me; but what is not around me pierces my +heart, and that is the apprehension I suffer from the return of +your former disorders; for though you would conceal it from +me, I can perceive your flushings, your heaviness, and shortness +of breath. In short, that flattering interval is now over, +and what was thought a cure has turned out a mere palliative. +I remember your words: that a flame half-quenched is +easily revived. The remedies you treasure up against an evil +day, and which you reckon infallible, ought to be used immediately. +Has M. de Grignan no authority on this occasion? Is +he not alarmed at your situation? I have seen young Beaumont; +I leave you to guess whether I asked him any questions. +When I recollected that he had seen you within a +week, he appeared to me the most desirable companion in the +world. He said you were not quite so well when he set out +as you had been during the winter. He mentioned your supper +and entertainment, which he praised highly; as also the +kind attentions both of you and of M. de Grignan, and the +care M. de Grignan’s daughters took that you might not be +missed when you retired to rest. He said wonders of Pauline +and the little marquis; I should never have been the first to +put an end to the conversation, but he wanted to go to St. +Germain; for, as he said, he had paid me the first visit, even +before that which he owed to the king his master. His grandfather +had the same place which Marshal de Bellefond has +had:<a id="fnanchor_180" href="#footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a> he was a very intimate friend of my father’s; and instead +of seeking out for relations, as is generally the custom, my +father chose him, without further ceremony, to stand sponsor +to his daughter; so that he is my godfather. I am perfectly +acquainted with all the family. I think the grandson +handsome, extremely handsome. You did well to say nothing +<span class="pagenum" id="page_207">207</span> +to him about your brother: I have myself mentioned it to +no one, except to such persons as my son had previously informed +of it, in order to find a purchaser.</p> + +<p>I conclude you must by this time be at Grignan. I see +with affliction the bustle of taking leave; I see, on your quitting +your retirement, which appeared to you so short, a journey +to Arles; another fatigue; and I see your journey to +Grignan, where you may possibly be saluted on your arrival +by a northeast wind; ah! I can not behold all these things +for a person so delicate as you are, and not tremble.</p> + +<p>You have sent me an account of Anfossi infinitely preferable +to all mine. I do not wonder you can not think of parting +with an estate where there are so many diverting gipsies. +There could not be a more agreeable or novel reception; you +are indeed so much a Stoic, and so full of reflections, that I +should fear joining mine to yours, lest I should double the sorrow; +but I think it would be prudent and reasonable, and +worthy of M. de Grignan’s affection, to use his utmost endeavors +to be here about the beginning of October. There is no +other place where you can think of passing the winter. But +I will say no more at present; things urged prematurely lose +all their force, and often create disgust.</p> + +<p>There are no more long journeys talked of here; the only +one spoken of is that to Fontainebleau. You will most assuredly +have M. de Vendôme with you this year. For my part, I +am preparing to set out for Brittany with inexpressible regret; +but I must go in order to be there, stay a little while, and +return. After the loss of health, which I always, with reason, +place first, nothing gives me so much vexation as the disorder +of my private affairs. It is to this cruel reason I sacrifice my +ease and gratification; for I leave you to judge what a situation +I am likely to be in, with so much time and solitude on +my hands, to add new force to my anxiety at being separated +from you. This cup, however, I must swallow, bitter as it is, +in hopes of seeing you at my return; for all my movements +tend to that point. And, however superior I may be to other +<span class="pagenum" id="page_208">208</span> +things, that is always superior to me; it is my fate. And the +sufferings which attend my affection for you, being offered to +God, are a penance due for a love which I ought to bear for +him alone.</p> + +<p>My son is just arrived from Douay, where he commanded +the gendarmerie during March. M. de Pomponne has spent +the day here; he loves, honors, and esteems you perfectly. +My being resident for you with Madame de Vins, occasions +my being often with her; and, indeed, I could not wish to be +better any where. Poor Madame de la Fayette is now wholly +at a loss how to dispose of herself; the loss of M. de la Rochefoucault +has made so terrible a void in her life, as to render +her a better judge of the value of so precious a friendship. +Every one else will be comforted in time; but she, alas! has +nothing to occupy her mind, whereas the rest will return to +their several avocations.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle de Scuderi is greatly afflicted with the death +of M. Fouquet; that life is at length terminated, which so many +pains have been taken to preserve. His illness was convulsions, +and a constant retching, without being able to vomit. +I depend on the chevalier for news, especially what relates to +the dauphiness, whose court is composed exactly as you +guessed; your notions are very just. The king is often there, +which keeps the crowd somewhat at a distance. Adieu, my +dear, affectionate child; I love you a thousand times more +than I can express.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_179" href="#fnanchor_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> +Gourville affirms, in his Memoirs, that he was liberated before his +death, and Voltaire believed it, from the account of his daughter-in-law, +Madame de Vaux. But Madame de Sévigné believed he died at +Pignerol, and so did the public. Mademoiselle de Montpensier confirms +the general opinion.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_180" href="#fnanchor_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> +Of steward of the household.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, April 12, 1680.</p> + +<p>You mention the dauphiness to me; the chevalier can tell +you more about her than I can. However, I think she does +not seem to attach herself much to the queen. They have +been to Versailles together, but on other days they generally +make their separate parties. The king frequently visits the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_209">209</span> +dauphiness in an afternoon, when he is sure not to be crowded. +She holds her circle from eight in the evening till half after +nine; all the rest of the day she is alone, or with her ladies +in waiting. The Princess of Conti almost always makes one +of these private parties; for, as she is yet but very young, she +stands in need of such a pattern to form her conduct by. The +dauphiness is a miracle of wit, understanding, and good education. +She frequently mentions her mother with great affection; +and says, that she is indebted to her for all the prosperity +and happiness she enjoys, by the pains she bestowed on +her. She learns music, singing, and dancing; she reads, she +works at her needle; in short, she is a complete being. I +must own that I had a great curiosity to see her. Accordingly +I went with Madame de Chaulnes and Madame de Carman; +she was at her toilet when we came in, and engaged in a conversation +in Italian with the Duke of Nevers. We were presented +to her, and she received us very politely. It is easy +to perceive that, if a moment could be found of putting in a +word opportunely, it would not be difficult to engage her in +conversation. She is fond of Italian, of poetry, of new publications, +music, and dancing. You see that one need not be +long dumb amid such a variety of topics for discourse; but it +requires time—she was going to mass. Neither Madame de +Maintenon nor Madame de Richelieu was in her apartment.</p> + +<p>The court, my dear child, is by no means a place for me; I +am past the time of life to wish for any settlement there. If +I were young I would take pleasure in rendering myself agreeable +to this princess; but what right have I to think of returning +there? You see what my views are. As for those of my +son, they seem to have become more reasonable; he will make +a virtue of necessity, and keep his commission quietly. Indeed +it is not an object for any one to give himself much trouble +to gain, though Heaven knows it has cost us trouble enough; +but the truth is, that money is very scarce, and he sees plainly +that he must not make a foolish bargain. So, my dear, we +must even wait for what Providence shall bring forth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_210">210</span> +Yesterday the Bishop of Autun pronounced the funeral oration +of Madame de Longueville,<a id="fnanchor_181" href="#footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a> at the church of the Carmelites, +with all the powers and grace that man is capable of. +Here was no <i>Tartuffe</i>,<a id="fnanchor_182" href="#footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a> no hypocrite; but a divine of rank, +preaching with dignity, and giving an account of that princess’s +life with all the elegance imaginable, passing lightly +over the most delicate parts of it, and dwelling upon or omitting +all that should or should not be said. His text was these +words, “Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman +that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.” He divided his +oration into two parts, equally beautiful; he spoke of the +charms of her person, and of the late wars, inimitably; and I +need not tell you, that the second part, which was taken up in +giving an account of her exemplary penitence for the last +twenty-seven years of her life, gave him an ample field to expatiate +upon the virtues of her mind, and to place her in the +bosom of her God.<a id="fnanchor_183" href="#footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a> He took occasion very naturally to praise +<span class="pagenum" id="page_211">211</span> +the king; and the prince was also compelled to digest a great +many eulogiums; but as delicately prepared, though in a different +manner, as those of Voiture. This hero was present, +as were the duke, the Princess of Conti, and all the family, besides +an infinite number of other persons; though, in my +opinion, too few, for I think this respect was at least due to +the prince, on occasion of an event he had not yet ceased to +lament. You may perhaps ask me how I came there? Madame +de Guénégaud offered the other day at M. de Chaulnes’, +to take me with her; as it was not inconvenient to me, I was +tempted to embrace the offer; and I assure you I did not at +all repent having done so. There were a great many women +present, who had as little to do there as myself. Both the +prince and the duke paid great attention to all who were +there.</p> + +<p>I saw Madame de la Fayette as we were coming out of the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_212">212</span> +church; she was bathed in tears; it seems that some of M. +de la Rochefoucault’s hand-writing had by accident fallen in +her way, which had awakened all her sorrows. I had just +parted from the Mesdemoiselles de la Rochefoucault at the +Carmelites, who had been also weeping the loss of their father; +the eldest, in particular, equaled M. de Marsillac in affectionate +sorrow. I really do not think that Madame de la Fayette +will ever be comforted; for my part, I am the worst of any +of her acquaintance to be with her; for we can not help indulging +ourselves in talking of that worthy man, and the conversation +is death to her. She was certainly more deserving +of his regard than any of those he had an affection for. She +has read your little note, and thanks you warmly for the manner +in which you seem to enter into her grief.</p> + +<p>Have I told you of the reception Madame de Coulanges met +with at St. Germain? The dauphiness told her that she already +<span class="pagenum" id="page_213">213</span> +knew her by her letters; that her ladies had also told her a +great deal of her wit, and that she wished to judge of it herself. +Madame de Coulanges supported her character admirably +upon the occasion; her repartees were brilliant, sallies of +wit flew without number; in the afternoon she was invited to +be of the princess’s private party, with her three friends: all +the ladies of the court would have strangled her. You see +that by means of these friends she gets admittance to a private +conversation; but what does all this tend to? She can not +be one of their party in public, nor at table. This spoils the +whole; she is fully sensible of the humiliation; and has been +these four days tasting these pleasures and dissatisfactions.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_181" href="#fnanchor_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> +Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, daughter of Henry Bourbon, second +of the name, Prince of Condé, who died the 15th of April, 1679.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_182" href="#fnanchor_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> +It was imagined at that time, that the Bishop of Autun (Gabriel +de Roquette) was the person whom Molière had in view in the character +of Tartuffe.</p> + +<p>We can not forbear adding an epigram of Boileau’s upon him:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">On dit que l’Abbé Roquette</div> + <div class="verse">Preche les sermons d’autrui;</div> + <div class="verse">Moi qui sais qu’il les achète,</div> + <div class="verse">Je soutiens qu’il sont à lui.</div> +</div> + +<p>Which may be Englished by a parody on a well-known epigram in our +language:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">The sermons that Roquette pronounces</div> + <div class="verse">Are his;—who’d so have thought them?</div> + <div class="verse">He swears they’re his; say not he bounces,</div> + <div class="verse">For I know where he bought them!</div> +</div> + +<p><a id="footnote_183" href="#fnanchor_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> +To estimate the skillfulness of the panegyrist, it is proper to know +the soil on which he labored. The life of Madame de Longueville presented +the Abbé Roquette with strange circuitous roads to measure, +before he brought her to the way of salvation, whither he conducted +her. She was one of the three ladies of whom Cardinal de Mazarin +said to Don Louis de Haro: “We have three, among others, who create +greater confusion than arose at the tower of Babel.” Like Madame +de Chevreuse and La Palatine, the part she took in the intrigues of the +minority of Louis XIV. is notorious; like them, she united the triumphs +of beauty to the success of factions, and the love of business to +the love of amours. Voiture represents her as already serious and political, +when, at an early age, she appeared at the Congress of Munster, +where her husband presided over the French embassy. The Fronde +began; her artifices and blandishments seduced the sage Turenne, +when he came at the head of the Spaniards to give battle to the French. +Beloved, not much in the style of a brother, by the Prince de Conti, +she made him the chief of the Frondeurs, and general of the insurgents, +thus opposing him to her other brother, the great Condé, who commanded +the army of the court. It was she who afterward dragged +this hero into the civil war, and joined him to the Spaniards. She long +wandered as a heroine, or as Cardinal de Retz said, who had himself +been her lover, as a fugitive adventurer. She went alternately, commanding +or intriguing, to Holland, Flanders, Dieppe, Stenay, Montrond, +Bordeaux. In 1649 she reigned in the Hôtel-de-ville of Paris, and did +what no one had ever done before, nor will perhaps do after her, she +lay-in there; and that at a time when this hotel served as a palace to +the court, as the seat of government, and as the head-quarters of the +army. Two of her lovers, the Count de Coligny and the Duke de Nemours, +were killed in a duel. The first fought by her orders, in her +quarrel, and under her inspection. The Duke de la Rochefoucault, +who had long loved her, was betrayed by her, both as a friend and as +a lover. When the peace of the Pyrénées had brought back the princes +to France, it was found that age prescribed repose to her, at the same +time that the state of affairs obliged her to it. She endeavored at first +to escape it, by forming a party for Voiture’s sonnet against Benserades. +But these little contests of wit were insipid, in comparison with +those she had been engaged in. Nothing remained for her but devotion; +and as a character and a party were always essential to her, she +became the protectress of the Jansenists at court, and, what is more, +mediatrix between them and Rome. For it was Madame de Longueville +who in 1668 mediated the theological transaction which suspended +the debates of the Formulary, and which was called <i>the peace of Clement +IX</i>. Singular woman! who had the art of making herself conspicuous +while working out her salvation, and of saving herself on the +same plank from perdition and from ennui. It was asserted at the +time, that she died for want of food, and there is no doubt she practiced +the most rigid austerities. “Though naturally delicate,” says Madame +de Maintenon, “she never relaxed in the practice of self-denial.” +There is a life of this lady in two volumes by Villefore, which is said +to be well written.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, May 1, 1680.</p> + +<p>I know not what weather you may have in Provence, but +we have had for these weeks past such horrible weather here +that several journeys have been delayed by it, and mine +among the rest. The good abbé had like to have perished in +going and coming from La Trousse; so says M. de la Trousse—you +would not have believed me. They had an architect +with them, and went to give orders about some alterations, +which will make this house, which we before thought so beautiful, +hardly to be known again.</p> + +<p>We have a new moon to-day, which I hope will bring fine +weather with it, and let me set out; I have not yet fixed on +what day I shall go. I can not express the concern this second +parting gives me; I must surely be out of my senses to remove +so much further from you, and to place a distance of a +hundred leagues more between us than there is already. I +have a mortal aversion to business; it takes up so great a portion +of our time, and makes us run hither and thither just as +it pleases. I shall be so affected when I am setting out, that +those who hand me into my carriage may very naturally +<span class="pagenum" id="page_214">214</span> +think it is at parting with them. I am certain I shall not be +able to refrain from tears, and yet I must go, if it is only that +I may come back again.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle de Méri is now in possession of your apartment; +the noise of that little door opening and shutting, and +the circumstance of not finding you there, have affected me +more than I can express. All my people do their best to +serve her. And if I were vain, I could show you a letter I +received from her the other day, full of thanks for the assistance +I have given her; but as I am very modest, you know, I +will content myself with placing it in my archives.</p> + +<p>I have seen Madame de Vins; she is buried in her law-suits. +However, we find time to chat together, and express our mutual +wonder at the odd medley of good and evil in this world, +and the impossibility of being truly happy. You know all +that fortune has hitherto done for the Duchess of Fontanges. +What she has reserved for her is this: so violent a flux, with +some degree of fever, that she is confined to her bed at Maubuisson, +and her fine face already begins to swell. The Prior +of Cabrières does not quit her for an instant; if he effects a +cure, he will not make his fortune badly at court. Think +whether her situation does not derogate somewhat from her +happiness. Here is further room for reflection. But to another +subject.</p> + +<p>Madame de Dreux was liberated from prison yesterday; she +was only <i>reprimanded</i>, which is a very slight punishment, and +fined five hundred livres, which are to be distributed in alms. +This poor lady has been confined a whole year in a room, where +the light came in only by a small hole at the top, without +tidings of any thing going on, or without comfort. Her mother, +who doted on her, who was herself still young and +handsome, and who was equally beloved by her daughter, died +about two months ago, of grief at her child’s situation. Madame +de Dreux was ignorant of this event; and yesterday, +when her husband and all the family went with open arms to +the place where she was confined, to receive her, the first +<span class="pagenum" id="page_215">215</span> +word she spoke on seeing them enter her room, was, “Where +is my mother? Why is she not here?” M. de Dreux told +her she was waiting for her at home. The poor creature +could not, however, enjoy the satisfaction of being at liberty; +but was incessantly inquiring what ailed her mother, that she +was certain she must be ill, or she would have come to embrace +her after so long a separation. At length she got home. +“What! my mother not here? I do not see her, I do not +hear her!” She flew up stairs. No one knew what to say +to her; all were in tears. She ran into her mother’s apartment, +she looked about her, called, but received no answer; at +length a Celestine friar, who was her confessor, appeared, and +told her that she must not hope to see her mother again till +they met in heaven, and that she must submit with resignation +to the Divine will. Upon hearing this she fainted away, +and when she recovered, burst into tears and lamentations, +which pierced the hearts of all present, crying that it was she +who had killed her mother; that she had rather have died in +prison, than have been set at liberty to know the loss of so +excellent a parent. Coulanges, who had run to M. de Dreux’s, +like many other friends, was witness to the whole of this affecting +scene, which he related to us yesterday so naturally and +pathetically, that Madame de Coulanges’ eyes looked red, and +I wept heartily, being wholly unable to suppress my tears. +What think you, my child, of this bitter ingredient thrown +into the cup of joy and triumph, to overpower the congratulations +and embraces of a whole family and their friends? The +poor soul is still in tears, notwithstanding all M. de Richelieu’s +endeavors to dry them for her. He has indeed done wonders +in this affair.</p> + +<p>I have been insensibly led into this long detail, which you will +comprehend better than any one, and which has affected every +heart. It is believed that M. de Luxembourg will be set at +liberty upon as easy terms as Madame de Dreux; for some of +the judges would have released her without even being <i>reprimanded</i>. +And, upon the whole, the treatment of the accused +<span class="pagenum" id="page_216">216</span> +persons has been shocking and scandalous, considering that +nothing was proved against them. This, however, shows the +integrity of the judges.</p> + +<p>We all approve the discourses of your preacher; we have +envied and admired him. The passion-sermon, which we +heard not far from hence, was a most extraordinary one; I +assure you the terms <i>rascal</i> and <i>scoundrel</i> were made use of, +to express the humiliation of our blessed Saviour. Do not +these terms convey noble and sublime ideas? Bourdaloüe +preached like an angel from heaven, both last year and this, +for it is the same sermon.</p> + +<p>What you write me about this world appearing quite another +world, if we could draw aside the curtain in every +family, is both well expressed and perfectly true. Good +heavens! who can tell whether even the heart of the princess, +whom we praise so much, is thoroughly contented? She has +appeared dull these three or four days past; who knows how +things are with her? She would be with child, and she is +not. Perhaps she wants to see Paris and St. Cloud, and she +has not yet seen them. She is extremely affable; she studies +to please. Who knows but this may cost her some uneasiness? +Who knows whether she is pleased alike with all the +ladies who have the honor of attending upon her? And +lastly, who knows but she may be weary of so retired a life?</p> + +<p>I have this very moment received your amiable melancholy +letter of the 24th. Believe me, my dear child, it sensibly +affects me. I am not yet set out, the bad weather detains me, +for it would have been folly to expose myself in such a season. +This has unhinged every thing. I shall write to you from +Paris again, on Friday, and will tell you about the alterations +that are going on: I gave my opinion first, and am not so silly +as you think, when you are in the case. We read in history<a id="fnanchor_184" href="#footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a> +<span class="pagenum" id="page_217">217</span> +of greater miracles: there are <i>affections</i> which do not yield to +the <i>other</i> passion; hence I am become an architect.</p> + +<p>I admire extremely what you say respecting devotion. Good +heavens! how truly may it be said that we are all like Tantalus +with water close to our lips, and unable to drink! Let the +heart be cold, the understanding enlightened, it is just the +same. I have no need of the dispute between the Jansenists +and Molinists to decide this matter. What I feel myself is +sufficient, and how can I doubt it, if I observe myself an instant? +I could talk a long time, and with infinite pleasure on +this subject, if we were together, but you stop short, and I am +silent. Corbinelli had his share of your letter, for I am fond +of his frank truths. He has just heard a sermon of the Abbé +Flechier’s,<a id="fnanchor_185" href="#footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a> at the taking the vail of a young Capuchin nun, +which has charmed him. The subject was the freedom of the +children of God, which he explained in a bold and masterly +style. He showed “that this young person alone could be +called free, because she partook of the freedom of Christ and +his saints; and she was released from the slavery in which we +are held by our passions; that it was she who was free, and +not we; that she had but one master, whereas we had a hundred; +and that instead of lamenting for her, as we did, with a +worldly sorrow which was blamable, we ought to consider, +respect, and even envy her, as a person chosen from all eternity +to be of the number of the elect.” I have not repeated the +tenth part of what he said on this subject; but it was altogether +a finished piece. The funeral oration on Madame de Longueville +is not to be printed.</p> + +<p>You ask me why I do not take Corbinelli with me? He is +going into Languedoc, loaded with the favors and civilities of +M. de Vardes, who has accompanied his pension of 120 francs +with so excellent a seasoning, I mean so many kind and affectionate +sentiments, that our friend’s philosophy could not withstand +it. Vardes is always in extremes; and as I am +<span class="pagenum" id="page_218">218</span> +persuaded that he formerly hated him, because he had used +him ill, he now loves him, because he uses him well: this is +the Italian proverb and its reverse.<a id="fnanchor_186" href="#footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a> I am going there with +only the good abbé, and a few books, and your idea, which +will prove the source of all my pleasure or pain. I assure you +it will keep me from staying out in the evening dews: I shall +recollect that it would displease you; and this will not be the +only time you have prevented me from continuing my evening +walk, and made me return home. I promise to consult you, +and to follow your advice at all times; do the same by me, +and be under no alarms; rest assured that I will take care of +myself; I wish I could put the same confidence in you; but I +have many subjects of complaint against you on this score; +and without going further than Monaco, have I not the banks +of the Rhône, whither you forced the stoutest hearts in your +family to accompany you, in spite of themselves? I repeat it, +in spite of themselves; and be pleased to remember, on the +other hand, that I should die with fear even to pass les vaux +D’Olioules<a id="fnanchor_187" href="#footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> on foot. This confession of my cowardice is sufficient +to prove my apprehensions and ensure your confidence. +Let then, my dear child, the remembrance of me govern you, +in some degree, as yours always governs me.</p> + +<p>I fancy my son will meet me at Orléans. I am aware of +the attentions of M. de Grignan: he has politeness, nobleness, +and even affectionate tenderness; but he has some points +which are not so agreeable, and more difficult to be conceived; +and as every thing is cut diamond-wise, he has many sides +which are inimitable, so that we are at once tempted to love +and to scold him, to esteem and to blame, to embrace and to +beat him.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear child; I must now leave you. Surely you +mean to laugh at me when you express your apprehensions lest +<span class="pagenum" id="page_219">219</span> +I should write too much. My lungs are almost as delicate as +Georget’s:<a id="fnanchor_188" href="#footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> excuse the comparison, it comes from hence. But +for you, my child, let me conjure you not to write. Montgobert, +pray do not abandon me, but step in and take the pen +from her hand.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_184" href="#fnanchor_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> +Every one knows that painting and sculpture took their rise from +love, and that a marshal, who fell in love with a painter’s daughter, +became an excellent painter, merely by endeavoring to please his mistress.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_185" href="#fnanchor_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> +Esprit Flechier, made Bishop of Lauvar in 1685, and removed +from thence to Nîmes in 1687.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_186" href="#fnanchor_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> +<i lang="it">Chi offende non perdona.</i> The offender never pardons.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_187" href="#fnanchor_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> +<i lang="fr">Les vaux D’Olioules</i>, or, as it is called in the dialect of that country, +<i lang="fr">leis baous D’Oulioules</i>, is a narrow pass by the side of a river, about a +league in length, running between two steep hills, in Provence.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_188" href="#fnanchor_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> +A celebrated ladies’ shoemaker at Paris.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, May 6, 1680.</p> + +<p>You observe with great humor, that, if the human heart is +left to itself, it will always find something to comfort itself +with, and that its disposition is to be happy. I hope mine +will have the same disposition as others, and that time and the +air will abate the uneasiness I at present endure. I think you +borrowed from me what you say about the passion of separating +ourselves from each other; it might be supposed that we +thought ourselves too near neighbors, and that after mature +deliberation it had been resolved on both sides to make a voluntary +removal of three hundred leagues further asunder. +You see I in a manner copy your own letter; the reason is, +that you have given so agreeable a turn to my idea, that I take +pleasure in repeating it. I hope at last, the sea will set bounds +to our passion, and that after having retired, each to a certain +distance, we shall return back, and advance toward each other +as fast as we have receded. It is certain that for two persons +who seek each other’s company, and delight in being together, +we have had the most singular destiny. Whoever were to seek +to destroy my faith in Providence, would deprive me of my +only comfort; and if I thought it was in our own power to +settle or unsettle, to do or undo, to will one thing or another, +I should never have a moment’s peace. The Creator of the +universe must be with me the director of every event that happens; +and when I look to him as the cause, I blame no one, +and submit with humility, though not without inexpressible +<span class="pagenum" id="page_220">220</span> +grief of heart; at the same time I put my trust in Him, that +He will again bring us together as he has done before.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Friday, May 31, 1680.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this letter will not go till Sunday, I am resolved +to begin it to-day, that I may date once more in the +month of May. I fear that of June will appear still longer to +me. I am certain, however, of not seeing so fine a country as +the one I have left. There is a month in the year in which it +rains every day; this is owing to your prayers; why will you +not leave Providence a little to itself? sometimes too much +rain, sometimes too great drought; you are never contented. +God forgive me! but this puts me in mind of the story of Jupiter +in Lucian, who is so wearied with the incessant importunities +of mortals, that he sends Mercury to inquire into the +matter, and, at the same time, orders ten thousand bushels of +hail to fall upon Egypt, to stop their mouths.</p> + +<p>I will no longer oblige you to answer me on the subject of +the Divine Providence, which I so greatly revere; and which, +in my opinion, commands and orders every thing in the world. +I am persuaded you will not dare to treat this opinion as an +inconceivable mystery, with the disciples of your Father Descartes; +it would be indeed inconceivable, that God should have +made the world, and not direct all that passes in it. Those +who make such fine restrictions and contradistinctions in their +writings, speak much more freely, and with greater truth on +the subject, when they have no crooked policy to govern them. +These <i>cutpurses</i> are very agreeable in their conversation. I +shall not mention their names, because I fancy you guess the +principal one: the others are the Abbé du Pile, and M. Dubois,<a id="fnanchor_189" href="#footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> +whom you are acquainted with, and who has an infinite +<span class="pagenum" id="page_221">221</span> +share of wit. Poor Nicole is still in the Ardennes,<a id="fnanchor_190" href="#footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> and M. +Arnauld buried under ground, like a mole.<a id="fnanchor_191" href="#footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a> But whither is +my pen running? This is not what I meant to say to you. +I intended to tell you that I received your letters at the place +where we dined the day I left Nantes, and that, having no +other means of conversing with you at so great a distance, +the reading of them forms an occupation preferable to every +other.</p> + +<p>We found the roads greatly improved between Nantes and +Rennes, thanks to the care of M. de Chaulnes; but the incessant +rains we have had of late have made them as if two winters +had followed close upon each other. We were continually +in sloughs, or rivers of water; we did not dare to cross over +by Chateaubriant, for fear of being unable to get further. We +arrived at Rennes on Ascension eve, and dear good Marbeuf +was ready to devour me; nothing would satisfy her, but my +taking up my abode for a time at her house, but I refused; I +would neither sup nor sleep there: the next day she gave me +a very elegant public breakfast, when the governor, and every +person of note in the town, came to visit me. We set out +again at ten o’clock, though every body assured me, that I had +time enough before me, and that the roads were <i>like this room</i>; +for that, you know, is the usual comparison: however, we +found them so much <i>like this room</i>, that we did not get there +till after midnight, and were all the way up to the axle-trees +in water, and from Vitré to this place, a road I have passed a +thousand and a thousand times, it was impossible to know it +again; the causeways are become impassable; the ruts are sunk +to a frightful depth; the little inequalities are perfect mountains +<span class="pagenum" id="page_222">222</span> +and caverns; in a word, <i>finding</i> that we could no longer +<i>find</i> our way, we sent to Pilois for help; he came accordingly +bringing with him about a dozen stout country-fellows, some +of whom held up the carriage, while others went before with +wisps of lighted straw; and all spoke such jargon, that we +were ready to die with laughing; at length, thus attended, we +arrived here, our horses jaded, our people dripping, our carriage +almost broken down, and ourselves tolerably fatigued; +we made a very light supper, went to bed, slept heartily, and +this morning, when we awoke, we found ourselves safe and +sound at the Rocks, though very much out of sorts. I had +taken the precaution to send a servant before us, that we might +not come into the midst of a dust of four years standing; and +we are tolerably decent at least. We have been entertained +with a great number of visitors from Vitré, such as the Recollets, +Mademoiselle du Plessis, still in tears for her mother, etc. +etc., but I had not a moment’s comfort till I had got rid of +them all, which was about six o’clock in the evening, and had +spent a little time in my woods, with honest Pilois. The +walks and alleys are really enchanting; there are half a +dozen new ones you have never seen. By the by, be under +no apprehension about my exposing myself to the damps; I +know it would make you angry if I did, and that is sufficient +to deter me.</p> + +<p>You always tell me that you are in good health, and so does +Montgobert; and yet I can not help thinking that the plan +of plunging twice a day into the Rhône can only suit a person +whose blood is violently heated. I entreat you, my child, to +consult a very grave and learned author in regard to the effects +bathing may have on your lungs: you know I was witness +to the evident injury you sustained from your half-baths, +though they were advised by Fagon.<a id="fnanchor_192" href="#footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a></p> + +<p>You must certainly have stood in need of all your strength +to support the numerous visitors you have had; twenty persons +extraordinary at table makes me start a little. These are +<span class="pagenum" id="page_223">223</span> +whole retinues, as Corbinelli used to call them, when he found +himself so crowded in your drawing-room, and neither saluted +nor took notice of any one; it must be owned that your house +is the most frequented of any in the country; this is living at +rack and manger. Do you remember when we had all the +Fouesnels here, with what impatience we waited for the happy +minute when they were to take their leave; how cheerfully we +bid them adieu in our hearts, and how terrified we were lest +they should yield to the false entreaties we made them to +stay; how our hearts bounded when we saw them fairly gone; +and our reflections how much bad company was preferable to +good, the latter occasioning pain when they leave us, whereas +the departure of the other takes a weight from the mind, and +restores it to freedom? do you remember all this, and how +perfectly we enjoyed ourselves upon the occasion?</p> + +<p>Madame de Coulanges writes me word that Madame de +Maintenon has lost a cane to the dauphin; Madame de Coulanges +has ordered it to be made. The head is a pomegranate +of gold, studded with rubies; it opens and discovers the miniature +picture of the dauphiness, with these words underneath, +<i lang="it">Il piu grato nasconde</i>.<a id="fnanchor_193" href="#footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a> Clement formerly made this device +for you; but that which seemed an exaggeration when applied +to you, is perfectly true with regard to this princess. The +beautiful Fontanges still continues very ill. My son tells me +they pass their time very pleasantly at Fontainebleau. Corneille’s +comedies are the delight of the whole court; I have +written to my son that it must be a great pleasure to be +obliged to be there, to have a master, a place, and the favor +of the great; and had it been my case I should have been extremely +fond of that part of the world; that the contrary was +the sole reason of my removing to such a distance from it; +that this kind of contempt was, in fact, the result of disappointment +and vexation, and that <i>I abused it out of pure revenge</i>, +as Montaigne says of youth; in short, that I wondered +how he could prefer passing his time as I do, with Madame du +<span class="pagenum" id="page_224">224</span> +Plessis and Mademoiselle de Launay, to spending it in the +midst of all that is gay and great.</p> + +<p>What I say for myself, my child, I say in reality for you; +for do not imagine, if M. de Grignan and you were situated +agreeably to your merit, that you would have any dislike to +such a life; but it does not please Providence that you should +arrive at more greatness than you at present possess. As to +myself, I have seen the day when little, very little, was wanting +for fortune to have placed me in the most agreeable situation +in the world; when, all of a sudden, the scene changed to imprisonment +and exile.<a id="fnanchor_194" href="#footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a> Do you think my fortune has been the +happiest in the world? yet I am content; or, if I have my +moments of murmuring, it is not on my own account.</p> + +<p>Your description of Madame D.’s conduct is very amusing; +it is a sort of economy in love, worthy of Armida. You seem +to believe that M. de Rouillé will not return; I am sorry for +it, and I should be still more so were it not that I believe your +stay in Provence almost at an end, and consequently that you +can have little occasion for him. If any thing is to be done +in the assembly, the coadjutor will give a good account of it, +in the absence of M. de Grignan.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_189" href="#fnanchor_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> +Dubois, of the French Academy, who translated several works of +Cicero and Saint Augustin.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_190" href="#fnanchor_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> +The forest of Ardennes, in the Low Countries.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_191" href="#fnanchor_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> +After the death of Madame de Longueville, these able writers, +fearing persecution, left France. Arnauld retired into the Low Countries, +where he lived long unknown and in poverty. He remained +there till his death. Nicole, more conciliating and less dreaded, returned +to France. He figured in the quarrel of Bossuet and Fénelon. +He supported the former, but with prudence and moderation.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_192" href="#fnanchor_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> +First physician to Louis XIV.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_193" href="#fnanchor_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> +The greatest charms are concealed.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_194" href="#fnanchor_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné alludes to the banishment of M. de Bussy, the +chief of her house, and the confinement of M. de Fouquet, her intimate +friend. To which may be added, the exile of the Arnaulds, and, +further back still, the misfortunes of Cardinal de Retz, her relation and +friend.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, June 5, 1680.</p> + +<p>At length I have the pleasure, at this immense distance +from each other, to receive your letters on the ninth day after +they are written, with the prospect of happier times before +me. I often admire the great kindness and civility of those +gentlemen of whom the author of Moral Essays speaks so +<span class="pagenum" id="page_225">225</span> +humorously, and to whom we are so much indebted. What do +they not do for us? To what offices do they not submit, to +be useful to us? Some run four or five hundred miles to carry +our letters; others, at the hazard of their necks, climb to the +tops of our houses, to prevent our being incommoded by the +rains; and others suffer still more. In short, this is an arrangement +of Providence; and the thought of gain, which is +in itself an evil, becomes converted into a source of good.</p> + +<p>I have brought a number of the best authors with me, +which I have been arranging this morning. There is no looking +into them, whichever it may be, without a desire to read +it through. Some are religious tracts that do honor to the +faith they maintain; others books of history, the best of their +kind; besides ethics, poetry, novels, and memoirs. The romances +are in disgrace, and banished to a by-closet. When +I enter this little library I wonder how I am able to leave it +again. In short, my child, it is altogether worthy of your +presence, and so are my walks; but, for the company, it is +very far from being so. There is strange skimming of the +pot on Sundays:<a id="fnanchor_195" href="#footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a> one good thing, however, is, that they sup +at six o’clock, and leave me to fly to my lawns and groves for +relief. Madame du Plessis, in her deep mourning, never quits +me. I could well say of her mother as of M. de Bonneuil, +she has left a very ridiculous daughter behind her: she is so +impertinent too. I am really ashamed of her regard for me, +and I sometimes say to myself, Is it possible there can be any +sympathy between her and me? She talks incessantly; but +by the grace of God, I am to her, as you are to many others, +absolutely dead; I do not hear three words she says. She is +at daggers drawn with all her family about her mother’s will: +this is a new embellishment to the former beauties of her +mind: she confounds the meaning of every thing she says; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_226">226</span> +and when she is complaining of the ill-treatment she receives, +she cries, They have used me <i>like a barbarity, like a cruelty</i>. +You will have me entertain you with such trash, and now I +hope you have enough for a time.</p> + +<p>My letters are of such an enormous length that you ought, +according to your rule, to make yours to me very short, and +leave all the rest to Montgobert. Health is at all times a real +and intrinsic treasure, that will serve us on every exigency. +Madame de Coulanges has written me a thousand trifles, that +I would communicate to you, but that I think it would be absolutely +ridiculous. The favor of her <i>female friend</i> (Madame +de Maintenon) still continues. The queen accuses her of the +cause of the distance between her and the dauphiness. The +king comforts her for this disgrace: she visits him every day, +and their conversations are of a length that surprises every +body, and gives occasion to numberless conjectures.</p> + +<p>I consider futurity as a dark road, in which the traveler +may find light and accommodation when he least thinks of it.</p> + +<p>M. de Lavardin is going to be married<a id="fnanchor_196" href="#footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a> in good earnest; +and Madame de Mouci<a id="fnanchor_197" href="#footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a> is said to be the person who inspires +Madame de Lavardin with the idea of doing every +thing that can prove advantageous to her son. This De Mouci +must certainly have a most extraordinary soul. Young Molac +is to marry the Duchess of Fontanges’s sister; the king gives +him to the value of 400,000 francs with her.</p> + +<p>How just is your observation upon the death of M. de la +Rochefoucault and so many other friends! “The ranks close, +and he is seen no more.” It is certain that Madame de la +Fayette is overwhelmed with grief, and can not feel, as she +would have done at another time, the good fortune of her son. +The dauphiness was particular in her attentions to her: the +Princess of Savoy has spoken of her as her best friend.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_227">227</span> +I am very glad my letter pleased M. de Grignan: I spoke +my mind with great sincerity. He must divest himself of all +those ruinous whims, which take their turns with him by the +quarter. They must not merely sleep, like the nobility of +Lower Brittany, but be altogether extinct.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my beloved child; I admire and love your letters, +and yet I will have no more of them; cut short, and leave +Montgobert to prattle in your stead. I will try to take from +you the desire of writing much: by the length of my letters +you shall find them beyond your strength to answer, which is +just what I wish; so shall I be a shield to you. I am of +opinion that you have a numerous correspondence upon your +hands, say what you will; for my part, I only stand upon the +defensive in my answers, I never begin the attack; but then, +even these seem of such a bulk, that, on post-days, when I retire +to my chamber at night, and see my writing-desk, I am +ready to run under the bed to hide myself, like our late <i>madame’s</i> +little dog, whenever it saw a book.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_195" href="#fnanchor_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> +On account of the number of visitors, which was always greatest +on Sundays, and to whom Madame de Sévigné thought herself obliged +to do the honors of her house, which she humorously called <i>skimming +her pot</i>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_196" href="#fnanchor_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> +To Louise-Anne de Noailles, sister to Anne Julius Duke of Noailles, +and Marshal of France.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_197" href="#fnanchor_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> +Marie de Harlaie, sister to Achilles de Harlaie, at that time attorney-general, +and afterward first president of the parliament of Paris.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, June 12, 1680.</p> + +<p>So, I have written a sermon without thinking of it! I am +as much surprised at this as the Count de Soissons,<a id="fnanchor_198" href="#footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a> when he +was told he had made prose. It is true, I feel myself disposed +to do all honor to the grace of Christ. I do not cry out, as +the queen-mother did in the excess of her zeal against those +vile Jansenists, “Ah! fie, fie upon grace!” I say the contrary, +and can bring good vouchers for it. Since you have imparted +to me your visions, with regard to the fortunes of your brothers-in-law, +I will tell you sincerely that I was afraid the air +of a house, where saving grace was sometimes talked of, might +<span class="pagenum" id="page_228">228</span> +have injured the Abbé de Grignan. Thank heaven, I have +done no more harm than yourself; and if I am silent for the +future, as I ought, and certainly shall be, it will not be from +the fear of injuring any one. Your young bishops are seldom +suspected of this heresy. I have just been writing to the +chevalier: he has absolutely forgotten me, and as he is not +infected with the Grignan indolence, it may be a serious business.</p> + +<p>Your great building, my dear, is begun to-day; Du But +will do all he can to hasten the workmen. There was no possibility +of commencing sooner, and there is time enough to +complete every thing. I send you a letter of Madame de Lavardin’s, +by which you will see what are her sentiments. I +am almost tempted to send you likewise a very long letter I +have received from Madame de Mouci, in which she takes +pleasure in acquainting me with every thing she has done +relatively to this marriage; she has made choice of me, in +preference to any other person, to communicate the whole of +his conduct to. She is in the right; the second volume is +worthy the admiration of any one who had read the first. +She seems happy in taking every opportunity of loading M. +de Lavardin with favors, by means of the influence she has +over his mother. She has made her give a thousand pounds +worth of pearls; she has made her give all the fire-irons, +stoves, candlesticks, tables, and silver waiters, that were worth +having; handsome tapestry, fine old furniture, with linen and +dressing gowns, which Madame de Mouci selected herself. +Her heart takes this method of avenging itself; but for her it +would have been a mere village wedding. She has made her +give considerable estates to her son, and, to crown all, she will +manage so that the new married couple will not live in the +same house with the mother, whose overbearing temper, and +rigid observance of hours, would by no means suit the young +couple. Madame de Mouci delights in displaying to me the +liberality of her soul, and I am amazed to see the extraordinary +manner in which she contributes to M. de Lavardin’s +<span class="pagenum" id="page_229">229</span> +happiness. The desire of being singular, and of distinguishing +ourselves by stepping a little out of the common road, seems +to me to be the source of many virtues. She writes me word +that she should be very happy if I were at Paris, because I +should understand her; no one else being able to comprehend +what she is doing. She adds besides that I should die with +laughing, to see the grimaces Madame de Lavardin makes, +every time the devil of avarice is cast out of her by the power +of her exorcisms. The poor lady seems perfectly exhausted, +<i>like the nuns of Loudun</i>.<a id="fnanchor_199" href="#footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a> It must certainly be a very comic +scene.</p> + +<p>I have also received some very entertaining letters from the +Marchioness d’Huxelles. The fair widows do wonders. Madame +de Coulanges assures me, that she is to set out on the +20th for Lyons; she writes me a thousand trifles. This city +will become the source of all the private intelligence of the +court; but do you suppose she will communicate any of this +precious commodity to the inhabitants?</p> + +<p>I had a visit the other day from an Augustin friar, a poor +creature, a very poor creature indeed. He assumed the airs +of a preacher, but I answered his pompous ignorance only +with a smile of contempt; he still went on, till at last I was +strongly tempted to throw a book at his head. I fancy Madame +de Coulanges will be ready to reply in the same way to +the ladies of Lyons. Young Coulanges will be with you; he +has given up M. de Chaulnes and Brittany for Lyons and the +Grignans. I am quite of his opinion, my dearest child, and +my greatest joy would be to make one of your party. Ah! +<span class="pagenum" id="page_230">230</span> +how I should like to sup in your delightful grotto! How +pleased I should be with M. de Grignan’s music, and those +beautiful passages in the opera, which have often made my +eyes glisten. Oh! it would be a charming party. Your +house is a little town. Really, to reflect upon our situations +and dispositions, it might be supposed some magic change had +been wrought upon us. And yet, to the honor of both, you +fill your exalted station admirably, and shine as in your proper +sphere; while I and my humble fortune seem fitted for the +woods, and the solitude I inhabit. The truth is, I am assured +from whence all this comes; it is necessary to raise our +eyes to Heaven, after having long kept them fixed upon the earth.</p> + +<p>The other evening one of my people told me, “that it was +very warm in the mall; that there was not a breath of air +stirring, and that the moon shone with the finest effect +imaginable.” I could not resist the temptation, so on I put +bonnets, cloaks, capuchins, and all the needless defenses you +could wish; and forth I sallied to the mall, where the air +was as mild as in my own room. I found there a thousand +fantastic illusions of the night, black and white friars, linen +scattered here and there, black men in one place, others buried +upright against trees, little dwarfs who just showed their heads +and concealed the rest of their bodies, priests who dared not +approach me, etc., etc. After having laughed heartily at all +these figures, and fully convinced ourselves of the true origin +of what are called spirits, apparitions, that play their farces in +the theater of our imaginations, we returned to the house +without sitting down, or feeling the lest dew. I beg your pardon, +my dear child, but I thought myself obliged, after the +example of the ancients, as the foolish fellow we met in the +gardens at Livri used to say, to show this mark of respect to +the moon; I assure you I have sustained no injury from it.</p> + +<p>There has fallen to me, out of the clouds, one of the prettiest +calambour<a id="fnanchor_200" href="#footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a> chaplets in the world; this is doubtless because +I tell my beads so well. The best ball to the best +<span class="pagenum" id="page_231">231</span> +player, you know. This chaplet has a cross of diamonds +hanging to it, with a death’s head of coral; <i>I have certainly +seen that vile face somewhere</i>. Tell me, I beseech you, how it +found its way to me at such a distance? In the mean time, I +shall not tell my beads without considerable musings; I am +of opinion that it will occasion greater distractions. I wait +your answer on this subject.</p> + +<p>Have you heard the story of Madame de Saint-Pouanges? +They concealed it a long time from me, lest it should prevent +me from returning to Paris in a carriage. This lady was +going to Fontainebleau, for we should let no advantage slip, +where she pretended she should be highly entertained; she +had a very pretty place at court, was young, and had a taste +for all the pleasures suitable to her years; she adopted the +fashionable mode of setting out at six o’clock in the evening, +and driving post, so as to get in about midnight. But, listen +to the consequences: her carriage was overturned by the way, +a piece of broken glass pierced through her stays into her +body, and she died of the wound. They write me word from +Paris that she lost her reason, between the pain the surgeons +gave her and the mortification of dying in the bloom of youth. +Is not this a curious adventure? If you know it already, it +will be ridiculous to tell it you a second time; but it has +made a strange impression on my brain. It seems Madame +de Nevers<a id="fnanchor_201" href="#footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a> has made one, on the greatest head in the world, +and has turned another smaller one quite topsy-turvy; but I +do not find that this has been attended with any serious consequences.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_232">232</span> +The king took the sacrament on Whitsunday. Madame de +Fontange’s influence still continues brilliant and solid; but +what are we to think of this friendship? I have received a +letter from M. Pomponne, in the midst of his retirement, of +which I am more proud than if it had been from amid all the +splendor of St. Germain. It is there he is again become as +perfect as at Frêne. Ah! how excellent a use does he make +of his disgrace, and what charming company he is in!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_198" href="#fnanchor_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> +It is singular that Molière should have found in a nobleman the +most laughable instances of ignorance, with which he endows his +<i lang="fr">Bourgeois Gentilhomme</i>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_199" href="#fnanchor_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> +Alluding to the <i lang="fr">Histoire des Diables de Loudun</i>, History of the +Devils of Loudun. It is well known that the fierce hatred of Cardinal +de Richelieu, the maneuvers of the Capuchin Joseph, and the cruelty +of the judge, Laubardement, caused the unfortunate curé Urbain Grandier +to perish in the flames, as convicted of the crime of magic, “upon +the deposition of Ashtaroth, devil of the order of Seraphims, and chief +of the possessing devils, and Eusas, Cham, Acaos, Zebulan, Nephthaim, +Uriel, and Acas, of the order of the principalities.” These are the +terms of the sentence.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_200" href="#fnanchor_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> +<i lang="fr">Calembour</i>, <i lang="fr">calambouc</i>, or <i lang="fr">calambac</i>, +are knots of the aloe-tree round +which the resin collects and hardens by incorporation. This calembouc +held to the fire emits a fine perfume. The aloe-tree grows in the woods +of Cochin-China.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_201" href="#fnanchor_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> +Madame de Nevers, the daughter of Madame de Thianges, was a +perfect beauty. The <i>greatest head</i> is the king; but it was not true that +he had designs upon her, as it was said she had upon him. The other +<i>smaller head</i> was the duke, the son of the great Condé, who was really +very much in love with her.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Saturday, June 15, 1680.</p> + +<p>I shall make no answer to what you say of my letters. I +am extremely happy that they please you; had you not told +me so I should have thought them unbearable. I never can +muster up courage enough to read one of them through, and +I often say to myself, Good heavens! with what nonsense do I +pester my poor child! Sometimes I even repent having written +so much, lest I should lay you under a sort of obligation +to answer me in the same way; but let me entreat you, my +child, to indulge me in the pleasure of chatting to you without +putting yourself to the trouble of answering. Your last +letter exceeded all the bounds of prudence and the care you +ought to take of your health.</p> + +<p>You are too good in wishing me more society; but, in fact, +I do not want it. I am accustomed to solitude. I have my +workmen to amuse me, and the good abbé has his likewise. +His taste for buildings and alterations gets the better of his +prudence. It does not cost him much, indeed, but it would +cost him still less to let it alone.</p> + +<p>All my delight is in my wood: it is impossible to describe +how beautiful it is. I often walk there with my cane and +Louison, which is all I desire. In my closet I find such agreeable +company that I often say to myself, This is worthy my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_233">233</span> +daughter; she could not here lay her hand amiss upon a book, +there is hardly room left for choice. I have taken up <i lang="fr">Les Conversations +Chrétiennes</i> (Christian Dialogues). They are written +by an honest Cartesian, who seems to have all your <i lang="fr">Recherche +de la Vérité</i> (Inquiry after Truth), by heart; which treats of +that philosophy, and of the supreme power of God over his +creatures, who, as St. Paul says, “live, move, and have their +being,” in Him alone, and by him know all things. I will let +you know if this book is within my comprehension, if not, I +shall quit it with all humility, renouncing the foolish vanity +of appearing wise when I am not so. I assure you I think +like <i>our brothers</i>; and were I to express myself in print, I +should say so. I know the difference between the language +of policy and that of the heart. God is omnipotent, and does +what he pleases; that I understand. He wants our hearts, +and we will not give them to him; there lies the mystery. +But do not discover that of our sisters of Saint-Marie: they +write me word that they are charmed with the book I lent +them.<a id="fnanchor_202" href="#footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a></p> + +<p>You remind me of the foolish answer I made to excuse myself +from going to Madame de Bret***,<a id="fnanchor_203" href="#footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a> “that I had but one +son.” This made your bishops start. I thought that it had +been merely my <i>heretical air</i>. I mentioned it to you the other +day. I think, however, there appeared something strange in +the expression. Heaven be praised, my dear countess, we have +done no harm; your brothers could not be better provided for +than at present, even had we been <i>Molinists</i>. <i>Probable opinions</i>, +and the <i>direction of purposes</i>, would not have been more +advantageous to them in the Hôtel de Carnavalet than the +libertinism of our conversations. I am delighted at it, and +have often thought how unjustly we might have suffered on +this occasion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_234">234</span> +I can make nothing of the affair of M. de la Trousse or +Madame d’Epinoi, or of the servant who robbed them. I will +endeavor to get information on this subject, and will send you +the letters. You find that poor Madame de Lavardin is quite +unhappy. Who would have supposed that she would have +been otherwise than rejoiced at her son’s being married?<a id="fnanchor_204" href="#footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a> +But I speak like a fool. It should be our invariable maxim, +that human nature can never be happy. Young Chiverni +seems to be as much so as any one: you see how he has extricated +himself from his misery. Your poor brother, indeed, +seems fated never to be happy in this world; as to the other +world, if we may judge by appearances, I see no probability +of his being in the right road. The Bishop of Chalons is +certainly in heaven, for he was a devout prelate and a virtuous +man. You see all our friends are lost to us one after another.</p> + +<p>I wrote the other day to Madame de Vins that I would +leave her to guess what sort of virtue I practiced most here; +and informed her it was liberality. It is certain that I have +given away very considerable sums since my arrival; eight +hundred francs one morning, one thousand another, five hundred +another, one day three hundred crowns; you may think +I am jesting, but it is too true. I have farmers and millers +who owe me these sums, and have not a farthing to pay me +with. What is to be done in this case? Why I make a virtue +of necessity, and forgive them the debts. You will readily +believe that I make no great merit of this since it is forced +liberality; but my head was full of it when I wrote to Madame +de Vins, and so down it went on the paper. I endeavor to +make the fines pay for it. I have not yet touched one of the +six thousand francs from Nantes; money-matters are not soon +settled. The other day I had a visit from a pretty little wife +of a farmer of Bodégat, with sparkling eyes, fine person, and +smartly dressed in a holland gown, with ruffled cuffs, and a +long train. Good heavens! thought I, when I saw her, I am +ruined; for you must know, her husband owes me eight thousand +<span class="pagenum" id="page_235">235</span> +francs. M. de Grignan would certainly have fallen in +love with this woman; she is the very image of one he admired +at Paris. This morning a countryman came in with +bags on all sides, some under his arms, some in his pockets, +and some in his breeches, which he began to untie, for in this +country they dress in a strange way; the fashion of buttoning +the lower part of the jacket is not yet introduced here; they +are very saving of the stuff of which their breeches are composed, +and from the gentry of Vitré down to my clodpole, +every thing is in the highest state of negligence. The good +abbé, who, you know, loves the main chance, seeing the fellow +so loaded, thought we were rich forever. “Upon my word, +friend, you are bravely loaded, how much money do you bring +us?” “Please your reverence,” answered the man, “I think +there is a matter of thirty francs.” My dear child, I believe +all the <i lang="fr">doubles</i><a id="fnanchor_205" href="#footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a> in France were collected to fill these bags. In +this manner do they abuse our patience and forbearance.</p> + +<p>You give me great pleasure by what you say of Montgobert. +I thought, indeed, what I wrote to you upon her account +was superfluous, and that your excellent understanding +would reconcile every thing. In this manner, my child, you +ought always to act, in spite of momentary vexations. Montgobert +has an excellent heart, though her temper is rather too +hasty and impetuous; I always honor the goodness of her +heart. We are frequently obliged to bear with the little dependencies +and circumstances of friendship, though they may +sometimes be disagreeable. I shall some day send her a bad +cause to defend at Rochecourbière; since she has a talent for +these things, it ought to be exercised. You will have M. de +Coulanges with you; who will be a capital performer. He +will inform you of his views and expectations, I know nothing +of them myself; he dreads solitude so much that he will not +even write to any one who lives in it. Grignan, therefore, is a +place perfectly qualified to charm him, as he himself is to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_236">236</span> +charm others; I never met with such delightful society, it is +the object of all my wishes; I think of you all incessantly; I +read your letters over and over again, saying as at Livri: Let +us see what my daughter said to me a week or ten days ago; +for, in short, it is she who converses with me, and I thus enjoy +“the ingenious art of painting language, and of talking to the +eyes.”</p> + +<p>You know it is not the retired groves at the Rocks that +make me think of you; I thought of you as much in the midst +of the bustle of Paris. You are fixed in the center of my +heart; every thing else is transient; it passes and is forgotten. +I have forgotten even my Agnes, and yet she is very amiable; +her wit has something of the simplicity of the country in it; +but that of Madame de Tarente is still in the high courtly +taste. The roads from hence to Vitré are grown so intolerably +bad, that the king and M. de Chaulnes have ordered them +to be repaired. All the peasants of that barony will be assembled +there on Monday next.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dearest! when I tell you that my affection is of +no use to you, do you not understand in what way I mean, +and to what my heart and imagination tend? Pray tell me +if you intend to place our little girl at Aix with her aunt,<a id="fnanchor_206" href="#footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a> and +to send Paulina away. The dear child is a perfect prodigy; +her understanding and wit are a sufficient portion for her; +will you then place her on a level with a common person? I +should always take her with me wherever I went, and should +never think of sending her to Aix with her sister.<a id="fnanchor_207" href="#footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a> In short, +I should treat her, as she merits, extraordinarily.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_202" href="#fnanchor_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> +See <a href="#page_429">Letter</a>, May 25.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_203" href="#fnanchor_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> +Apparently, Madame de Bretonvilliers, whom the Memoirs of the +times represent as the over-officious friend of the Archbishop of Paris +De Harlai, who was not so timid a priest as he was a rigid Molinist.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_204" href="#fnanchor_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> +See the preceding Letter.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_205" href="#fnanchor_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> +Small pieces of money, of which about five are equal to an English +penny.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_206" href="#fnanchor_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> +Marie Adhémar de Monteil, sister of M. de Grignan, and one of +the nuns of Aubenas, a town and convent of the Lower Vivares. See +the letter of 9th of June.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_207" href="#fnanchor_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> +Marie Blanche, the eldest sister of Paulina, was in the nunnery of +St. Marie of Aix, where a short time afterward she took the vail.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_237">237</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, Sept. 15, 1680.</p> + +<p>What infinite obligations does my heart owe you, and how +happy have you made it, by permitting me to hope for your +presence this winter! I have read over and over again the +delightful letter I so fondly and impatiently expected. I said +to myself, “Yes, this is the voice of my child, who assures +me she shall come to Paris soon after All-Saints.” Oh, how +great the joy to have such comfortable assurance in my possession!</p> + +<p>You surprise me at the profound secrecy that our lovely +saint observes of her noble and pious intentions to Madame +du Janet. It is so natural to talk of what we ardently wish, +of what the heart is full of, that it is doing penance beforehand +to keep silence on such occasions; but such is her disposition; +she speaks on this subject only to her holy father alone, +as it is he alone who is to determine the duration of a residence +which she would be sorry to have protracted. By depriving +herself of the pleasure of communicating her intentions, +she finds them more strongly confirmed in her breast.</p> + +<p>I can not at this distance discover what is become of the +crowd that so lately swarmed in your castle. I left you, I +thought, in the midst of a fair; but since I now find you reposing +on your little bed, you must certainly have found means +to escape from the throng. Montgobert has not written to +me, and you mention your health very slightly; you ought to +have informed me whether the medicines you are taking have +the desired effect, and whether this thinness upon thinness is +likely to reduce you to your former state. It is a sad misfortune +that what does you service in one way, should injure you +in another; it throws a damp upon the satisfaction we should +otherwise feel.</p> + +<p>We are at present among a set of persons with whom we +make great use of both our reason and reasoning. You know, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_238">238</span> +my child, what a good hearer I am, <i>thanks to God and you</i>, +as they say in this country; I have lost, by dint of listening +to you, the gross ignorance I possessed on many subjects; +this is a pleasure I now feel the advantage of. We have had +here a party or two at ombre and reversis, and the next day +<i lang="it">altra scena</i> (a change of scene). M. de Montmoron came, +you know he has a great deal of wit; Father Damaie, who +does not live quite a hundred miles from this place; my son, +who you know is perfect master of disputation, and Corbinelli’s +letters, making four, and I am audience for them; they +entertain me exceedingly. M. de Montmoron perfectly understands +your philosophy, and controverts it stoutly. My son +maintains the cause of <i>your father</i>; as also Damaie; and +Corbinelli, in his letters, takes the same side; but they are not +all more than a match for Montmoron. He insists that we +can have no ideas but what are imparted through the medium +of the senses. My son contends that we think independently +of our senses; for instance, <i>we think that we think</i>:<a id="fnanchor_208" href="#footnote_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a> this is +in general the subject of our disputations, which have been +carried on with great spirit, and have delighted me extremely. +Could you, my child, have made a party in this conversation, +by your letter, as Corbinelli has done, you would have +strengthened a little our Sévigné. And now I mention him, +I must acquaint you that he is still very far from being well, +though he thinks himself out of danger, as indeed I do also; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_239">239</span> +but he is tired of doctors as well as you; he has taken more +medicines than were necessary; they have acted upon his +blood, and heated it to such a degree that every day some of +those horrible eruptions appear which are so very disagreeable +both to those who suffer and those who see them; thus the +poor fellow is happy to have a little respite, that he may repose +himself.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I observed, with admiration, how very easy it is +to console ourselves for the want of play by a better avocation; +and how patient we are while we are squandering our +money in farthings, as I said the other day at Rennes. But +without imitating you, for I hate a bad copy of a good original, +I shall tell you that my age and experience make me +wish not to have always such demands upon me, and that I +could now and then put a little wit into my poor head; indeed +it is what I am every day endeavoring to do when in my +closet or my wood. You will not perhaps be displeased to +know the person who has engaged us in play of late. It is a +tolerably pretty woman from Vitré, who has been here three +nights, and during her stay we have hardly had the cards out +of our hands, she is so passionately fond of them. How much +better does Mademoiselle de Grignan spend her time, happy +creature! In reading your letters over more carefully, I find +she speaks without reserve of her intentions to Madame du +Janet, and that is the only conversation she had with M. de +Grignan that she conceals from her; but still I can not help +wondering that she should mention the one without the other. +It must be no small satisfaction to her to have the conversation +of so prudent and good a person. I reverence more +than ever the wise dispensations of Providence when I reflect +how it turns the steps you are about to take to my advantage; +and I already begin to enjoy, in imagination, the pleasure +I am to receive.</p> + +<p>I ask a thousand pardons: I have met with a little book of +madrigals,<a id="fnanchor_209" href="#footnote_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a> containing the prettiest things in the world. I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_240">240</span> +must endeavor to bring them into favor with you this winter. +It is a pleasure to have a bad memory; we are reading Sarasin +again, and I am as much delighted with him as at first; +this is the case also with <i lang="fr">Les Petites Lettres</i>; we find something +new in these, and we add others according to our fancy: +your brother has an excellent knack at furnishing these +amusements. I had a mind to dip again into the Prejudices,<a id="fnanchor_210" href="#footnote_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a> +I think them admirable: but what crowns the whole, my dearest +child, is, that these things all lead directly to you. Oh, +how sweet the consolation, to think that we shall meet once +more! Alas, a whole year has passed in continual adieus; +mortifying occupation! I can not look upon the past with so +much tranquillity as you do. It is to me a source of the bitterest +uneasiness, at least it has been so till I read the pleasing +assurance of your return; now I forgive it in consideration of +the future, which offers itself to my imagination fraught with +hopes that make amends for all.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_208" href="#fnanchor_208"><span class="label">[208]</span></a> +We are agreeably surprised to see at this era, in the heart of Brittany, +a gentleman who so ably refuted the system of <i>innate ideas</i>, and +already exhibiting the theory of Locke. For though the English philosopher +was in Paris in 1675, I do not think his opinions were ever +promulgated there, or that they were even at that time published. But +Hobbes, and particularly Gassendi, had raised objections to the meditations +of Descartes, of which the principles had sprung up in able heads.</p> + +<p>But what deceives Madame de Sévigné here, is the word to <i>think</i>, ill +understood, and applied to many secondary operations of the understanding. +Its too general signification disguises its origin. Descartes +himself was mistaken by not submitting this word sufficiently to the +analysis which he himself invented.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_209" href="#fnanchor_209"><span class="label">[209]</span></a> +By La Sablière.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_210" href="#fnanchor_210"><span class="label">[210]</span></a> +A work of M. Nicole’s, entitled, <i lang="fr">Préjugés légitimes contre les Calvinistes</i> +(Well-founded Prejudices against the Calvinists).</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER LXXXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, Sept. 22, 1680.</p> + +<p>You are so much of a philosopher, my beloved child, that +there is no such thing as giving vent to the transports of the +heart with you. You are continually anticipating hopes; and +you pass over the joy of possession, to contemplate the hour +of separation. Believe me, we ought to manage differently +the blessings which Providence has in store for us. After +having made you this reproach, it remains with me honestly +to confess that I deserve it as much as you do, and that it is +impossible for any one to be more alarmed at the cruel rapidity +of time, or to have a stronger foretaste of those sorrows which +generally follow in the train of pleasures. In short, my child, +this life is a perpetual checker-work of good and evil, pleasure +<span class="pagenum" id="page_241">241</span> +and pain. When in possession of what we desire, we are only +so much the nearer losing it; and when at a distance from it, +we live in the expectation of enjoying it again. It is our business, +therefore, to take things as God is pleased to send them. +For my part, I am resolved to indulge myself in the delightful +hope of seeing you, without any mixture of alloy.</p> + +<p>You are very unjust, my love, in the judgment you pass +upon yourself; you say, that though people at first think you +agreeable, upon a longer acquaintance they cease to love you; +it is precisely the reverse; you have a certain air of superiority +that makes people afraid of you, and despair of ever being admitted +into the number of your friends; but when once they +know you, it is impossible not to be attached to you; and if +any of your acquaintance seem to shun you, it is only because +they love you, and can not bear the thought of not being so +much loved in return as they wish. I have heard many persons +extol the charms of your friendship to the skies, and afterward +reflect on their own want of merit, which prevented +them from preserving that happiness; thus each blames himself +for a degree of coldness; but where there is no real cause +of complaint on either side, it seems only to require a little +leisurely conversation to be good friends again.</p> + +<p>I have a great desire to read Terence; nothing could give +me greater pleasure than to see the originals, of which the +copies have afforded me so much pleasure. My son will translate +to me satire against foolish amours;<a id="fnanchor_211" href="#footnote_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a> he ought to be able +to write one himself, or at least to profit by this; if the situation +he is in at present does not correct him, I know not what will. +We read books of controversy; one has lately been published<a id="fnanchor_212" href="#footnote_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a> +in answer to the Prejudices, to which I wish M. Arnauld had +<span class="pagenum" id="page_242">242</span> +replied; but I fancy that he has been forbidden; and it is +thought more advisable to leave this book unanswered, though +it may do injury to religion, than to permit the publication of +another that may serve to justify the Jansenists from the errors +with which they have been reproached; but more of this +another time. I have been promised the coadjutor’s speech, +but I have not yet had it; my son and several others speak +highly in its praise.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_211" href="#fnanchor_211"><span class="label">[211]</span></a> +She, no doubt, alludes here to the well-known description of the +extravagance of lovers, which is to be found in Terence’s Eunuch, +Scene I. beginning in these words:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse" lang="la">In amore hæc omnia insunt vitia, etc.</div> +</div> + +<p><a id="footnote_212" href="#fnanchor_212"><span class="label">[212]</span></a> +Written by the Protestant minister Claude, entitled, “A Defense +of the Reformation against the ‘Well-founded Prejudices’ of M. Nicole.”</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XC.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, November 26, 1684.</p> + +<p>So much the worse for you, my dear child; if you do not +read over your letters, your indolence robs you of a great pleasure, +which is not one of the least of the evils it may occasion +you; for my part, I read them over and over again; they constitute +all my joy, all my sorrow, all my occupation, so that +you are the center and cause of all. I shall begin this letter +with you.</p> + +<p>Is it possible that what you tell me can be true, that when +you spoke to the king you were like a person beside yourself, +and so lost, to use your own expression, in the blaze of majesty, +that you knew not what you said, nor could recollect +any of your ideas. Never, never can I believe that my beloved +daughter, always so remarkable for her ready wit and happy +presence of mind, should have been in such a situation. I +must confess, that from what his majesty said to you—“that +he would do something for M. de Grignan”—I by no means +understand that he merely alluded to the great expense M. de +Grignan had lately incurred: no, the king’s answer appeared +to me to bear this construction, “Madam, the favor you ask +of me is a trifle, I will do something more for Grignan;” +meaning, I suppose, the affair of the survivorship, which he +knew would be a capital point for your family. I had no idea +of the little present in question, and you know what I said +<span class="pagenum" id="page_243">243</span> +upon that subject in my last letter. It rests with you, my +dear, to set me right, and I beg you will do so, for I do not +love to view things in a wrong light.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Fayette has written me word that you were +an angel of beauty at court, that you spoke to the king, and +that it was thought you were soliciting a pension for your +husband. I returned a slight answer, “that I believed it was +to entreat his majesty to consider the great expenses M. de +Grignan had been obliged to incur in Provence,” and that was +all.</p> + +<p>You relate inimitably the story of M. de Villequier and his +mother-in-law. There seems no danger of her proving a Phædra +to him. Had you read that part of your letter over, you +would easily have conceived the manner in which it struck +me. It is not unlike the story of Joconde; and the chambermaid +yawning with fatigue at her long waiting is admirable. +I think Madame d’Aumont’s conduct very praiseworthy: it +ought to silence the world, and satisfy her husband. What +great doings in Savoy! I can not believe the king will withhold +his pity and assistance from the young Princess of Baden, +when she represents to him the situation of her mother, abandoned +by all her children. I do not believe she will set out +till her mother is gone. This good mother, it is true, has so +much fire about her, that it is difficult to persuade one’s self +she is not still in the prime of her youth. The Princess de +Tarente intends to receive her at Vitré. As for Madame de +Marbeuf, she is one of her old acquaintance; they have spent +whole winters together in supping and playing at the Palace +of Soissons; you may judge how readily this will be renewed +at Rennes. I have told my son the story of the Chevalier de +Soisson’s engagement: we could neither of us have believed +the eyes of a grandmother retained still so much power. I do +not think the raising of the siege of Buda<a id="fnanchor_213" href="#footnote_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a> worth mentioning +<span class="pagenum" id="page_244">244</span> +to you; it is a piece of news hardly of sufficient consequence +to obtain a place in my letter. I fancy the dauphiness,<a id="fnanchor_214" href="#footnote_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a> however, +will take the pains to be sorry: her brother has exposed +himself so much, and acquitted himself so well in this expedition, +that it is a pity such an elector should be obliged to return +from it.</p> + +<p>Our <i>worthy</i> is very ill with one of those bad colds and +coughs which you have seen him afflicted with. He is in his +little closet. We take better care of him here than could be +done at Paris. My daughter-in-law has gone through all the +hot and cold regimen of the Capuchins, without being affected +either one way or the other by them. When the weather is +fine, as it has been for the last three days, I venture out about +two o’clock, and walk backward and forward before the gardeners, +who are cutting wood, and representing the picture of +winter, but without stopping to contemplate the scene; and +after I have enjoyed all the heat of the sun, I return to the +house, leaving the evening to those of a more hardy constitution. +In this way do I govern myself to please you, and very +often I do not stir out of the house at all. Coulanges’ chair, +a few books that my son reads admirably, and now and then a +little conversation, will compose the whole of my occupation +during the winter, and the subject of your anxiety; for I shall +exactly follow your orders in all points, and every where.</p> + +<p>My son understands perfectly well what <i>Wednesday</i> means.<a id="fnanchor_215" href="#footnote_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a> +To say the truth, we would be very dull without him, and he +without us; but he manages matters so well that there is generally +a party of ombre in my apartments, and at intervals we +read, and make comments on what we read; you know what +sort of place the Rocks is. We have read a folio volume +through in little more than a week. We have been engaged +<span class="pagenum" id="page_245">245</span> +with M. Nicole, the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, and +the History of the Reformation in England; in short, those +who are happy enough to have a taste for reading never need +be at a loss for amusement.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_213" href="#fnanchor_213"><span class="label">[213]</span></a> +After having beaten the Turks, and repulsed the troops they were +leading to the assistance of Buda, the Duke of Lorraine was at length +obliged to raise the siege, which had lasted for nearly four months.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_214" href="#fnanchor_214"><span class="label">[214]</span></a> +The dauphiness was always a German in her heart; this partiality, +which the subsequent war increased and rendered more offensive, contributed, +with other eccentricities of character, to alienate the affections +of her husband, the king, and the whole court.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_215" href="#fnanchor_215"><span class="label">[215]</span></a> +This was one of Madame de Sévigné’s post-days.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, February 21, 1685.</p> + +<p>Ah, my child! was ever any thing so ill-timed as the death +of the King of England,<a id="fnanchor_216" href="#footnote_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a> just at the eve of a masquerade? +My poor little marquis<a id="fnanchor_217" href="#footnote_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a> is very unfortunate to have such an +unexpected event thrown in the way of his pleasure. I know +nothing that can comfort him for this disappointment but the +universal encomiums that have been given to his charming +dress, and the hope that the masquerade is only put off for a +time.</p> + +<p>My dear child, I make you my compliments of condolence +on these great occurrences, and expect yours in return upon +my mistaken ideas; for I was at the masquerade, the opera, +and the ball, snug in a corner, contemplating you with admiration; +in short, I was in as great an agitation as you may +suppose your poor mother to experience on such an occasion; +and, after all, there was no entertainment of any kind.</p> + +<p>I enter into your sentiments, my beautiful dear, better than +any one. Yes, yes, I can very well conceive that we are +transfused into our children, and, as you say, feel more keenly +for them than for ourselves. I have sufficiently experienced +these emotions, which are not without their pleasure when the +object is deserving of them and of the admiration of every +one besides. Your son pleases extremely; there is something +inexpressibly smart and agreeable in his countenance; the eye +does not pass lightly over him as over others in general, but +<span class="pagenum" id="page_246">246</span> +rests attentively. Madame de la Fayette tells me she has +written to Madame de Montespan that she had engaged her +honor that you and your son would have reason to be satisfied +with her. I know no one who would be more happy to serve +you than Madame de la Fayette.</p> + +<p>But is it not extraordinary that we have not yet had a word +together on the death of the King of England? He was by +no means an old man, and he was a monarch; this shows that +death spares no one. It will be a great happiness if he was a +Catholic in his heart, and died in the faith of our holy religion. +England appears to me a theater that is about to furnish +some very extraordinary scenes: the Prince of Orange, +the Duke of Monmouth, an infinite number of Lutherans, and a +confirmed aversion to all Catholics; but time will discover in +what way Providence will direct the performance, after this +tragical event;<a id="fnanchor_218" href="#footnote_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a> however, it seems it will not put a stop to +the diversion at Versailles, since I find you are to return there +<span class="pagenum" id="page_247">247</span> +on Monday. You say a thousand kind things of the concern +it would give you to leave me behind at Paris, if I were there, +but as this, to my great regret, is not the case, make the most +of this opportunity, follow the court: no one is formed to +make a better figure there, and I think every thing seems to +tend toward the completion of your wishes. Mine, though +made at such a distance, are not less ardent and sincere than +if I were with you. I feel, though less delicately, the truth +of a remark you made to me one day, and which I then +laughed at: that you were so much mistress of my imagination +and my heart that I had you always present with me; +this is very true, my child, but I must own I had rather enjoy +a little more of reality.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_216" href="#fnanchor_216"><span class="label">[216]</span></a> +Charles II., who died 16th February, 1685.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_217" href="#fnanchor_217"><span class="label">[217]</span></a> +Louis-Provence, Marquis de Grignan, Madame de Sévigné’s grandson.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_218" href="#fnanchor_218"><span class="label">[218]</span></a> +Charles II. was sixty-five years of age, and had reigned about +twenty-five years, reckoning from the restoration of the Stuarts. He +received the sacraments agreeably to the rites of the Church of Rome, +but more, it is said, in compliance with the entreaties of his brother +than the dictates of his conscience. He had some good private qualities. +But, as a prince, his character, says the impartial Hume, was +“dangerous to his subjects, and dishonorable to himself.” To rid himself +of his parliament, he had placed himself in a state of disgraceful +independence on Louis XIV. It has been said of him that he never +said a foolish thing, and never did a wise one. Judging by the following +anecdote, he carried further even than policy required, the practice +of dissimulation, which would be, as it is declared, the necessary virtue +of kings, if it be true that weakness and indolence are their natural +vices. It is said that Charles II. having reproached his minister +Shaftesbury with being “the greatest knave in the three kingdoms,” +he replied, “Apparently your majesty only includes subjects.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Sévigné speaks of the state of England in the character +of a well-informed person. The rebellion of Monmouth and his tragical +end in the same year, and James II. dethroned and driven out of +the kingdom three years afterward by his son-in-law, justified but too +well her predictions.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, Aug. 11, 1685.</p> + +<p>You see, my dear, that we are now come to reckon by +days only, not by months! not even by weeks! But, alas! +what you say is very true: there could not be a more cruel +damp to our pleasures than the thought that we might be +obliged to part again almost as soon as we met; this is a painful +idea; it occurs to me but too often; day or night I am not +free from it; it came in my head the last time I was writing to +you, and I could not forbear saying to myself, Surely this evil +ought to be sufficient to secure me from the danger of experiencing +a greater; but I dare not dwell upon this melancholy +reflection, and shall now divert it by the thought that I am +soon to see you at Baville. I shall not be at all ashamed of +my equipage; my children have very elegant ones, and I have +had the same; but now the times are altered; I have only +two horses of my own, and shall hire four horses from the +postmaster of Mans; and in that manner I shall make my +entrance into Paris without the least concern. You will find +my leg in a state of perfection, which will make you love +<span class="pagenum" id="page_248">248</span> +Charlotte all your life; she has fancied you from hence more +beautiful than the day, and this idea has given her an extreme +desire to restore this leg to you, worthy of your admiration, +when you know from what a situation it has been extricated. +All this is past, and so is the visit of little Coulanges; he set +out on Monday morning with your brother. I accompanied +them as far as the gate that leads to Vitré; there we stopped +to await the arrival of your letters from Paris, which came as +expected, and were read with the usual pleasure. As you only +mentioned that M. d’Ormesson’s wife was at the point of +death, I have not dared to write to him; but as soon as you +let me know she is buried, I will venture to send him a line or +two by way of condolence and comfort; but indeed, considering +the state she was in, what could be more desirable for herself +and her family than her death? Ah, my dear child, how +humiliating it is to be obliged to drag about the lees of life +and understanding! how much preferable would it be, could +we have our wish, to leave behind us a remembrance worthy +of being preserved, rather than spoil and disfigure it by the infirmities +and weakness of old age! I should like to be an +inhabitant of that country where they kill their parents out +of kindness, when they become old and helpless, if such a +practice could be reconciled to Christianity.</p> + +<p>Our gentlemen sung <i>Gaudeamus</i> on Monday evening at +Marbeuf’s. Your brother is not quite recovered of his slight +disorder. I have had some delightful conversations with Coulanges +on the subject he is so much at a loss to comprehend: +scenes have passed between us not inferior to some of Molière’s. +When do you expect <i lang="fr">Saint Grignan</i>?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p>N.B. No more letters are found from Madame de Sévigné to her +daughter till toward the end of 1688, both having passed the intermediate +time together at Paris.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_249">249</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, October 8, 1688.</p> + +<p>What a tremendous rain, just, my child, as you are going +to descend that frightful mountain of Rochepot! How numberless +are the vexations of those who love with any degree of +fervor! We know not how to love heroically, notwithstanding +the example of heroism below:<a id="fnanchor_219" href="#footnote_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> but there is no knowing +you without being attached to you with the greatest tenderness. +Our poor hero is still dreadfully afflicted with the gout; +it is a perfect martyrdom. There are several persons of wit +and learning, as St. Romain,<a id="fnanchor_220" href="#footnote_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a> the Abbé Bigorré, Crosailles,<a id="fnanchor_221" href="#footnote_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a> +who visit him with a view to divert his painful moments with +the news of the day, and other topics; but still he suffers +greatly.</p> + +<p>Our young marquis could not have been at the opening of +the trenches, for M. de Vauban could not wait the arrival of +the dauphin on account of the rains; we are still persuaded +that in a very few days your mind will be at ease.</p> + +<p>The Prince of Orange has declared himself protector of the +religion of the Church of England, and has demanded the +young prince,<a id="fnanchor_222" href="#footnote_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a> that he may be brought up in that faith. This +is a great event: several of the English nobility have joined +him. You know that La Trousse has taken Avignon.<a id="fnanchor_223" href="#footnote_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a> Madame +de Coulanges, who overflows with money, has lent +<span class="pagenum" id="page_250">250</span> +Mademoiselle de Méri a thousand francs; we expect that +lady here every day. M. de la Trousse (her brother) will very +readily repay the loan.</p> + +<p>I am much pleased, my dear child, that you approve the +coming of the good Abbé de Bigorré; his company will +prove no small amusement to me. We entertain ourselves +below stairs with frequent conversations upon the state of our +affairs; I find there all the consolation that a sound understanding +and a generous heart can afford me; for the more +the chevalier is known the more he must be esteemed and +loved. I have no need to ask him if you love me; for I am +convinced of it by a thousand instances: but without questioning +him upon the subject, he gave me the most charming +proofs of it. We eat together, and keep a very good table. +The philosophy of Corbinelli is to come to-night. We have +written in all our apartments, <i lang="fr">Fais ce que tu voudras; vive la +sainte liberté!</i><a id="fnanchor_224" href="#footnote_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a></p> + +<p>I have seen Madame de Fontenilles: she has lately lost her +mother, and seems overwhelmed with grief. You will judge +what impression this made upon me. Her mother died in a +shocking way, crying out in all the agonies of despair, and +terrified with the thought of taking the last sacraments: she +received them, however, but with a gloomy and dreadful silence. +Her son and Alliot arrived just two hours after her +death.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_219" href="#fnanchor_219"><span class="label">[219]</span></a> +Meaning the Chevalier de Grignan, who had an apartment in the +Hôtel de Carnavalet, Madame de Sévigné’s house at Paris.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_220" href="#fnanchor_220"><span class="label">[220]</span></a> +St. Romain had been embassador in Switzerland.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_221" href="#fnanchor_221"><span class="label">[221]</span></a> +Brother of Marshal de Catinet, and a man of great merit. He had +been captain of the French guards, but had quitted the service on account +of ill health.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_222" href="#fnanchor_222"><span class="label">[222]</span></a> +James, Prince of Wales, son of James II., born the 20th June, +1688; but better known afterward by the name of the Pretender.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_223" href="#fnanchor_223"><span class="label">[223]</span></a> +Some disputes that had happened between the court of France and +that of Rome had obliged Louis XIV. to seize upon the county of +Venaissin, belonging to the pope.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_224" href="#fnanchor_224"><span class="label">[224]</span></a> +Do as you like: reign, sacred Liberty!</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Tuesday, October 26, 1688.</p> + +<p>Oh! what a letter, my child! It well deserves that I should +come here on purpose to receive it, as I did. At length, then, you +are arrived safe at Grignan, and are in perfect health; and such +is my fate that, though you are removed at the distance of half +the globe from me, I must rejoice at it. Perhaps it may +<span class="pagenum" id="page_251">251</span> +please Heaven that ere long I shall embrace you again: let +me live in that hope. You make a very pleasing portrait of +Paulina. I know her again; she is not at all altered, as M. de +Grignan would have made us believe she was. She is a sweet +creature, and worthy of being loved. She adores you, and +her absolute submission to your will, even in the midst of her +joy at seeing you, if you decide that she should leave you +again, at once engages my pity and concern; nor can I help +admiring the power she has over herself. Were I in your +place I should be loth to part with such an agreeable companion, +who will at once furnish you with amusement and occupation. +I would make her work at her needle, and read +works of taste: I would argue with her, and sound the depth +of her capacity. I would talk to her with affection and confidence; +for, believe me, you will never be tired of her society, +on the contrary, she may be of great use to you. In short, I +would make the most of her, and would not punish myself by +depriving myself of such a comfort.</p> + +<p>I am very glad the chevalier speaks well of me; my vanity +is concerned in preserving his good opinion. If he is fond of +my company, I, in return, can never have too much of his, +and I think it a proof of good taste to be desirous of cultivating +his esteem. I know not how you can say that your humor +is a cloud which hides or obscures the affections you have +for me. If such may have been the case formerly, you have +for many years past totally removed the vail, and you no +longer conceal from me any part of the most perfect and tender +affection that one person can entertain for another. Heaven +will reward you for it in your own children, who will love +you, not in the same way, as perhaps they may not be capable +of it, but at least to the utmost of their abilities, and we can +desire no more.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_252">252</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, All-Saints’ day, 1688, nine o’clock at night.</p> + +<p><i>Philipsburg is taken, and your son is well!</i> I have only +to turn this phrase in every possible way, for I will not change +my text. Learn then again from this note, that <i>your son is +well, and that Philipsburg is taken</i>! A courier is just arrived +at M. de Villacerf’s, who says that the dauphin’s courier +reached Fontainebleau while Father Gaillard was preaching; +and that the sermon was immediately interrupted, and thanks +returned to God for this brilliant achievement. No further +particulars are known, except that there was no assault, and +that M. du Plessis was right when he said the governor had +ordered wagons to carry away his equipage. Recover your +breath, then, my dear child, and let the first thing you do be +to return thanks to God. No other siege is talked of; rejoice +that your son has witnessed that of Philipsburg; it is an admirable +period for him; it is the dauphin’s first campaign. +Would you not have been grieved if he was the only person +of his age who was not present on the occasion, in which all +the rest glory? But let us not look back; every thing has +happened as we could have wished. It is you, my dear count, +we may thank for it. I congratulate you on the joy you must +experience, and beg my compliments also to the coadjutor; +you are all relieved from great anxiety. Sleep soundly, then, +my dearest, sleep soundly on the assurance we give you; if +you are covetous of grief, as we formerly said, seek some other +occasion, for God has preserved your dear child to you. We +are in raptures, and in this feeling I embrace you with an affection +that I believe you can not doubt.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XCVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, November 8, 1688</p> + +<p>This is the day, my dear child, on which you are to begin +your journey; we follow you step by step. The weather is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_253">253</span> +delightful; the durance will not be so terrific as it sometimes +is. It looks as if you were resolved to remove further and +further from us out of mere spite; you will find yourself at +last on the sea-shore. But it is the will of God that we +should meet with periods in our life which are difficult to +bear; and we must endeavor to repair, by a submission to his +will, the too great sensibility we feel toward earthly things. +In this respect it is impossible to be more culpable than I am.</p> + +<p>The chevalier is much better. It is painful to reflect that +the weather which agrees with him is precisely what may +dethrone the King of England; whereas he suffered dreadfully +a few days ago, when the wind and tempests were dispersing +the fleet of the Prince of Orange: he is unhappy at not being +able to make his health accord with the good of Europe; for +the sentiment of joy is universal at the failure of the prince, +whose wife<a id="fnanchor_225" href="#footnote_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a> is a perfect Tullia; ah, how boldly would she +drive over the body of her father! She has empowered her +husband to take possession of the kingdom of England, of +which she calls herself the heiress; and if her husband is +killed, for her imagination is not very delicate, M. de Schomberg<a id="fnanchor_226" href="#footnote_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> +is to take possession of it for herself. What say you to +a hero, who so sadly disgraces the close of a glorious life? +He saw the admiral’s ship sink in which he was to have +<span class="pagenum" id="page_254">254</span> +embarked; and as the prince and he were the last in following +the fleet, which was under weigh in the finest weather possible, +they were obliged, by a tremendous storm that suddenly +arose, to return to port, the prince being very much indisposed +with his asthma, and M. de Schomberg as much vexed. +Only twenty-six sails returned with them; the rest were all +dispersed, some toward Norway, others toward Boulogne. +M. d’Aumont has sent a courier to the king, to inform him that +vessels had been seen at the mercy of the winds, and that +there were many appearances of shipwreck. A vessel armed +<i>en flute</i>, in which were nine hundred men, sunk in sight of +the prince of Orange. In short, the hand of God is visible +upon this fleet: many ships may return, but it will be long +before they will be able to do any mischief, for the dispersion +has certainly been great, and has happened at a time when it +was least expected: this is certainly a stroke of Providence. +I need not say so much to you of this great news, for the +papers are full of it; but as we are so too, and as we can talk +of nothing else, it flows naturally from my pen.</p> + +<p>Shall I give you another instance of wounds that were not +received at the siege of Philipsburg? It relates to the Chevalier +de Longueville: the town was taken; the dauphin had +just inspected the garrison, the little chevalier mounted the +back of the trenches to look at something, when a soldier, +aiming at a woodcock, shot this poor child, and he died in +consequence the next day: his death is as singular as his +birth.<a id="fnanchor_227" href="#footnote_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_225" href="#fnanchor_225"><span class="label">[225]</span></a> +Mary Stuart, daughter of James II., king of England, and wife of +William Henry of Nassau, Prince of Orange, afterward king of England +by the name of William III. Tullia, the daughter of Servius Tullius, +king of Rome, caused her chariot to drive over the bleeding body +of her father, who had just been assassinated.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_226" href="#fnanchor_226"><span class="label">[226]</span></a> +Frederic Armand, Count de Schomberg, marshal of France, obtained +permission to retire from the king’s service in 1685, on account +of his having embraced the Protestant religion. He was minister of +state, and generalissimo of the armies of the Elector of Brandenbourg, +and went over to England in 1688 with the Prince of Orange.</p> + +<p>Marshal de Schomberg had ancient leagues with the Princes of Orange. +He had, besides, much cause to complain of the court, and even of Turenne, +during the war with Holland. See a curious account of this +general in the <i lang="fr">Fragmens Historiques de Racine</i>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_227" href="#fnanchor_227"><span class="label">[227]</span></a> +Charles-Louis d’Orleans, natural son of Charles Paris d’Orleans, +Duke of Longueville, killed in crossing the Rhine in 1672.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, December 3, 1688.</p> + +<p>I have to inform you to-day that the king made yesterday +seventy-four knights of the order of the Holy Ghost, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_255">255</span> +of which I send you the list. As he has done M. de Grignan +the honor to include him, and as you will receive a hundred +thousand congratulations upon the occasion, wiser heads than +mine advise you neither to say nor write any thing that may +give offense to any of your companions in this honor. The +best way, perhaps, would be to write to M. de Louvois, and +to say that the honor he had done you of inquiring after you +by your courier gives you the privilege of thanking him; and +that wishing to believe, on the subject of the favor the king +has just granted to M. de Grignan, that he has contributed +toward it by his approbation at least, you return him thanks +also for this. You will give this a better turn than I can do; +and it will do no injury to the letter M. de Grignan should +write. The particulars of what passed are these: The king +said to M. le Grand:<a id="fnanchor_228" href="#footnote_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a> “The count de Soissons<a id="fnanchor_229" href="#footnote_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a> and you must +agree among yourselves with respect to rank.” You must +know, that M. le Grand’s son is in the promotion, which is +contrary to the general rules. You must know, also, that the +king said to the dukes that he had read their memorial, and that +he found that the house of Lorraine had taken precedence of +them on several occasions; and so it is decided.<a id="fnanchor_230" href="#footnote_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a> M. le +Grand then spoke to the Count de Soissons; they proposed to +draw lots, “provided,” said the count, “that if you win I +pass between you and your son.”<a id="fnanchor_231" href="#footnote_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a> M. le Grand would not +consent to this, and so the Count de Soissons is not a chevalier. +The king asked M. de la Tremouille how old he was? +he replied that he was thirty-three; the king excused him +two years. This favor, it is said, which has given some offense +to the principality, has not been estimated as it ought +<span class="pagenum" id="page_256">256</span> +to have been. However, he is the first duke, according to +the precedence of his dukedom.<a id="fnanchor_232" href="#footnote_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_228" href="#fnanchor_228"><span class="label">[228]</span></a> +Louis de Lorraine, Count d’Armagnac, first equerry of France.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_229" href="#fnanchor_229"><span class="label">[229]</span></a> +Louis Thomas de Savoy, Count de Soissons.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_230" href="#fnanchor_230"><span class="label">[230]</span></a> +It is related that the Duke of Luxembourg said aloud upon this +subject: “There is one thing I can not comprehend.” “And what is +that?” said the king. “How a Bourbon can look upon a Guise.”</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_231" href="#fnanchor_231"><span class="label">[231]</span></a> +Henry de Lorraine, Count de Brionne.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_232" href="#fnanchor_232"><span class="label">[232]</span></a> +Messieurs de la Tremouille had the highest rank at court, as being +the eldest dukes, and Messieurs d’Uzès the highest rank in the parliament +as being the eldest peers.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, December 6, 1688.</p> + +<p>Your last letter has an air of gayety and expansion of heart +which convinces me that Franckendal is taken, and that he is +safe, I mean the marquis. Enjoy this pleasure, my beloved +child; your son sleeps to-night at Claie; you see he will pass +through Livri, and to-morrow he will sup with us. The chevalier, +who is indeed an excellent creature in all respects, is returned +from Versailles; he has thanked the king, and it has +all passed off well. You will assume the blue ribbon on the +second of January in the midst of Provence, over which you +have the command, and where there are only you and M. +d’Arles your uncle. This distinction and remembrance of his +majesty, when you the least expected it, are highly gratifying; +even the compliments you receive on all sides are not like +those which are paid to others; it is to little purpose to say, +“Ah this! ah that!” for my party I say on this subject, as on +many others, “What is good, is good;” you will lose nothing; +and when we think of those who are in despair, we consider +ourselves very fortunate to be in the recollection of a master +who does not forget the services that are rendered him both +by ourselves and our children. I own to you I feel this joy +thoroughly, without appearing to do so. The chevalier has a +great desire to send word of it this evening to our marquis at +Claie, who will not be insensible to it. He wishes also to send +you your blue ribbon with two Saint Esprits, because the time +draws on: he believes you to have your grandfather’s<a id="fnanchor_233" href="#footnote_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a> cross +<span class="pagenum" id="page_257">257</span> +at Grignan; if you have not, you would be at a loss for one. +I own that if the chevalier had not forestalled me, I should +have made you this pretty little present; but I give place to +him in every thing. The favor is complete by the permission +of not attending the installation. I am charged with a hundred +compliments; Madame de Lesdiguières, Madame de +Mouci, Madame de Lavardin, M. de Harlai, and I know not +how many others I could name; for they are in long lists, as +when you gained your lawsuit. Think not, my dear child, +that you have been out of luck for the last three months; I +begin with your gaining your cause; then the preservation of +your son; his early reputation; his contusion; the beauty of +his company, to which you contributed; and I conclude with +the business of Avignon and the blue ribbon: think well of +this, and be thankful to God.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_233" href="#fnanchor_233"><span class="label">[233]</span></a> +Louis Castellane de Adhémar de Monteil, received knight of the +king’s orders in 1584, lieutenant-general of the government of Provence, +was M. de Grignan’s great-grandfather.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XCIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, December 10, 1688.</p> + +<p>I can not answer your letters to-day, as they came so late, +and I answer two on a Monday. The marquis<a id="fnanchor_234" href="#footnote_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a> is a little rustic, +but not enough so to render him ridiculous; he will not +have so fine a figure as his father, nor is it to be expected; in +other respects he does very well, answering pertinently to every +thing that is asked him, like a man of good sense, who has +made observations and sought information during his campaign; +his conversation is tinctured with modesty and rectitude +that charm us. M. du Plessis is worthy of the esteem +you bear him. We take our meals together very socially, +amusing ourselves with the unjust proceedings we sometimes +adopt against one another; make yourself easy upon this +score, and think no more about it; let it be my part to blush +<span class="pagenum" id="page_258">258</span> +at thinking that a wren is a heavy burden to me: I own I am +grieved at it, but we must submit to the great justice of paying +our debts: no one understands this better than yourself; +you have also kindness enough for me to believe that I am not +naturally avaricious, and that I have no intention to hoard. +When you are here, good madam, you tutor your son so well, +that I am compelled to admire you; but, in your absence, I +undertake to teach him the common rules of conversation, +which it is important to know; there are some things of +which we ought not to be ignorant. It would be ridiculous to +appear astonished at certain events which are the topics of the +day; I am sufficiently acquainted with these trifles. I also +strongly recommend to him attention to what others say, and +the presence of mind by which we quickly comprehend and +answer; this is a principal object in our intercourse with the +world. I repeat to him instances of miracles of this kind +which Dangeau related to us the other day; he admires +them, and I lay great stress upon the charms, and even utility, +of this sort of alertness of mind. In short, I obtain the chevalier’s +approbation: we converse together on books, and the +misfortune of being troubled with listlessness and want of employment: +we call this laziness of the mind, which deprives +us of a taste for good books and even romances; as this is an +interesting subject, we frequently enter upon it. Little Auvergne<a id="fnanchor_235" href="#footnote_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a> +is very fond of reading; he was never happy, when +with the army, unless he had a book in his hand. God knows +whether M. du Plessis and we can turn this fine and noble +passion to account; we are willing to believe the marquis susceptible +of the best impressions; we suffer no opportunity to +pass unimproved that can tend to inspire him with so desirable +a taste. The chevalier is of more use to this dear boy than +can easily be imagined; he is continually striking the full +chords of honor and reputation, and takes an interest in his +<span class="pagenum" id="page_259">259</span> +affairs, for which you can not sufficiently thank him: he enters +into every thing, attends to every thing, and wishes the marquis +to regulate his own accounts and incur no unnecessary +expenses; by this means, he endeavors to give him a habit of +regularity and economy, and to make him lay aside the air of +grandeur, of “what does it signify,” of ignorance, and indifference, +which is the direct path to every kind of injustice, and, +at length, to the workhouse: can there be any obligation +equal to that of training up your son in these principles? For +my part, I am charmed with it, and think this sort of education +far more noble than any other. The chevalier is a little +afflicted with the gout: he will go to-morrow, if he can, to +Versailles, and will inform you of the situation of his affairs. +You already know that you are a knight of the order, which +is a very desirable thing in the center of your province, and +in actual service, and will admirably become M. de Grignan’s +fine figure: there will, however, be no one to dispute it with +him in Provence, for he will not be envied by his uncle,<a id="fnanchor_236" href="#footnote_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a> as +this title does not go out of the family.</p> + +<p>La Fayette is just going from hence; he has been holding +forth a full hour about one of the little marquis’s friends. He +has related so many ridiculous things of him that the chevalier +thinks himself obliged to mention them to his father, who +is his friend; he thanked La Fayette for his intelligence, for, +in fact, there is nothing of so much consequence as being in +good company, and it often happens that, without being +ridiculous ourselves, we are rendered so by those we associate +with. Make yourself easy upon this subject, the chevalier will +set matters right. I shall be very much mortified if he can +not present his nephew on Sunday; this gout is a great drawback +upon our happiness. With respect to Paulina, can you, +my dear child, expect her to be perfect? She is not mild in +her own apartment; many persons who are very much beloved +and respected, have had the same fault. I think you +<span class="pagenum" id="page_260">260</span> +may easily correct it; but take particular care not to scold and +humiliate her. All my friends load me with a thousand compliments +and a thousand regards to you. Madame de Lavardin +called upon me yesterday, to tell me she esteemed you too +highly to send you <i>compliments</i>; but that she embraced you +with all her heart, and the great Count de Grignan—these +were her words. You have great reason to love her.</p> + +<p>What I am going to relate is a fact. Madame de Brinon, +the very soul of St. Cyr, and the intimate friend of Madame +de Maintenon, is no longer at St. Cyr;<a id="fnanchor_237" href="#footnote_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a> she quitted that place +four days ago; Madame Hanover, who loves her, brought her +back to the Hôtel de Guise, where she still remains. There +does not seem to be any misunderstanding between her and +Madame de Maintenon, for she sends every day to inquire after +her health; this increases our curiosity to know the subject of +her disgrace. Every one is whispering about it without knowing +more. If this affair should be cleared up, I will inform +you of the circumstances.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_234" href="#fnanchor_234"><span class="label">[234]</span></a> +The son of Madame de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_235" href="#fnanchor_235"><span class="label">[235]</span></a> +Francis-Egon de la Tour, Prince of Auvergne, who quitted the +French army in 1702, in which he served in Germany, to enter into +the service of the emperor.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_236" href="#fnanchor_236"><span class="label">[236]</span></a> +The archbishop of Arles was commander of the royal orders of +knighthood.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_237" href="#fnanchor_237"><span class="label">[237]</span></a> +Madame de Brinon, at that time of the first establishment of St. +Cyr, was placed at the head of that house. She had great learning and +talents, but an equal portion of pride and ambition. The superior only +of the house, she assumed the airs of an abbess. She displayed the +most offensive ostentation; she held a court; she opposed Madame de +Maintenon, whose dependent she was. These things offended the +king, as well as her benefactress. A <i lang="fr">lettre de cachet</i> obliged her to +leave St. Cyr in twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Hanover, who received her, and who was the daughter +of the celebrated princess palatine, was soon disgusted with Madame +de Brinon, who retired to the Abbey of Maubuisson, and died there, regretting +the world, regretting St. Cyr, and regretting life.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER C.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, December 31, 1688.</p> + +<p><i lang="it">Per torner dunque al nostro proposito</i>,<a id="fnanchor_238" href="#footnote_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a> I must tell you, my +child, that all the uncertainties of the day before yesterday, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_261">261</span> +which seemed to be fixed by the assurances M. de Lamoignon +gave us that the King of England was at Calais, are now +changed into the certainty that he is detained in England; +and that if this ill fortune has not befallen him, he has perished; +for he was to make his escape, and embark a few hours +after the queen. So, that though we have no certain intelligence +of his being arrested, there is not a single person who +does not now credit it. Such is our situation; and such the +way in which we are closing the present year, and entering +upon that of ’89; a year marked out by extraordinary predictions, +as pregnant with great events. Not one, however, +will take place that is not agreeable to the order of Providence, +like all our actions, and all our journeyings. We must +submit to every thing, and look boldly in the face of futurity; +this is going a great way.</p> + +<p>In the mean while, count, I address myself to you. Yesterday +the Knights of St. Michael went through the ceremony +with several of those of the order of the Holy Ghost, at the +hour I mentioned to you after vespers, and to-morrow the rest +will do the same. The chevalier will inform you how it is +managed with respect to the absentees. You must make +your profession of faith, and give an account of your life and +manners. Of this you will be duly informed; you are not +the only one; and in the mean time <i>hold off, fair and softly</i>. +Yesterday, M. de Chevreuse, of the order of St. Michael, +passed before M. de la Rochefoucault, who said to him, “Sir, +you pass before me, which you have no right to do.” M. de +Chevreuse replied, “Sir, I have a right, for I am Duke de +Luynes.” “Oh, sir,” rejoined the other, “in this respect I +yield to you.” The gazette will inform you, my dear count, +that M. de Luynes has given this duchy to his son, with the +king’s permission; and M. de Chevreuse, who will henceforward +be called M. de Luynes, the duchy of Chevreuse to his +son, who will be styled Duke de Montfort. Your son’s comrades +are highly distinguished by titles. It is said that some +troops are to be sent into Brittany with M. de Momont, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_262">262</span> +Major-General, to be under the command of M. de Chaulnes; there +will be encampments in all the provinces. You need only +refer to the map, to judge whether we have occasion to be on +our guard on all sides; cast your eyes for a moment over all +Europe. Madame de Barillon is very uneasy respecting her +husband;<a id="fnanchor_239" href="#footnote_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a> but it is said at random, for no letters arrive, that +he is safe, though the chapel of the King of England has been +pulled down, as well as that belonging to the embassador’s +household. Time will clear up all this. But who am I +speaking to? is it still to this count? My dear child, your +good lady, who swore she would not touch a card till the +King of England had won a battle, will not probably play +again for a long time. Poor woman! The Prince of Orange +is in London—this is still the subject of my letter, as it is of +all conversation, for every one considers himself as concerned +in this great scene. The queen is still in a convent at Boulogne, +always in tears at the absence of her husband, whom +she passionately loves.</p> + +<p>Madame de Brinon is quite forgotten. A new comedy is +said to be in rehearsal, which is to be represented at St. Cyr, +and is called Esther. The carnival does not promise to be +very gay. My son’s letters are constantly filled with the most +affectionate sentiments for you and M. de Grignan. We expect +your letters, but probably shall not answer them till Monday. +The chevalier and I have very long conversations about +you; he is tolerably well, and when your son returns from +Chalons, he intends to accompany him to Versailles. The +good Corbinelli exhausts his rhetoric upon the present situation +of affairs, and at the same time adores you. Adieu, my +lovely child; I embrace you a thousand times, and wish you a +happy year in that of 1689.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_238" href="#fnanchor_238"><span class="label">[238]</span></a> +To return then to our proposition.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_239" href="#fnanchor_239"><span class="label">[239]</span></a> +M. de Barillon was the French Embassador to England.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_263">263</div> + +<h3>LETTER CI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, January 3, 1689.</p> + +<p>Your dear son arrived this morning. We were delighted +to see him and M. du Plessis; we were at dinner when they +came, and they ate very heartily of our repast, which was already +somewhat impaired. Oh, that you could have heard all +the marquis said of the beauty of his company! He first asked +if the company was arrived; and on the question, whether it +was a fine one, this was the answer he received: “Indeed, sir, +it is; it is one of the finest that ever was seen; <i>it is an old +company</i>, and more to be prized than the <i>new ones</i>.” You +may guess the effect such an encomium must have on a person +who was not known to be the captain. Our boy was in raptures +the next day at the sight of his noble company mounted; +the men, made on purpose, as it were, and selected by you, +and the horses cast in the same mold, gave him such high +spirits, that M. de Chalons<a id="fnanchor_240" href="#footnote_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a> and Madame de Noailles (his +mother) entered into his feelings of joy. He has been received +by these pious persons as the son of M. de Grignan; but why +do I tell you all this? it is the marquis’ business.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_240" href="#fnanchor_240"><span class="label">[240]</span></a> +Louis Antoine de Noailles, Bishop de Chalons sur Marne, afterward +Archbishop and Cardinal of Paris.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, January 5, 1689.</p> + +<p>I took the marquis with me yesterday; we began by visiting +M. de la Trousse, who was so obliging as to put on the dresses +of the novice and professor, as on the ceremonial day; these +two habits set off a fine figure to advantage. A foolish +thought, without considering consequences, made me regret +that the fine shape of M. de Grignan had not shone upon this +occasion. The page’s dress is very becoming; and I am not +<span class="pagenum" id="page_264">264</span> +at all surprised that the Princess of Clèves should fall in love +with M. de Nemours and his handsome legs.<a id="fnanchor_241" href="#footnote_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a> The mantle +has all the magnificence of royalty; it cost La Trousse 800 +pistoles, for he purchased it. After having viewed this pretty +masquerade, I took your son to all the ladies in the neighborhood. +Madame de Vaubecourt and Madame Oilier received +him with great politeness; he will soon pay visits upon his +own account.</p> + +<p>The Life of St. Louis has induced me to read Mézerai; I +was willing to take a view of the last kings of the second race, +and I want to unite Philip de Valois with King John; this is +an admirable period of history, upon which the Abbé de Choisi +has written a book that may be read with interest. We endeavor +to beat into your son’s head the necessity of being a +little acquainted with what has passed before his time; and it +will have effect; but, in the mean while, there are many reasons +for paying attention to what is passing at present. You +will see by the news of to-day how the King of England escaped +from London, apparently with the consent of the Prince +of Orange. Politicians reason upon this subject, and ask if it +be more advantageous for this king to be in France; some say +Yes, because he is here in security, and will not run the risk +of being compelled to give up his wife and child, or lose his +head; others say No, because he leaves the Prince of Orange +to enjoy the protectorship, and be adored, having made his +way to it naturally, and without bloodshed. It is certain that +war will soon be declared against us, or perhaps, even we may +declare it first. If we make peace in Italy and Germany, we +may apply ourselves with greater attention to the English and +Dutch war; this is to be hoped, for it would be too much to +have enemies on all sides. You see whither my rambling pen +leads me; but you may easily suppose that all conversations +turn upon these great events.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_241" href="#fnanchor_241"><span class="label">[241]</span></a> +Allusion to Madame de la Fayette’s romance.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_265">265</div> + +<h3>LETTER CIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, January 10, 1689.</p> + +<p>We often stumble upon the same ideas, my dear child; +even think that I wrote to you from the Rocks what you say +in your last letter respecting time. I now consent that it +should fly; the days have no longer any thing so dear and +precious for me as I found them to contain when you were at +the Hôtel de Carnavalet. I enjoyed, I made the most of every +hour; I treasured it as a miser does his gold; but in absence, +the case is different; time can not fly fast enough till the +wished-for period arrives; we hurry it along, and would willingly +dispose of all the intermediate space in favor of the days +to which we aspire; it is a piece of tapestry which we are +eager to finish; we are lavish of hours, and bestow them on +any one. But I own that when I reflect on the point to +which this profusion of hours and days leads me, I tremble. +I am no longer certain of any, and reason presents me with +the image of what I am certain to find in my way. My child, +I will put an end to these reflections with you, and endeavor +to turn them to my own advantage.</p> + +<p>The Abbé Têtu is in an alarming way for want of sleep. +The physicians would not answer for his intellects. He is sensible +of his situation, which is an additional calamity: he is +kept alive merely by opium: he seeks for diversion and amusement, +and accordingly frequents public places. We want him +to go to Versailles to see the King and Queen of England, and +the Prince of Wales. Can there be a grander spectacle, or +one more capable of affording the highest interest? It appears +that the Prince of Orange favored the king’s flight. The king +was sent to Exeter, where it was his intention to go; the front +of his house was well guarded, and all the back doors left +open. The prince was not inclined to sacrifice his father-in-law. +He remains in London in the place of the king, without +taking upon himself the title, being only desirous of restoring +what he thinks the true religion, and supporting the laws of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_266">266</span> +the country, without spilling a drop of blood: this is precisely +the reverse of what we thought of him; we see him in a very +different point of view. Our king, however, acts in a manner +almost divine with respect to their Brittanic Majesties; for is +it not being the representative of the Almighty to support a +king banished, betrayed, and abandoned? The noble ambition +of our sovereign is gratified by acting this part. He went to +meet the queen, with all his household, and a hundred coaches +and six. When he perceived the Prince of Wales’s carriage, +he alighted and affectionately embraced him; he then +ran to the queen, who was by this time alighted; he saluted +her, talked with her some time, placed her at his right hand +in his carriage, and presented the dauphin and monsieur to +her, who were also in the carriage, and conducted her to St. +Germain, where she found every thing prepared for her like a +queen—all sorts of apparel, and a rich casket containing six +thousand louis-d’ors. The King of England was expected the +next day at St. Germain, where the king waited for him. He +arrived late. His majesty went to the end of the guard-room +to meet him; the King of England made an inclination as if +to embrace his knees, but the king prevented him, and embraced +him three or four times very cordially. They talked +together in a low voice for nearly a quarter of an hour; the +king presented the dauphin and monsieur to him, the princes +of the blood, and Cardinal de Bonzi. He conducted him to +the queen’s apartment, who could scarcely refrain from tears. +After a conversation of a few minutes his majesty led them to +the apartment of the Prince of Wales, where they again conversed +for some time, and he then withdrew, not choosing to +be attended back, saying to the king, “This is your house; +when I come you will do the honors of it, and I will do the +honors of mine when you come to Versailles.” The next day, +which was yesterday, the dauphiness went there with all the +court. I know not how they regulated the chairs, for they +had those belonging to the Queen of Spain; and the Queen-mother +of England was treated as a daughter of France: I +<span class="pagenum" id="page_267">267</span> +shall hereafter send you these particulars. His majesty sent +the King of England ten thousand louis-d’ors; the latter looks +old and fatigued; the queen is thin, with fine black eyes +swelled with weeping; a fine complexion, but rather pale; a +large mouth, beautiful teeth, a fine figure, and a great share of +sense; no wonder if with all these she pleases every one who +beholds her. Here is matter for general conversation that +will not soon be exhausted.</p> + +<p>The poor chevalier can neither write nor go to Versailles, +which grieves us sadly, as he has a thousand things to do +there; but he is not ill: on Saturday he supped with Madame +de Coulanges, Madame de Vauvineux, M. de Duras, and your +son, at the lieutenant’s, where the healths of the first and second +were drank, that is to say, Madame de la Fayette’s and +yours, for you have yielded to the date of friendship. Yesterday +Madame de Coulanges gave a very pretty supper to the +gouty gentlemen, the Abbé de Marsillac, the Chevalier de +Grignan, and M. de Lamoignon, whose nephritic complaints +stood him in stead of the gout; his wife and the <i>divinities</i> +were admitted in consequence of colds which they are never +without; I in consideration of the rheumatism I had twelve +years ago, and Coulanges, for deserving to have the gout. +There was no scarcity of conversation; the little man sung, +and gave the Abbé de Marsillac great pleasure, which he +expressed by his admiration, and by imitating the tones and manners, +which reminded me so strongly of his father that I could +not help being affected. Your son was at the Mesdemoiselles +de Castelnau’s. There is a younger sister, very pretty and very +agreeable, who is quite to your son’s taste, and he leaves the +squint-eyed girl to Sanzei; he took a hautboy with him, and +they danced till midnight. This society is very pleasant to +the marquis, as he meets St. Hérem, Janin, Choiseul, and +Ninon there; so that he is not in a foreign country. The +chevalier does not seem to be in haste to marry him, nor does +M. de Lamoignon seem very desirous of marrying his daughter. +We can say nothing with respect to the marriage of M. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_268">268</span> +de Mirepoix,<a id="fnanchor_242" href="#footnote_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a> this is the work of M. de Montfort: people +seem to be infatuated, or else their heads are turned, for they +do not think as they used to do; in short, this man seems impelled +by his destiny, and what can be done in such a case?</p> + +<p>M. de Lauzun is not gone back to England; he has an +apartment at Versailles, and is perfectly satisfied; he has written +to Mademoiselle to have the honor of seeing her, which +has given her great offense. I have performed a master-piece; +I have been to visit Madame de Ricouart, who is lately returned, +very well pleased at being a widow. You have +nothing to do but appoint me to complete your acknowledgments, +like your romances, do you recollect? I thank the +amiable Paulina for her letter; I am confident her person +would please me; so she could then find no appellation for me +but that of <i>madam</i>?<a id="fnanchor_243" href="#footnote_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a> this is being very serious. Adieu, my +dear child; preserve your health, in other words, your beauty, +which I so much admire.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_242" href="#fnanchor_242"><span class="label">[242]</span></a> +Gaston John Baptist de Levis, Marquis de Mirepoix, married, January +16, 1689, to Anne Charlotte Maria de Saint Nectaire, daughter of +Henry Francis, Duke de la Ferté, and of Mary Gabriel Angelica de la +Mothe Houdancourt.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_243" href="#fnanchor_243"><span class="label">[243]</span></a> +It must have been observed that the Marquis de Grignan followed +this etiquette with his mother, which was the custom among persons +of high rank, and particularly in the southern provinces, where the Roman +laws gave fathers an absolute power over their children, which inspired +children with more respect than love, and exacted the forms of +submission, even in the overflowings of the heart. Madame de Sévigné +was averse to this false dignity, the most gloomy mask that love can +assume; and it has been seen that she even laughed at her daughter, +who, in speaking of her grandfather, had written to her, <i lang="fr">monsieur votre +père</i>. Every one knows the humorous speech of the great Condé, before +a man who affected to say Monsieur and Madame in speaking of +his relations: “Monsieur my groom, go and tell monsieur my coachman, +to put messieurs my horses to monsieur my coach.”</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, January 12, 1689.</p> + +<p>You retired then at five o’clock in the afternoon; you drew +king and queen at dinner; you were in as good company as +<span class="pagenum" id="page_269">269</span> +at Paris. It will not be my fault if the archbishop (of Aix) +does not know that you are satisfied with him; I informed +Madame de la Fayette of this the other day, who was much +pleased with the information; she enjoins you both to lay +aside the spirit and way of thinking of Provence. But to +come to the King and Queen of England. It is so extraordinary +to have this court here, that it is the constant subject of +conversation. The regulation of rank and precedency is to be +attended to, in order to render life agreeable to those who are +so unlikely to be restored. This the king said the other day, +adding that the English king was the best man in the world; +that he should hunt with him; that he should come to Marly +and Trianon; and that the courtiers should habituate themselves +to him. The King of England does not give his hand +to the dauphin, and does not reconduct him. The queen has +not kissed monsieur, who is offended at this; she said to the +king, “Tell me what you wish me to do; if you would have me +follow the French fashion, I will salute whom you please; but +it is not the custom in England to salute any one.” She paid +a visit to the dauphiness, who was ill, and who received her in +bed. No one sits in England; I believe the duchesses will +follow the French fashion, and behave to her as they did to +her mother-in-law.<a id="fnanchor_244" href="#footnote_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a> We are greatly taken up with this new +court.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, the Prince of Orange is in London, where +he has imprisoned several lords; he is severe, and will soon +make himself hated. M. Schomberg is commander-in-chief in +Holland, in the room of this prince, and his son is to have the +reversion: so the mask is now completely thrown off.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_244" href="#fnanchor_244"><span class="label">[244]</span></a> +Henrietta of France, daughter of Henry IV., and wife of Charles I. +King of England.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_270">270</div> + +<h3>LETTER CV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, January 14, 1689.</p> + +<p>I have dined, my dear child, and am now in the chevalier’s +apartment; he is in his chair, with a thousand little aches and +pains that fly about him. He has slept well; but this confinement +affects his spirits, and vexes him exceedingly; I too +am grieved at it, as I know the ill consequences better than +any one. It is very cold; the thermometer is at the lowest +degree; our river is frozen; it snows, freezes, and thaws at +the same time; there is no walking in the streets; I keep to +the house, and to the chevalier’s chamber. If I could have an +answer from you before the end of a fortnight, I would desire +you to tell me whether I do not incommode him, by staying +with him all day; but as I have no time to lose, I put this +question to himself, and I fancy he is not displeased at it. The +weather is an additional cause of his illness; it is not the sort +he likes; it is always unfavorable when it is extreme.</p> + +<p>M. de Gobelin is still at St. Cyr; Madame de Brinon is at +Maubuisson, where she will soon be tired; she can never remain +long in a place; she has made many agreements, and +been in several convents; her good sense does not screen her +from this error. Madame de Maintenon is much pleased with +the comedy<a id="fnanchor_245" href="#footnote_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a> which she has made her young ladies of St. Cyr +<span class="pagenum" id="page_271">271</span> +perform; it will be a very fine piece according to report. +She has paid a visit to the Queen of England, who, having +made her wait a moment, said she was very sorry she had lost +any time in seeing and conversing with her, and received her +extremely well. Every one is pleased with this queen; she +has an excellent understanding. She said to the king, on seeing +him caress the Prince of Wales, who is a lovely child, “I +formerly envied the happiness of my son, in not feeling his +misfortunes; but I now pity him, for being insensible to your +majesty’s caresses and kindness.” All she says is proper and +to the purpose; but this is not the case with her husband: +he has a great share of courage, but his understanding is not +above the common standard; he relates what has passed in +England with an insensibility that excites the same feeling +for himself. He is a good man,<a id="fnanchor_246" href="#footnote_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a> and partakes of all the +amusements of Versailles. The dauphiness does not intend +to visit this queen; she wants her right hand seat and chair +of state, which can not be; she will therefore be always in +bed, when the queen visits her. Madame is to have an arm-chair +upon the left hand, and the princesses of the blood are +to visit with her; before whom they have tabourets only. The +duchesses will be upon the same footing as at the dauphiness’s; +this is settled. The king, knowing that a king of France gave +a Prince of Wales only a chair on the left hand, chooses that +the King of England should treat the dauphin in the same +manner, and precede him. He is to receive Monsieur without +chair or ceremony. The queen has saluted him, saying to our +sovereign what I told you. It is not yet certain that M. de +Schomberg is to succeed the Prince of Orange in Holland. +This is a year of falsehood.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_245" href="#fnanchor_245"><span class="label">[245]</span></a> +It was the Supérieure Brinon who first made the pensioners of St. +Cyr perform pieces of her selection. They were ill chosen. Cinna, +and afterward Andromache, were substituted in their room. But there +was so much love in this last tragedy, and the young ladies played it so +well, that it was not judged proper for their representation. This was +what Madame de Maintenon wrote herself to Racine, at the same time +desiring him to supply another poem, moral or historical. Racine hesitated: +he wished to please the court, but the public and posterity +withheld him. He deemed it impossible to fill the frame that was given +him, by a performance worthy of his music. Boileau, too, despaired of +it. Racine thought of the subject of Esther; and his friend considered +it well judged, as it really was. This very Boileau, the severity of +whose taste and character made him so much aspersed, gave, in his +regard for Racine, the most perfect example of friendship—an example +perhaps, that will never again be met with between two men gifted +with the same kind of superiority.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_246" href="#fnanchor_246"><span class="label">[246]</span></a> +The Archbishop of Rheims, brother of M. de Louvois, seeing him +come out of the chapel of Versailles, said: “What a good man! he has +given up three kingdoms for a mass.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_272">272</div> + +<h3>LETTER CVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, January 17, 1689.</p> + +<p>My letter, then, is dignified with a title; this is a proof of +its singular merit. I am glad my story amused you. I can +never guess at the effect my letters will produce, but this has +been a happy one.</p> + +<p>If you sought an opportunity of coming to an explanation +with the archbishop, instead of suffering the misunderstanding +which people endeavor to create between you to ferment, a +short time would clear up the whole, or you would silence +chatterers; either of these is desirable, and you will find good +result from it; you will put an end, it is true, to the amusements +of the Provençals; but it is only silencing ridiculous +impertinence. M. de Barillon is arrived; he has found a family +group, with many of whose faces he was not acquainted. +He is grown very fat, and said to M. de Harlai, “Sir, do not +remind me of my fat, and I will say nothing to you of your +lean.” He is very lively, and much of the same disposition +as his namesake whom you know. I will pay all your compliments +to him, when they will not appear forced; I have +done so with regard to Madame de Sully, who returns you a +thousand with a very good grace; and to the countess,<a id="fnanchor_247" href="#footnote_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a> who +is too witty upon M. de Lauzun, whom she wished to raise to +the pinnacle of honor, and who has neither an apartment at +Versailles, nor the free admittance he formerly had. He is +merely returned to court, and his exploit does not appear so +extraordinary, though a very pretty romance was at first made +out of it.</p> + +<p>The English court is quite established at St. Germain; they +would not accept more than 15,000 livres a month, and have +regulated their court upon that foundation. The queen is +very much liked; our king converses very pleasantly with +<span class="pagenum" id="page_273">273</span> +her; she has good sense without affectation. The king +wished the dauphiness to pay her the first visit, but she was +always so conveniently indisposed, that this queen paid her a +visit three days ago, admirably dressed; a black velvet robe, +a beautiful petticoat, her hair tastefully disposed, a figure like +the Princess de Conti’s, and great dignity of manner. The +king received her as she alighted; she went first into his +apartment, where she had a chair below the king’s; here she +remained half an hour; he then conducted her to the dauphiness, +who was up; this occasioned a little surprise; the +queen said to her, “I expected to have found you in bed, +madam.” “I wished to rise, madam,” replied the dauphiness, +“to receive the honor your majesty does me.” The king left +them, as the dauphiness has no chair in his presence. The +queen took her place, with the dauphiness on her right hand, +madame on her left, and there were three other chairs for the +three young princes. They conversed together for upward +of half an hour; several duchesses were present, and the court +was very numerous. At length she retired; the king gave +orders to be informed of it, and handed her back to her carriage. +I do not know how far the dauphiness went with her, +but I shall hear. The king, upon his return, highly praised +the queen; he said, “This is how a queen ought to be, both +in person and mind, holding her court with dignity.” He admired +her courage in misfortunes, and her affection for her +husband; for it is certain that she loves him, as that hateful +woman, Madame de R***, told you. Some of our ladies who +wished to assume the airs of princesses, did not kiss the +queen’s robe, some of the duchesses wished to avoid it also; +but the king was displeased at this, and they now pay her +homage. Madame de Chaulnes has been informed of these +particulars, but has not yet performed this duty.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_247" href="#fnanchor_247"><span class="label">[247]</span></a> +The Countess de Fiesque, the constant friend of M. de Lauzun, +and who often performed the part of mediatrix between him and +mademoiselle.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_274">274</div> + +<h3>LETTER CVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, February 16, 1689.</p> + +<p>The chevalier is still at Versailles, but I expect him this +evening. The marquis dined with me the other day; I conversed +a good deal with him, and I can assure you, with much +satisfaction. There is an air of truth and modesty in all he says, +which does not in the least resemble the style of these thoughtless +youths who always appear fools or liars. He related to me +all the fatigues of his journey to Philipsburg, which were very +great; little D’Auvergne had the fever for four days, from +mere weariness; the marquis is strong, and bears this first trial +with great courage; he told me his other adventures, gave me +an account of all the blows that were given on each side of +him, and the contusion he received; and this, without ostentation, +with a cool composed air of veracity, which is highly +pleasing. I love to converse with him, and lose no opportunity +of doing it; he supped yesterday with M. Turgot, and +some young folks, at the rich little La Martillière’s; he returned +at midnight. He is gone to the horse-market, being +wholly taken up with his company; he will write to you to-night: +he loves you, and knows your extreme affection; you +do nothing for him to which he is not as sensible as you can +possibly wish: it is not even necessary to rouse him upon this +subject.</p> + +<p>I dined yesterday with Mademoiselle de Boileau; it was a +company of wits; the Abbé de Polignac, the Abbé de Rohan, +his doctor, Abbé David, and Corbinelli. After dinner they +discussed, very pleasantly, the philosophy of your Father Descartes; +it was with great difficulty they could comprehend the +motion God gives to a ball that is pushed by another; they +would have it that the first communicated its motion, and you +know how the Abbé Polignac and Corbinelli exclaimed upon +the occasion: this diverted me, and brought my dear little Cartesian +to my remembrance, whom even I could understand so +readily. From thence I went to Madame de la Fayette’s where, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_275">275</span> +by good fortune, I found only M. de Pomponne and M. de Barillon: +we spent two hours very agreeably, and the more so as +we are seldom so fortunate. They say that the English parliament +has made the Prince of Orange king, because the +former king has deserted his kingdom, <i>and broken the treaty +between sovereign and subjects</i>; that his flight is an <i>abdication</i>; +that they are determined to render the throne elective; +and that the parliament would not allow the Princess of +Orange to be queen: these were the reports of yesterday, +The chevalier will bring us news from Versailles. Some say +with regard to the King of England’s apathy, that by hearing +him talk, it is easy to guess why he is here.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER CVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, February 21, 1689.</p> + +<p>It is certain that we are separated from each other by a +grievous distance: this is enough to make us shudder; but +what would it have been if I had added to it the road from +hence to the Rocks or Rennes? This, however, will not take +place so soon. Madame de Chaulnes wishes to see the termination +of several affairs, and I am only afraid that she will set +out too late, considering my intention of returning next winter, +which I must do for several reasons; the first of which is that +I am convinced M. de Grignan will be obliged to return on +account of his knighthood, and you can not take a better opportunity +to escape from your falling, uninhabitable castle, and +come and pay your court a little with the knight of the order, +who will not be a knight till that time. I paid mine the +other day at St. Cyr much more agreeably than I expected. +We, that is, Madame de Coulanges, Madame de Bagnols, the Abbé +Têtu, and I, went on Saturday. We found our places kept; +an officer told Madame de Coulanges that Madame de Maintenon +had ordered a place for her next herself; you see what +honor is paid her. “You, madam,” said he, “may choose.” +<span class="pagenum" id="page_276">276</span> +I placed myself with Madame de Bagnols in the second row +behind the duchesses. Marshal de Bellefond came, and placed +himself by choice at my right hand, and before us were the +Duchesses d’Auvergne, De Coislin, and De Sully. The marshal +and I listened to the tragedy with an attention that was remarked, +and bestowed some praises in a low voice that were +very well placed. I can not tell you the extreme beauty of +this piece: it is a performance not easy to represent, and is inimitable: +it is the union of music, poetry, singing, and character, +so perfect and complete that there is nothing we wish to +alter. The young ladies who represent kings and great personages +seem to be made on purpose. It commands attention, +and the only unpleasant circumstance attending it is, that so +fine a production should at last end. Every thing in it is simple +and innocent, sublime and affecting: the sacred history is +so faithfully adhered to as to create respect; all the airs corresponding +with the words, which are taken from the Psalms +or Ecclesiastes, and interwoven with the subject, are singularly +beautiful; the taste and attention of the audience are +the criterions of the merit of the piece. I was delighted +with it, and so was the marshal, who left his place to inform +the king how much he was gratified, that he was seated +next to a lady who was very worthy of seeing Esther. The king +approached our seat, and having turned round, addressed himself +to me: “I am told, madam,” said he, “that the piece +has given you satisfaction.” I replied, with perfect self-possession, +“Sire, I am delighted; what I feel is beyond the +power of words to describe.” The king continued, “Racine +has great talents.” I replied, “Sire, he has indeed; and so +have these young people: they enter into the subject as if it +had been their sole employment.” “Ah! that is very true,” +he rejoined. And then he retired, leaving me the object of +universal envy. As I was almost the only new spectator, the +king took pleasure in observing my genuine admiration, which +was without noise or parade.<a id="fnanchor_248" href="#footnote_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a> The prince and princess came +<span class="pagenum" id="page_277">277</span> +and spoke a word to me; Madame de Maintenon flashed upon +me like lightning, and then retired to the king. I answered +every one, being in one of my happiest moods. We returned +at night with flambeaux. I supped at Madame de Coulanges’, +to whom the king had also spoken with an air of affability +that made him appear fascinating. I saw the chevalier at +night. I related to him very naturally my little good fortune, +being unwilling to conceal it without a reason, as some people +do. He was pleased, and here I conclude upon this head. I +am sure he did not afterward find in me any ridiculous vanity, +or the transports of a vulgar country bumpkin. Ask him. +M. de Meaux talked to me a good deal about you, and so did +the prince. I pitied you for not being present; but how was +it possible? one can not be every where. You were at the +opera at Marseilles. As Atys is not only too happy, but +too charming, it is impossible you could have been tired with +it. Paulina must have been surprised at such a spectacle; she +has no right to wish for a more perfect one. I have so pleasing +an idea of Marseilles, that I am persuaded you are +amused there; and I will back the dissipations of that place +against those of Aix.</p> + +<p>But on that very Saturday, after the representation of Esther, +the king was informed of the death of the young Queen +of Spain,<a id="fnanchor_249" href="#footnote_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a> who was carried off in two days by a violent +<span class="pagenum" id="page_278">278</span> +vomiting: this has very much the air of foul play. The king +informed monsieur of it next day, which was yesterday; great +was the grief upon the occasion; madame wept bitterly, and +the king retired in a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>It is said there is good news from England; not only the +Prince of Orange is not elected king or protector, but he is +given to understand that he and his troops have nothing to +do but return: this shortens our solicitude. If this news +should gain ground, our Brittany will be in less agitation, and +my son will not have the mortification of commanding the +nobility of the viscounty of Rennes, and the barony of Vitré. +They have chosen him, against his will, to be at their head. +Any one else would be greatly elated with this honor, but he +is vexed at it, not liking, under any title whatever, to take the +field in that way.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_248" href="#fnanchor_248"><span class="label">[248]</span></a> +By mentioning the circumstance to which she believed she was +indebted for this little favor of the king, she proves sufficiently that +she was not so much elated with it as has been pretended.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_249" href="#fnanchor_249"><span class="label">[249]</span></a> +Maria-Louisa of Orléans, daughter of monsieur, and of Henrietta-Anne +of England, his first wife.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Fayette says in her Memoirs, that the Queen of Spain +was poisoned by a cup of chocolate. Dangeau affirms that it was by +an eel pie. Madame, in her <i lang="fr">Lettres Originales</i>, maintains that the poison +was communicated by raw oysters.</p> + +<p>Voltaire has denied this poisoning, as well as several others. It was +a system of the historian. But he only confutes Dangeau’s account, +who had said that three of the queen’s women had died in consequence +of eating of the same dish. Against this detail he brings forward respectable +authority.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Fayette, who, in the life of Madame (Henrietta of +England), had not dared to confirm the opinion of her having died by +poison, joined with Voltaire in that of the Queen of Spain, daughter of +this princess.</p> + +<p>The evidence of Madame (De Bavière) would be stronger if she were +not so partial, and did not show herself so ready to give credit to every +crime. What she adds, that it was two of the queen’s French waiting +women who poisoned her, is very improbable.</p> + +<p>She says, however, that it was the Earl of Mansfield who procured +the poison, a circumstance which agrees with the common report of +that period.</p> + +<p>In fact, all the letters and memoirs of cotemporary writers agree in +saying that the Council of Spain, devoted to the emperor and the +Prince of Orange, and resolved to enter into the league against France, +wished to remove a queen who was too good a Frenchwoman, and +who, governing her husband, was too great an obstacle to the projects +of war that had been formed.</p> + +<p>It is true that such a report, at the moment of the breaking out of +hostilities, can not pass for an historical proof; but it must be owned +that it very nearly resembles truth.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_279">279</div> + +<h3>LETTER CIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Ash-Wednesday, February 23, 1689.</p> + +<p>My dear child, the life you lead at Marseilles delights me. +I love that city, which resembles no other in the world. Ah! +how well I understand Paulina’s admiration! How natural, +how just, how novel all her surprise must be! How pretty I +think her! how pleasing to me is the mind which my fancy +gives her! It seems to me that I love her, and that you do +not love her enough. You want her to be all perfection. Did +she engage for this when she left her convent? You are not +just. Who is there without faults? Do you, in conscience, +expect her to be free from them? Whence can this hope +arise? It is not in nature. You wish her then to be a <i>prodigious</i> +prodigy, such as was never before seen. If I were +with you, I think I should do her some good offices, merely by +correcting your imagination a little, and by asking you, if a +young girl, who thinks of nothing but pleasing you and improving +herself, who loves and fears you, and who has a great +share of understanding, is not in the first rank of excellence? +These are the dictates of my heart in favor of my dear Paulina, +whom I love, and whom I entreat you immediately to +embrace for my sake. Add to this her good conscience, which +makes her renounce the compact, when she sees the jugglers +perform their necromancies. This life, though agreeable, must +have fatigued you; it is too much for you, my dear child; you +go to bed late, and you rise early, I have had apprehensions +for your health. The reason I do not talk to you of mine is, +that it is as I wish yours to be, and that I have nothing to say +upon the subject.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER CX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, February 28, 1689.</p> + +<p>The chevalier went yesterday to Versailles to know his fate; +for, not finding himself in the lists that have appeared, he is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_280">280</span> +anxious to know whether he is reserved for the dauphin’s +army, which has not yet been mentioned. As he has said +that he was capable of serving, he has a right to think that he +has not been forgotten; at all events it will not be his fault; +he is one of the best. It is certain that the King of England +set out this morning for Ireland, where he is expected with +impatience; he will be better there than here. He will traverse +Brittany with the swiftness of lightning; and go straight +to Brest, where he will find Marshal d’Estrées, and ships and +frigates ready; he takes with him 50,000 crowns. The king +has given him sufficient arms for 10,000 men. As his Britannic +majesty took leave, he said with a smile, “That arms for +himself were the only things that had been forgotten;” our +king gave him his; the heroes of romance never did any thing +more gallant than this action. What will not this brave but +unhappy king do, with arms that have ever been victorious? +Behold him then with the casque and cuirass of Rinoldo and +Amadis, and all our most celebrated knights-errant; I will +not say of Hector, for he was unfortunate. There is not an +offer that can be suggested, that our king has not made him; +generosity and magnanimity have been carried to their height. +M. d’Avaux<a id="fnanchor_250" href="#footnote_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a> is to go with him; he set out two days ago. +You will ask why M. de Barillon<a id="fnanchor_251" href="#footnote_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a> was not the person. The +reason is, that M. d’Avaux, being perfectly acquainted with +the affairs of Holland, will be more useful, than he who is acquainted +only with those of England.<a id="fnanchor_252" href="#footnote_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a> The queen has shut +herself up at Poissi with her son; she will be near the king, +and the fountain-head of intelligence. She is overwhelmed +<span class="pagenum" id="page_281">281</span> +with grief, and suffers from a nephritic complaint, that makes +it feared she has the stone; she is really to be pitied. You +see, my dear child, it is the rage of talking that makes me +write all this; the chevalier and the gazette will give you better +information than I can do. Your son has lived with me; +I never leave him, and he is satisfied. He is going to take +leave of the little Mesdemoiselles Castelnau; but his heart has +yet no attractions. His duty and his regiment take up all his +time. He is delighted at the thoughts of going, and of setting +the example to others.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_250" href="#fnanchor_250"><span class="label">[250]</span></a> +John-Anthony de Mesmes, Count d’Avaux, nephew of Claudius de +Mesmes, also Count d’Avaux, both celebrated for their superior talents +in negotiation, and for uncommon qualities of heart and mind.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_251" href="#fnanchor_251"><span class="label">[251]</span></a> +M. de Barillon had been embassador to England.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_252" href="#fnanchor_252"><span class="label">[252]</span></a> +The reason assigned here for the preference that was given to M. +d’Avaux, is not the true one: d’Avaux had the merit of having foreseen +and announced every event that happened, whereas De Barillon +had the misfortune to be wrong in every thing; this was the real cause +of the preference.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, March 2, 1689.</p> + +<p>Shrove-Tuesday is not an indifferent day to Paulina. I can +not help scolding you, my dear child, for not having sent her +prettily to the good Langlée’s, to dance a little with Mademoiselle +d’Oraison; what harm would there have been in allowing +her this little pastime? I am sure this dear child is interesting, +that she has a good air, a good carriage, and even +eclipses more regular beauties. I scold you also for reading +all your letters before you go to bed. I know it is scarcely +possible to keep them till the next day; but you must calculate +upon not sleeping, for there will often be many things in +them that will create disagreeable thoughts; nor would it be +a whit better if they contained nothing but reflections and +news. Before the imagination has sifted the contents, the +night is gone. As you know all this to be true, settle the +matter for the benefit of your health. I took my marquis yesterday +to Madame du Pui-du-fou’s; she grows very old. M. +de Mirepoix, who had been there once before to see me, came +a second time, and each time his whole conversation turned +upon his condescension in marrying to please his family. The +little puppet is dying of the spleen in this dreary abode. I afterward +went to Madame de Lavardin’s, to whom I remembered +<span class="pagenum" id="page_282">282</span> +you. She embraced your son several times. She loves you +dearly, and so does Madame de Mouci; but this last is in the +third heaven; she has lost a sister, who was a nun, for whom +she had very little regard: I shall make your compliments to +her and her learned brother.<a id="fnanchor_253" href="#footnote_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a> The chevalier arrived last night, +and is very well; he will be employed, but he knows not yet +in what country; I admire his courage. Your son is a very +agreeable and a very pretty fellow; he already manages all +his affairs, gives orders, makes purchases, and keeps his accounts; +it is a pity his father had not done the same. The +chevalier will inform you what our king said to the King of +England at his taking leave: “Sir, it is with grief I see you +depart, yet I never wish to see you again; but if you return, +be assured you will find me the same as you leave me.” Could +any thing better have been said? He has loaded him with +every thing, great and small; two millions of money, ships, +frigates, troops, officers, and M. d’Avaux, who makes, upon +the occasion, one of the most brilliant figures in the world. I +will venture to say that there is no one who would not be +proud of the employment, who would not think it worthy of +a man thoroughly acquainted with business, and capable of +giving advice: if M. de Barillon is not sensible of this he is +very happy. I now come to the minutiæ, such as toilets, +camp-beds, services of plate, plain and gilt, arms for his person, +which are the king’s; arms for the troops in Ireland, and +those who go with him, who are very numerous; in short, +generosity, magnificence, and magnanimity were never so +strikingly displayed as upon this occasion. The king is not +willing that the queen should go to Poissi; she will see very +little company, but the king will take care of her, and she +will receive news without intermission. The parting of the +King and Queen of England rent the hearts of all the spectators; +nothing but tears, sighs, lamentations, and swoonings +were to be seen or heard, which is very easy to be comprehended. +<span class="pagenum" id="page_283">283</span> +Such is his destiny. He has a good cause; he is +the protector of the true religion, and his courage will allow +him no other alternative than conquest or death.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_253" href="#fnanchor_253"><span class="label">[253]</span></a> +Achilles de Harlay, then attorney-general, and afterward first +president in the parliament of Paris, in November, 1689.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, March 23, 1689.</p> + +<p>I shall not retract the praises I have bestowed on the tragedy +of Esther; I shall be delighted with the harmony and novelty +of this spectacle as long as I live; I was in raptures with it; I +found in it a thousand things so just, so well introduced, and +so important to a king, that I entered with uncommon spirit +into the pleasure arising from the utterance, in fiction and +song, of the most solid truths; I was affected with these +various beauties, and am very far from changing my opinion. +But I told you that the impression of this piece has produced +its usual effect, and has brought forth a <i>civil demur</i> against excessive +applause. I, who have read it again with pleasure, +suppose that the critics are routed, as M. d’Aiguebonne will be +with his <i>demur</i>, if the chevalier has time to press the point. +The victory of the grand council has been brilliant and gratifying, +and I doubt not that it will give you ample satisfaction; +I am impatient to receive your letter upon this subject. M. +de Lamoignon told me again to-day, that this advantage, +gained sword in hand, was greater than we supposed. I told +him he was mistaken, as we had felt the pleasure in its fullest +extent. He is very much engaged in the great cause between +mademoiselle, the prince, and the whole house of Lorraine, +who have recourse to law in the same way we have. M. de +Lamoignon is to plead on Thursday, and the affair will be determined +upon hearing.</p> + +<p>The King of England set sail on the 17th, and arrived in +Ireland on the 19th. Little Mailly, who accompanied him to +Brest, is returned. Adieu, my beloved child; I dread an increase +of distance from you; it makes me ill. I swallow +<span class="pagenum" id="page_284">284</span> +this journey like a dose of medicine; but the worst is, that I +have no time to lose; in truth, my reflections are often of the +most melancholy cast; for, though I submit to that Providence +which separates us, what would become of me if I had +not the hope of seeing you again?</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER CXIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, June 1, 1689.</p> + +<p>Paulina is too fortunate in being your secretary; she learns, +as I told you, to think, and express her thoughts, by seeing +how you express yours. She is learning the French language, +which most women are ignorant of, but you take the trouble +of explaining words to her, which she would not understand; +and by instructing her in so many subjects, you relieve your +own head and mine. The tediousness of dictating is not +equal to the fatigue of writing; and my mind is never at rest, +but when I know yours is so. Persevere, then, in instructing +your daughter so properly, and in affording so great a relief +to yourself and to me.</p> + +<p>When you are assured of my being in perfect health, you +do every thing that can be done, which is to dread its interruption. +This too sometimes engages my thoughts, and not +finding any of those little inconveniences with which you are acquainted, +I say with astonishment, I must, however, expect +that this happy state will change; and I conclude, that I +ought, as upon all other occasions, to submit to the will of +God, and believe, that in inflicting ills upon me, he will give +me patience. I will therefore enjoy my present lot.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER CXIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, July 3, 1689.</p> + +<p>It is nine months this third of July, reckoning from day to +day, and from Sunday to Sunday, since I left you with a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_285">285</span> +deluge of tears, and more than you perceived, at Charenton. +Such partings are grievous and bitter, particularly when we +have not much time to lose. But to turn them to our advantage, +we ought to make them a period of abstinence and penance, +which would be the sure means of making them salutary; +it is certain that this holy economy is a favor from +heaven, like all others, which we do not deserve to obtain. +Nine months, then, have passed, in which I have neither seen +nor embraced you, nor even heard the sound of your voice. I +have not been ill, I have had no particular uneasiness; I have +seen fine houses, fine countries, and fine cities. Nevertheless, +I must acknowledge that it appears to me nine years since I +left you. I have had no letter from you this post; the delay +is always a disappointment to me. Madame de Lavardin tells +me that she said to Madame de Buri, with regard to Chabrilland’s +cause, which the last expects to gain, “You have always +great expectations; but one of your friends, who understands +these things, is not of the same opinion.” “Ah!” said +she, “you mean M. de Fieubet, but I do not believe him.” +And Madame de Lavardin afterward told me that M. d’Arles +is to have the honor of the civil petition. It is he, then, who +is to be the solicitor; but I would not, I think, solicit with +beat of drum in open court, where people are convinced you +have already but too much credit. We lead here, my dear +countess, the life I described to you. It is very fine weather; +we are so perfumed at night with jasmines and orange-flowers, +that in this respect I think I am in Provence. M. +and Madame de Chaulnes have written to me from St. Malo, +and constantly mention you. Write to La Troche; she can +not be consoled for your forgetfulness of her. I know not +how it has happened, for you are punctual. It is not possible +that I have not informed you of the death of her husband. I +expect your answer.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_286">286</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Wednesday, October 5, 1689.</p> + +<p>It had never entered my brain to accuse certain iron wires +in the head-dress of being the cause of long faces; this hint +would be very useful to certain persons of our acquaintance. +I had heard they were very friendly; but no, quite the contrary. +These two little wires press against the temples, prevent the +circulation of blood, and cause abscesses. Some die in consequence. +They may consider themselves fortunate whose +faces are only lengthened an ell, and who become as pale as +death; but young people, who are more hardy, may recover +in time. I am very much inclined to place this story in the +class with some others, formerly related to me by the good +Princess de Tarente; however, it is not amiss to know every +thing.</p> + +<p>I do not in the least doubt that M. de la Garde, who never +refused a remedy, will avail himself of that of the lady you +mention. You will see him with his head upon the ground, +and his heels in the air, <i>turning an affair</i><a id="fnanchor_254" href="#footnote_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a> like her; I really +believe that if we were to pursue this regimen for any length +of time, we should no longer have sore eyes. I have nothing +to give you in return for your account of this visit.</p> + +<p>We have had a very worthy, sensible, agreeable, unaffected, +learned, and every way desirable, visitor with us; a man of +great endowments, and capable of entering upon every subject +of conversation; he has been here for a week. One of his +brothers-in-law is arrived, the Abbé de Marbeuf, who spoils +nothing; and a brother-in-law of the Count de Lis, who would +spoil every thing if he opened his lips; this is a secret misanthropist, +for he keeps his chagrin to himself; he is very well +made, and sings so much like Beaumaviel, that he might be +mistaken for him. When our worthy friend departed, every +<span class="pagenum" id="page_287">287</span> +thing was comparatively flat and insipid; we renewed the +just observations we made in this country with you, on pleasant +and disagreeable company; and fixed that the disagreeable +was the most desirable; their absence is a relief; whereas +pleasant society leaves us dull and dejected; we can not easily +pursue the old track; in short, it is a great misfortune to associate +with sensible people, but it is a misfortune that does not +often happen to us.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_254" href="#fnanchor_254"><span class="label">[254]</span></a> +It has already been observed that this was a favorite expression +of M. de la Garde.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXVI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, November 13, 1689.</p> + +<p>Your letter is not yet arrived; this is always a grief to me; +though I have in some degree got the better of the apprehensions +I formerly suffered from the delay; it is the whim of the +post, and we must endure it; but as I am constantly with you +at Grignan, I lose the thread of the conversation; this it is +that vexes me. I know not whether you go to the assembly +with M. de Grignan, or remain at your château. I am very +uneasy about the chevalier’s health, and the effects of the bark, +repeated in its usual dose; its heat operating upon that of the +chevalier’s blood, brings to my mind an old saying, <i>When the +brave meets the brave, they remain brave</i>. We hope, therefore, +that this brave bark will make the blood remain brave; God +grant it may; it is very difficult to subdue.</p> + +<p>I have received a long letter from my new friend, the <i>man-wolf</i> +Guébriac; I would have sent it to you, as his style, which +is very easy, would be agreeable enough, if he did not praise +me so extravagantly; in fact, my modesty will not suffer it; +he is so astonished to find a woman with a few good qualities +and good principles, who in her youth had some charms, that +he seems to have passed his life in a whirlwind of passions, +among a banditti equally devoid of faith and law, where love +reigned alone, despoiled of every kind of virtue; this has given +rise to some very pleasant things.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_288">288</span> +We are reading the History of the Church by M. de Godeau;<a id="fnanchor_255" href="#footnote_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a> +it is really a very fine work; in what a respectable +light does it place religion! we are ready to suffer martyrdom +with Abbadie. Every thing has its turn; Corisca is very +pretty and very roguish; <i lang="it">altri tempi, altre cure</i>. Love me always, +my dear child, but never weigh other love in the same +scale with yours; your heart is of the first order, and no one +resembles it.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_255" href="#fnanchor_255"><span class="label">[255]</span></a> +Antony Godeau, Bishop of Grasse and Vence.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXVII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><i>The Rocks</i>, Wednesday, January 11, 1690.</p> + +<p>Good heavens! what a new year’s gift! what wishes! what +could be more calculated to charm me? I will tell you a +feeling I have just discovered in myself; if it could repay +yours I should be satisfied, for I have no other coin: instead +of the kind fears which the frequent deaths that surround you +occasion, and which make you think of others, I offer you the +real consolation, and even the joy, which frequently arise to me +from my being older than you. The thought that the oldest +goes first, and that I shall probably and naturally keep my +rank with my dear child, constitutes the true charms of this +feeling. What have I not suffered, when your ill state of +health made me dread a reverse of the order of nature? +These were trying times; let us talk no more of them; you +are well, God be praised; and every thing has resumed its +natural course. <i>God preserve you</i>; I believe you hear my +tone of voice, and know me.</p> + +<p>I now come to the chevalier; I have no hesitation in believing +that the climate of Provence would agree with him better +in winter than that of Paris. All those who, like swallows, +fly to your sunshine, afford sufficient testimony of this. But, +while I rejoice at his being sensible of the difference, I am +grieved at his having lost a thousand crowns of his income; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_289">289</span> +and by what means? was his regiment worth so much to +him? He will sell it then to the marquis;<a id="fnanchor_256" href="#footnote_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a> but will not the +money arising from it, in payment of debts, diminish the interest +of loans? Settle this account for me, which makes me +uneasy; I can not figure to myself the Chevalier de Grignan +at Paris without his genteel and neat little equipage; I can +not see him walking on foot, nor inquiring for places to Versailles; +such an idea can not enter my head; this article is +interlocutory; ah, how happily this term of chicanery finds +admittance here! Neither do I comprehend your sixty-four +people, besides guards; you deceive me, this can not be your +meaning, you must give me a mathematical demonstration.</p> + +<p>With regard to Paulina, you can not surely hesitate respecting +the choice you have to take, between good and evil. The +superiority of your understanding will easily point out to you +the true road; every thing leads you to your duty; honor +conscience, and the power you possess. When I consider how +much she has corrected herself in a short time to please you, +and how much she is improved, you will be answerable for all +the good she neglects. As to reading, you are too much engaged +in conversation and discussion to attend to it: we are most quiet +here, and therefore, have leisure for it. I even read works I +had slightly run over at Paris, and which appear quite new to +me. We also read, by way of interlude to our grand lectures, +scraps that we meet with, such as the fine funeral orations +of M. de Bossuet,<a id="fnanchor_257" href="#footnote_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a> +M. Flechier,<a id="fnanchor_258" href="#footnote_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a> +M. Mascaron,<a id="fnanchor_259" href="#footnote_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a> +Father Bourdaloüe: we pay a fresh tribute of tears to M. de Turenne, +Madame de Montausier, the Prince, the late Madame, +and the Queen of England; we admire the portrait of Cromwell: +these are master-pieces of eloquence, which charm the +mind. You must not say, “These are old;” they are not old, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_290">290</span> +they are divine. Paulina should be made acquainted and delighted +with them; but this is calculated solely for the Rocks. +I know not what book to recommend to Paulina: Davila is +fine in Italian, we have read it; Guicciardini is very long; I +should like the anecdotes of Medicis, which are an abridgment, +but they are not in Italian. I will not name Bentivoglio +again;<a id="fnanchor_260" href="#footnote_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a> let her confine herself to poetry, I do not like +Italian prose; to Tasso, <i>Aminto</i>, <i>Il Pastor Fido</i>, etc. I dare +not add Ariosto, there are some bad passages in it; let her also +read history; let her cherish this taste, which may long preserve +her from idleness; it is to be feared that if this part of +reading were suppressed there would be scarcely any thing to +read; let her begin with the life of Theodosius the Great, and +let her tell me how she likes it. This, my child, is a letter of +trifles; we set apart some days for chatting, without offense +to serious matters, in which we always take true interest.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_256" href="#fnanchor_256"><span class="label">[256]</span></a> +The Chevalier de Grignan, attaining the rank of field marshal in +1688, had leave to keep his regiment, that he might afterward resign +in favor of the Marquis de Grignan his nephew.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_257" href="#fnanchor_257"><span class="label">[257]</span></a> +The Bishop of Meaux.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_258" href="#fnanchor_258"><span class="label">[258]</span></a> +The Bishop of Nîmes.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_259" href="#fnanchor_259"><span class="label">[259]</span></a> +The Bishop of Agen.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_260" href="#fnanchor_260"><span class="label">[260]</span></a> +Gui Bentivoglio, cardinal, and author of the Civil Wars in Flanders, +and several other works.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, January 15, 1690.</p> + +<p>You are right, I can not reconcile myself to the date of this +year; it has, however, been already begun for some time; and +you will find, that, let us pass it as we may, we shall soon find +the bottom of the bag that contained the thousand livres.<a id="fnanchor_261" href="#footnote_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a></p> + +<p>You really spoil me, and so do my Paris friends; the sun +has scarcely gained upon us a barley-corn before you tell me +when you shall expect me at Grignan; and my friends desire +me to fix from that hour the time of my departure, in order +to hasten their joy. Such pressing civilities flatter me highly, +and particularly yours, which admit of no comparison. I will, +then, sincerely confide to my dear countess, that between this +<span class="pagenum" id="page_291">291</span> +and September, I can not entertain a thought of leaving this +country; this is the time when I send my little means to +Paris, of which only a very small part is gone. This is the +time when the Abbé Charier is treating for my fines and sales, +which amount to ten thousand livres; but more of this hereafter; +let us content ourselves with driving away every hope +of taking the least step before the time I have mentioned. I +will not, however, say that you are my goal, my perspective; +you know it well, and that you are so firmly rooted in my +heart that I fear M. Nicole would find much difficulty to prune +you away; this, in short, is my disposition. You use the +most affectionate expression possible to me, in hoping you may +never see the end of the happy years you wish me. We are +very far from agreeing in our wishes; for I have informed +you of a very just and very proper truth, which God will +doubtless grant, and which is to follow the natural order of +providence; this is my comfort through the thorny road of +old age: mine is a rational feeling, and yours too extraordinary +and too kind a one.</p> + +<p>As to Paulina, that devourer of books, I had rather she +should swallow bad ones, than have no love for reading; romances, +plays, Voiture, Sarrasin, have all been exhausted; has +she dipped into Lucian? is she capable of enjoying <i lang="fr">Les Petites +Lettres</i>? History should come next, and if she does not find +her account in this, I pity her. If she does not like the finest +works of devotion, so much the worse for her, for we know +but too well that even without devotion ourselves, they are +charming. With respect to ethics, as she would not make so +good a use of it as you, I would not have her meddle either +with Montaigne, Charron, or any others of his stamp; she is +too young. The true morality of this age, is what we learn +in conversation, fables, history, and example. If you were to +bestow a little of your time upon her in conversation, she +would reap greater benefit from this than from all the rest. I +know not whether what I say is worth your reading, I am +very far from being wedded to my opinion.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_261" href="#fnanchor_261"><span class="label">[261]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné compared the twelve months of the year to a +bag with a thousand livres, which is exhausted almost as soon as it is +opened.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_292">292</div> + +<h3>LETTER CXIX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, January 22, 1690.</p> + +<p>Good heavens, what a situation you are in! how pressing a +one! and how much and sensibly I am grieved at it! But, my +child, how weak and futile are wishes upon such occasions! +and how needless it is to tell you that if I had now, as I have +had, some portable sum which depended on me, it should soon +be yours! I am overwhelmed with a host of little creditors +who dun and threaten me, and I do not know whether I shall +be able to satisfy them, as I had hoped to do; for I am quite +suffocated by the obligation I am under of paying immediately +5000 livres by way of fine, and the price of the estate of +Madame d’Acigné, which I have purchased, to avoid paying +10,000 if I had waited two years longer. Such, then, is my +situation; but this is only to acquaint you with the utter impossibility +of my assisting you. Your brother appears to me +to feel for you, and I am persuaded he would perform his duty +better than your rich prelates, if the times were as they have +been, that is, if it were possible to borrow. He will talk to you +himself, and tell you his opinion of your affairs. I have also +set forth to him the embarrassments of your little colonel; he +mentioned the subject to me the first, some time ago, pitying +and regretting, like us, that the chevalier had not the management +of him for the first year or two; nothing could have +been of so much service to him as such a master; in short, +my dearest child, no one but God can confine so great a number +of disagreeable things within the bounds of resignation, in +which you appear to me. To return to my son; he had some +anxiety on seeing a stripling of seventeen or eighteen at the +head of such a troop. He remembers enough of past times to +know how difficult it is at that age to command old officers; +and this difficulty would have been removed, if he could have +had his uncle to establish him; this is a very disagreeable and +delicate time for him. Can not you assist him with some prudent +counselor, to advise him a little? For, in short, he is +<span class="pagenum" id="page_293">293</span> +alone, and can not at his age know a profession that requires +more experience than any other. I have conjured you to send +for the marquis to Grignan; what will he do during the carnival +at Paris and Versailles? do you think he will acquit +himself well of the duty and compliments he has to go through? +I perhaps do him wrong; but he is very young, and little accustomed +to this business; in short, I think he has more to +perform than he is equal to. I resign the pen to my son; I +will resume it again presently.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER CXX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, February 26, 1690.</p> + +<p>I could not have believed that I should have wept so much +for La Chau; but it is impossible to read your account of his +poor wife’s unfeigned and violent affliction without being affected +to tears. This is, indeed, a peculiar misfortune, and a +fate which nothing could prevent. The man is in haste, he +wants to get to his journey’s end; he is advised, for very +weighty reasons, not to expose himself, or, at least, not to go +into the little boat; but he will listen to no one, he must +go, he must be punctual to his appointment; Death is waiting +for him at a particular spot upon the Rhône; he must meet +him there, and perish. Good heavens, my dear child, how all +this is arranged! Every one sees his own fate in this accident, +and his wife’s grief becomes ours; as we are exposed to similar +perils, it is our own interest that makes us weep, when we +suppose we are lamenting the misfortunes of others. Christianity +dictates to us that we should think first of this poor man’s +salvation; but his wife afterward claims our pity for the loss +of 4000 livres; if the dead body should not float, or the violence +of the Rhône should throw it beyond Arles upon some +unfrequented shore, Providence will dispose of this gold, sewed +up in his wet coat, as of the rest.</p> + +<p>I highly approve the resolution of not sending for the marquis, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_294">294</span> +this is the surest way; the journey would be both expensive +and fatiguing, and productive of no good but the mere +gratification of your affection; bear this like many other +things, and rather wait till he is a brigadier or major-general, +than make him lose his time now. Beaulieu informs me, that +he is quite overwhelmed with business, and that he attends to +nothing else. Is it possible, that he should have visited Madame +de la Fayette before Madame de Vins? I blame him; +I am as jealous upon this occasion as you are, for I frequently +put myself in your place; every reason should have induced +him to have flown to Madame de Vins; she wrote to me the +other day that she longed to see him, and to observe the difference +and transition from infancy to youth. He has waited +upon Madame de Lavardin, and will have time to pay her +another visit.</p> + +<p>M. de Grignan has resolved upon a very precipitate journey; +it is difficult to avoid such courses, when we command singly +in a province, whether for the service of the king, or the +honor of the post. You never examine thoroughly into this +business, except for M. de Grignan; this is natural enough; +but the example should extend further. <i>No enemies</i>, my dear +child; let this be your maxim, it is equally Christian and +politic: I not only say <i>no enemies</i>, but also <i>many friends</i>; +you have felt the good effects of these in your law-suit; you +have a son; you may stand in need of those who you may +now think can never be of service to you. We are deceived; +see how Madame de la Fayette abounds with friends on every +side, and of all ranks. She has a hundred arms, and they all +serve her; her children feel it, and thank her daily for her +courteous disposition; an obligation which she owes to M. de +la Rochefoucault, and of which her family reaps the benefit. +I am certain that you have been of this opinion for many +years.</p> + +<p>You explain Madame Reinié’s conduct very well; it is droll +to think of her leaving Paris, her husband, all her business, +to fly for three or four months <i>all over</i> Provence asking for +<span class="pagenum" id="page_295">295</span> +money, without getting any, fatiguing herself, returning after +being at great expense, and getting the rheumatism into the +bargain! for recollect that she has pains <i>all over</i> her; and +such as at length have defeated you.</p> + +<p>I am delighted at Paulina’s partiality to M. Nicole; it is a +proof that she reads him with attention; this taste gives me +the highest opinion of her understanding; I also like her anger +that the bishops do not fight for promotion. But, my dear, +on your honor do you believe it right to give us only the first +volume of the romance of the <i>Princess</i>, the <i>Infanta</i>, or the +<i>First Minister</i>, so charming as we thought it?<a id="fnanchor_262" href="#footnote_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a> I will not +allow you to stop here; I insist upon knowing what is become +of the princess’s good and just resolution? I am afraid +it has vanished, by the necessity of the times, the want of a +<i>minister</i>, the sudden journey, the impossibility of collecting +<i>the leaves of the Sibyl</i>, idly and incautiously scattered to the +winds for ten years. In short, I fear your good intentions +will come to nothing, as I have so often found during the last +twenty years: this story, however, requires a continuation, +but it should not be too serious with regard to your affairs. +I wish also to be informed of the success of M. Prat’s journey +to the enraged lover of the Princess <i>Truelle</i>. I should like +to know who were the confidants of the <i>first minister</i> and <i>the +favorite</i>; and who received the couriers. Tell me if you are +still satisfied with <i>Flame</i>;<a id="fnanchor_263" href="#footnote_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a> he is a very considerable personage +in your household. I want to know some particulars respecting +the count’s journey, and if the treasurer will do as +he wishes: here are a number of questions, my dearest child, +for which I apologize. It is kind of you to love my letters; +when you receive three at a time you say you are rich; but +what fatigues do they not occasion you! They are so very +long that you should not answer them minutely. Adieu, my +love; how does Lent agree with you? for my part I like it +<span class="pagenum" id="page_296">296</span> +extremely. I took a mess of milk-coffee this morning: I am +not yet surfeited with it, nor with sermons, for we read none +but those of M. le Tourneux and St. John Chrysostom. It is +delightful weather, the winter is past, and we have a prospect +of spring that is superior to spring itself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_262" href="#fnanchor_262"><span class="label">[262]</span></a> +This was an account, in the form of a romance, of what passed in +M. de Grignan’s family.</p> + +<p class="sepb2"><a id="footnote_263" href="#fnanchor_263"><span class="label">[263]</span></a> +M. de Grignan’s house-steward.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em">N.B. This letter is the last from the mother to the daughter.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_297">297</div> + +<h2>LETTERS TO M. DE POMPONNE.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<p>The following Letters, relating to the trial of M. Fouquet, +were addressed to the Marquis de Pomponne, who was afterward +Minister of Foreign Affairs.</p> + +<p>The trial of Fouquet was not the least curious and least +interesting event of the reign of Louis XIV. The plan of +ruining him was laid with such odious art, and the conduct +of his enemies, many of whom were his judges, was so inveterate, +that it would have been impossible not to have been +interested for him, even had he been more criminal than he +really was. Accused and tried for financial peculations, he +was sentenced to banishment for a crime against the state. +His crime was a vague plan of resistance and flight into a +foreign country, which he had thrown upon paper five years +before, when the factions of the Fronde divided France, and +when he thought he had reason to complain of the ingratitude +of Cardinal Mazarin. This plan, which he had wholly forgotten, +was found among the papers that were seized at his +house.</p> + +<p>It is well known that Louis XIV. was led to believe that +Fouquet was a dangerous man. A guard of fifty musketeers +were appointed to conduct him to the citadel of Pignerol, the +king having changed the sentence of banishment into perpetual +imprisonment. It was still apprehended that he had formidable +friends. Among these were Pelisson and Lafontaine; +one defended him eloquently, and the other bewailed his misfortunes +in a very beautiful and pathetic elegy, in which he +went so far as to ask the king to pardon him.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_298">298</div> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p>To-day, Monday, November the 17th, 1664, M. Fouquet +was brought a second time before the chancellor. He seated +himself without ceremony upon the sellette,<a id="fnanchor_264" href="#footnote_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a> as he had done +the first time. The chancellor began by bidding him hold up +his hand. He replied, that he had already assigned the reasons +which prevented him from taking the oath. The chancellor +then made a long speech to prove the legal authority of the +court, that it had been established by the king, and that the +warrants had been confirmed by the parliament.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet replied, that things were often done under the +name of legal authority which were found upon reflection to +be unjust.</p> + +<p>The chancellor interrupted him: “What! do you mean to +say that the king abuses his power?” M. Fouquet replied, +“It is you, sir, who say it, not I; this was not my idea, and, +in my present situation, I can not but wonder at your wishing +to implicate me still further with his majesty; but, sir, you +yourself well know that we may be mistaken. When you sign +a sentence, you believe it just, yet the next day you annul that +sentence; thus you see it is possible to change our opinion.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said the chancellor, “though you will not acknowledge +the power of the court, you answer and put interrogatories, +and you are now upon the sellette.” “It is true, I am +so,” he replied, “but it is not voluntarily; I am brought here +against my will; it is a power I must obey, and a mortification +which God has inflicted upon me, and which I receive +from his hands; after the services I have rendered, and the +offices I have had the honor to bear, I might have been spared +this humiliation.”</p> + +<p>The chancellor then continued the examination respecting +the pension of the gabelles, to which the replies of M. Fouquet +were extremely satisfactory. The examination will proceed, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_299">299</span> +and I shall send you a faithful account of it; I am +anxious to know whether my letters come safely to your +hands.</p> + +<p>Your sister, who is with our ladies at the Faubourg, has +signed; she is now with the community, and seems perfectly +satisfied.</p> + +<p>Your aunt does not appear at all displeased with her; I did +not think it was she who had taken the leap, but some other +person. You know, of course, of our defeat at Gigeri,<a id="fnanchor_265" href="#footnote_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a> and as +those who formed the plan wish to throw the failure upon +those who executed it, they intend to bring Gadagne to trial. +There are some who will be satisfied with nothing less than +his head; but the public is persuaded that he could not have +advised otherwise than he did. M. d’Aleth, who excommunicated +the subaltern officers of the king, who were for compelling +the clergy to sign, is very much talked of here. This +will ruin him with your father, while it will bring him into +favor with Père Annat.<a id="fnanchor_266" href="#footnote_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a></p> + +<p>Adieu! The desire of gossiping has seized me, but I must +not yield to it; the narrative style should be concise.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_264" href="#fnanchor_264"><span class="label">[264]</span></a> +Stool on which a prisoner sits.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_265" href="#fnanchor_265"><span class="label">[265]</span></a> +The first expedition against Algiers.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_266" href="#fnanchor_266"><span class="label">[266]</span></a> +A jesuit, confessor of Louis XIV.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Friday, November 20, 1664.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet was examined this morning respecting the gold +mark; he answered extremely well; several of the judges +bowed to him; the chancellor reproved them and said that, +as he was a Breton, it was not the custom. “It is because you +are Bretons that you bow so low to M. Fouquet.” In returning +on foot from the arsenal, M. Fouquet asked what the workmen +were doing; he was told they were making the vase of a +fountain; he went to them, and gave his opinion, and afterward +<span class="pagenum" id="page_300">300</span> +returned smiling to Artagan. “You wonder, no doubt,” +said he, “at my interfering, but I formerly understood these +things well.” The friends of M. Fouquet, and I among the +rest, are pleased at this delightful composure; others call it +affectation; such is the world. Madame Fouquet, his mother, +has given the queen a plaster that has cured her convulsions, +which, properly speaking, were nothing but the vapors.</p> + +<p>Many, believing what they wish, imagine that the queen +will, on this account, intercede with his majesty to pardon the +unfortunate prisoner; but I, who hear a great deal of the kindness +of this country, do not believe a word of it. The noise +the plaster has made is wonderful; every body says that Madame +Fouquet is a saint, and has the power of working miracles.</p> + +<p>To-day, the 21st, M. Fouquet has been questioned respecting +the wax and sugar taxes. At certain objections that were +raised, and which appeared to him ridiculous, he lost his temper. +This was going a little too far, and there was a haughtiness +in his manners that gave offense. He will correct himself; +for this mode of proceeding is by no means advisable; +but patience will sometimes escape; it seems to me as if I +should have done the same.</p> + +<p>I have been at Sainte-Marie, where I saw your aunt, who +appeared to be swallowed up in devotion; she was at mass, +and in quite a religious ecstasy. Your sister was looking very +pretty; fine eyes, and great animation; the poor child fainted +this morning; she is very much indisposed, her aunt is uniformly +kind to her. M. de Paris has given her a sort of defeasance, +which gained her heart, and induced her to sign the +wicked formulary.<a id="fnanchor_267" href="#footnote_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a> I have not mentioned the subject to either +of them; M. de Paris<a id="fnanchor_268" href="#footnote_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a> has forbidden it. But I must give you +<span class="pagenum" id="page_301">301</span> +an idea of prejudice; our sisters of Sainte-Marie said to me, +“God be praised, who has at length touched the heart of this +poor child! she is now in the way of obedience and salvation.” +From thence I went to Port Royal, where I found a certain +great recluse<a id="fnanchor_269" href="#footnote_269" class="fnanchor">[269]</a> of your acquaintance, who accosted me with, +“Well, this silly goose has signed; God, in short, has abandoned +her; she is lost.” I thought I should have died with +laughing, when I reflected on the different effects of prejudice; +in this, you see the world in its true mirror. I think extremes +should always be avoided.</p> + +<p>Saturday evening. M. Fouquet entered the chamber this +morning, and was interrogated upon the subject of grants; he +was attacked weakly and defended himself ably. Between +you and me, this is not the worst part of the business. Some +good angel must have informed him that he had carried himself +too proudly; for he altered his manner to-day, and the +judges altered theirs, by not bowing to him. The examination +will not be resumed till Wednesday; and I shall not +write to you till then. I have only to add, that if you continue +to pity me so much, for the trouble I take in writing to +you, and desire me not to go on, I shall think my letters tire +you, and that you do not like the fatigue of answering them; +but I promise not to write such long ones in future, and I absolve +you from answering them, though I prize your letters +highly. After these declarations, I should think you would +not attempt to interrupt the course of my gazettes. In flattering +myself that I contribute a little to your pleasure, I add +greatly to my own. I have so few opportunities of proving +my friendship and esteem for you, that I must not neglect such +as present themselves. Pray make my compliments to your +family and your neighbors. The queen is much better.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_267" href="#fnanchor_267"><span class="label">[267]</span></a> +This relates to the condemnation of the five propositions of Jansenius; +the clergy of France protested against them, and drew up a +formulary, which the nuns of Port Royal and many others refused to +sign; this refusal, in the end, caused their dispersion.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_268" href="#fnanchor_268"><span class="label">[268]</span></a> +The then archbishop of Paris was the sage Péréfixe.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_269" href="#fnanchor_269"><span class="label">[269]</span></a> +No doubt the celebrated Doctor Arnauld d’Andilly.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_302">302</div> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Monday, November 24, 1664.</p> + +<p>If I know my own heart, it is I who am the party obliged, +by your receiving so kindly the information I send you. Do +you think I have no pleasure in writing to you? Believe me, +I have a great deal, and am as much gratified in writing, as +you can be in reading what I write. The sentiments you entertain +upon the subject of my letter are very natural; hope is +common to us all, without our knowing why; but it supports +the heart. I dined at Sainte-Marie de Sainte-Antoine two +days ago; the lady abbess related to me the particulars of +four visits she has received from Puis***,<a id="fnanchor_270" href="#footnote_270" class="fnanchor">[270]</a> within the last +three months, at which I am very much astonished. He came +to tell her that the now blessed Bishop of Geneva (François de +Sales) had been so extremely kind to him during his illness +last summer, that he could not help feeling most strongly the +obligations he owed him; and he requested her to obtain the +prayers of the community for the deceased. He gave her, for +the accomplishment of his holy purpose, a thousand crowns, +and entreated her to show him the bishop’s heart. When he +was at the grate, he fell upon his knees, and remained full a +quarter of an hour, bathed in tears, apostrophizing this heart, +and praying for a spark of the divine fire which had consumed +it. The lady abbess also melted into tears; and gave him the +relics of the deceased, with which he hurried away. During +these visits, he appeared so earnest about his salvation, so disgusted +with the court, so transported with the idea of his conversion, +that a person more clear-sighted than the abbess would +have been deceived. She contrived to introduce the subject of +Fouquet; he answered her as a man who was interested in +nothing but religion; that he was not sufficiently known; +that justice would be done him, agreeably to the will of God, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_303">303</span> +if from no other consideration. I never was more surprised +than at this conversation. If you ask me what I think of it, I +must answer, that I do not know; that it is perfectly unintelligible +to me; that I can not see the drift of this comedy, nor, +if it is not a comedy, how the steps he has since taken are to +be reconciled with his fine speeches.</p> + +<p>Time must explain all this, for it is at present perfectly +enigmatical. Do not mention it, for the lady abbess desired +me not to make the circumstance known.</p> + +<p>I have seen M. Fouquet’s mother. She told me she had +sent the plaster to the queen by Madame de Charost.<a id="fnanchor_271" href="#footnote_271" class="fnanchor">[271]</a> The +effect was certainly wonderful: in less than an hour the queen +felt her head relieved, and so great a discharge of offensive +matter took place, that had it remained it might have suffocated +her in the next fit. The queen said aloud that it was +this matter which had occasioned the convulsions of the preceding +night, and that Madame de Fouquet had cured her. +The queen-mother thought the same, and said so to the king, +who did not attend to her. The physicians, who had not +been consulted in applying the plaster, withheld their sentiments +on the subject, but made their court at the expense of +truth. The same day, these poor women threw themselves at +the feet of the king, who took no notice of them. Every body +is acquainted with the circumstance of the cure; but no one +knows what will come of it: we must wait the event with patience.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet was interrogated again this morning, but the +chancellor’s manner was changed; it seems as if he were +ashamed of receiving his lesson every day from Boucherat.<a id="fnanchor_272" href="#footnote_272" class="fnanchor">[272]</a> +He told the reporter to read the article, upon which he wished +to examine the accused; and the reading lasted so long, that +it was half-past ten o’clock before it was finished. He then +<span class="pagenum" id="page_304">304</span> +said, “Let Fouquet be brought in;” but corrected himself immediately +by saying “M. Fouquet;” as, however, he had not +directed the prisoner to be sent for, he was still at the Bastille. +A messenger was then dispatched for him, and he arrived at +eleven o’clock. He was questioned respecting the grants, +and answered extremely well; but he was a little at a loss as +to certain dates, which would have injured him considerably, +if the examiner had been skillful and awake; but, instead of +this, the chancellor was asleep. This was observed by M. +Fouquet, who would have laughed heartily, if he had dared. +At length the chancellor roused himself, and continued the +examination; and though M. Fouquet rested too much on a +prop that might have failed him, the event proved that he +knew what he was about; for, in his misfortune, he has certain +little advantages that belong exclusively to himself. If +they go on slowly every day, the trial will last a long time.</p> + +<p>I shall write to you every evening; but I shall not send my +letter till Saturday or Sunday evening: it will give you an +account of the proceedings of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, +and I will contrive that you shall receive one on Thursday, +informing you of the proceedings of Monday, Tuesday, and +Wednesday: in this way your letters will not be long detained. +I beg my compliments to your recluse, and to your +better half. I say nothing of your dear neighbor; it will soon +be my turn to give you news of her myself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_270" href="#fnanchor_270"><span class="label">[270]</span></a> +This name appears to be altered, and ought, as will be seen further +on, to be Puissort.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_271" href="#fnanchor_271"><span class="label">[271]</span></a> +Fouquet’s daughter.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_272" href="#fnanchor_272"><span class="label">[272]</span></a> +Boucherat, then master of requests, and afterward chancellor, had +been appointed to put the seals on the papers of the superintendent. +He was on the commission charged with the prosecution.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Thursday, November 21, 1664.</p> + +<p>The examination upon the subject of the grants was resumed +to-day. The chancellor kindly endeavored to drive +M. Fouquet to extremities, and to embarrass him, but he did +not succeed. M. Fouquet acquitted himself admirably; he +did not come into the chamber of justice till eleven o’clock, +because the chancellor made the reporter read as before; but +<span class="pagenum" id="page_305">305</span> +in spite of this parade of justice, he said the worst he could +of our poor friend. The reporter<a id="fnanchor_273" href="#footnote_273" class="fnanchor">[273]</a> always took his part, because +the chancellor evidently leaned to the other side of the +question. At last he said, “Here is a charge to which the +accused will not be able to answer.” “And here, sir,” said +the reporter, “is a plaster that will cure the weakness;” he +made an excellent justification of him, and then added: “In +the place in which I stand, sir, I shall always speak the truth, +in whatever form it presents itself to me.”</p> + +<p>This allusion to a plaster called forth a smile from the audience, +as it reminded them of the one that has lately made +so much noise at court. The accused was then brought in; +he only remained an hour in court; and, on his leaving it, +M. d’Ormesson was complimented by several persons upon his +firmness.</p> + +<p>I must relate to you what I myself did. Some ladies proposed +to me to accompany them to a house exactly opposite +the arsenal, where we could see the return of our poor +friend. I was masked,<a id="fnanchor_274" href="#footnote_274" class="fnanchor">[274]</a> but my eye caught him the moment +he was in view. M. d’Artagan was at his side, and fifty +mousquetaires about thirty or forty steps behind him. He +appeared thoughtful. The moment I saw him my legs +trembled, and my heart beat so violently that I could scarcely +support myself. In approaching us to re-enter his dungeon, +M. d’Artagan pointed out to him that we were there, and +he saluted us with the same delightful smile you have so +often witnessed. I do not believe he recognized me; but I +own I was strangely affected when I saw him enter the little +door. If you knew the misfortune of having a heart like +<span class="pagenum" id="page_306">306</span> +mine, I am sure you would pity me; but from what I know +of you, I do not think you have much the advantage of me +in this point. I have been to see your dear neighbor. I pity +you as much at losing her as I rejoice at her being with us. +We have had a good deal of conversation upon the subject +of our poor friend; she has seen Sappho,<a id="fnanchor_275" href="#footnote_275" class="fnanchor">[275]</a> who has considerably +raised her spirits. I shall go there to-morrow, to recruit +my own; for I often feel the want of consolation; it is not +that I do not hear a thousand things, that should inspire +hope; but alas! my imagination is so lively, that every +thing which is uncertain destroys me.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Friday, November 28.</p> + +<p>The court opened early this morning. The chancellor said +he had now to speak of the four loans: D’Ormesson observed, +that it was a very unimportant affair, and one upon which no +blame could be attached to M. Fouquet, as he had declared +from the beginning. An attempt was made to contradict +him: he begged leave to explain the matter according to his +own view of it, and desired his colleagues to listen to him. +The court was attentive, and he convinced them that it was +a very trifling business. The accused was then ordered to be +brought in; it was eleven o’clock. You will remark that he +has never been more than an hour upon the sellette. The +chancellor still wished to speak of the loans. M. Fouquet +requested he might be allowed to state what he had omitted +the day before, respecting the grants; leave was given him, +and he said wonders. The chancellor asked him, “Have you +had your acquittance for the employment of this sum?” He +replied that he had, but that it was conjointly with other +things which he had marked, and which will come in their +course. “But,” said the chancellor, “at the time you received +these acquittances you had not incurred the expenses?” +“True,” replied M. Fouquet, “but the sums were set apart +<span class="pagenum" id="page_307">307</span> +for the purpose.” “This is not enough,” said the chancellor, +“Pardon me, sir,” said M. Fouquet; “when I gave you your +appointments, for instance, I sometimes received the acquittance +a month beforehand, and as the sum was set apart, it +was exactly the same as if it had been paid.” “That is true,” +said the chancellor; “I was much indebted to you.” M. +Fouquet replied that he had no intention to reproach him, +and that he was at that time happy to serve him; but the circumstance +had occurred to his mind, as an instance in point, +and he could not help making use of it.</p> + +<p>The court has closed till Monday. They seem determined +to prolong the affair as much as possible. Puis*** has promised +to give the accused as few opportunities of speaking as +he can. The fact is, they are afraid of him. They would, +therefore, interrogate him summarily, and even pass over some +of the articles; but he is determined they shall not do this, +nor will he suffer them to judge his cause without his being +permitted to justify himself upon every separate head of accusation. +Puis*** is in continual apprehension of offending +Petit. He excused himself the other day by saying that +M. Fouquet had certainly spoken too long, but that he +had no means of interrupting him. Ch*** is constantly behind +the screen whenever the examinations take place; he +hears all that is said, and offers to go to the judges and explain +the reasons by which he is led to draw such opposite conclusions. +All this is irregular, and shows a great inveteracy +against the unfortunate prisoner. I own I have no longer any +hope. Adieu, sir, till Monday. I wish you could see my +heart, you would then be convinced of the sincerity of a friendship +which you profess to prize.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_273" href="#fnanchor_273"><span class="label">[273]</span></a> +The reporter was M. d’Ormesson, one of the most respectable magistrates +of his time.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_274" href="#fnanchor_274"><span class="label">[274]</span></a> +It was still the custom for ladies to wear masks when they went +abroad; a custom which is retained in Corneille’s plays, and which was +brought from Italy by the Medicis, with many other customs equally +disagreeable. These masks of black velvet, to which the <i lang="fr">loups</i> succeeded, +were intended as a preservative to the complexion.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_275" href="#fnanchor_275"><span class="label">[275]</span></a> +Mademoiselle Scudery, sister of the author, known under this +name by an unfortunate fertility of imagination; a woman who had +more wit than her writings display, though they display a great deal.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p>Two days ago every one believed that it was intended to +protract M. Fouquet’s affair as much as possible; but now the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_308">308</span> +reverse of this appears to be the case, and the interrogations +are hurried over in a most extraordinary manner. This morning +the chancellor took his paper and read, as he would an inventory, +ten heads of accusation, without giving the accused +time to reply. M. Fouquet said, “I do not wish, sir, to prolong +the business, but I entreat you to give me time to answer +the charges that are brought against me. You question me, +and it appears as if you did not wish me to reply; but it is +of consequence to me to speak. There are many articles I +must explain; and it is but justice that I should answer to all +those which are formally alleged against me.” The court was +then obliged to attend, contrary to the wishes of the ill-disposed, +who could not bear to hear him defend himself so ably. +He answered extremely well to every accusation. The trial +will now go on, but will be conducted so rapidly that I expect +the examination will close this week. I have just been supping +at the Hôtel de Nevers; the mistress of the house and I +conversed a good deal upon this subject. We are uneasy to a +degree, which you only can comprehend, for I have just received +your letter; it surpasses even my own feelings upon the +subject. You put my modesty to too great a trial in asking +me upon what terms I am with you and your dear recluse. It +seems to me that I see him and hear him say what you tell +me. I am quite piqued that it was not I who metamorphosed +Pierrot to Tartuffe;<a id="fnanchor_276" href="#footnote_276" class="fnanchor">[276]</a> it was so natural that if I had half the +wit you ascribe to me, it would have flowed mechanically from +my pen.</p> + +<p>I must relate to you a little anecdote, which is perfectly true, +and which can not fail to amuse you. The king has lately +employed himself in making verses; Messieurs de Saint Aignan +and Dangeau put him in the way of it. He wrote a little +madrigal the other day with which he was not much pleased. +One morning he said to Marshal de Grammont, “M. le maréchal, +read this little madrigal, if you please, and tell me if you +ever saw so silly a one; because it is known that I have lately +<span class="pagenum" id="page_309">309</span> +been fond of poetry they bring me all the nonsense that is +written.” The marshal having read it, said to the king, “Your +majesty is an excellent judge of every thing: this is certainly +without exception the most silly and ridiculous madrigal I ever +read.” The king laughed, and continued, “Must not the writer +be a great fool?” “There is no other name for him,” said the +marshal. “O!” said the king, “how delighted I am that you +have spoken your sentiments so freely! I am myself the author +of it.” “Ah! sire, what treason have I uttered! I entreat +your majesty to give it me again. I read it hastily.” “No, +M. le maréchal; the first sentiments are always the most natural.” +The king was very much entertained at this little +frolic; but those about him thought it the most cruel thing +that could be done to an old courtier. For myself, I love to +make reflections, and I wish the king would reflect in like +manner on this adventure, that he might see how far he is +from knowing the truth. We are upon the point of experiencing +a still more painful instance of royal delusion, in the repurchase +of our rents, at an expense that will send us all to +the workhouse. The emotion it occasions is great, but the +hardship is greater. Do you not think this is undertaking too +much at once? The loss of a part of my income is not the +point that affects me the most.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Tuesday, December 2.</p> + +<p>Our dear unfortunate friend spoke for two hours this morning, +but so uncommonly well that several persons could not +help expressing their admiration. Among others, M. de Renard +said, “This man, it must be owned, is incomparable; he +never spoke so well in the parliament; he maintains his self-possession +better than he has ever done.” The subject was the +six millions, and his own expenses. Nothing could exceed +what he said. I shall write to you on Thursday and on Friday; +these will be the last days of the examination, and I +shall go on to the end.</p> + +<p>God grant my last letter may contain the information I so +<span class="pagenum" id="page_310">310</span> +ardently wish. Adieu, my dear sir; desire our recluse (Arnauld) +to pray for our poor friend. I heartily embrace you +both, and, for modesty’s sake, I include your wife.</p> + +<p class="sep2 cent cs9">IN CONTINUATION.</p> + +<p>Tranquillity reigns throughout the family of the unfortunate +Fouquet. It is said that M. de Nesmond declared on +his death-bed, that his greatest sorrow was that he had not +excepted to these two judges; that if he had lived to the end +of the trial he would have repaired his fault, and that he +prayed God to pardon his error.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet, as I observed before, spoke to-day two complete +hours, upon the subject of the six millions; he commanded +attention, and performed wonders. Every one was affected +in his way. Puissort made gestures of disbelief and disapprobation, +that shocked every honest man in court.</p> + +<p>When M. Fouquet had done, M. Puissort rose impetuously, +and said, “Thank God, it can never be said that he has not +had his bellyful of speaking.” What say you to this speech? +Was it not worthy of a judge? It is said that the chancellor +is very much alarmed at the erysipelas that occasioned the +death of M. de Nesmond, fearing there may be a repetition +of the judgment in store for himself. If the apprehension +could inspire him with the sentiments of a man about to appear +before God, it would be something; but it will be said of +him, I fear, as of Argante, <i lang="it">e mori come visse</i>;<a id="fnanchor_277" href="#footnote_277" class="fnanchor">[277]</a> he died as he +lived.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Wednesday, December 3.</p> + +<p>I have received your letter; it has proved to me that I +have not obliged a person who is ungrateful; nothing can be +more kind, nothing more gratifying. I must be wholly exempt +from vanity to be insensible to such praises. I assure +you, I am delighted at the good opinion you entertain of my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_311">311</span> +heart, and I further assure you, without meaning compliment +for compliment, that my esteem for you infinitely surpasses +the power of ordinary language to express, and that I experience +real pleasure and consolation in being able to inform +you of events in which we are both so much interested. I +am very glad your dear recluse takes her part in them; I supposed +you would make them known also to your incomparable +neighbor. You gratify me extremely in telling me that I +have made some progress in her heart; there is no one in +whose affections I would more gladly establish myself, and +when I would indulge in a little gayety, I think of her and +her enchanted palace. But I return to business, from which I +have been insensibly led, to tell you of the sentiments I entertain +for yourself and your amiable friend.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet was upon the sellette again to-day. The Abbé +d’Effiat bowed to him, as he passed. In returning his bow, +he said to him, with the same enchanting smile we have so +often observed, “Sir, I am your very humble servant.” The +abbé was so much affected that he could not speak.</p> + +<p>As soon as M. Fouquet was in the chamber, the chancellor +desired him to be seated. He replied, “Sir, you took advantage, +yesterday, of my placing myself upon the sellette: +you infer from my doing so that I acknowledge the authority +of the court; as that is the case, I beg leave to stand.” The +chancellor then told him he might withdraw. M. Fouquet replied, +“I do not mean by this to advance any new objection; +I only wish to make my protestation, as usual, and, the charge +being cited against me, to be permitted to reply.”</p> + +<p>This was agreed to. He then seated himself, and the examination +respecting the pension of the gabelles was resumed, +to which he replied admirably. If this mode continue, the +interrogations will be favorable to him. The spirit and firmness +he displays are the subject of general conversation at +Paris. He has asked one thing of a friend which makes me +tremble: he has entreated him to let him know his sentence, +whether favorable or otherwise, in some private way, by signal, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_312">312</span> +the instant it is pronounced, that he may have time to +reconcile himself to his fate before it be announced to him +officially; adding, that if he has half an hour to prepare himself, +he shall hear without emotion the worst that can be told +him. This has made me weep, and I am certain it will affect +you also very painfully.</p> + +<p>There were few persons at the examination, on account of +the queen’s illness; she was supposed to be dying, but is now +somewhat better. Yesterday evening she received the viaticum. +It was the most affecting and solemn spectacle that +can be imagined, to see the king and the whole court going +for the holy sacrament, and conducting it to the palace. It +was received with a profusion of lights. The queen made an +effort to rise, and took it with a devotion that reduced every +one to tears. It was not without difficulty that she had +been brought to consent; the king was the only one who +could make her listen to reason; to every other person she +said that she was very willing to receive the communion, but +not the viaticum; it was full two hours before she could be +prevailed upon.</p> + +<p>The general approbation that is given to M. Fouquet’s answers, +is very grating to Petit.<a id="fnanchor_278" href="#footnote_278" class="fnanchor">[278]</a> It is even thought he will +engage Puis*** to feign illness, in order to interrupt the torrent +of admiration, and to have time himself to take breath at +<span class="pagenum" id="page_313">313</span> +this, and other instances of his ill success. I am the most +obedient servant of the dear recluse, of your lady, and the +adorable Amalthée.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_276" href="#fnanchor_276"><span class="label">[276]</span></a> +The Chancellor Seguier’s name was Pierre.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_277" href="#fnanchor_277"><span class="label">[277]</span></a> +Gerusalemme Liberata, canto 19; the verse runs thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse" lang="it">Moriva Argante, e tal moria qual visse.</div> +</div> + +<p><a id="footnote_278" href="#fnanchor_278"><span class="label">[278]</span></a> +Petit is a feigned name, meant either for Le Tellier or Colbert. +With regard to Puis***, as, from the sense of the expressions, he must +be one of the judges against Fouquet, there is little doubt that Puissort +is the person alluded to; and what is said of him in the preceding Letters +must be so understood.</p> + +<p>It may further be remarked that the conduct of Colbert and Le Tellier, +in this business, was extremely well characterized by a criticism +of the great Turenne, who interested himself warmly for Fouquet. To +some one who blamed the violence of Colbert, and praised the moderation +of Le Tellier, Turenne replied, “True, sir; M. Colbert has most +desire that he should be hanged, and M. Le Tellier most fear lest he +should not be.”</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Thursday, December 4, 1664.</p> + +<p>At length the examinations are over. M. Fouquet entered +the chamber this morning. The chancellor ordered his <i>project +against the state</i> to be read throughout. M. Fouquet +spoke first upon the subject. “I believe, sir,” said he, “you +can derive nothing from this paper, but the effect it has just +produced, of overwhelming me with confusion.” The chancellor +replied, “You have yourself heard and seen by it that +your regard for the state, which you have so much insisted +upon in court, was not so considerable but that you would +have embroiled it from one end to the other.” “Sir,” replied +M. Fouquet, “this idea occurred to me only in the height of +the despair in which the cardinal often placed me; especially +when, after contributing more than any man in the world to +his return to France, I found myself repaid by the basest ingratitude. +I had a letter from himself, and one from the +queen-mother, in proof of what I say; but they have been +taken away with my papers, as have several letters. It is to +be lamented that I did not burn this unfortunate paper which +had so completely escaped my mind and my memory that I +have been nearly two years without thinking of it or knowing +even that it existed. However this affair may terminate, I disown +it with my whole heart, and I entreat you, sir, to believe, that +my regard for the person and the service of the king has never +been in the slightest degree diminished.” “It is very difficult +to believe this,” said the chancellor, “when we see such contrary +sentiments expressed at a different period.” M. Fouquet +replied, “At no period, sir, even though at the hazard of my +life, have I ever abandoned the king’s person; and at the time +<span class="pagenum" id="page_314">314</span> +in question, you, sir, were at the head of the council of his +enemies, and your relations gave free passage to the army +against him.”</p> + +<p>The chancellor felt this stroke; but our poor friend was irritated, +and therefore not quite master of himself. The subject +of his expenses was afterward introduced. “I undertake,” +said he, “to prove that I have not incurred a single expense +which, either by means of my private income, with which the +cardinal was well acquainted, or my appointments, or my +wife’s fortune, I was not able to afford; and if I do not prove +this satisfactorily, I consent to be treated with the utmost ignominy.” +In short, this interrogation lasted two hours; M. +Fouquet defended himself ably, but with a degree of warmth +and petulance; the reading of the project having ruffled him +exceedingly.</p> + +<p>When he had left the court, the chancellor said, “This is +the last time we shall interrogate him.” M. Poncet then went +up to the chancellor, and said, “You have made no mention, +sir, of the proofs there are that he had attempted to put his +project against the state into execution.” The chancellor replied, +“They are not, sir, sufficiently strong; he would have +refuted them too easily.” Upon which Saint Hélène and +Puissort said, “Every one is not of that opinion.” This is a +subject to muse upon. The rest to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Friday, December 5.</p> + +<p>This morning the subject of the requests was mentioned, +which are of little importance except that there are persons, +not ill disposed, who wish the sentence to refer to them. The +business on the side of the prosecution is at an end. It is now +M. d’Ormesson’s turn to speak; he is to recapitulate the several +matters. This will occupy the whole of the next week, +during which the time we shall pass can scarcely be called +living. For myself, you would hardly know me, and I do not +think I can hold out so long. M. d’Ormesson has desired me +not to see him again till the business is over: he is in the conclave, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_315">315</span> +and will have intercourse with no one. He affects great +reserve; he listens to me, but does not answer. I had the +pleasure, in bidding him adieu, to acquaint him with my sentiments. +I will inform you of all I hear. God grant my last +tidings may be good; I desire it fervently. I assure you we +are all very much to be pitied. I mean you and I, and all +who, like ourselves, are interested in the event. Adieu, my +dear sir: I am so dull this evening, and my heart is so much +oppressed that I must conclude.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Tuesday, December 9, 1664.</p> + +<p>I assure you the days pass very tediously; suspense is extremely +painful: but it is an evil to which the whole family +of the unfortunate prisoner is habituated. I have seen, and +can not sufficiently express my admiration of them. It seems +as if they had never known, never read, the events that have +taken place in former times. What surprises me most is, that +Sappho is just like the rest; she, whose understanding and +penetration are unlimited. When I reflect upon this circumstance, +I persuade myself, or, at least, I wish to persuade myself, +that they know more of the matter than I do. When I +reason too with others, on whose judgment I can rely, and +who are less prejudiced, because less interested, I find all our +measures so just that it will be really a miracle if the business +does not terminate according to our wishes. We are sometimes +only lost by a single voice, but that voice is every thing. +I remember, however, the recusations, respecting which these +poor women thought themselves so sure, and we lost them by +five to seventeen; since that time their confidence has been +my distrust. Yet I have a little spark of hope in my heart; +I hardly know from whence it comes, nor whither it would +lead, nor is it sufficient to make me sleep in peace. I talked +over this affair yesterday with Madame du Plessis;<a id="fnanchor_279" href="#footnote_279" class="fnanchor">[279]</a> I can see +<span class="pagenum" id="page_316">316</span> +nobody, but those who will converse with me on the subject, +and who are of the same opinion as myself. She hopes, as I +do, without knowing the reason. “Why do you hope?” “Because +I do;” this is our answer; a notable one, it must be +confessed. I told her, with the greatest sincerity in the world, +that if the sentence should be in conformity to our wishes, the +height of my joy would be to dispatch instantly a man on +horseback with the pleasing intelligence to you; and that the +pleasure of picturing the delight I should give you, would render +my own delight complete. She perfectly agreed with me; +and our imagination gave us more than a quarter of an hour’s +holiday on the occasion. I must correct my last day’s report +of the examination respecting the project against the state. I +related it to you exactly as I heard it; but the same person +has since tasked his memory, and told it to me over again +more accurately. Every body has heard it from the different +judges. After M. Fouquet had said that the only effect that +could be drawn from this project was the confusion the reading +it had occasioned him, the chancellor observed, “You can +not deny that this is a crime against the state.” “I confess, +sir,” he replied, “that it is a foolish and extravagant thing, but +not a crime against the state. I entreat you, gentlemen,” said +he, turning toward the judges, “to suffer me to explain what +constitutes a state crime; not that I consider you less capable +of defining it than myself, but I have had more time perhaps +than you to examine the question. A crime against the state, +is when a person, holding an important office, and being in +the secrets of a prince, suddenly goes over to the side of his +enemy, engages his whole family in the same interests, opens +the gates of a city, of which he is the governor, to the foe, +shuts them against his lawful sovereign, and reveals to his +enemy the secrets of the state. This, gentlemen, is what is +called a state crime.” The chancellor did not know which way +<span class="pagenum" id="page_317">317</span> +to look, and the judges could scarcely refrain from laughter. +This is the truth without any embellishment. You will agree +with me, that nothing could be more spirited, more delicate in +its satire, and at the same time more diverting.</p> + +<p>The whole kingdom knows and admires the prisoner’s reply +on this occasion. He afterward entered minutely into his defense, +and said what I told you before. I should have been +quite unhappy if you had not known this circumstance, and +our dear friend would have lost much by it. This morning M. +d’Ormesson began the recapitulation. He spoke well and +clearly. On Thursday he will give his opinion; his colleague +will then speak for two days; it will take several more for the +rest to give their opinions. Some of the judges say that they +shall enlarge a great deal upon the subject, so that we have to +languish in expectation till next week. In this state of suspense +we can scarcely be said to live.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Wednesday, December 10.</p> + +<p>M. d’Ormesson has continued the recapitulation; he has +done wonders, that is, he has spoken with extraordinary clearness, +intelligence, and ability. Puissort interrupted him five or +six times, with no other intention than to embarrass him, and +prevent his speaking so well: he said to him in one instance, +where his argument went strongly in favor of M. Fouquet, +“Sir, we shall speak after you, we shall speak after you.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_279" href="#fnanchor_279"><span class="label">[279]</span></a> +Madame du Plessis Belliere, the intimate friend of Fouquet. He +had commissioned her to take his papers from his house at St. Mandé. +She was not in due time to execute it. She was at first exiled, and +afterward recalled. She died in 1705, aged 100 years.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Thursday, December 11, 1664.</p> + +<p>M. d’Ormesson has not yet finished. When he came to the +article of the gold mark, Puissort said, “This speaks strongly +against the accused.” “It may be so,” said M. d’Ormesson, +“but there are no proofs.” “What!” said Puissort, “have not +the two officers been examined?” “No,” replied M. d’Ormesson. +“It can not be,” said Puissort. “I can find no such +<span class="pagenum" id="page_318">318</span> +thing in the proceedings,” said M. d’Ormesson. Upon this, +Puissort rose in a fury, and said, “Sir, you ought rather to say, +I find here a very gross omission.” M. d’Ormesson made no +answer, but if Puissort had addressed another word to him, he +would have replied, “I am here, sir, as a judge, and not as an +informer.” You may remember what I once said to you at +Fresne, that M. d’Ormesson would not discover the omission +till there was no remedy. The chancellor also interrupted M. +d’Ormesson several times; he told him it was not necessary to +speak of the project. This must be from malice; for many +will suppose it a great crime, and the chancellor would be glad +that the proofs, which are truly ridiculous, should be withheld, +that the idea which prevails might not be weakened. As, +however, it is one of the articles of the indictment, M. d’Ormesson +will not omit it. He will finish to-morrow. Sainte-Hélène +will speak on Saturday. On Monday the two reporters +will give their opinion, and on Tuesday, the whole committee +will assemble early in the morning, and not separate till judgment +be passed. I tremble when I think of this day. The +hopes of the family are very sanguine. Foucault goes about +every where, and shows a writing of the king’s, in which he is +made to say that he should think it very improper if any of +the judges leaned toward the prisoner, from the circumstance +of his papers being taken away; that it was he who ordered +it to be done; that there is not one that can be of use to the +prisoner in his defense; that they are papers that relate merely +to his office; and that he makes this known that the judges +may not draw improper inferences. What say you to this +magnanimous proceeding? Are you not grieved that a prince, +who would love justice and truth if he were left to himself, +should be prevailed upon to act thus? He said the other day +at his levee, that Fouquet was a dangerous man; this has been +put into his head by some one. In short, our enemies no +longer keep within bounds; they run at full speed; threats, +promises, every thing is resorted to; but if God be on our side, +we shall be stronger than they. You will perhaps have +<span class="pagenum" id="page_319">319</span> +another letter from me; if we have good news, I shall dispatch +an express to you, with all possible expedition; but how I +shall act, or what will become of me, in any other case, I am +at a loss to conjecture. A thousand compliments to our recluse, +and to your better half. Pray earnestly to God for our +friend.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Saturday, December, 13.</p> + +<p>After having fixed and changed, and fixed and changed +again, it was at length resolved that M. d’Ormesson should +give his opinion to-day; that Sunday might pass over, and +Sainte-Hélène begin anew on Monday, which would make a +stronger impression. M. d’Ormesson’s opinion was, that the +accused should be sentenced to perpetual banishment, and his +property confiscated to the king. M. d’Ormesson has by this +means established his reputation as a judge. The sentence is a +little severe,<a id="fnanchor_280" href="#footnote_280" class="fnanchor">[280]</a> but let us pray that no worse counsel may be +given; it is always glorious to be the first in an assault.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_280" href="#fnanchor_280"><span class="label">[280]</span></a> +Severe as it was, the king aggravated the punishment still more. +Fouquet’s dilapidations were certainly criminal, but Cardinal Mazarin +gave less and took much more. The licentiousness of the times, and +the force of example, were an excuse, if any excuse could be made.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Wednesday, December 17, 1664.</p> + +<p>You languish, my dear friend, after intelligence, and so do +we. I was sorry I sent you word that judgment would be pronounced +on Tuesday; for, not hearing from me, you must have +thought it was all over; but our hopes are as strong as ever. +I informed you, on Saturday, in what way M. d’Ormesson had +reported the cause, and how he had voted, but I did not sufficiently +express the extraordinary esteem he has acquired by +his conduct in this business. I have heard several of this profession +say that his speech was a master-piece; that he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_320">320</span> +explained himself with great clearness, and rested his opinion +upon the most convincing arguments: it was eloquence and +grace combined. In short, no man had ever a finer opportunity +of making himself known, and no man ever made a +better use of it. If he had wished to open his door to congratulations, +his house would have been crowded; but he was +too modest for this, and kept out of the way. His colleague, +Sainte-Hélène, indignant at his success, spoke on Monday and +Tuesday. He resumed the affair weakly and miserably, reading +what he had to say, without adding any new circumstance +or giving a different turn to it. He voted, but did not assign +his reasons, that M. Fouquet should lose his head for his crime +against the state; and to gain votes on his side, he played the +Normand, and alleged that it was probable the king, who +alone could do it, would remit the sentence and pardon him. +It was yesterday he performed this brilliant action, at which +we were as much grieved as we had before been satisfied with +the conduct of M. d’Ormesson.</p> + +<p>This morning Puissort spoke for four hours, but with so +much vehemence, fury, rage, and rancor, that several of the +judges were shocked; and it is thought his intemperance will +do more good than harm to our poor friend. He even redoubled +his violence toward the end, and said, upon the subject +of the crime against the state, that the example of a certain +Spaniard, who had so great a horror for a rebel that he +ordered his house to be burned, because Charles of Bourbon +had passed through it, ought to make us blush at our moderation; +that we had much greater reason to hold in abhorrence +the crime of M. Fouquet; that the halter and the gibbet were +the only proper punishments for him; but that, in consideration +of the high offices he had held, and the noble families to +which he was related, he would relax his opinion, and vote with +M. de Sainte-Hélène, that he be beheaded.</p> + +<p>What say you to this moderation? Is it because he is the +uncle of M. de Nesmond, and was excepted against, that he +conducts himself so generously? For my part, I can scarcely +<span class="pagenum" id="page_321">321</span> +contain myself when I think of this scandalous proceeding. I +do not know whether judgment will be pronounced to-morrow, +or the business be protracted to the end of the week. We +have still many difficulties to encounter: but perhaps some +one will side with M. d’Ormesson, whose opinion at present +stands alone.</p> + +<p>But I have to beg your attention to two or three little incidents, +which are no less extraordinary than true. In the first +place, then, a comet made its appearance about four days ago. +It was announced, at first, by some women only, who were +laughed at for their pains; but it has now been seen by every +one. M. d’Artagan sat up last night, and saw it very distinctly. +M. de Neuré, a great astronomer, says it is of considerable +magnitude. M. du Foin has seen it, with three or four other +learned men. I have not seen it myself, but I intend sitting +up to-night for the purpose: it appears about three o’clock. I +tell you of this, ignorant whether you will be pleased or displeased +with the intelligence.</p> + +<p>Berrier, in the literal sense of the word, is become mad; he +has been bled profusely, and is in a perfect frenzy. He raves +of wheels and gibbets, and has even mentioned particular +trees; he declares he is going to be hanged, and makes so +dreadful a noise that his keepers are obliged to chain him. +This is evidently a judgment of Providence, and a very just one. +A criminal of the name of Lamothe, who was in prison and +about to be tried, has deposed that Messrs. de B***,<a id="fnanchor_281" href="#footnote_281" class="fnanchor">[281]</a> C***, +and B*** (they add also Puissort, or Poncet, but of him I +am not so certain) urged him several times to implicate M. +Fouquet and Lorme, promising if he would do so that they +would obtain his pardon; but he refused, and published the +circumstance in court, before his trial took place. He was +condemned to the galleys. The wife and mother of M. Fouquet +have procured a copy of the deposition, and will present +it to-morrow at the chamber. Perhaps it will not be received, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_322">322</span> +because the judges are now giving their opinions; but it may +be made known, and must produce a strong impression on the +court. Is not all this very extraordinary?</p> + +<p>I must tell you, also, of a heroic act of Masnau. He had +been dangerously ill, for a whole week, of a bladder complaint; +he took a variety of medicines, and was at last bled, +at midnight. The next morning, at seven o’clock, he insisted +on being carried to the chamber of justice, where he suffered +the most excruciating pain. The chancellor saw him turn +pale, and said, “This is not a fit place for you, sir; you had +better retire.” “True, sir,” he replied, “but I may as well +die here.” The chancellor perceiving him ready to faint, and +finding him bent upon remaining, said, “Well, sir, retire; we +will wait for you.” Upon this he went out for a quarter of an +hour, during which time he passed two stones, of so enormous +a size, that it might be considered as a miracle, if men were +deserving that God should work miracles in their favor. This +worthy man then returned into court, gay and cheerful, every +one astonished at the adventure.</p> + +<p>This is all I know. Every body is interested in this +weighty affair. Nothing else is talked of. Men reason, infer, +calculate, pity, fear, wish, hate, admire, are overwhelmed; in +short, my dear sir, our present situation is a most singular +one; but the resignation and firmness of our dear unfortunate +friend is perfectly heavenly. He knows every day what +passes, and every day volumes might be written in his praise. +I beg you to thank your father<a id="fnanchor_282" href="#footnote_282" class="fnanchor">[282]</a> for the gratifying note he +has written me, and the charming works he sent me. I have +read them, though my head feels, alas, as if it were split into +pieces. Tell him I am delighted he loves me a little—a +great deal, I mean—and that I love him still more. I have +received your last letter; alas! you overpay so abundantly +the trifling services I render you, that I remain your debtor.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_281" href="#fnanchor_281"><span class="label">[281]</span></a> +M. de Boucherat was one of the commissioners: the other, B***, +is, no doubt, Berrier.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_282" href="#fnanchor_282"><span class="label">[282]</span></a> +Arnaud d’Andilly, the translator of Josephus.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_323">323</div> + +<h3>LETTER X.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Friday, December 19, 1664.</p> + +<p>This is a day which gives us great hopes; but I must go +back in my story. I told you that M. Puissort had, on +Wednesday, voted for the death of our friend; on Thursday, +Nogués, Gisaucourt, Feriol, and Péraut, voted in the same +way. Roquesante concluded the day, and, after speaking +well for an hour, sided with M. d’Ormesson. This morning +our hopes have sailed before the wind, for several votes that +were doubtful have been given: Toison, Masnau, Verdier, La +Baume, and Catinet, and all in favor of M. d’Ormesson’s opinion.<a id="fnanchor_283" href="#footnote_283" class="fnanchor">[283]</a> +It was then Poncet’s turn to speak; but, thinking that +those who remained were almost all disposed to be lenient, he +would not begin, though it was only eleven o’clock. It is +thought he wishes to consult with some one what he shall +say, and that he is not willing to bring disgrace upon himself, +and consign a man to death unnecessarily. Such is our +present situation, and, though so favorable a one, our joy is +not complete; for you must know that M. N. is so enraged, +that we expect some unjust and atrocious proceeding in consequence, +that will plunge us again into despair. But for +this, my dear sir, we should have the satisfaction of seeing +our friend, though unfortunate, yet safe, as far as his life is +concerned, which is a great thing. We shall see what will +happen to-morrow. We are now seven to six. Le Feron, +Moussy, Brillac, Bénard, Renard, Voisin, Pontchartrain, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_324">324</span> +the chancellor, have not yet voted; but of these, we shall +have by far the greater number.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Saturday.</p> + +<p>Fall on your knees, sir, and return thanks to God; the +life of our poor friend is saved. Thirteen were of M. d’Ormesson’s +opinion, and nine of Sainte-Hélène’s. I am almost +wild with joy.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Sunday evening.</p> + +<p>I was sadly afraid some other person would have the pleasure +of communicating to you the joyful tidings. My courier +was not very diligent; he said, on setting out, that he would +sleep no where but at Livri; he assures me, however, he was +the first that arrived. Heavens! how gratifying must the intelligence +have been to you! How inconceivably sweet are +the moments that relieve the heart on a sudden from the +anguish of so painful a suspense! It will be a long time +before I shall lose the joy I received yesterday. It was, in +reality, too great—too much, almost, for me to bear. The +poor man learned the news by signals, a few moments after +judgment was pronounced, and I dare say felt it in all its +extent. This morning the king sent the Chevalier du Guet +to the mother and wife of M. Fouquet, recommending them +both to go to Montluçon in Auvergne, the marquis and +Marchioness of Charost to Ancenis, and the young Fouquet +to Joinville in Champagne. The good old lady sent +word to the king that she was seventy-two years of age; that +she besought his majesty not to deprive her of her only remaining +son, the support of her life, which apparently was +drawing near its close. The prisoner does not yet know his +sentence. It is said he will be taken, to-morrow, to Pignerol, +for the king has changed his banishment into imprisonment. +His wife, contrary to all rule, is not permitted to see him. +But let not this proceeding abate the least particle of your +joy; mine, if possible, is increased; for I see in this more +clearly the greatness of our victory. I shall faithfully relate +<span class="pagenum" id="page_325">325</span> +to you the sequel of this curious history. I have given you +what has passed to-day; the rest to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Tuesday evening.</p> + +<p>This morning, at ten o’clock, M. Fouquet was conducted to +the chapel of the Bastille. Foucault held the sentence in his +hand. “You must tell me your name, sir,” said he, “that I +may know whom I address.” M. Fouquet replied, “You +know very well who I am; and as for my name, I will not +give it here, as I refused to give it at the chamber of justice; +by the same rule, also, I protest against the sentence you are +going to read to me.” What passed being written down, +Foucault put on his hat and read the sentence; M. Fouquet +heard it uncovered. Pecquet and Lavalée<a id="fnanchor_284" href="#footnote_284" class="fnanchor">[284]</a> were afterward +separated from him, and the cries and tears of these poor +men melted every heart that was not of iron; they made so +strange a noise that M. d’Artagnan was obliged to go and +comfort them; for it seemed to them as if a sentence of +death had just been read to their master. They were both +lodged in the Bastille, and it is not known what will be +done with them.</p> + +<p>M. Fouquet went to the apartment of M. d’Artagnan: while +he was there, he saw M. d’Ormesson, who came for some papers +that were in the hands of M. d’Artagnan, pass by the window. +On perceiving him, M. Fouquet saluted him with an open +countenance, expressive of joy and gratitude; he even cried +out to him that he was his humble servant. M. d’Ormesson +returned the salutation with very great civility, and came with +grief of heart to tell me what had passed.</p> + +<p>At eleven o’clock a coach was ready, into which M. Fouquet +entered, with four guards. M. d’Artagnan was on horseback +with fifty musqueteers; he will escort him to Pignerol, where +he will leave him in prison, in the care of a man of the name +of St. Mars, who is a very honest fellow: he will have fifty +soldiers to guard his prisoner. I do not know whether +<span class="pagenum" id="page_326">326</span> +another servant has been allowed our friend; you can form no +idea how cruel the circumstance of taking Pecquet and Lavalée +from him appears to every one: some even go so far as to +draw dreadful inferences from it. May God preserve him, as +he has hitherto done: in him we must put our trust, and +leave our friend to the protection of that Providence which +has been so gracious to him. They still refuse him his wife, +but have permitted the mother to remain at Parc, with the +abbess her daughter. L’Ecuyer will follow his sister-in-law; +he has declared that he has no other means of subsistence. +M. and Madame de Charost are going immediately to Ancenis. +M. Bailly, the attorney-general, has been turned out of office, +for having said to Gisaucourt, before judgment was pronounced, +that he ought to retrieve the honor of the Grand +Council, which would be disgraced if C***, Poncet, and himself +acted together in the business. I am sorry for this upon +your account: it is a rigorous measure. <i lang="la">Tantæne animis +cœlestibus iræ?</i><a id="fnanchor_285" href="#footnote_285" class="fnanchor">[285]</a></p> + +<p>But no, it does not mount so high as that. Such harsh and +low revenge can not proceed from a heart like that of our +monarch’s. His name is employed, and, as you see, profaned. +I will let you know the rest: how much better could we converse +upon these things! it is impossible to communicate by +letter all we have to say. Adieu, my dear sir, I have not so +much modesty as you, and, without taking refuge in the +crowd, I assure you I love and esteem you highly. I have +seen the comet; its train is of a beautiful length. I partly +found my hopes on it. A thousand compliments to your dear +wife.</p> + +<p class="rdate">Tuesday.</p> + +<p>I send you something to amuse you for a few minutes. You +will certainly find it worth reading. It is charity to entertain +you both in your solitude. If the friendship I bear the father +and the son were a remedy against dullness, it is an evil of +which you would never have to complain. I am just come +<span class="pagenum" id="page_327">327</span> +from a place where, it seems, I have renewed this sentiment, by +talking of you with five or six persons, male and female, who, +like me, rank themselves among your friends; it was at the +Hôtel de Nevers. Your wife was of the party; she will tell +you of the delightful little comedians we met there. I believe +our dear friend is arrived, but I have had no certain intelligence. +It is only known that M. d’Artagnan, continuing his obliging +manners, gave him the necessary fur clothing, that he might +pass the mountains without inconvenience. I know also that +M. d’Artagnan has received letters from the king, and that he +told M. Fouquet to keep up his spirits and his courage, and +that every thing would go well. We are always looking forward +to some mitigation, and I in particular: hope has been +too kind for me to abandon it. Whenever I see the king at +our ballets, these two lines of Tasso come into my head:</p> + +<div class="poem" lang="it"> + <div class="verse">Goffredo ascolta, e in rigida sembianza</div> + <div class="verse">Porge piu di timor che di speranza.<a id="fnanchor_286" href="#footnote_286" class="fnanchor">[286]</a></div> +</div> + +<p>But I care not to despond: we must follow the example of +our poor prisoner; he is tranquil and gay; let us be so too. +It will give me real pleasure to see you here. I can not think +your exile will be of long duration. Assure your good father +of my affection; I can not help expressing myself thus; and +let me know your opinion of the stanzas. Some of them are +admired, as well as some of the couplets.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_283" href="#fnanchor_283"><span class="label">[283]</span></a> +Names of the committee who judged Fouquet:</p> + +<table style="width: 100%"> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="5">FAVORABLE.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdm">D’Ormesson,</td> + <td class="tdm">Le Feron,</td> + <td class="tdm">Moussy,</td> + <td class="tdm">Brillac,</td> + <td class="tdm">Renard,</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdm">Benard,</td> + <td class="tdm">Roquesante,</td> + <td class="tdm">La Toison,</td> + <td class="tdm">La Baume,</td> + <td class="tdm">Verdier,</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td class="tdm">Masnau,</td> + <td class="tdm">Catinet,</td> + <td class="tdm" colspan="2">Pontchartrain.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="5">ADVERSE.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdm">St. Hélène,</td> + <td class="tdm">Puissort,</td> + <td class="tdm">Gisaucourt,</td> + <td class="tdm">Feriol,</td> + <td class="tdm">Nogués,</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdm">Heraut,</td> + <td class="tdm">Poncet,</td> + <td class="tdm">Père Seguier,</td> + <td class="tdm" colspan="2">The Chancellor.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><a id="footnote_284" href="#fnanchor_284"><span class="label">[284]</span></a> +His physician and his servant.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_285" href="#fnanchor_285"><span class="label">[285]</span></a> +Virgil’s Æneid, lib. i.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_286" href="#fnanchor_286"><span class="label">[286]</span></a> + <span class="fnverse">Godfrey attends, and with a brow severe</span><br> + <span class="fnverse2">But little gives to hope, and much to fear.</span></p> +<div class="fnattrib">Hoole’s Translation.</div> + +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Thursday Evening, January, 1665.</p> + +<p>At length, the mother, the daughter-in-law, and the brother +have obtained leave to be together; they are going to Montluçon +<span class="pagenum" id="page_328">328</span> +in the heart of Auvergne. The mother had permission +to go to Parc-aux-Dames to her daughter, but her daughter-in-law +has prevailed on her to accompany her. M. and Madame +de Charost are on their way to Ancenis. Pecquet and Lavalée +are still in the Bastille. Can any thing be more dreadful than +this injustice? They have given M. Fouquet another servant. +M. d’Artagnan was his only comfort in his journey. It is said +that the person who is to have the care of him at Pignerol is +a very worthy creature. God grant he may be so! or rather, +God protect our friend! He has already protected him so +visibly that we ought to think he has an especial care of him. +La Forêt, his old esquire, accosted him as he was going away. +“I am delighted to see you,” said Fouquet to him; “I know +your fidelity and affection: tell my wife and mother not to +despair, that my courage remains, and that I am in good +health.” Is not this admirable? Adieu, my dear sir; let us +be like him; let us have courage, and dwell on the joy occasioned +by the glorious sentence of Saturday.</p> + +<p>Madame de Grignan is dead.<a id="fnanchor_287" href="#footnote_287" class="fnanchor">[287]</a></p> + +<p class="rdate">Friday Evening.</p> + +<p>It seems, by your thanks, as if you were giving me my dismissal; +but I will not receive it yet. I intend to write to you +whenever I please, and as soon as I have the verses from Pont-neuf, +I shall send them to you. Our dear friend is still upon +the road: it was reported that he had been ill; every body +exclaimed, “What! already?” It was reported also that M. +d’Artagnan had sent to court to know what he was to do with +his sick prisoner, and that he had been answered unfeelingly, +that he must proceed with him, however ill he might be. +This is all false: but it shows the general feeling, and the +danger of furnishing materials with which to build whatever +horrid castles we please. Pecquet and Lavalée are still in the +Bastille: this conduct is truly unaccountable. The chamber +will be resumed after the Epiphany.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_329">329</span> +I should think the poor exiles must be arrived ere this at +the place of their destination. When our poor friend has +reached his, I will inform you; for we must follow him to +Pignerol: would to God we could bring him thence to the +place we wish!<a id="fnanchor_288" href="#footnote_288" class="fnanchor">[288]</a> And how much longer, my dear sir, will +be your exile? I often think of this. A thousand compliments +to your father. I have been told your wife is here: I +shall call upon her. I supped last night with one of your lady +friends, and we talked of paying you a visit.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_287" href="#fnanchor_287"><span class="label">[287]</span></a> +Angélique Claire d’Angennes, M. de Grignan’s first wife.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_288" href="#fnanchor_288"><span class="label">[288]</span></a> +It was the general opinion that Fouquet died in prison in the year +1680. See <i lang="fr">Le Siècle de Louis XIV</i>, and the note at the beginning of +the letter dated April 3, 1680.</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="page_330">LETTERS TO HER SON THE MARQUIS +DE SÉVIGNÉ.<a id="fnanchor_289" href="#footnote_289" class="fnanchor">[289]</a></h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, August 5, 1684.</p> + +<p>While I am expecting your letters, I must relate to you a +very amusing little history. You remember how much you +regretted Mademoiselle de ***, and how unfortunate you +thought yourself in having missed her for a wife: “Your +best friends had all conspired against your happiness; Madame +de Lavardin and Madame de la Fayette had done you +irreparable injury! A young lady of noble birth, great +beauty, and ample fortune, was lost to you; surely a man +must be doomed never to marry, and to die like a beggar, to +let such an opportunity escape him, when it was in his own +power! The Marquis de *** was not such a fool; he has +made his fortune, and is settled. You must certainly have +been born under an unlucky planet to miss such a match! +Only observe her conduct; she is a saint; an example to all +married women.” You remember all this, I suppose, my dear +<span class="pagenum" id="page_331">331</span> +son, and that till you married Mademoiselle de Mauron, you +were ready to hang yourself; you could not have done better +than you have done: but now for the sequel.</p> + +<p>All those amiable qualities of her youth, which made Madame +de la Fayette say she would not have her for a daughter-in-law +if she could bring millions to her son, were happily directed +to the service of religion: God was her lover, the only +object of her affection, all her desires centered in this single +passion; but as every thing was in extremes with her, her +poor head could not bear the excess of zeal and fervent devotion +with which it was filled; and, to satisfy the overflowings +of her Magdalen heart, she resolved to profit by good examples, +by reading the Lives of the Holy Fathers of the Desert, +and of Female Penitents. She wished to become herself the +heroine of such admirable histories, and, full of this idea, left +her house and family about a fortnight ago, and, taking with +her only five or six pistoles, and a little foot-boy, set out at +four o’clock in the morning, and, taking a post-chaise at the +skirts of the town, drove to Rouen, fatigued and covered with +mud. When she got there, she bargained for a passage in a +ship bound for the Indies: it was there, it seems, God had +called her; it was there she was to lead a life of penitence +and humiliation; it was there the map had pointed out to her +an abode, which invited her to pass the rest of her days in +sackcloth and ashes; it was there the Abbé Zosimus<a id="fnanchor_290" href="#footnote_290" class="fnanchor">[290]</a> was to +visit her, and administer to her the last holy rites before she +expired. Satisfied with this resolution, and convinced that +Heaven inspired her with it, she discharged her foot-boy, and +sent him home to his own country, while she waited with +great impatience the departure of the ship: her good angel +consoled her for the delay; she piously forgot husband, +daughter, father, and relations, exclaiming:</p> + +<div class="poem"><span class="pagenum" id="page_332">332</span> + <div class="verse">Çà! courage, mon cœur, point de faiblesse humaine.<a id="fnanchor_291" href="#footnote_291" class="fnanchor">[291]</a></div> +</div> + +<p>And now the moment arrived in which her prayers are +heard; the happy moment that was to separate her for ever +from her native land; she follows the law of the Gospel; she +leaves all to follow Christ.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, however, her family missed her, and +finding she did not return to dinner, sent to all the churches +in the neighborhood; she was not there. They supposed she +would return at night; no tidings were heard of her. They +now begin to be uneasy, the servants are all questioned, they +can give no account of her further than that she had taken +her foot-boy with her. “She must certainly be at her country-house.” +No. “Where can she possibly be?” A messenger +is dispatched to the Curé of St. Jacques-du-Haut-Pas; the +curé says he has not had the direction of her conscience for a +considerable time; for, being a simple, honest man, and having +observed her full of strange chimerical ideas of religion, +he would have nothing to do with her. Every one was now +at a loss what to think; two, three, four days, a week passed, +still no news of her; at length her friends thought of sending +to some of the sea-ports, and, by mere accident, found her at +Rouen, on the point of setting out for Dieppe, and from thence +to the other extremity of the globe. They secure her, and +bring her back, a little disconcerted at being disappointed of +her journey:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">J’allais, j’étais, l’amour a sur moi tant d’empire.<a id="fnanchor_292" href="#footnote_292" class="fnanchor">[292]</a></div> +</div> + +<p>A lady to whom she had imparted her design, revealed the +whole to her family, who, in despair at her folly, would fain +have concealed it from her husband, who happened to be absent +from Paris at that time, and who would have been better +pleased at an exploit of gallantry in his amiable consort, than +such a ridiculous expedition as this. The husband’s mother +<span class="pagenum" id="page_333">333</span> +came to Madame de Lavardin, and, bathed in tears, related the +whole story, while the latter could scarcely refrain from laughing +in her face; and the next time she saw my daughter, asked +her if she could forgive her for having been the instrument of +preventing her brother from marrying this pretty creature. +Madame de la Fayette was also, in her turn, informed of this +tragical story, and repeated it to me with great glee. She desires +me to ask you if you are still angry with her; she maintains +that no one can ever repent he did not marry a mad woman.</p> + +<p>We dare not mention a syllable of this to Mademoiselle de +Grignan,<a id="fnanchor_293" href="#footnote_293" class="fnanchor">[293]</a> her friend, who for some time past, has been ruminating +upon a pilgrimage, and, as a preparative, has lately observed +a profound silence toward us all. What think you of +this curious narration? Has it tired you? Are you satisfied +now? Adieu, my son. Marshal de Schomberg is marching to +Germany at the head of twenty-five thousand men, to hasten +the emperor’s signing.<a id="fnanchor_294" href="#footnote_294" class="fnanchor">[294]</a> The gazette will inform you of the +rest. Adieu.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_289" href="#fnanchor_289"><span class="label">[289]</span></a> +This only son of Madame de Sévigné inherited neither her genius, +her virtues, nor her energy of character. She treated him always with +great kindness, but was never blind to his faults. Her judicious management +seems to have had a salutary effect on him, after the follies +of his youth were over. He reformed in a measure, and, in 1684, married +Jeanne Marguerite de Brenant de Mauron of a noble and rich +family. This alliance was a great joy to Madame de Sévigné, and it +is to the illness of this beloved daughter-in-law that she alludes in the +second letter.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_290" href="#fnanchor_290"><span class="label">[290]</span></a> +A famous hermit of the sixth century, who came on the eve of +every Good Friday to give the sacrament to St. Mary the Egyptian, in +a desert cave on the banks of the river Jordan. See the Lives of the +Fathers of the Desert.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_291" href="#fnanchor_291"><span class="label">[291]</span></a> +Courage, my heart! disdain all human weakness.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_292" href="#fnanchor_292"><span class="label">[292]</span></a> +I went, I came, impelled by mighty Love.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_293" href="#fnanchor_293"><span class="label">[293]</span></a> +Sister of Count de Grignan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_294" href="#fnanchor_294"><span class="label">[294]</span></a> +This relates to the truce which was on the point of being concluded +at Ratisbon, and was published at Paris on the 5th of October +following.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, September 20, 1695.</p> + +<p>And so you are at our poor Rocks, my dear children, experiencing +there the sweets of tranquillity, exempt from all duties +and all fatigues, and our dear little marchioness can breathe +again! Good heavens! how well you describe to me her situation, +and her extreme delicacy! I am so affected at it, and +I enter so affectionately into your ideas, that my heart is oppressed, +and tears rush into my eyes. It is to be hoped that +you will only have the merit of bearing your sorrows with +<span class="pagenum" id="page_334">334</span> +resignation and submission; but if God should appoint otherwise, +like all unforeseen events, it would turn out differently +from your expectations; I will believe, however, that this dear +being will last, with care, as long as any one; we have a thousand +examples of recovery. Has not Mademoiselle de la +Trousse suffered from almost every kind of disorder? In the +mean time, my dear child, I enter into your feelings with infinite +affection, and from the bottom of my heart. You do me +justice when you say you are afraid of affecting me too much +by relating to me the state of your mind; it does indeed affect +me, be assured I feel for you keenly. I hope this letter will +find you calmer and happier. Paris seems to be quite out of +your thoughts, on account of our marchioness. You are thinking +only of Bourbon and the spring. Continue to inform me +of your plans, and do not leave me in ignorance of any thing +that concerns you.</p> + +<p>Give me some account of the letters of the 23d and 30th of +August. There was also a note for Galois, which I desired M. +Branjon to pay. Give me an answer upon this subject. The +good Branjon is married; he has written me a very charming +letter upon the occasion. Let me know whether the match is +as good as he represents it to be. The lady is related to all +the parliament, and to M. d’Arouys. Explain this to me, my +child. I also addressed a letter to you for our Abbé Charrier. +He will be sorry not to see you again; and M. de Toulon! +you express yourself well respecting this ox; it is for him to +tame him, and for you to stand firm where you are. Return +the abbé’s letter to Quimperlé.</p> + +<p>With regard to your poor sister’s health, it is not at all good. +It is no longer her loss of blood that alarms us, for that is over; +but she does not recover her strength; she is still so much +altered that you would scarcely know her, because her stomach +does not regain its tone, and no food seems to nourish her; +this arises from the bad state of her liver, of which you know +she has long complained. It is so serious an evil that I am really +alarmed at it. Remedies might be used for her liver, but +<span class="pagenum" id="page_335">335</span> +they are unfavorable to the loss of blood, which we are in continual +apprehension may return, and which has produced a bad +effect upon the afflicted part. These two maladies, which require +opposite medicines, reduce her to a truly pitiable situation. +Time, we hope, will repair this devastation; I sincerely +wish it; and if we enjoy this blessing, we shall go to Paris +with all expedition. This is the point to which we are arrived, +and which must be cleared up; I will be very faithful in my +communications.</p> + +<p>This languor makes us say little yet of the return of the +warriors. I do not doubt, however, that the business will be +concluded; it is too far advanced: but it will be without any +great joy; and even if we go to Paris, they would set out two +days after, to avoid the air of a wedding, and visits, which they +wish not to receive; <i>a burnt child, etc.</i></p> + +<p>As to M. de St. Amant’s grief, of which such a parade has +been made at Paris, it was founded upon my daughter’s having +really proved by memorandums, which she has showed to +us all, that she had paid her son nine thousand francs out of +ten she had promised him; and having in consequence sent +him only a thousand, M. de St. Amant said he was cheated, +that they wanted to take advantage of him, and that he would +give no more, having already given the fifteen thousand francs +of his daughter’s portion (which he laid out at Paris in stock, +and for which he has the estates that were given up to him +here,) and that the marquis must seek for assistance in that +quarter. You may suppose that when <i>that quarter</i> has paid, +it may occasion some little chagrin; but it is at an end. M. +de St. Amant thought in himself that it would not be advisable +to quarrel with my daughter; so he came here as gentle as +a lamb, wishing for nothing but to please and to take his daughter +back with him to Paris; which he has done, though, in +good truth, she ought to have waited for us; but the advantage +of being in the same house with her husband, in that +beautiful mansion of M. de St. Amant; of being handsomely +lodged, and living sumptuously at no expense; made my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_336">336</span> +daughter consent without hesitation to accept all these comforts. +But we did not see her depart without tears, for she is +very amiable; and was so much affected at bidding us adieu, +that it could scarcely have been supposed she was going to +lead a life of pleasure in the midst of plenty. She had become +very fond of our society. She set out with her father on the +first of this month.</p> + +<p>Be assured, my son, that no Grignan intends you harm; +that you are beloved by all; and that if this trifle had been a +serious thing, they would have felt that you would have taken +as much interest in it as you have done.</p> + +<p>M. de Grignan is still at Versailles; we expect him shortly, +for the sea is clear, and Admiral Russel, who is no longer to +be seen, will give him leave to come here.</p> + +<p>I shall seek for the two little writings you mention. I rely +much upon your taste. The letters to M. de la Trappe are +books we can not send, though in manuscript. You shall +read them at Paris, where I still hope to see you, for I love +you in a much greater degree than you can love me. It is +the order of nature, and I do not complain.</p> + +<p>I inclose you a letter from Madame de Chaulnes, which I +send to you entire, from confidence in your prudence. You +will justify yourself in things to which you well know what +answer to make, and will pay no attention to those that may +offend you. I have said for myself all I had to say, waiting +for your answer respecting what I did not know; and I added +that I would inform you of what the duchess told me. Write +to her, therefore, candidly, as having learned from me what +she writes respecting you. After all, you should preserve this +connection; they love you, and have rendered you service; +you must not wound gratitude. I have said that you owed +obligations to the intendant. But to you, my child, I say, is +this friendship incompatible with your ancient leagues with +the first president and the attorney-general? Is it necessary +that you should break with your old friends for the sake of securing +an intendant! M. de Pommereuil did not exact such +<span class="pagenum" id="page_337">337</span> +conduct. I have also said that you ought to be heard, and +that it was impossible you should have neglected to congratulate +the attorney-general upon the marriage of his daughter. +In short, my child, defend yourself, and tell me what you say, +that I may second you.</p> + +<h2 id="page_338">LETTERS TO THE COUNT DE GRIGNAN.<a id="fnanchor_295" href="#footnote_295" class="fnanchor">[295]</a><br> +<small>FROM 1670 TO 1696.</small></h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, 23d June, 1670.</p> + +<p>You have written me the most charming letter in the +world. I should have answered it much sooner, had I not +known that you were traversing your province. I should +likewise have sent you the music you desired, but have not yet +been able to procure it: in the mean time let me tell you that +I love you most affectionately, and if that is capable of giving +you the satisfaction you assure me it does, you ought to be +the most contented man in the world. You must certainly be +so in the correspondence you carry on with my daughter; it +appears to me very animated on her part, and I do not think +any one can love another more than she does you. I hope to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_339">339</span> +return her to you safe and sound, with a little one the same, +or I will burn my books. I am not very skillful indeed my +self; but I can ask advice, and follow it, and my daughter on +her side takes all possible care of herself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_295" href="#fnanchor_295"><span class="label">[295]</span></a> +Count de Grignan was of an ancient and noble Provençal family. +He was rich, and held a high office, that of Lieutenant-General of the +Government of Provence; and as the governor, Vendôme, was rarely +in his place, M. de Grignan was virtually the governor. He had been +twice married before his union with Madame de Sévigné’s daughter, +and it seems likely, considering the fashion of those times, and indeed +of French marriages now, the mother was influenced by ambition. She +found it did not confer happiness. The count was extravagant and +fond of play, though he seems to have been a kind husband; still it +is evident that Madame de Sévigné was constrained in her letters to +him. She compliments him, professes much affection, and was always +on friendly terms with him, because he was the husband of her darling +daughter. But her letters to him never go beyond this.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Aug. 6, 1670.</p> + +<p>Is it not true that I have given you the prettiest wife in the +world? and can any one be more prudent, more regular in +her conduct? Can any one love you more, have more Christian +sentiments, long more ardently to be with you, or attend +more strictly to the duties of her station? It is ridiculous +enough to say all this of my own daughter; but I admire her +as other people do, and perhaps more, as I am more an eyewitness +of her behavior; and to own the truth to you, whatever +good opinion I had of her as to the principal points, I +never thought she would have been so exact as she is in all +the minuter ones. I assure you, every body does her justice, +and she loses none of the praises which are so much her due.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, August 15, 1670.</p> + +<p>When I write to you so frequently, you must remember +that it is on condition that you do not answer me. Relying +on this, I shall proceed to tell you that I am heartily rejoiced +at the many honors that are conferred on you. It appears to +me that the commandant has less share in them than M. de +Grignan himself; and I think I see a partiality for you that +another would not experience.</p> + +<p>I find there is so brisk a correspondence kept up between a +certain lady and you, that it would be ridiculous to give you +any news. I have not so much as a hope of acquainting you +<span class="pagenum" id="page_340">340</span> +that she loves you: her every action, her whole conduct, with +all her little anxieties and cares about you, tell it plain enough. +I am very delicate in the point of friendship, and pretend to +know something about it, and I own to you that I am perfectly +satisfied with what I see, and could not wish it to be +greater. Enjoy this pleasure to the utmost, and never be ungrateful. +If there is any little vacant place in your heart, +allow me the pleasure of occupying it; for, I assure you, you +hold a very considerable one in mine.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, December 10, 1670.</p> + +<p>Madame de Coulanges has told me several times that you +love me sincerely, that you talk of me, that you wish me +with you. As I made the first advances toward this friendship, +and loved first, you may judge how happy I am to find +that you return the partiality I have so long had for you. +All that you write of your daughter is admirable, and I had +no doubt that the good health of the mother would comfort +you for your disappointment. The joy I should have had in +acquainting you with the birth of a son would have been too +great—it would have been showering too many blessings at +once; and the pleasure I naturally take in being the messenger +of good news, would have been carried to excess. I shall +soon be in the same condition you saw me in last year. I +must love you extremely to send my daughter to you at this +inclement season of the year. How foolish it is to leave a +good mother, with whom you assure me she is very well satisfied, +to run after a man at the furthest end of France! I +give you my word, nothing can be more indecorous than such +behavior. I do believe you were greatly concerned at the +death of the amiable duchess. I was so afflicted myself that +I stood in need of comfort while I was writing to you about +it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_341">341</span> +My daughter desires me to acquaint you with the marriage +of Monsieur de Nevers;<a id="fnanchor_296" href="#footnote_296" class="fnanchor">[296]</a> that Monsieur de Nevers who was +so difficult to be caught, who used to slip so unexpectedly +through the hands of the fair, is at length going to wed. +And whom think you? Not Mademoiselle de Houdancourt, +nor yet Mademoiselle de Grancei, but the young, the handsome, +the modest Mademoiselle de Thianges,<a id="fnanchor_297" href="#footnote_297" class="fnanchor">[297]</a> who was +brought up at the Abbaye aux Bois. Madame de Montespan<a id="fnanchor_298" href="#footnote_298" class="fnanchor">[298]</a> +has the wedding solemnized at her house next Sunday; she +acts as mother on the occasion, and receives the honors as +such. The king restored Monsieur de Nevers to all his posts, +so that this <i>belle</i>, though she does not bring him a penny of +fortune, will be worth more to him than the richest heiress in +France. Madame de Montespan does wonders in every thing.</p> + +<p>I forbid you to write to me. Write to my daughter, and +leave me to the freedom of writing to you, without embarking +you in a train of answers which would rob me of the pleasure +I have in acquainting you with every little trifle. Continue +to love me, my dear count. I dispense with your honoring +my motherly dignity, but you must love me, and assure yourself +that there is not a place in the world where you are so +dearly beloved as you are here.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_296" href="#fnanchor_296"><span class="label">[296]</span></a> +Philip Julian Mazarini Mancini, Duke of Nevers.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_297" href="#fnanchor_297"><span class="label">[297]</span></a> +Diana Gabriel de Damas, daughter of Claud Leonor, Marquis de +Thianges, and Gabriel de Rochechouart Mortemar, sister to Madame +de Montespan.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_298" href="#fnanchor_298"><span class="label">[298]</span></a> +Then mistress to Louis XIV.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, January 16, 1671.</p> + +<p>Alas! the poor dear child is still with me, for it was utterly +impossible for her, do what she would, to have set out the +10th of this month, as she all along hoped and intended to +do. The rains have been, and are still, so very violent that it +<span class="pagenum" id="page_342">342</span> +would have been downright folly to have attempted it. The +rivers are overflowed, the roads are all under water, and the +carriage-tracks so covered that she would have run the risk +of being overturned in every ford. In short, things are in +such a state that Madame de Rochefort, who is at her country-seat, +and is absolutely wild to be in Paris, where she is +expected with the greatest impatience by her husband and +mother, does not dare to venture till the roads are a little +safer. Indeed, the winter is perfectly dreadful. We have +not had an hour’s frost, but there has been a continual deluge +of rain every day. Not a boat can pass under any of the +bridges; the arches of the Pont Neuf are in a manner choked +up. In short, it is something more than common. I own +to you, that seeing the season so very inclement, I warmly +opposed her setting out. I would not stop her for the cold, +the dirt, or the fatigues of the journey, but methinks I would +not have her drowned. Yet, strong as the reasons are for +her stay, nothing could have prevailed on her had not the coadjutor, +who is to go with her, been engaged to perform the +marriage ceremony of his cousin De Harcourt,<a id="fnanchor_299" href="#footnote_299" class="fnanchor">[299]</a> which is to +be solemnized at the Louvre. Monsieur de Leonne is to stand +proxy. The king has spoken to the coadjutor upon this subject, +but the affair has been put off day after day, and may +not be finished this week. My poor daughter is in such extreme +impatience to be gone that the time she now passes +with us can not be called living; and if the coadjutor does +not disengage himself from this same wedding, I think I see +her ready to commit an act of folly by setting out without +him. It would be so extraordinary to go by herself, and so +happy on the contrary to have a brother-in-law to accompany +her, that I shall do all in my power to prevent their separation. +In the mean time the waters may be a little drained off. +But I can assure you that I have no sort of pleasure in her +<span class="pagenum" id="page_343">343</span> +company. I know that she must leave us. All that passes +now is mere ceremony and preparation. We make no parties, +we take no amusement; our hearts are heavy, and we +talk of nothing but rains, bad roads, and dreadful stories of +persons who have lost their lives in attempting to pass them.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_299" href="#fnanchor_299"><span class="label">[299]</span></a> +Mary Angelica Henrietta of Lorraine, married the 7th February, +1671, to Nugno Alvares Pereira de Mello, Duke of Cadaval in Portugal.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, Sunday, August 9, 1671.</p> + +<p>You alone, my dear count, could have prevailed on me to +give my daughter to a Provençal; this is truth, as Caderousse +and Merrinville will witness for me; for if I had liked the latter +as well as you, I should not have found so many expedients to +prevent a conclusion, and she had been his. Do not entertain +the least doubt of my having the highest opinion of you; a +moment’s reflection will convince you I am sincere. I am not +at all surprised that my daughter does not mention me to you; +she served me just the same by you last year; believe, therefore, +whether she tells you so or not, that I never forget you. +I think I hear her scold, and say, “Ah! this is a pretense of +yours to excuse your own laziness.” I shall leave you to dispute +this among yourselves, and assure you that, though you +are perhaps the most happily formed for general love and esteem +of any man in the world, yet you never were, and never +will be, more sincerely loved by any one than by me. I wish +for you every day in my mall; but you are proud; I see that +you expect me to visit you first; you may think yourself very +happy that I am not an old woman, but am resolved to enjoy +the remains of life and health in taking that journey: our abbé +seems to have as strong an inclination to go there as myself; +that is one good thing. Adieu, my dear Grignan, love me always; +treat me with a sight of you, and you shall see my +woods.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_344">344</div> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, June 20, 1673.</p> + +<p>Come hither, my son-in-law. So, then, you are resolved to +send my daughter back to me in the first coach; you are displeased +with her, and quite angry that she admires your castle, +and think that she takes too great a liberty in pretending to +reside there and command in every thing. As you say you +hate every thing that is worthy of hatred, you certainly must +hate her. I enter into all your displeasure; you could not +have addressed yourself to one who feels the force of it better +than myself. But do you know, after what you have said, +that you make me tremble to hear you talk of wishing me at +Grignan, and I am quite inconsolable for that reason; for +there is nothing in futurity so dear to me as the hope of seeing +you there; and whatever I may say, I am persuaded that +you will be very glad of it too, and that you love me; it is +impossible it should be otherwise; I love you so well, that the +same sentiments must necessarily pass from me to you, and +from you to me. I commend the care of my daughter’s +health to you above all earthly things; watch over it, be absolute +master in all that regards it; do not behave as you did at +the bridge of Avignon; keep your authority in this one point, +and in every thing else leave her to her own way; she is more +skillful than you. Ah, how I pity you for having lost the +pleasure of receiving her letters! You were much happier a +year ago; would to God you had that pleasure now, and I had +the mortification of seeing and embracing her! Adieu, my +dearest count, though I believe you are as much beloved as +any man in the world, yet I do not think that any of your +mothers-in-law<a id="fnanchor_300" href="#footnote_300" class="fnanchor">[300]</a> ever loved you so well as I do.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_300" href="#fnanchor_300"><span class="label">[300]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné was the third.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_345">345</div> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, July, 1614.</p> + +<p>You flatter me too much, my dear count; I shall accept of +but one part of your fine speeches, and that is the thanks you +return me for having given you a wife, that constitutes all your +happiness; for, indeed, I think I contributed a little toward it: +but the authority you have acquired over her in Provence, has +been wholly owing to yourself, to your merit, your birth, and +your conduct; all this I have nothing to do with. Ah! how +much you lose by my heart not being at ease! Le Camus is +delighted with me; he tells me I sing his airs extremely well: +he certainly composes divinely; but I am so dull and woebegone, +that I can learn nothing. You would sing them like +an angel; I assure you Le Camus has a high opinion both of +your voice and judgment. I regret the loss of these little accomplishments +which we are too apt to neglect. Why should +we lose them? I have always said that we ought not to part +with them, and that they can never be an incumbrance; but +what is to be done with a rope round the neck? You have +given my daughter one of the most delightful journeys in the +world; she is quite enchanted with it; but then you have +dragged her over hills and dales, and exposed her to the dangers +of the Alps, and to the uncivil waves of the Mediterranean; +in short, I have a month’s mind to chide you for it; +but let me first embrace you most affectionately.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, November 6, 1675.</p> + +<p>Count, I am delighted to hear that my daughter is satisfied +with you. Allow me to thank you by reason of the great interest +I take in your affairs, and which I entreat you to preserve. +You can not fail of this without ingratitude, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_346">346</span> +without doing injustice to the blood of the Adhémars. I +have read, in the Crusades, of one of these who was an illustrious +personage six hundred years ago. He was beloved as +you are, and would never have given a moment’s uneasiness +to such a wife as yours. His death was lamented by an army +of three hundred thousand men, and mourned by all the +princes in Christendom. Not many pages after I find a castellane, +not altogether so ancient; he is, indeed, a mere modern; +it was but five hundred and twenty years since he made +a great figure. I conjure you, therefore, by these two noble +ancestors, who are my particular friends, to be guided by +Madame de Grignan, and consider how much you will consult +your own interest in doing so.</p> + +<h2 id="page_347">LETTERS TO THE PRESIDENT DE MOULCEAU.<a id="fnanchor_301" href="#footnote_301" class="fnanchor">[301]</a><br> +<small>FROM 1681 TO 1682.</small></h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, January 8, 1681.</p> + +<p>I should be very sorry, sir, if our correspondence were to +end with the temple of Montpellier; and all you say to this +effect, in doing the honors of your letters, by supposing the +assurance of their continuance to contain a threat to me, is +so ungenerous that I should be disposed to scold you; nor +would the pretty turn you have given to this guarantee you +from my reproaches, were it not that the letter you have written +to my son makes me eager to tell you how much it has +delighted me. The neatness of the beginning has reminded +me of our merry stories, and the beauty of the verses has +made me regret that you have not continued them in good +earnest. If you have done so, let us share the pleasure of +reading them. The two Latin verses you explain are very +just. In short, we esteem your verse, your prose, and all +your productions. My son is still your adorer; my daughter +<span class="pagenum" id="page_348">348</span> +admires and esteems you in the highest degree. I presume +you know my own sentiments for you, and that you see +plainly there is not a family in the world who so justly appreciates +your merit. You do the same in regard to M. de +Carcassonne, by praising him as you do. The poor chevalier +has been here for these six weeks, laid up with the rheumatism. +He receives visits from persons almost as lame as +himself. Those who are left-handed show at least that their +taste is right. You have returned M. de Noailles to us in a +very ill state of health. He has so violent a diarrhœa that +it seems as if he had eaten to his own share all that he has +expended at Montpellier; in short, he has been obliged to resign +the staff, the staff that was the object of his love, the +staff he went so far to assume, the staff which was the reward +of all his other services. It is natural to suppose that +he must be very ill, when he gives it himself to M. de Luxembourg. +You say much in his favor when you speak of +the distinction and expansion of heart he showed you. I wish +his generosity had gone so far as to have induced him to return +our mortified friend’s visit.<a id="fnanchor_302" href="#footnote_302" class="fnanchor">[302]</a> Have I not heard you say +that we ought to respect the unfortunate? It can not be +doubted that this has increased the mortification. I pity +him for having suffered this feeling to take possession of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_349">349</span> +him, and to have surmounted even his Christian philosophy; +but I pity him still more if your heart be yet closed against +him. A friend like you would be a true consolation in all +his afflictions. Our <i>friend</i> (Corbinelli) is entirely occupied +here with his affairs. He does wonders. He is become the +best lawyer in Paris; and this qualification came to him unexpectedly +along with his peruke and brandenbourg, so that +we should much sooner have taken him for a captain of cavalry +than a man of business. It is thus the exterior often +deceives us. If M. de Vardes had not thrown him into +this employment, his gratitude and inclination would lead +him straight to you. His heart is still perfect in all the +moral virtues. They will become Christian virtues when it +shall please Providence, whom we still adore, and who seems +to treat you well, by the sentiments it inspires you with. +Adieu, my dear sir. We should have many things to say to +each other if we met. Who knows that some day or other +we may not? Our friend writes to you separately; so much +the worse for him: he will not know that I have the pleasure +of assuring you here of my sincere and faithful friendship.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_301" href="#fnanchor_301"><span class="label">[301]</span></a> +M. de Moulceau was President of the Chamber of Accounts of +Montpellier. It appears that Madame de Sévigné, at the time of her +journey into Provence, had found him on terms of strict friendship +with M. and Madame de Grignan, and M. de Vardes and Corbinelli, +and that she was so sensible of his worth and the charms of his mind +as to enter into a correspondence with him. But we remark with astonishment +that no mention is made of this interesting man in any of +the preceding letters.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_302" href="#fnanchor_302"><span class="label">[302]</span></a> +Anne Jules, Duke de Noailles, had been nominated to the command +in Languedoc, of which the Duke du Maine, then too young to +take it upon himself, had just been appointed governor. Preparations +were making for the destruction of Calvinism. In conjunction with +the intendant d’Aguesseau, father of the celebrated chancellor, Noailles +endeavored for a long time to engage the court to employ mild +measures; and even in the execution of the most rigorous he at first +showed some humanity; but he afterward became one of the most +violent persecutors, and his dispatches, concerted with Louvois, did +not fail to excite the king to rigors of which he too late repented.</p> + +<p>It appears that he thought he could not, with propriety, in the situation +he held, return the visit of M. de Vardes, then an exile, and +whom Madame de Sévigné designates by the title of the mortified +friend.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, April 17, 1682.</p> + +<p>If you are alarmed at the appearance of my neglect, be assured, +sir, it is a false alarm, and that appearances are deceitful; +you do not suffer yourself to be forgotten; Rochecourbières, +Livri, and the days in which we have seen you, are faithful +guarantees of what I say; and I am certain you believe it, and +that, being so well informed on every other subject, Christian +humility does not prevent you from knowing your own worth. +It is a truth, therefore; you can not be forgotten. Our <i>friend</i> +and I have said a thousand times, “Let us write to this poor +<i>reprobate</i>”; but by continually delaying it, we have embarrassed +ourselves by our miserable security. It seems to me as if +Montpellier has given a great deal to the jubilee. You know +<span class="pagenum" id="page_350">350</span> +what a horror Corbinelli has of this sort of parade, which he +calls hypocrisy. I do not know exactly how he has acted +upon the occasion, and I have not dared question him; but, +considering the extreme respect he has for this holy mystery, +and how rigorously he enters into the preparations for it, +of which he will not abate a single iota, I have long been +tempted to say to him, <i lang="it">basta la meta</i> (the half is sufficient); +for, in fact, if all the faithful were to follow his ideas upon the +subject, the ceremonials of religion would be done away. This +is the inspiration of God, and whether it be light or dereliction, +some great change must happen to alter his opinion. +M. de Vardes has put the same question to him, that you put +to me on his jubilee; he has answered very honestly, and has +given him a <i lang="la">probet autem semetipsum homo</i>, which may occasion +great reflections. This is all I can tell you; you know +and love the soil, for, indeed, the more his heart is known, the +more it must be admired. I perceive his departure approach, +and I perceive it with sorrow; but what may not Providence +reserve for M. de Vardes? M. de Bussy is recalled after an +exile of eighteen years; he has seen the king, who received +him most graciously: these are times of justice and clemency; +we not only do what is well, but what is perfectly well; I +doubt not, therefore, that this poor exile’s turn will come, and +every one else believes it so firmly that if any thing can do +him injury, it is this general report. You tell me the most +agreeable truth I can hear, in assuring me the young people +will bring from Languedoc all the politeness which failed them +here.<a id="fnanchor_303" href="#footnote_303" class="fnanchor">[303]</a> They appear to me like the Germans who are sent to +Angers to learn the language; they were Germans in manners, +and if they had not learned them out of court, would +seem to conduct themselves ridiculously. It is easy to comprehend +that, having had so good a master as M. de Vardes +for six months, they must have profited more than they had +done during their whole life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_303" href="#fnanchor_303"><span class="label">[303]</span></a> +This refers to the daughter and son-in-law of M. de Vardes (M. and +Madame de Rohan), who had spent six months with him at Montpellier.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_351">351</div> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, May 26, 1682.</p> + +<p>Were you not very much surprised, sir, to see M. de Vardes +slip through your fingers, whom you had held so firmly for +nineteen years? This is the time Providence had marked out +for him; in reality, he was no longer thought of, he appeared +forgotten, and sacrificed to example. The king, who reflects +and arranges every thing in his head, declared one morning +that M. de Vardes would be at court in two or three days; he +said he had written to him by the post, that he wished to surprise +him, and that for more than six months no one had +mentioned his name to him. His majesty was gratified; he +wished to create surprise, and every one was surprised; never +did intelligence make so great an impression, nor so great a +noise, as this. In short, he arrived on Saturday morning, with +a head singular in its kind, and an old justaucorps à brevet,<a id="fnanchor_304" href="#footnote_304" class="fnanchor">[304]</a> +such as was worn in the year 1663. He set one knee to the +ground in the king’s chamber, M. de Chateauneuf being the +only person present. The king told him that while his heart +had been wounded he had not recalled him, but that he now +recalled him with a whole heart, and that he was glad to see +him. M. de Vardes made an admirable reply, with an air of +being deeply affected, and the gift of tears, which God has +given him, produced no ill effect upon this occasion. After +this first interview, the king caused the dauphin to be called, +and presented him to him as a young courtier. M. de Vardes +recognized, and saluted him; the king said to him, laughing: +“Vardes, this is a blunder; you know that no one is saluted +in my presence.” M. de Vardes replied in the same tone: +“Sire, I have forgotten everything; your majesty must pardon +<span class="pagenum" id="page_352">352</span> +even thirty blunders.” “Well, I will,” said the king; +“stop at the twenty-ninth.” The king afterward laughed at +his coat. M. de Vardes said, “Sire, when a man is so wretched +as to be banished from your presence, he is not only unfortunate, +but he becomes ridiculous.” All this was said in a tone +of perfect freedom and playfulness. The courtiers performed +wonders. He came one day to Paris, and called upon me; I +was just gone out to call upon him, but he found my son and +daughter at home, and in the evening I found him at his own +house: it was a joyful meeting; I mentioned our friend to +him. “What, madam! my master! my intimate friend! the +man in the world to whom I owe the greatest obligations! +can you doubt that I love him with my whole heart?” This +pleased me highly. He resides with his daughter at Versailles. +The court goes to-day; I suppose he will return, to catch the +king again at Auxerre, for it appears to all his friends that he +ought to take this journey, in which he will certainly pay his +court well, by bestowing the most natural praises on three +little things—the troops, the fortifications, and his majesty’s +conquests. Perhaps our <i>friend</i> will tell you all this, and my +letter will be only a miserable echo; but, at any rate, I have +entered into the minutiæ, because I should like, on such an occasion, +to be written to in the same style, and I judge you, my +dear sir, by myself; I have often been deceived by others, but +never by you. It is said that your worthy and generous friend, +M. de Noailles, has rendered very important services to M. de +Vardes; he is so generous that it is impossible to doubt this. +M. de Calvisson is arrived; this must either break off, or conclude +our marriage. In reality, I am weary of this tedious +affair, I am not in a humor to talk of any thing but M. de +Vardes. M. de Vardes forever; he is the Gospel of the day.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_304" href="#fnanchor_304"><span class="label">[304]</span></a> +This was a blue great-coat, embroidered with gold and silver, +which distinguished the principal courtiers: an especial permission +was necessary to wear it. The fashion had passed when Vardes returned +to court.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_353">353</div> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, July 28, 1682</p> + +<p>You are going to hear a beautiful and an admirable story; +pay great attention to every circumstance attending it. The +Prince de Conti having expressed himself dissatisfied with the +Chevalier de Lorraine, because he had said the Prince de la +Roche-sur-Yon was in love with his wife, found an opportunity +of telling him, two days ago, in the gardens of Versailles, +that he would do him the honor of fighting him, because he +had offended him by his conversation, etc. The Chevalier de +Lorraine thanked him for the honor he intended him, and +wished to justify himself in what he had said; after which +the prince told him that he might have M. de Marsan for his +second, who, hearing himself named, stepped forward and +accepted the office without hesitation, desiring the Prince de +Conti to allow M. de Soissons to be the other second, as he +had long been an enemy to their family. The proposal was +yielded to, the party was formed, the place appointed, the +hour chosen, and secrecy enjoined. Can not you fancy yourself +in the times of the late M. de Boutteville? Each went +his way; but the Chevalier de Lorraine went straight to Monsieur, +to whom he related the whole story, and Monsieur the +next moment confided it to the king. You may guess what +he said to his son-in-law. He talked to him for more than +two hours with more of gayety than anger, but in a tone of +authority, which must have caused great repentance. Here +the affair ended. The public thinks the Chevalier de Lorraine +ought to have refused upon the spot, instead of consenting +and then betraying every thing; but people of the trade +think that a refusal would have excited some angry words +from the prince, and perhaps some menace not very easy of +digestion; and then to have such a stigma cast upon him, +and from a man who is so much to be dreaded! In this +way his conduct has been approved, and the more so because +<span class="pagenum" id="page_354">354</span> +his courage is unquestionable. What say you to this affair? +How does it appear to you to be handled? Alas! if that +sainted princess were to descend from heaven, and to find her +dear son troubled with such impetuosity, do you not think +she would retrace her steps from grief and affliction? You +will talk this over with M. de Vardes. Would to God that +the birth of a Duke of Burgundy, which is hourly expected, +could restore him to us!</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">June 13, 1684.</p> + +<p>Word was sent me from Languedoc that I had a law-suit +pending there, that M. de Grignan was prosecuted with rigor, +and that the judges were strange people. I cursed them +heartily, sir, and have since found that you are one of the +principals: it is <i>you</i>, therefore, I have loaded with so many +imprecations, you, whose protection I have claimed to soften +the rigor and to attend to the justice of my cause. It is to M. +d’Argouges I am indebted for the information, that this odious +judge and this highly-esteemed M. de Moulceau, are one and the +same. All the anger kindled against the first, has disappeared +at the name of the second, and the weapons have fallen from +my hand, like those of Arcabonne, when she recognized Amadis. +It is to M. de Moulceau that I address this quotation +from the opera; you will suppose, that, in virtue of your title +of judge, I shall quote nothing but laws to you. There is one +established law in the world, particularly among honest men, +which is, never to condemn unheard: in this, sir, consists the +favor I have to ask you. The Prince de Conti claims an +estate of which we have been in possession for three hundred +years. I know, from M. de Corbinelli, that three hundred +years is a strong title; we request you, sir, to give us time to +collect our proofs, to convince you of the weakness of the +Prince de Conti’s claim and of the solidity of ours.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_355">355</div> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, November, 24, 1685.</p> + +<p>I have received no letter from you for more than fifteen +months; I know not whether our enraged and jealous friend<a id="fnanchor_305" href="#footnote_305" class="fnanchor">[305]</a> +has intercepted any; it is not, however, like him to do so; he +would be more inclined to assassinate you with the little sword +you once used so pleasantly in the garden of Rambouillet. +We shall never forget your wisdom, nor your folly; and I +have spent a year with my son in Brittany, where we have +often mentioned you with sentiments with which your merit +must impress all hearts that are not unworthy of knowing it. +We have been twenty times on the point of writing some +nonsense to you; we wished to assure you that the <i>scarcity of +the gratification</i> did not prevent you from being often in our +remembrance, and twenty times has the demon which turns +aside good intentions perverted the course of this. At length, +sir, after having been overturned, drowned, and had a wound +in my leg, which has not been healed till within these six +weeks, I left my son, and his wife, who is very pretty, and arrived +at Baville, at M. de Lamoignon’s, on the tenth or twelfth +of September, where I found my daughter and all the Grignans, +who received me with joy and affection. To complete +my happiness, my daughter will not leave me this winter. I +have found our dear Corbinelli just as I left him, except a little +more philosophical, and dying every day from some cause or +other: his freedom excites my envy; in changing his object +he would become a saint; he is, however, so kind and charitable +to his neighbor, that I really believe the grace of God +is concealed under the name of Cartesian. He converts more +heretics by his good sense, and by not irritating them by vain +disputes, than others by all their controversy. In short, every +one now is a missionary, every one thinks he has a mission, +and particularly the magistrates and governors of provinces, +upheld by the dragoons: this is the greatest and most noble +<span class="pagenum" id="page_356">356</span> +action that has ever been conceived or performed. Like us, +you have been surprised with other news. What an event is +the death of the Prince de Conti! after having experienced +all the perils of the Hungarian war, he came here to die of a +disorder which he scarcely felt! His lovely widow has deeply +bewailed him: she has an annuity of a hundred thousand +crowns, and has received from the king so many marks of +friendship, and of his natural affection for her, that with such +assistance no one can doubt that she will in time be comforted.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_305" href="#fnanchor_305"><span class="label">[305]</span></a> +A jest which refers to Corbinelli.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Livri</span>, October 25, 1686.</p> + +<p>I have received your letter, sir; it presented itself to me as +if you wished to make me ashamed of my silence, and to believe +I had been ill, for the purpose of entering into conversation +with me. It reminds me of a very pretty comedy, in +which the person who wishes to come to an explanation with +the lady who enters, makes her believe she called him, and +thus obtains a hearing. If you have the same intention, sir, I +return you a thousand thanks; and I really can not comprehend +how, esteeming you as I do, remembering you with so +much pleasure, speaking of you so readily, having so high a +relish for your understanding and your worth, <i>to say no more +for fear of exciting jealousy</i>, I can, with so many things to +promote a correspondence, have left you seven or eight months +without saying a word to you. It is horrible; but what does +it signify? let us remain in this freedom, since it is not compatible +with the sentiments I have just expressed for you. I +have seen M. de la Trousse; we talked of you the moment we +had embraced; I think him, by what he told me, highly deserving +the esteem you appear to entertain for him. The +stroke is at least double. I found him perfectly acquainted +with, and as sensible of your worth as you can possibly desire. +He must pass through this place on his way to La +<span class="pagenum" id="page_357">357</span> +Trousse; I shall show him your letter, and I do not think it +will induce him to change his opinion. You have now M. de +Noailles with you: you are in such favor there that I shall +rejoice with you on the pleasure you will receive at seeing a +man whom you have inspired with such lively sentiments of +esteem for you. I can easily imagine the confusion which the +derangement of the states must have occasioned you; but you +can not dispense with going to Nîmes. I must say a word to +you respecting Mademoiselle de Grignan. You know, I presume, +that she has been in the convent of the Carmelites for +eight months, and that she took the habit in form, with a zeal +too violent to last. In the first three months she found herself +so reduced, from the severity of the order, and her stomach so +injured by the meagerness of the provision, that she was +obliged to eat meat by compulsion. This inability to comply +with the rules, even in her noviciate, induced her to quit the +convent; but with so true a sentiment of piety, of humiliation +at the delicacy of her health, and of such perfect contempt +for the world, that the holy nuns have preserved an affectionate +friendship for her; and she, who has only changed the +habit, and not the sentiment, has no false shame, like those +who grow weary of the life, and is now with us as usual, giving +us the same edification. Her residence at Paris is fixed +at the Feuillantines, where she will board with several others; +she will return there at Martinmas, when we do. What attaches +her to this house is its vicinity to the Carmelites, where +she goes almost daily, and whenever a certain princess is there. +She takes from this holy convent all that agrees with her, that +is, its devotion and conversation, and leaves the strictness of +the order, to which she was by no means equal.</p> + +<p>It is thus God has conducted her and gently repulsed her +from the high degree of perfection to which she aspired, to +support her in another a little inferior to it, which can not but +be good, since He gives her grace to love him alone, which is +all that can be desired in this world. But Providence has also +inspired her with the most noble, just, and praiseworthy thought +<span class="pagenum" id="page_358">358</span> +it was possible to conceive for her family. She was determined +that her return to the world should not deprive her +father of what she wished to give him by her civil death: and +at quitting her convent, she made him a very handsome present +of forty thousand crowns, which he owed her; that is, +twenty thousand crowns principal, and the rest arrears and +sums borrowed. This gift has been duly estimated, not only +by those who love M. de Grignan, but by those who knew that +all her property becoming personal at the age of five-and-twenty, +if she had not disposed of any thing by will, would +go almost wholly to her father; and that M. de Grignan would +have eighty thousand crowns to pay Mademoiselle d’Alerac, +reckoning the principal of the jointure at forty thousand. +This is enough in conscience for us not to pity the sister, and +to rejoice that the family is relieved from this double payment. +I own I have been very much affected at this seasonable +and generous action; and I admire the goodness of her +disposition, which led her to do, without affectation, the only +thing in the world that could render her dear to her family, +where she is now received and considered as its benefactress. +The understanding alone might have wrought this effect in +another, but it is best when produced only by the heart. My +daughter has contributed so well to this little maneuvre, that she +has received double pleasure from its success. The chevalier +has also done wonders; for you may suppose it has been +necessary to assist, and give a form to these good intentions. +In short, all has gone well: even Mademoiselle d’Alerac has +entered into the justice of the sentiment. I pray that God +may reward her by a good establishment, of which she still +conceals from us every prospect, so that at present there is no +appearance of any thing of the kind. Do I not weary you, +sir, by this long account? you will have an indigestion of the +Grignans. To divert you, let us talk a little of poor Sévigné: +I should mention him with grief if I could not tell you that after +five months of horrible suffering from medicines which worked +him to the very bone, the poor child is at length restored to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_359">359</span> +perfect health. He has spent the whole of August with me in +this retreat, which you are now acquainted with. We were +alone with the good abbé, we had everlasting conversations, +and this long intercourse has renewed our acquaintance with +each other, and our acquaintance renewed our friendship. He +is returned home with a stock of Christian philosophy, sprinkled +with a grain of anchoretism, and particularly with an extreme +affection for his wife, by whom he is equally beloved, +which makes him altogether the happiest man in the world, +because he passes his life agreeably to his own mind. We +have talked of you twenty times with friendship and delight, +and twenty times have we said, “Let us write to him, I wish +it very much;” and when we have been on the point of giving +ourselves this pleasure, a demon has stepped in to distract +our attention, and turn aside our good resolutions. What is +to be done, my dear sir, in misfortunes like these? Perhaps +you know the mortification of forming good resolutions without +the power of executing them. I fear our dear jealous +friend calculates upon spending the winter with you; you will +be very glad: you will laugh, and I shall cry; for I have so +perfect a confidence in him, and so true a friendship for him, +that I can not lose the society of such a man without feeling +it painfully every moment; M. de Vardes, however, whom he +is delighted to follow, will restore him to us, as he takes him +away from us. I am pleased that this attachment continues; +you will act your part well, and I consider the pleasure of seeing +you, and of establishing himself again in your heart, as a +happy circumstance for our friend. M. de Vardes has not +been sufficiently particular in the information you omitted to +tell me: the surest way is to write ourselves, as you see. I +do not write to you often, but you will own when I do that it +is not for nothing.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_360">360</div> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, November 26, 1686.</p> + +<p>I thought, sir, that in purchasing an office, nothing was +necessary but to find money; but I see that the manner of +giving and receiving it is also to be considered. You will soon +be quit of this embarrassment, from the desire you always have +to contribute to your own tranquillity. Good heavens! how +rational and how worthy of you is this disposition, and how +just too is the choice of your company, when we come to +speak and point out its excellence! If we judge from appearances, +it is very superior to our parliaments. I can fancy I +hear M. and Madame de Verneuil say a thousand kind things +to you, and receive yours in return. When this princess mentions +me, tell her it is impossible to be more at her service +than I am. You have a sister of Madame de la Troche with +you, who is very amiable; the eldest will place all the attentions +you pay her to her own account. I have presented +your compliments to the Chevalier de Grignan, who has received +them graciously; he pointed out to the prince<a id="fnanchor_306" href="#footnote_306" class="fnanchor">[306]</a> the +silence and discretion of your departure; nothing can exceed +his concern and zeal for your interest: but we can answer +for nothing when we are left-handed. What you told +me the other day of a certain discourse he held with a certain +person, makes me exhort you to preserve the noble tranquility +I have always witnessed in you, on the success of this +affair. We only returned from Livri yesterday; the beauty +of the weather, and the health of my daughter, which has +been nearly established there, made us stay out of gratitude. +In the two months we have been there, we have not +been able to prevail on our friend to give us his company for +<span class="pagenum" id="page_361">361</span> +more than ten days. He has a thousand little affairs there, +to which he is accustomed: I know nothing of his intentions +with respect to his departure, I almost doubt whether the +society he meets at M. de Vardes’ will not prevent him from +setting out soon. I assure you I shall reap the advantage of +his inclination to do so with pleasure, but I only contribute +toward it by my wishes. Pray inform us how M. de Vardes +finds himself in the midst of this troop of Bohemians; I can +not get this vision out of my eyes. We shall have a thousand +things to tell you of the son-in-law;<a id="fnanchor_307" href="#footnote_307" class="fnanchor">[307]</a> in short, it struck +us the other day that if Homer had been acquainted with +him, he would have chosen him in point of anger for his +Achilles. We have a new prince and a new princess here.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_306" href="#fnanchor_306"><span class="label">[306]</span></a> +The Prince de Conti. It has been seen in the letter of June 13, +1684, that M. de Moulceau was judge in a law-suit in which M. de +Grignan was engaged with this prince, and that he was moreover attached +to him for other reasons.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_307" href="#fnanchor_307"><span class="label">[307]</span></a> +M. de Rohan, who had married the daughter of the Count de +Vardes.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, December 15, 1686.</p> + +<p>I wrote you a long letter, sir, more than a month ago, +full of friendship, secrets, and confidence. I know not what +became of it; it lost its way, perhaps, in seeking for you at +the States, since you have not answered it: but this will not +prevent me from telling you a melancholy, and at the same +time a pleasing, piece of intelligence: the death of the prince, +which happened the day before yesterday, the 11th instant, at +a quarter after seven in the evening, and the return of the +Prince de Conti to court, through the kindness of the prince, +who asked this favor of the king in his last moments. The +king immediately granted it, and the prince had this consolation +on his death-bed; but never was joy drowned in so +many tears. The Prince de Conti is inconsolable at the loss +he has sustained. It could not be greater, particularly as he +passed the whole time of his disgrace at Chantilly, where he +made an admirable use of the understanding and abilities of +<span class="pagenum" id="page_362">362</span> +the prince, and drew from the fountain-head all that was to +be acquired from so great a master, by whom he was tenderly +beloved. The prince flew, with a speed that has cost +him his life, from Chantilly to Fontainebleau, where Madame +de Bourbon was seized with the small-pox, in order to prevent +the duke, who had not had the disorder, from nursing +her and being with her; for the duchess, who has always +nursed her, would have been sufficient to satisfy him of the +care that was taken of her health. He was very ill, and at +length died of an oppression with which he was seized, which +made him say, as he was on the point of returning to Paris, +that he should take a much longer journey. He sent for his +confessor, Father Deschamps, and, after lying in a state of +insensibility for twenty-four hours, and receiving all the sacraments, +he died, regretted and bitterly lamented by his family +and his friends. The king was much afflicted at the event, +and, in short, the grief of losing so great a man and so great +a hero, whose place whole ages will not be able to supply, +has been felt by all ranks. A singular circumstance happened +three weeks ago, a little before the departure of the +prince for Fontainebleau. Vernillon, one of his gentlemen, +returning from the chase at three o’clock, saw, as he approached +the castle, at one of the windows of the armory, an +apparition: that is, a man who had been dead and buried. +He dismounted, and came nearer; he still saw it. His valet, +who was with him, said, “I see the same, sir, that you see.” +Vernillon had been silent, that his valet might speak of his +own accord. They entered the castle together, and desired +the keeper to give them the key of the armory. The keeper +went with them; they found all the windows closed, and a +silence which had been undisturbed for more than six months. +This was told to the prince: he appeared struck with it at +first, and afterward laughed at it. Every one heard the story +and trembled for the prince. You see what the event has +been.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_363">363</div> + +<h3>LETTER X.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, April 29, 1687.</p> + +<p>So you like my letters, sir. I am delighted that you do; +this is one which will be worth a hundred. My robust +health was slightly attacked, about a month ago, by a little +colic, a little rheumatism, a little vexation; consequently, +all this might excuse me from writing to you; but I had +rather die than another should tell you that the Prince de +Conti is at length returned to court. He is this night at +Versailles, and the king, like a kind father, has restored him +to favor, after having exiled him for a while, to leave him at +leisure to make his own reflections. No doubt he has done +so, and the court will be very gay and splendid on the occasion. +His majesty will make several chevaliers at Whitsuntide, +but it will be only a family promotion: M. de Chartres, +the Duke de Bourbon, the Prince de Conti, and M. du Maine, +but no one else: all the other candidates must be pleased to +have patience; but they will not see without mortification +the adjournment of their hopes. The Duke de Vieuville is +governor to the Duke de Chartres. Madame de Polignac, +who is not Mademoiselle d’Alerac, paid a visit yesterday to +Madame de Grignan. She was brilliant, lively, elated with +the grandeur of the house of Polignac, fond of talking of the +name, and all the personages belonging to it. She has taken +upon herself the fortune of the two brothers, and has +supported, generously and courageously, the frown and +disapprobation of the king. She has employed skillful artificers; +and instead of deserting the deserted, like women +in general, she has made it a point of honor to reinstate +them at court. I could answer for it that she will revive +and re-establish this family. This is what Providence had +in store for them, and which prevented us from being +able to read distinctly what it had written for Mademoiselle +d’Alerac. Adieu, sir; love me, for indeed you ought. I love +your mind, your worth, your wisdom, your folly, your virtue, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_364">364</span> +your humor, your goodness: in short, all that belongs to you, +and wish you, and the pretty covey under your wing, which +must afford you so much pleasure and comfort, every possible +happiness. All here salute you, except our <i>friend</i>, who +knows nothing of this hasty letter. I shall talk of you a +great deal with Bourdaloüe. Madame Dangeau, formerly <i>Bavaria</i>, +is very prudent, very amiable, and makes her husband +very happy; she might have made him very ridiculous.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate">Wednesday, March 2, 1689.</p> + +<p>What things, sir, may not be said! what a period in the +history of our monarch is the manner in which he has received +the king of England! the presents with which he has +loaded him in setting out from hence for Ireland; vessels at +Brest, where he now is, frigates, troops, officers; the Count +d’Avaux as embassador extraordinary and adviser, and who is +also to have the care of the troops and money; two millions +on his departure, and as much afterward as he wants! Beside +these great things he has given him his arms, his helmet, +his cuirass, which can not fail of bringing good fortune to +him. He has given him arms sufficient for ten or twelve +thousand men. And as to little conveniences they are innumerable: +post-chaises admirably made, calashes, carriage +and saddle-horses, services of gold and silver, toilets, linen, +camp-beds, magnificent swords of state, swords for service, +pistols; in short, every thing of every kind that can be +thought of; and in embracing him as he bid him adieu, he +said to him, “You can not say that I am not affected at your +departure: I own to you, however, that I wish never to see +you again; but if, unfortunately, you should return, be assured +you will find me as you leave me.” Nothing could be +better said, nothing more just: generosity, magnificence, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_365">365</span> +magnanimity were never exercised as they have been by his +majesty on this occasion.</p> + +<p>We hope that the Irish war will be a powerful diversion, +and prevent the Prince of Orange from tormenting us by +descents upon our coast; and thus our three hundred thousand +soldiers, our armies so well stationed every where, will +only serve to make the king feared, without any one daring +to attack him.</p> + +<p>This is a time of political discussion: I should very much +like to hear you talk over these great events. I inclose the opinion +of a respectable upholsterer on the questions, respecting furniture, +of Madame de Moulceau: but whatever he may say of a +gold fringe and double taffeties for curtains, and though there +are many such here, nothing is so pretty, so suitable, or so +cool for the summer, as curtains made of these beautiful taffeties +single, and tapestry the same. I have seen them at several +houses, and admire them exceedingly: every thing must +be looped up, and plaited, as he has directed: for the other +kind of furniture, you must have damask or brocade.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, Friday, November 10, 1690.</p> + +<p>Where do you think I am, sir? Did you not know I was +in Brittany? Our Corbinelli must have told you so. After +having been there sixteen months with my son, I thought it +would be very pleasant to spend the winter here with my +daughter. This plan of a journey of a hundred and fifty +leagues at first appeared a castle in the air; but affection rendered +it so easy, that in fact I executed it between the 3d +and 24th of October, on which day I arrived at Robinet’s +gate, where I was received by Madame de Grignan with open +arms, and with so much joy, affection, and gratitude, that I +thought I had not come soon enough, nor from a sufficiently +<span class="pagenum" id="page_366">366</span> +great distance. After this, sir, tell me that friendship is not a +fine thing! it makes me often think of you, and wish to see +you here once more during my life. We shall be here the +whole of this winter, and the next summer; if you do not find +a moment to come and see us, I shall think you have forgotten +me. You will not know this house again, it is so +much improved; but you will find its owners still abounding +with esteem for you; and me, sir, possessing a regard for +you, capable of driving our <i>friend</i> to madness, and worthy of +your paying us this visit.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, June 5, 1695.</p> + +<p>I intend, sir, to bring an action against you, and thus I set +about it. I wish you to judge it yourself. I have been here +for more than a year with my daughter, for whom I have as +much love as ever. Since that time you have no doubt heard +of the marriage of the Marquis de Grignan to Mademoiselle de +Saint-Amand. You have seen her often enough at Montpellier +to be acquainted with her person; you have also heard +mention of the vast wealth of her father. You are not ignorant +that this marriage was solemnized with great pomp in +the château which you know. I suppose you can not have +forgotten the time when the true esteem we have always preserved +for you began. On this subject I measure your sentiments +by my own, and I judge that, we not having forgotten +you, you can not have forgotten us.</p> + +<p>I even include M. de Grignan, whose date is still more ancient +than ours. I collect all these things, and I find myself +injured on every side; I complain of it here, I complain of it +to our friends, I complain of it to our dear Corbinelli, the +jealous confidant and witness of all the esteem and friendship +we bear you; and at length, sir, I complain of it to yourself. +Whence proceeds this silence? is it from forgetfulness? from +<span class="pagenum" id="page_367">367</span> +perfect indifference? I know not which to say: what would +you have me think? What does your conduct resemble? +Give a name to it, sir; the cause is now ready for your sentence. +Pass it: I consent that you should be both party and +judge.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, Saturday, February 4, 1696.</p> + +<p>I was right, sir, when I supposed you would be concerned at +my anxiety, and would use all the diligence in your power to +relieve it. M. Barbeirac’s prescription and your letter had +wings, as you wished; and it seems that this little fever, which +appeared so low, had wings too, for it vanished at the bare +mention of M. Barbeirac’s name. Seriously, sir, there is something +miraculous in this sudden change; and I can not doubt +that your wishes and your prayers contributed to produce it. +Judge of my gratitude by their effect. My daughter goes +halves with me in all I say here; she returns you a thousand +thanks, and entreats you to give a great many to M. Barbeirac. +We are happy in having no longer any thing to do, but to +take patience and rhubarb, which she finds agree well with +her. We doubt not that in this quiet state, rhubarb is a medicine +which M. Barbeirac must approve, with a regimen, which +is sometimes better than all. Thank God, sir, both for yourself +and for us; for we are certain that you are interested in +this acknowledgment; and then, sir, cast your eyes upon all +the inhabitants of this château, and judge of their sentiments +for you.</p> + +<h2 id="page_368">LETTERS TO M. DE COULANGES.<a id="fnanchor_308" href="#footnote_308" class="fnanchor">[308]</a><br> +<small>FROM 1676 TO 1696.</small></h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Monday, Dec. 15, 1670.</p> + +<p>I am going to tell you a thing the most astonishing, the +most surprising, the most marvelous, the most miraculous, the +most magnificent, the most confounding, the most unheard of, +the most singular, the most extraordinary, the most incredible, +the most unforeseen, the greatest, the least, the rarest, the +most common, the most public, the most private till to-day, +the most brilliant, the most enviable; in short, a thing of which +there is but one example in past ages, and that not an exact +one either; a thing that we can not believe at Paris; how +then will it gain credit at Lyons? a thing which makes everybody +cry, “Lord have mercy upon us!” a thing which causes +the greatest joy to Madame de Rohan and Madame de Hauterive; +a thing, in fine, which is to happen on Sunday next, +when those who are present will doubt the evidence of their +senses; a thing which, though it is to be done on Sunday, yet +perhaps will not be finished on Monday. I can not bring myself +to tell it you; guess what it is. I give you three times to +do it in. What, not a word to throw at a dog? Well then, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_369">369</span> +I find I must tell you. Monsieur de Lauzun<a id="fnanchor_309" href="#footnote_309" class="fnanchor">[309]</a> is to be married +next Sunday at the Louvre, to —— pray guess to whom! +I give you four times to do it in, I give you six, I give you a +hundred. Says Madame de Coulanges, “It is really very hard +to guess; perhaps it is Madame de la Vallière.” Indeed, +madam, it is not. “It is Mademoiselle de Retz, then.” No, +nor she neither; you are extremely provincial. “Lord bless +me,” say you, “what stupid wretches we are! it is Mademoiselle +de Colbert all the while.” Nay, now you are still further +from the mark. “Why then it must certainly be Mademoiselle +de Crequy.” You have it not yet. Well, I find I must tell +you at last. He is to be married next Sunday, at the Louvre, +with the king’s leave, to Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle de —— +Mademoiselle—guess, pray guess her name; he is to be married +to Mademoiselle, the great Mademoiselle; Mademoiselle, +daughter to the late Monsieur;<a id="fnanchor_310" href="#footnote_310" class="fnanchor">[310]</a> Mademoiselle, grand-daughter +of Henry the IVth; Mademoiselle d’Eu, Mademoiselle de +Dombes, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, Mademoiselle d’Orleans, +Mademoiselle, the king’s cousin-german, Mademoiselle, +destined to the throne, Mademoiselle, the only match in France +that was worthy of Monsieur. What glorious matter for talk! +If you should burst forth like a bedlamite, say we have told +you a lie, that it is false, that we are making a jest of you, and +that a pretty jest it is, without wit or invention; in short, if +you abuse us, we shall think you quite in the right; for we +have done just the same things ourselves. Farewell, you will +find by the letters you receive this post, whether we tell you +truth or not.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_308" href="#fnanchor_308"><span class="label">[308]</span></a> +Philip Emanuel de Coulanges, master of the requests, so well +known in the gay world for his wit, humor, and the singular talent he +had for a jovial song. He was cousin-german to Madame de Sévigné.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_309" href="#fnanchor_309"><span class="label">[309]</span></a> +Antonius Nompar de Caumont, Marquis de Puiguilhem, afterward +Duke de Lauzun.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_310" href="#fnanchor_310"><span class="label">[310]</span></a> +Gaston of France, Duke of Orleans, brother to Louis XIII.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Friday, Dec. 19, 1670.</p> + +<p>What is called “falling from the clouds,” happened last night +at the Tuileries; but I must go further back. You have +<span class="pagenum" id="page_370">370</span> +already shared in the joy, the transport, the ecstacies of the princess +and her happy lover. It was just as I told you, the affair +was made public on Monday. Tuesday was passed in talking, +astonishment, and compliments. Wednesday, mademoiselle +made a deed of gift to Monsieur de Lauzun, investing him with +certain titles, names, and dignities, necessary to be inserted in +the marriage-contract, which was drawn up that day. She +gave him then, till she could give him something better, four +duchies; the first was that of Count d’Eu, which entitles him +to rank as first peer of France; the Dukedom of Montpensier, +which title he bore all that day; the Dukedom de Saint +Fargeau; and the Dukedom de Chatellerault, the whole valued +at twenty-two millions of livres. The contract was then +drawn up, and he took the name of Montpensier. Thursday +morning, which was yesterday, mademoiselle was in expectation +of the king’s signing the contract, as he had said that he +would do; but, about seven o’clock in the evening, the queen, +monsieur, and several old dotards that were about him, had so +persuaded his majesty that his reputation would suffer in this +affair, that, sending for mademoiselle and Monsieur de Lauzun, +he announced to them, before the prince, that he forbade them +to think any further of this marriage. Monsieur de Lauzun +received the prohibition with all the respect, submission, firmness, +and, at the same time, despair, that could be expected in +so great a reverse of fortune. As for mademoiselle, she gave +a loose to her feelings, and burst into tears, cries, lamentations, +and the most violent expressions of grief; she keeps her bed +all day long, and takes nothing within her lips but a little +broth. What a fine dream is here! what a glorious subject +for a tragedy or romance, but especially talking and reasoning +eternally! This is what we do day and night, morning and +evening, without end, and without intermission; we hope you +do the same, <i lang="it">E fra tanto vi bacio le mani</i>: “and with this I +kiss your hand.”</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_371">371</div> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Dec. 24, 1670.</p> + +<p>You are now perfectly acquainted with the romantic story +of mademoiselle and of Monsieur de Lauzun. It is a story +well adapted for a tragedy, and in all the rules of the theater; +we laid out the acts and scenes the other day. We took four +days instead of four and twenty hours, and the piece was complete. +Never was such a change seen in so short a time; +never was there known so general an emotion. You certainly +never received so extraordinary a piece of intelligence before. +M. de Lauzun behaved admirably; he supported his misfortune +with such courage and intrepidity, and at the same time +showed so deep a sorrow, mixed with such profound respect, +that he has gained the admiration of every body. His loss is +doubtless great, but then the king’s favor, which he has by +this means preserved, is likewise great; so that, upon the +whole, his condition does not seem so very deplorable. Mademoiselle, +too, has behaved extremely well on her side. She +has wept much and bitterly; but yesterday, for the first time, +she returned to pay her duty at the Louvre, after having received +the visits of every one there; so the affair is all over. +Adieu.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, Wednesday, Dec. 31, 1670.</p> + +<p>I have received your answers to my letters. I can easily +conceive the astonishment you were in at what passed between +the 15th and 20th of this month; the subject called for it all. +I admire likewise your penetration and judgment, in imagining +so great a machine could never support itself from Monday to +Sunday. Modesty prevents my launching out in your praise +on this head, because I said and thought exactly as you did. +I told my daughter on Monday, “This will never go on as it +should do till Sunday; I will wager, notwithstanding this +<span class="pagenum" id="page_372">372</span> +wedding seems to be sure, that it will never come to a conclusion.” +In effect the sky was overcast on Thursday morning, and about +ten o’clock, as I told you, the cloud burst. That very day I +went about nine in the morning to pay my respects to mademoiselle, +having been informed that she was to go out of town +to be married, and that the coadjutor of Rheims<a id="fnanchor_311" href="#footnote_311" class="fnanchor">[311]</a> was to perform +the ceremony. These were the resolves on Wednesday +night, but matters had been determined otherwise at the Louvre +ever since Tuesday. Mademoiselle was writing; she made me +place myself on my knees at her bed-side; she told me to +whom she was writing, and upon what subject, and also of the +fine presents she had made the night before, and the titles she +had conferred; and as there was no match in any of the courts +of Europe for her, she was resolved, she said, to provide for +herself. She related to me, word for word, a conversation she +had had with the king, and appeared overcome with joy, to +think how happy she should make a man of merit. She mentioned, +with a great deal of tenderness, the worth and gratitude +of M. de Lauzun. To all which I made her this answer: +“Upon my word, mademoiselle, your highness seems quite +happy! but why was not this affair finished at once last Monday? +Do not you perceive that the delay will give time and +opportunity to the whole kingdom to talk, and that it is absolutely +tempting God, and the king, to protract an affair of so +extraordinary a nature as this is to so distant a period?” She +allowed me to be in the right, but was so sure of success, that +what I said made little or no impression on her at the time. +She repeated the many amiable qualities of Monsieur de Lauzun, +and the noble house he was descended from. To which I +replied in these lines of Corneille’s Polyeuctus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Du moins on ne la peut blâmer d’un mauvais choix,</div> + <div class="verse">Polyeucte a du nom, et sort du sang des rois.</div> +</div> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Her choice of him no one can surely blame,</div> + <div class="verse">Who springs from kings, and boasts a noble name.</div> +</div> + +<p class="noind"><span class="pagenum" id="page_373">373</span> +Upon which she embraced me tenderly. Our conversation +lasted above an hour. It is impossible to repeat all that passed +between us, but I may without vanity say that my company +was agreeable to her, for her heart was so full that she was +glad of any one to unburden it to. At ten o’clock she devoted +her time to the nobility, who crowded to pay their compliments +to her. She waited all the morning for news from +court, but none came. All the afternoon she amused herself +with putting M. de Montpensier’s apartment in order, which +she did with her own hands. You know what happened at +night. The next morning, which was Friday, I waited upon +her, and found her in bed; her grief redoubled at seeing me; +she called me to her, embraced me, and whelmed me with +tears.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said she, “you remember what you said to me yesterday? +What foresight! what cruel foresight!” In short, +she made me weep to see her weep so violently. I have seen +her twice since; she still continues in great affliction, but behaves +to me as to a person that sympathizes with her in her +distress; in which she is not mistaken, for I really feel sentiments +for her that are seldom felt for persons of such superior +rank. This, however, between us two and Madame de Coulanges; +for you are sensible that this chit-chat would appear +ridiculous to others.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_311" href="#fnanchor_311"><span class="label">[311]</span></a> +Charles Maurice le Tellier.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER V.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">The Rocks</span>, January 8, 1690.</p> + +<p>What a melancholy date, my amiable cousin, compared +with yours! It suits a recluse like me, and that of Rome +suits one whose fate is to wander uncontrolled, and “who +stalks his idleness from one end of the world to the other.” +What a happy life! and how mildly has Fortune treated you, +as you say, notwithstanding her quarrel with you! Always +beloved, always esteemed, always carrying joy and pleasure +<span class="pagenum" id="page_374">374</span> +along with you, always the favorite of, and fascinated with, +some friend of consequence—a duke, a prince, or a pope (for +I will add the holy father by way of novelty); always in good +health, never at the charge of any one, no business, no ambition; +but, above all, the advantage of not growing old! +This is the height of felicity. You doubt, sometimes, whether +you are not advancing, by certain calculations of time and +years; but old age is still at a distance. You do not approach +it with horror, as some persons I could name. This +is reserved for your neighbor, and you have not even the +fears that are usually felt at seeing a fire in your neighborhood. +In short, after mature reflection, I pronounce you the +happiest man in the world. This last journey to Rome is, in +my opinion, the most delightful adventure that could have +happened to you, with an adorable embassador (the Duke de +Chaulnes), on a noble and grand occasion, and a visit to the +beautiful mistress of the world, whom, having once seen, we +are always longing to see again. I very much like the verses +you have made on her. She can not be too highly celebrated. +I am sure my daughter will approve them. They are +well written and poetical; we sing them. I am delighted +with what you tell me of Paulina, whom you saw at Grignan +in your way. I have judged most favorably of her from your +praises, and the unaffected letter you wrote to Madame de +Chaulnes, which she has sent to me. Oh, how much I should +like to take a journey to Rome, as you propose! but then it +must be with the face and air I had many years ago, and not +with those I now have. A woman, particularly, should not +move her old bones except to be embassadress. I believe that +Madame de Coulanges, though still young, is of the same +opinion; but in my youth I should have been in raptures +with such an adventure. It is not the same with you. Every +thing becomes you. Enjoy, then, your privilege, and the +jealousy you excite to know who shall be favored with you. +I will not waste my time in arguing with you on the present +state of affairs. All the duke’s prosperities have given me +<span class="pagenum" id="page_375">375</span> +real joy. You fear precisely what all his friends apprehend, +that, being the only one who can fill the place he holds with +equal success and reputation, he will be kept in it too long. +This apartment in your new palace creates new alarms; but +let us do better. Let us not anticipate evils; rather let us hope +that every thing will happen as we wish, and that we +shall all meet again at Paris. I was delighted with your remembrance, +your letter, and your songs. Write to me whenever +it is agreeable and convenient. I take the liberty of +sending this by the embassadress; and I do more, my dear +cousin, for under her protection I take the liberty of embracing +my dear governor of Brittany, and his excellency the embassador, +with real affection, and without offense to respect. +These high dignities do not intimidate me. I am sure he still +loves me. God bless him and bring him back again. These +are my wishes for the new year. Adieu, my dear cousin; I +embrace you. Continue to love me. I wish it—it is my +whim, and to love you more than you love me. But you are +very amiable, and I must not place myself on a par with you.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, April 10, 1691.</p> + +<p>We have received a letter dated the 31st of March from +our dear embassador. It came in less than a week. This +expedition is delightful, but what he tells us is still more so. +It is impossible to write in better spirits. My daughter takes +upon herself to answer him, and as I desire her to send the +Holy Ghost with all diligence, not only to create a pope,<a id="fnanchor_312" href="#footnote_312" class="fnanchor">[312]</a> but +to put a speedy termination to business, that he may be able +to pay us a visit. She assures me that she will send him +<span class="pagenum" id="page_376">376</span> +word of the conquest of Nice in five days after opening the +trenches by M. de Catinet, and that this intelligence will produce +the same effect for our bulls. Tell us, my dear cousin, +if we judge rightly. We have received M. de Nevers’ epistle +to the little Le Clerc of the academy. It is accompanied by +one of your letters; they always give us great pleasure. The +packet came very slowly; we know not why. There is neither +rhyme nor reason in the conduct of the post. We think +the epistle of M. de Nevers very pretty and very entertaining. +In short, all his productions have so peculiar and so excellent +a character that after them we can relish no others. The two +last verses of the song he made for you, charmed my daughter +as a Cartesian. Speaking of the fine wines of Italy, he +says:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Sur la membrane de leur sens</div> + <div class="verse">Font des sillons charmans.<a id="fnanchor_313" href="#footnote_313" class="fnanchor">[313]</a></div> +</div> + +<p class="noind">In short, it all deserves praise. For instance, can any thing +be more humorous, in his epistle, than the smallest human +string wound up to the highest pitch; and the other extreme, +of a hundred crotchets rolling in bass to the very depth of +the abyss? This picture is complete, and the opera of which +he speaks is deservedly ridiculed; but we can not comprehend +why he has given his son’s name to this epistle: <i lang="it">cui bono?</i> +and where is the wit of it? for the style resembles his own +as much as one drop of water resembles another. It would +be impossible to be deceived, and the subject can give offense +to none. If you do not explain this to us, we shall be ill.</p> + +<p>But let us talk of your grief at having lost this delightful +family,<a id="fnanchor_314" href="#footnote_314" class="fnanchor">[314]</a> which has so well celebrated your merit in verse and +prose, while you at the same time were so much alive to the +charms of its society. It is easy to conceive the painfulness +of this separation. M. de Chaulnes will not suffer us to believe +that he shares it with you. An embassador must be +<span class="pagenum" id="page_377">377</span> +occupied only with the business of the king, his master, who on +his side has taken Mons, with a hundred thousand men, +in a manner truly heroic, going every where, visiting every +place, and indeed, exposing himself too much. The policy of +the Prince of Orange, who was taking his measures very +quietly with the confederate princes for the beginning of May, +has found itself a little disconcerted by this promptitude. +He threatens to come to the assistance of this great place. A +prisoner told this to the king, who replied, coolly, “We came +here to wait for him.” I defy your imagination to frame a +more perfect and more precise answer. I therefore, suppose, +my dear cousin, that by sending you the news of this other +conquest,<a id="fnanchor_315" href="#footnote_315" class="fnanchor">[315]</a> in four days, your Rome will not be sorry to live +paternally with her elder son. God knows whether our embassador +will ably support <i>the identity of the greatest king in +the world</i>, as M. de Nevers said.</p> + +<p>Let us return to our own country. Our little Marquis de +Grignan went to the siege of Nice like an adventurer, <i lang="it">vago di +fama</i> (eager for fame). M. de Catinet gave him the command +of the cavalry for several days, that he might not be a +volunteer. This did not prevent him from going every where, +from exposing himself to the fire, which was at first very +brisk, or from bearing fascines, for this is the fashion; but +what sort of fascines, my dear cousin? All from orange-trees, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_378">378</span> +laurels, and pomegranates! They feared nothing but +too great a profusion of perfumes. Never was there so beautiful +or so delightful a country seen. You can conceive what +it must be from your knowledge of Italy. This is the country +M. de Savoie has taken pleasure in losing and destroying. +Can we call this good policy? We expect the little colonel +(the Marquis de Grignan), who is preparing to set out for +Piedmont; for this expedition to Nice is only <i>throwing the bait +in expectation of the game</i>. He will not be here when you +pass; but do you know who will find you here? My son, +who is coming to spend the summer with us, and to meet his +governor, by following the footsteps of his mother.</p> + +<p>By the by, speaking of mother and son, do you know, my +dear cousin, that I have been for these ten days or more in a +sorrow of heart from which you alone have had the power of +relieving me, while I have been employed in writing to you. +This has been occasioned by the illness of the dowager Madame +de Lavardin, my most intimate and oldest friend; this +woman, of such excellent and sound understanding; this illustrious +widow, who gathered us all under her wing; this person +of such exalted merit, has fallen suddenly into a sort of +apoplexy; she is drowsy, paralytic, and feverish; when she +is roused, she talks rationally, but she soon relapses; in short, +my child, my friendship could not sustain a greater loss; I +should feel it keenly. The Duchess de Chaulnes writes to me +respecting her, and is very much grieved at her illness; Madame +de la Fayette still more so. Indeed, her merit is so well +known, that every one is interested as in a public loss; judge, +then, what her friends must feel. I am informed that M. de +Lavardin is very much affected; I hope it is true; it is an +honor to him to grieve for a mother to whom he is in a manner +indebted for whatever he is. Adieu, my dear cousin; my +heart is full, I can write no more. If I had begun with this +melancholy subject I should not have had the courage to chat +with you as I have done.</p> + +<p>I shall say no more respecting the Temple, I have given my +<span class="pagenum" id="page_379">379</span> +opinion of it already; but I shall never like or approve it. +Not so with regard to you, for I love you, and shall love and +approve you always.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_312" href="#fnanchor_312"><span class="label">[312]</span></a> +Alexander VIII. had been dead for two months and a few days. +Before he died, he distributed among his nephews all the money he +possessed, which made Pasquin say that it would have been better for +the church to have been his niece than his daughter.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_313" href="#fnanchor_313"><span class="label">[313]</span></a> +They make charming furrows upon the membrane of the senses.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_314" href="#fnanchor_314"><span class="label">[314]</span></a> +M. and Madame de Nevers.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_315" href="#fnanchor_315"><span class="label">[315]</span></a> +The town of Mons surrendered to the king on the 10th of April, +the day on which this letter is dated, after a siege of eighteen days. +To Boileau is attributed the following impromptu, addressed to a lady +who required him to write some verses upon the occasion:</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Mons était, disait-on, pucelle</div> + <div class="verse">Qu’un roi gardait avec grand soin;</div> + <div class="verse">Louis-le-Grand en eut besoin,</div> + <div class="verse">Mons se rendit: vous auriez fait comme elle.</div> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="verse">Mons was a virgin, it is said,</div> + <div class="verse">Kept by a king with greatest care;</div> + <div class="verse">Louis the Great wished for the maid,</div> + <div class="verse">Mons yielded: so would you, my fair.</div> +</div> + +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, July 24, 1691.</p> + +<p>“Short reckonings make long friends:” I have received all +your letters, my dear neighbor; that of May 20, that of June +4, about which you were uneasy, and the last of July 4; with +the epistle M. de Nevers sent you from Genoa, and, in short, +all the works of this duke, who is the true son of Apollo and +the Muses. You ask me if I do not treasure all his productions: +indeed I do; I have not lost a single one; they have +highly amused us, as well as every one who has passed this +way whom we have deemed worthy of them. The last epistle is +rather above Paulina’s capacity; but we have had the pleasure +of finding ourselves capable of explaining to her what she +did not understand. With respect to the description of the +dinner, it is suited to the taste of the best guests; and it made +M. de Grignan’s, the Chevalier de St. André’s, my son’s, and +all our mouths water. I never saw so excellent a repast. I +have just placed it among the other wonders of this duke. To +conclude the article of letters: when you have received that +of the 25th of June, and this, you will have received all.</p> + +<p>Let us now come to yours, the beginning of which had +nearly brought me to tears. How can I fancy you confined to +your bed, afflicted in every limb and every joint of your poor +little body; and your nerves so affected that you can neither +stir hand nor foot? This is enough to drive us to despair; +but to see that all this produces a song upon your melancholy +situation, accompanied by another, the most humorous in the +world, on a thing which you see daily; you may suppose, my +poor cousin, this is a real comfort to our hearts, as it proves +that the vital principle is not attacked. This fit of the gout +<span class="pagenum" id="page_380">380</span> +has only given you the blue devils, and made you look forward +to futurity under the most melancholy aspect in which it +can present itself to you; but this situation, so violent, and so +contrary to your disposition, has not had leisure to make any +impression on you.</p> + +<p>In spite of St. Peter, which is past, and of the predictions +of the physicians, a pope is made, and the cardinals will leave +the conclave without the event having cost them their lives; +on the contrary, they will recover their health and their liberty. +It is not the first time that gentlemen of the faculty +have erred in judgment. The Duke de Chaulnes has written +us a letter by the courier, dated the 15th, which brings the +news of the exaltation: he thinks of nothing now but of coming +to see us; he will be with us a fortnight; and though the +pope<a id="fnanchor_316" href="#footnote_316" class="fnanchor">[316]</a> be a Neapolitan, he maintains that the affair of the bulls +is so well disposed of, that it will be the signal gun for saddling +horses and setting out for Grignan; this hope gives us great +pleasure, and very much abridges the share I wished to take +in all your melancholy calendars; it is at an end, however, my +dear cousin; you are cured, you are set out, you are on the +point of arriving here. I embrace you a thousand times. Let +us talk a little of the table in the embassador’s closet, of the +chaos of letters, of the deep abyss of bags, of the confusion +of papers, from which, like the infernal regions, when once a +poor letter is thrown into it, it never comes out again. It was +a miracle, indeed, that mine was found; but it was my daughter’s +letter, in which I had written; she had a great inclination +to be offended at being thus lost and confounded with the +rest; but I appeased her in the best way I could, by assuring +her that the embassador read what she wrote to him with the +deepest attention, and that it was upon my lines he had not +condescended to throw a single glance: and it is the fact; for +he said I had not written to him. She replied, “But as it was +my letter, why consign it to this chaos?” To this I knew not +<span class="pagenum" id="page_381">381</span> +what to answer; the embassador will think of it, if he pleases. +It is true that my poor letters have only the value you give to +them, by reading them as you do; for they have their tones, +and are unbearable when they are brayed out, or spelled word +by word: be this as it may, my dear cousin, you give them a +thousand times more honor than they deserve.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_316" href="#fnanchor_316"><span class="label">[316]</span></a> +Cardinal Pignatelli was elected pope on the 12th of July, and took +the name of Innocent XII.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, July 26, 1691.</p> + +<p>I am so astonished at the news of the sudden death of M. +de Louvois,<a id="fnanchor_317" href="#footnote_317" class="fnanchor">[317]</a> that I know not how or where to begin the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_382">382</span> +subject to you. This great minister then, this man of consequence, +who held so exalted a situation, whose <i lang="fr">le moi</i> (<i>I</i>), as +M. Nicole says, was so extensive; who was the center of so +many things, is dead: how many affairs, designs, projects, secrets, +interests to unravel, wars begun, intrigues, and noble +moves at chess, had he not to make and to conduct! “O +God, grant me a little time; I want to give check to the +Duke of Savoy, check-mate to the Prince of Orange.” No, no, +not a moment, a single moment. Can we reason upon this +strange event? indeed we can not; it is in our closet we must +reflect upon it. This is the second minister<a id="fnanchor_318" href="#footnote_318" class="fnanchor">[318]</a> you have seen +expire since you have been at Rome: nothing is more different +than the manner of their death; but nothing more similar +than their fortunes, and the hundred thousand chains which +attached them both to the world.</p> + +<p>With regard to the great objects which ought to lead you to +God, you say you find your religious sentiments shaken by +what is passing at Rome and in the conclave. My poor cousin, +you are deceived; I have heard that a man of very excellent +understanding drew quite a contrary inference from what +he saw in that great city; he concluded that the Christian +religion must necessarily be all holy and all miraculous to +subsist thus, of itself, in the midst of so many disorders and so +much profanation. Do then as he did, draw the same inferences, +and believe that this very city was formerly washed +with the blood of an infinite number of martyrs; that in the +first centuries, all the intrigues of the conclave ended in choosing +from among the priests him who appeared to have the +greatest zeal and strength to endure martyrdom; that there +were thirty-seven popes who suffered, one after the other; and +that the certainty of their fate had no influence over them to +make them fly from or refuse a situation to which death was +attached, and a death of the most horrible nature. You have +only to read this history to be convinced that a religion, subsisting +by a continual miracle, both in its establishment and its +<span class="pagenum" id="page_383">383</span> +duration, can not be an invention of men. Men do not think +thus: read St. Augustin in his <i lang="fr">Vérité de la Religion</i> (Truth +of Religion); read Abbadie,<a id="fnanchor_319" href="#footnote_319" class="fnanchor">[319]</a> very different indeed from that +great saint, but not unworthy of being compared with him +when he speaks of the Christian religion. Ask the Abbé de +Polignac what he thinks of this book. Collect all these ideas +and do not judge so hastily: believe that whatever intrigues +may take place in the conclave, it is the Holy Ghost that +always makes the pope. God works all, he is the sovereign +of all, and this is what we ought to think: I have read this +sentiment in a good book: “What evil can happen to a man +who knows that God does all things, and who loves whatever +God does?” And with this, my dear cousin, I take my leave.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_317" href="#fnanchor_317"><span class="label">[317]</span></a> +The death of Louvois, as it is well known, has been the subject of +many discussions. It has been said that he was poisoned. Saint Simon +affirms it; and his account charges the king with this crime. Voltaire +says, with reason, that this is repugnant to every idea that has been +formed of the character of Louis XIV. Of those who felt like him, +some said that it was a revenge of the Duke de Savoy’s; others, that +Louvois poisoned himself. The last opinion deserves to be inquired +into. It is agreed on all sides that he was on the eve of disgrace, that +he expected harsh treatment, that he spoke of death as preferable to +this fall, and that he was a violent and passionate man, whom no scruple +restrained. Under all these circumstances, there is nothing very +improbable in his suicide. But it appears that this fact was never +cleared up; and it is an inconvenience to which we are easily resigned. +It is certain, however, that the king made no concealment that the +event of his death happened very opportunely to draw him out of difficulties; +it is also certain that the death of this man, who had done so +much harm, was a great loss. The epitaph of Louvois, which appeared +at that time, gave a good idea of the public opinion respecting him:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">Ici gît, sous qui tout pliait,</div> + <div class="verse">Et qui de tout avait connaissance parfaite;</div> + <div class="verse">Louvois que personne n’aimait,</div> + <div class="verse">Et que tout le monde regrette.</div> +</div> + +<div class="fnpoem"> + <div class="verse">Here lies one to whom all yielded;</div> + <div class="verse"><span class="pl2">And who knew of all the bent;</span></div> + <div class="verse">Louvois, who sense with power wielded,</div> + <div class="verse"><span class="pl2">Whom no one loved, and all lament.</span></div> +</div> + +<p><a id="footnote_318" href="#fnanchor_318"><span class="label">[318]</span></a> +With M. de Seignelai.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_319" href="#fnanchor_319"><span class="label">[319]</span></a> +Author of a book on the Truth of the Christian Religion. He was +a Protestant.</p></div> + +<h3>LETTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, August 14, 1691.</p> + +<p>Come hither, that I may embrace you, caress you, and tell +you that my daughter, whose approbation you so highly value, +is delighted with your two little couplets on the holy father. +Nothing, in my opinion, could be better imagined, or better +executed: we have all been in raptures. But, my dear cousin, +the Duke de Chaulnes, in his letter of July 20, says not a word +respecting M. de Louvois;<a id="fnanchor_320" href="#footnote_320" class="fnanchor">[320]</a> his death seems to me to demand +an exclamation or two. His hopes are very sanguine as to +the new pope, though not the work of his hands; all our interest +is that he will give us our bulls, and that you will come +and pay us a visit; that day seems to me to be at our finger’s +end, so swiftly does time pass. You will find my son at Marseilles, +who will be there to meet you; this is an attention he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_384">384</span> +owes to our governor, by way of amends for not having gone +to Rome.</p> + +<p>I long to know what you thought of the return of M. de +Pomponne to the ministry: it was to us a subject of real joy; +M. and Madame de Grignan had no doubt of this event from +a truly prophetic spirit; but I wished it too much even to +listen to them; and when Madame de Vins sent the news to +my daughter, I was so surprised and so transported that I +knew not what I heard: at length I comprehended that it +was a very agreeable truth, not only to me but to the rest of +the world, for you can not form an idea how generally his return +is approved. I have paid my compliments to Madame +de Chaulnes and our embassador, on the choice of M. de +Beauvilliers; this is another strange man with whom the king +augments his council; which is now perfect, like every thing +his majesty does. He is the cleverest man in his kingdom, he +is never idle, and provides for every thing; nothing remains +but to pray to God that he may be preserved to us. The +dauphin enters into all the councils; do you not also approve +this? it is truly associating him with the empire. We have +subjects for admiration every where. If your good pope +would make peace, it would be an act worthy of himself, and +would place us in a situation to praise, with a more tranquil +mind, all the wonders we see. Adieu, my dear cousin, you +know how I am disposed toward you. M. de Barillon and +M. de Jannin are dead; we shall die too.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_320" href="#fnanchor_320"><span class="label">[320]</span></a> +M. de Louvois died on the 16th July, and it is not surprising that +the news of this event should not have reached M. de Chaulnes on the +20th.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER X.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, February 3, 1695.</p> + +<p>Madame de Chaulnes sends me word that I am fortunate in +being here in the sunshine; she thinks all our days are woven +with silk and gold. Alas! my dear cousin, it is a hundred +times colder here than at Paris; we are exposed to every +<span class="pagenum" id="page_385">385</span> +wind; it is the south wind, the north-east wind, it is the devil; +it is who shall insult us; they fight among themselves which +shall have the honor of confining us to our apartments. All +our rivers are taken; the Rhône, the furious Rhône, can not +resist them. Our writing-desks are frozen, our benumbed fingers +can no longer guide our pens. We breathe nothing but +snow; our mountains are charming in their excess of horror. +I wish every day for a painter who could take a good representation +of these frightful beauties; such is our situation. +Relate it to our good Duchess de Chaulnes, who fancies us +to be in meadows with parasols, walking under the shadow of +orange-trees. You have formed an excellent idea of the rural +magnificence of our wedding;<a id="fnanchor_321" href="#footnote_321" class="fnanchor">[321]</a> every one has shared in the +praises you bestow, but we know not what you mean by the +wedding-night. Alas, how coarse you are! I was charmed +with the manner and modesty of the evening; I informed +Madame de Coulanges so: the bride was conducted to her +apartment; her toilet, her linen, her night-clothes, were +brought; she took off her head-ornaments, was undressed, and +went to bed. We knew nothing of who came in or went out +of her room; every one retired to his own apartment. We +arose the next morning without going to the bride-folks. +They also arose, dressed themselves. No foolish questions were +asked them: Are you my son-in-law? are you my daughter-in-law? +They are what they are. No gay breakfast was prepared; +every one ate and did as he pleased; every thing was +conducted in silence and with modesty; there were no uncomfortable +looks, no confusion, no improper jests; this is +what I had never seen before, and what struck me as being +the most becoming and the pleasantest thing in the world. +The cold freezes me, and makes the pen fall from my hands. +Where are you? at St. Martin’s, at Meudon, or at Baville? +What happy spot contains the youthful and amiable Coulanges? +I have just been railing against avarice to Madame +de Coulanges. It gives me great joy, from the riches +<span class="pagenum" id="page_386">386</span> +Madame de Meckelbourg has left, to think I shall die without any +ready money, but at the same time without debts; this is all +I ask of God, and is enough for a Christian.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_321" href="#fnanchor_321"><span class="label">[321]</span></a> +The marriage of the Marquis de Grignan.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, May 28, 1695.</p> + +<p>I have received your two letters from Chaulnes, my dear +cousin! we found some verses in them that delighted us; we +have sung them with extreme pleasure, and more than one +person will tell you so, for you must not be ignorant of the +good taste we preserve here for every thing you do. With +respect to the gayety and charms of your mind, you certainly +advance, and go back with respect to your register; this is all +that can be wished, and is what naturally lays the foundation +of the desire every one has for your society. To whom are +you not welcome? with whom do you not accommodate yourself? +and then, which is best of all, your conduct in not obtruding +yourself, and in allowing room to the wish of seeing +you, gives the true relish to your vanity. The proverb must +be forcible indeed, if it be true, that you are not a prophet in +your own country. I often receive news from Madame de +Coulanges; her correspondence is very entertaining, and her +health ought no longer to create alarm, especially having the +resource which we must have, that when she is tired of medicine, +and undeceived with respect to it, the most salutary remedy +will be to take no more.</p> + +<p>But to return to Chaulnes. I know its beauty, and can discern +from hence how dull our good governor is there. It is +in vain for you to give the best reasons in the world; he will +constantly answer, “I do not know:” and if you go on, he +will silence you by saying, “I shall die.” This is what will +happen, no doubt, till he has acquired a taste for repose, and +for the charms of a quiet life. Habits are too strong, and the +agitation attached to command and to a high station has made +<span class="pagenum" id="page_387">387</span> +too deep an impression to be easily effaced. I wrote to this +duke upon the deputation of my son, and I jested with him, +saying things I did not believe respecting his solitude at +Chaulnes; I treated him like a true hermit, holding conversations +with the beautiful fountain called <i>the solitary</i>. I supposed +his repasts suited to his situation, and that dates and +wild fruits would compose all his banquets; I pitied his house-steward, +and in saying all these trifles, I found that I stood in +great need of you; and that the braying<a id="fnanchor_322" href="#footnote_322" class="fnanchor">[322]</a> I know him to possess, +would make strange work with my poor letter. You +came to my assistance, as I supposed you would; and you are +now in another country, where you feel all the delight of paternal +love; what say you? you could not have believed it to +be so strong if you had not experienced it; it would have +been a great pity if all the good instructions you have given +to little children had not been followed by some child of your +imagination. The little Count de Nicei is a master-piece,<a id="fnanchor_323" href="#footnote_323" class="fnanchor">[323]</a> and +the singularity of being invisible makes him superior to the +rest. You make so good a use of this story that I scarcely +dare recall you; you have immortalized it; nothing can be +prettier than these couplets; we sing them with pleasure. We +have had a delightful introduction of spring; but, for two days +past, the rain, which we do not like here, has been as violent +as in Brittany and Paris, so that we have been accused of having +brought it into fashion; it interrupts our walks, but it does +not silence our nightingales; in short, my dear cousin, our +days pass too quickly. We dispense with great bustle, and +with the great world; our society, however, would not displease +you; and if ever a puff of wind should blow you to this +<i>royal</i> château—. But this is a chimera, we must hope to see +you again elsewhere in a more natural and probable situation; +we have yet a summer before us for writing to each other.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_322" href="#fnanchor_322"><span class="label">[322]</span></a> +M. de Chaulnes read as ill as M. de Coulanges read well.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_323" href="#fnanchor_323"><span class="label">[323]</span></a> +The whole of this pleasantry is explained in some songs of M. de +Coulanges to Madame de Louvois, and turns upon a story which had +come to them from Provence.</p> +</div> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_388">388</div> + +<h3>LETTER XII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, August 6, 1695.</p> + +<p>I shall write you only a very short and poor letter, my dear +friend, to thank you for yours, which has given us great pleasure. +I shall never change my opinion with respect to long +and circumstantial details, while I read yours. We are +charmed with Navarre;<a id="fnanchor_324" href="#footnote_324" class="fnanchor">[324]</a> the situation, the building, like that +of Marly, which I have never seen, the excellent society—all +this convinces me that the house ought to rank with yours; +as for Choisy, it is made on purpose for you. Your couplets +inform all who pass, of the nobility of its origin and its fate; +but you deserve to be exalted to the skies by the couplet, in +which you humble yourself to the foot of the mount <i>with the +coachman of Verthamont</i>;<a id="fnanchor_325" href="#footnote_325" class="fnanchor">[325]</a> any man who will place himself +up to the ears in this mud, and will croak such pretty couplets, +deserves the situation M. Tambonneau gives him. The +couplet ranks with the best you have ever made; the countess, +whose approbation you always ask, entreats you to believe it; +it is charming, it surprises; in short, croak on, and communicate +your croakings to us.</p> + +<p>But, good God, what an effusion of blood at Namur! how +many tears! how many widows! and how many afflicted +mothers! And they are cruel enough to think this is not sufficient, +and they wish that Marshal de Villeroi had also beaten, +killed and massacred poor M. de Vaudemont?<a id="fnanchor_326" href="#footnote_326" class="fnanchor">[326]</a> what madness! +I am uneasy respecting your nephew de Sanzei; I pity his +mother; it is said that she is coming nearer to wait the event +of the siege, which appears to us to be worthy of the fury of +the marshal (de Boufflers) who defends it; no opportunity of +fighting is lost. Our Germany is very quiet; our principal +<span class="pagenum" id="page_389">389</span> +anxiety is for her.<a id="fnanchor_327" href="#footnote_327" class="fnanchor">[327]</a> Adieu, my dear cousin; did I not promise +you that my letter would be dull? We have sometimes +sorrows, and we know why; I speak of them to Madame de +Coulanges. My daughter sends you her remembrances; you +have highly amused her by your songs and your chat, for +your letter is a true conversation. I have scattered your remembrances +in every apartment; they have been received, and +are returned with zeal. I embrace you, my amiable cousin, +and exhort you still to spend your time delightfully in honor +of polygamy,<a id="fnanchor_328" href="#footnote_328" class="fnanchor">[328]</a> which, instead of being a hanging-case to you, +constitutes all the pleasure and happiness of your life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_324" href="#fnanchor_324"><span class="label">[324]</span></a> +A château near Evreux, which belonged to the Duke de Bouillon.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_325" href="#fnanchor_325"><span class="label">[325]</span></a> +A famous coachman, who made all the songs of the Pont-neuf.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_326" href="#fnanchor_326"><span class="label">[326]</span></a> +M. de Vaudemont made a noble retreat before Marshal de Villeroi, +who had lost time.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_327" href="#fnanchor_327"><span class="label">[327]</span></a> +On account of the Marquis de Grignan, who was in the army of +Germany.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_328" href="#fnanchor_328"><span class="label">[328]</span></a> +A jest on the subject of M. de Coulanges’ <i>second wife</i>, Madame +de Louvois.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER XIII.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, October 15, 1695.</p> + +<p>I have just been writing to our Duke and Duchess de +Chaulnes; but I excuse you from reading my letters; they +are not worth reading. I defy all your emphasis, all your points +and commas to produce any good effect, therefore leave them +as they are; besides, I have spoken of several little things to +our duchess, which are not very entertaining. The best thing +you could do for me, my good cousin, would be to send us, by +some subtle magic, all the blood, all the vigor, all the health, +and all the mirth which you have to spare, to transfuse it into +my child’s frame. For these three months she has been +afflicted with a species of disorder which is said to be not +dangerous, and which I think the most distressing and the +most alarming of any. I own to you, my dear cousin, that it +destroys me, and that I have not fortitude enough to endure +all the bad nights she makes me pass; in short, her last state +has been so violent that it was necessary to have recourse to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_390">390</span> +bleeding in the arm; strange remedy, which makes blood to +be shed when too much has been shed already; it is burning +the taper at both ends; she has told me so, for, in the midst +of her weakness and change, nothing can exceed her courage +and patience. If we could regain strength, we should soon +take the road to Paris; it is what we wish, and then we would +present the Marchioness of Grignan to you, with whom you +must already begin to be acquainted on the word of the Duke +de Chaulnes, who has very gallantly forced open her door, +and has drawn a very pleasing likeness of her. Preserve your +friendship for us, my dear cousin, however unworthy of it our +sorrow may make us; we must love our friends with all their +faults; it is a great one to be ill: God grant, my dear friend, +that you may escape it. I write to Madame de Coulanges in +the same plaintive tone, which will not quit me; for how is it +possible not to be as ill in mind as this countess, whom I see +daily before my eyes, is in body? Madame de Coulanges is +very fortunate in being out of the scrape. It seems to me as +if mothers ought not to live long enough to see their daughters +in such situations; I respectfully complain of it to Providence.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, March, 1696.</p> + +<p>I know not how the affairs of England go on; the Countess +de Fiesque is the only one who has a good opinion of them, +and is still certain that they will end well. I have taken three +meals at the Marsans’, which agree very well with me; I shall +put their whole family into my basket. M. de Marsan always +reminds his wife that she is no longer Madame de Seignelai; +and that, being only Madame de Marsan, she must accommodate +herself to all his friends, of whatever form or rank, and +let every one live after his own way. I am to go on Saturday +to Saint Martin’s, and to-morrow I shall go to Versailles, to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_391">391</span> +condole with my friend, and pass the day with Mesdames de +Villeroi and Mademoiselle de Bouillon, whom I shall find there. +Madame de Guise has ordered her funeral to be conducted +without ceremony, and has preferred the burial-ground of the +Carmelites of the great convent, to all the pomp of Saint +Denis, with the kings her ancestors. She was only forty-nine +years of age. Father de la Ferté will preach again on Wednesday; +and on Friday, without saying a word, he will set off +for Canada. If he were not to take his departure in this way, +it would cause a tumult, he is so much liked by the populace; +the Church of the Jesuits was too small for the multitude +which crowded to his sermons.</p> + +<p>I have just been dining at the Hôtel de Chaulnes, where I +met the Marquis de Grignan; he can tell you that I was not +in a very ill humor. Madame (La maréchale) de Villeroi yesterday +announced to Madame de Saint-Géran the death of her +husband; and the duke has taken upon himself the charge of +the funeral this evening. He will probably be the privileged +creditor on the inheritance, for he will advance, no doubt, what +is necessary for the ceremony. This is all I know, madam; I, +therefore, conclude, and take leave of you till my return from +Saint Martin’s, which will be when it pleases God. Madame +de Coulanges is free from the colic; she only complains that +she has sometimes the <i>little colic</i>, which does not prevent her +from eating and drinking, and associating with the young. +She is very partial to the Chevalier de Bouillon and Count +d’Albret, and she was delighted to meet M. de Marsan again, +with whom she has renewed a snuff acquaintance. Winter is +come back within these two days: it has snowed and frozen +in such a manner, that we must expect no apricots; I fear the +peaches also will suffer. Madame de Frontenac has a violent +cold and fever; the fashion of dying alarms us for her. Our +poor D’Enclos has also a slow fever, which returns slightly +every evening, with a sore throat, that makes her friends uneasy; +in short, I very much fear that the work of death is not +at an end.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<div class="pagenum" id="page_392">392</div> + +<h3>LETTER XV.<a id="fnanchor_329" href="#footnote_329" class="fnanchor">[329]</a></h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, March 29, 1696.</p> + +<p>When I have no other employment I weep and bewail +aloud the death of Blanchefort, that amiable, that excellent +youth, who was held up to all our young people as a model +for imitation. A reputation completely established, valor acknowledged +and worthy of his name, a disposition happy for +himself (for a bad disposition is a torment to its possessor), for +his friends, and for his family; alive to the affection of his +mother and his grandmother, loving them, honoring them, appreciating +their merit, taking pleasure in proving to them his +gratitude, and thereby repaying them for their extreme affection; +uniting good sense with a fine person; not vain of his +youth, as most young people are, who seem to think themselves +paragons of perfection—and this dear boy, with all his +perfections, gone in a moment, like a blossom borne away by +the wind, without being in battle, without having an opportunity +to fight, and without breathing even an unhealthy air! +Where, my dear cousin, can we find words to express our ideas +of the grief of these two mothers, and to convey to them an +adequate sense of what we feel here? We do not think of +writing to them, but if at any time you should have an opportunity +of mentioning my daughter, and me, and the Grignans, +make known our regret at this irreparable misfortune. Madame +de Vins has lost every thing, I own;<a id="fnanchor_330" href="#footnote_330" class="fnanchor">[330]</a> for when the heart +has chosen between two sons, one only is seen. I can talk of +nothing else. I bow in reverence to the holy and modest +tomb of Madame de Guise, whose renunciation of that of the +kings her ancestors, merits an eternal crown. I think M. de +Saint-Géran happy indeed, and so I think you, for having to +comfort his wife; say to her for us every thing you think +<span class="pagenum" id="page_393">393</span> +proper. And as for Madame de Miramion, that mother of the +church, she will be a public loss. Adieu, my dear cousin, I +can not change my tone. You have finished your jubilee. +The delightful trip to Saint Martin’s has closely followed the +sackcloth and ashes you mentioned to me. The happiness M. +and Madame de Marsan are now enjoying well deserves that +you should sometimes see them, and put them into your basket; +and I deserve a place in that in which you put those who +love you; but I fear that for them you have no basket.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_329" href="#fnanchor_329"><span class="label">[329]</span></a> +As the death of Madame de Sévigné happened in the beginning of +April, it is probable that this letter is the last she wrote. We consider +its recovery as a fortunate circumstance.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_330" href="#fnanchor_330"><span class="label">[330]</span></a> +Madame de Vins had lost an only son.</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="page_394">SELECTIONS FROM VARIOUS LETTERS.<a id="fnanchor_331" href="#footnote_331" class="fnanchor">[331]</a></h2> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_331" href="#fnanchor_331"><span class="label">[331]</span></a> +These selections from letters necessarily omitted in our plan, +comprise nearly, if not quite all, that is of literary or +moral value in the whole series. We are thus able to give a more +distinct impression of Madame de Sévigné’s character as a mother and +a Christian. Besides the many amusing anecdotes here collected, her +sentiments on important duties of life are of much value; and her +religious feelings are deserving distinct recognition. It will be seen +that she studied her Bible, and strove to follow its divine teachings; +like Fénelon, though nominally a Romanist, or rather Jansenist, she had +in her heart and mind protested against the corruptions of that Church. +Her clear insight, just principles, and heart-piety are remarkably +displayed in these extracts.</p> +</div> + +<p class="sep3"><span class="smcap">A Supper.</span>—We supped again yesterday with Madame de +Scarron and the Abbé Têtu, at Madame de Coulanges’. We +had a great deal of chat, in which you had your share. We +took it into our heads to conduct Madame de Scarron home, +at midnight to the very furthest end of the Faubourg St. +Germain, a great way beyond Madame de la Fayette’s, almost +as far as Vaugirard, and quite in the country, where she lives +in a large handsome house—the entrance of which is forbidden +to every one—with a large garden, and beautiful and spacious +apartments; she has an equipage, servants, and a genteel table; +dresses neatly, but elegantly, in the style of a woman who +associates with people of rank; she is amiable, handsome, +good, free from affectation, and, in a word, an excellent companion. +We returned very merrily, in the midst of a number +of flambeaux, and in full security from thieves.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_395">395</span> +<span class="smcap">Port Royal.</span>—That Port Royal is a perfect Thebais, a very +paradise; a desert where all that is left of true Christian +devotion is retired. The whole country for a league round +breathes the air of virtue and holiness. The nuns are angels +upon earth. Mademoiselle de Vertus is wearing out the remains +of a miserable life there, in the most excruciating pain, +but with inconceivable resignation. The very meanest of the +inhabitants have a virtuous serenity in their countenances, and +a modesty of deportment to be met with in no other place. I +own to you I was delighted to see this divine solitude of which +I have heard so much; it is a frightful valley, calculated to +inspire a taste for religion.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Hints about Children.</span>—A word about the little Marquis +(de Grignan);<a id="fnanchor_332" href="#footnote_332" class="fnanchor">[332]</a> I beseech you not to be under any apprehension +about his timidity. Remember that the charming Marquis +(de la Châtre) used to tremble and quake till he was +twelve years old, and that La Troche, when young, was so +terrified at the least thing, that his mother could not bear to +have him in her sight; and yet you see how much they have +distinguished themselves since: let that comfort you. Fears +of this kind are the mere effect of childhood, and when childhood +is surmounted, instead of being afraid of raw-head and +bloody bones, these personages are afraid only of being thought +fearful, are afraid of being less esteemed than others, and that +is sufficient to make them brave, and kill their thousands and +ten thousands: let me then again beg you to make yourself +easy on that score. As to his shape, it is another matter: I +would advise you to put him into breeches, and then you will +see better how his legs go on, and whether they are straightened +as he grows. You must let him have room to stir himself, +and unfold his little limbs: but you must put on him a +pretty tight vest, which will confine his shape. I shall receive +some further instructions, however, on this subject, which I +will not fail to transmit to you. It would be a fine thing +<span class="pagenum" id="page_396">396</span> +indeed to see a Grignan with a bad shape! Do you not remember +how pretty he was in his swaddling-clothes? I am no +less uneasy than yourself at this alteration.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_332" href="#fnanchor_332"><span class="label">[332]</span></a> +Grandson of Madame de Sévigné.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Reflections.</span>—What you say of death taking the liberty of +interrupting fortune is admirable; this ought to comfort those +who are not in the number of her favorites, and to diminish +the bitterness of death. You ask me if I am religious: alas! +my dear, I am not sufficiently so, for which I am very sorry; +but yet I think I am somewhat detached from what is called +the world. Age and sickness give us leisure enough for serious +reflection; but what I retrench from the rest of the world I +bestow upon you, so that I make but small advances in the +path of detachment; and you know that the law of the game +is to begin by effacing a little what is dearest to our heart.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Versailles in 1676.</span>—I was on Saturday at Versailles with +the Villars. You know the ceremony of attending on the +queen at her toilet, at mass, and at dinner; but there is now +no necessity of being stifled with the heat, and with the crowd, +while their majesties dine: for at three, the king and queen, +monsieur, madame, mademoiselle, the princes and princesses, +Madame de Montespan, and her train, the courtiers, and the +ladies, in short the whole court of France, retire to that fine +apartment of the king’s which you know. It is furnished with +the utmost magnificence; they know not there what it is to +be incommoded with heat; and pass from one room to another +without being crowded. A game at reversis gives a form to +the assembly, and fixes every thing. The king and Madame +de Montespan keep a bank together. Monsieur, the queen, +and Madame de Soubise, Dangeau, and Langlé, with their +companies, are at different tables. The baize is covered with +a thousand louis-d’ors; they use no other counters. I saw +Dangeau play, and could not help observing how awkward +others appeared in comparison of him. He thinks of nothing +but his game, though he scarcely seems to attend to it; he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_397">397</span> +gains where others lose; takes every advantage; nothing +escapes or distracts him; in short, his good conduct defies +fortune. Thus, two hundred thousand francs in ten days, a +hundred thousand crowns in a month, are added to his +account-book under the head <i>received</i>. He had the complaisance +to say I was a partner with him in the bank, by +which means I was seated very commodiously. I bowed to +the king in the way you taught me; and he returned my +salutation, as if I had been young and handsome. The queen +talked to me of my illness, nor did she leave you unmentioned. +The duke paid me a thousand of those unmeaning compliments +which he bestows so liberally. M. de Lorges attacked +me in the name of the Chevalier de Grignan; and, in short, +<i lang="it">tutti quanti</i> (all the rest). You know what it is to receive a +word from every one who passes you. Madame de Montespan +talked to me of Bourbon, and desired me to tell her how +I liked Vichi, and whether I had found any benefit there. +She said that Bourbon, instead of removing the pain from her +knee, had given her the tooth-ache. Her beauty and her +shape are really surprising; she is much thinner than she +was; and yet neither her eyes, her lips, nor her complexion +are injured. She was dressed in French point; her hair in a +thousand curls, and the two from her temples very low upon +her cheeks; she wore on her head black ribbons, intermixed +with the pearls which once belonged to the Maréchale de +l’Hôpital, diamond pendants of great value, and three or four +bodkins. In a word, she appeared a triumphant beauty, calculated +to raise the admiration of all the foreign embassadors. +She has heard that complaints were made of her having prevented +all France from seeing the king; she has restored him, +as you see, and you can not imagine the delight this has +occasioned, nor the splendor it has given to the court. This +agreeable confusion, without confusion, of all the most select +persons in the kingdom, lasts from three o’clock till six. If +any couriers arrive, the king retires to read his letters, and +returns to the assembly. There is always music, to which he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_398">398</span> +sometimes listens, and which has an admirable effect: in the +mean time, he chats with the ladies who are accustomed to +have that honor. They leave off their game at the hour I +mentioned, without the trouble of reckoning, because they use +no marks or counters. The pools are of five, six, or seven +hundred, and sometimes of a thousand or twelve hundred +louis-d’ors.</p> + +<p>At six they take the air in calashes; the king and Madame +de Montespan, the prince and Madame de Thianges, and +Mademoiselle d’Heudicourt, upon the little seat before, which +seems to her a seat in paradise. You know how these calashes +are made; they do not sit face to face in them, but all look +the same way. The queen was in another with the princesses: +the whole court followed in different equipages, according to +their different fancies. They went afterward in gondolas +upon the canal, where there was music: at ten the comedy +began, and at twelve they concluded the day with the Spanish +entertainment of <i lang="es">media noche</i>; thus we passed the Saturday.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Telescope.</span>—Apropos, did I mention to you an excellent +telescope that amused us exceedingly in the boat? It +is really a master-piece of its kind; it is a still better one than +that which the abbé left with you at Grignan. This glass +brings objects quite home that are at three leagues’ distance; +alas! that it would bring those which are two hundred! You +may easily guess the use we made of it on the banks of the +Loire, but I have found a new method of using it, which is +this: you know that one end brings objects nearer to you, +and the other throws them to a great distance; now this end +I turn toward Mademoiselle du Plessis, and in a moment I +see her three leagues from me. I tried this experiment the +other day on her, and the rest of my neighbors; this was +amusing, but nobody knew what I meant by it; if there had +been any one to whom I could have given the hint, the pleasure +would have been greater. When tired with disagreeable +company, it is only to send for the glass, and look through it +<span class="pagenum" id="page_399">399</span> +at the end that distances the objects. Ask Montgobert, if she +would not have laughed heartily. This is a pretty subject to +talk nonsense upon. If you have Corbinelli with you, let me +recommend the use of the glass to you.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear; we are not mountains, as you say, so I +hope to embrace you a little nearer than two hundred leagues: +but you are going still further off; I have a great mind to set +out for Brest. It is very hard, in my opinion, that the grand-duchess +should not have the good Rarai as her lady of honor; +the Guisardes have appointed La Sainte-Même to the office. +I hear that La Trousse’s good fortune is doubled, and that he +will have De Froulai’s situation.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Rules of Living.</span>—I am never in bed more than seven +hours, and I eat sparingly: I add to your precepts walking a +great deal, but the worst is, that I can not prevent somber +thoughts from intruding into my long gloomy avenues. Sadness +is poison to us, and the source of the vapors. You are +right in thinking this disorder is imaginary; you have admirably +defined it; it is sorrow that gives birth to, and fear +that nourishes it.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Work.</span>—I was employed yesterday on a piece of work as +tedious as the company I had: I never work but when I have +company; when I am alone, I walk, I read, or write. La +Plessis incommodes me no more than Maria; I am so happy +as to have no inclination to listen to any thing she says, and +find as little interruption from her presence, as you do from +some whom you have the same kind of regard for. In other +respects she has the best sentiments in the world; I admire +how all her good qualities are spoiled by her impertinent and +ridiculous manners. It is quite laughable to hear what she +says of my patience in bearing with her; how she explains it; +and the obligations she fancies it lays her under to attach herself +to me; and how I serve her for an excuse for not visiting +her friends at Vitré. It would make you smile, to observe +<span class="pagenum" id="page_400">400</span> +her little arts to satisfy her vanity (for vanity is the growth of +every soil); and her affected fears that I am growing jealous +of a nun of Vitré, for whom she has a partiality. All this +would make an excellent farce.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Evening Employments.</span>—I was perfectly rejoiced to return +here; I am making a new walk, which employs me wholly. +I pay my workmen in corn; and find nothing so profitable as +to amuse one’s self, and forget, if possible, the evils of life. +Neither do my evenings, my child, about which you are so +much in pain, hang more heavily on my hands: I am almost +always writing, or reading, and midnight overtakes me before +I know where I am. Our abbé (her uncle) takes his leave of +me at ten, and the two hours that I am alone, are no more +irksome to me than the rest. In the day I am either employed +with the abbé, or among my dear laborers, or in my +favorite work. In short, my dear, life flies away so swiftly, +and we are always drawing so near our end, that I can not +conceive how people can make themselves so unhappy about +worldly affairs. I have here sufficient time for reflection, and +it is my fault, and not that of the place, if I do not indulge +it. I am quite well; all my people obey you admirably: +they are ridiculously careful of me; they come to guard me +home in the evening armed cap-à-pie, and it is against a +squirrel they draw their swords.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">An Impromptu Marriage.</span>—M. de Chaulnes concluded a +marriage the other day, which gave me pleasure, between the +little Du Guesclin, and a very pretty girl with a large fortune; +when he had with great difficulty settled the articles, he said, +“Let us draw up the contract;” the parties consented, and he +immediately resumed, saying, “What prevents their being +married to-morrow?” Every one exclaimed, “There must be +wedding-clothes, a toilet, and linen.”—He laughed at this. +M. de Rennes gave a dispensation of two banns, and the next +day being Sunday, one was published in the morning, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_401">401</span> +they were married at noon; after dinner the little bride danced +like an angel; she had learned at Paris of the duchess’ master, +and had caught her air; the next day she was Madame +du Guesclin, and had saved 20,000 livres that would otherwise +have been spent in the wedding. It is consistent with +good sense to rise superior sometimes to trifles and customs.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Bride.</span>—Madame de Coulanges informs me that the new +Madame de la Fayette was reclined upon a magnificent bed in +a noble house; the room hung with beautiful tapestry belonging +to the Keeper of the Seals; the bed decorated with an ancient +mantle of the order, and the room hung with fine tapestry, +having the arms ornamented with the staves of the +Marshal of France, and the collar of the order; looking-glasses, +chandeliers, glass plates, and crystals, according to the present +fashion, out of number; a great many servants, and valets-de-chambre +in livery; the bride in an elegant dress. In short, +such taste reigns in the house of the new-married couple and +in their family, that our Madame de la Fayette ought to be +perfectly satisfied at her son’s having formed so great and +honorable an alliance.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bleeding.</span>—You tell me you have found it necessary to be +bled; the trembling hand of your young surgeon makes me +tremble. The prince said one day to a new surgeon, “Does +not the idea of bleeding me make you tremble?”—“Faith sir,” +replied the man, “your highness has most reason to tremble.” +He was in the right.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Company.</span>—I have for a long time adopted your opinion, +that bad company is preferable to good: how dismal it is to +part with the good! and what a pleasure it is to get rid of +the bad! Do you remember how we were tormented at +Fouesnel, and how overjoyed we were when the company +thought proper to take their leave? I think we may then +establish it as a maxim, that nothing is more desirable than +<span class="pagenum" id="page_402">402</span> +bad company, and nothing more to be dreaded than good. +Let whoever is puzzled with this enigma call upon us for the +solution of it.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Quarrels in High Life.</span>—I think I mentioned to you the +quarrel between the Duke de Ventadour and the Duke +d’Aumont; the latter was returning from Bourbon with his +wife, and the Duchess de Ventadour and the Chevalier de +Tilladet. The Duke de Ventadour was at an estate he has in +the same county, called La Motte. He had desired his wife +to come to him there, and sent, at the same time, to invite the +whole company, but was refused; he then came himself, but +was ill received, because, following the company about from +dinner-time till bed-time, his conversation was mixed continually +with menaces and reproaches; in short, he was like Don +Quixotte, pistol in hand, threatening and challenging the gentlemen. +The chevalier treated him as a person fit only for +Bedlam. At length the ladies arrived in great fear at Paris, +where the king, being informed of what had happened, sent a +guard to take care of Madame Ventadour, so that she is now +under the protection of his majesty. What think you the +monster did? he went to the king, attended by his neighbors, +that is, the Princes de Condé, de Conti, Messieurs de Luxembourg, +Duras, Schomberg, Bellefond; and, with incredible assurance, +told the king that the Chevalier de Tilladet had not +paid him the <i>respect due to his rank</i>; mark the expression: +he places the dukedom where it was formerly. “Sire,” said +he, “I want to know why I am refused the company of my +wife! what has happened to my person of late? Am I uglier, +or more ill made than formerly, when I was as much courted +as I am now avoided? If I am ugly, sire, is it my fault? +Had I been my own maker, I would have been like your majesty; +but these are things that are not in our own disposal.” +In short, partly owing to this natural and proper, and at the +same time unexpected, flattery, and partly to the justice of his +argument, the king was pleased with him, as well as the whole +<span class="pagenum" id="page_403">403</span> +court, However, they are to be separated; the difficulty is, +that he insists that his wife shall be shut up in a convent, +which is a sad affair. M. de la Rochefoucault is employed to +accommodate this business, and settle matters between the +gentlemen.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Extravagance of M. de Sévigné.</span>—I have been ready to +weep to see the desolation of this estate; there were the finest +trees in the world upon it, and my son, in his last journey, +gave the finishing stroke to the last. He would even have +sold a little copse, which was the greatest ornament of the +place. Is not this lamentable? He scraped together four +hundred pistoles by this plunder, of which he had not a single +penny left in a month. It is impossible to think with patience +how he acts, and what his Brittany journey cost him, +notwithstanding he discharged his coachman and footman at +Paris, and took nobody but Larmechin with him. He has +found out the art of spending an immense deal of money, +without making any show for it, of losing without playing, and +of paying without discharging his debts. War or peace, he is +forever crying out for money; in short, he is a perpetual +drain, and what he does with his money I can not conceive, for +he appears to have no particular passion. I really think his +hand is a crucible, which melts money the instant it is put +into it.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>My son writes me word that he is going to play at reversis +with his young master:<a id="fnanchor_333" href="#footnote_333" class="fnanchor">[333]</a> this makes my blood run cold within +me; two, three, or four hundred pistoles are lost before we +can look around us. “This is nothing for Admetus, but a +great deal for him.” If people, before they play, would think +that they may possibly lose a great deal, and that debts of honor +must be paid immediately, they would not be so ready to engage +in such parties; but the misfortune is, that every one +thinks he shall win, and this leads him on to destruction. If +<span class="pagenum" id="page_404">404</span> +Dangeau is one of the party, he will carry off every thing; for +he is a perfect harpy at play. However, it will all turn out as +it shall please God, and so it will be with the 6,000 francs +which I expected to receive from Nantes, and which a demon +has interfered in the shape of a point of law, that throws us as +far back as ever.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_333" href="#fnanchor_333"><span class="label">[333]</span></a> +The Dauphin.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gaming.</span>—They play extravagantly high at Versailles: the +<i>hoca</i><a id="fnanchor_334" href="#footnote_334" class="fnanchor">[334]</a> is forbidden at Paris under pain of death, and yet it is +played at court: five or six thousand pistoles of a morning is +nothing to lose. This is no better than picking of pockets. +I beseech you to banish this game from among you.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>The other day the queen missed going to mass, and lost +twenty thousand crowns in one morning. The king said to +her, “Let us calculate, madam, how much this is a year.” +And M. de Montausier asked her the next day, if she intended +staying away from mass for the <i>hoca</i> again; upon which she +was in a great passion. I have heard these stories from persons +who have come from Versailles, and who collect them for +me.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>But now about this <i lang="fr">breland</i>,<a id="fnanchor_335" href="#footnote_335" class="fnanchor">[335]</a> what a folly is it to lose so +much money at such a rascally game! It has been banished +from us for a downright cut-throat. We do things in a more +serious manner. You play against all chance: you lose forever: +take my advice, and do not continue it: consider it is +throwing money away without having any amusement for it: +on the contrary, you have paid 5,000 or 6,000 francs to be the +mere dupe of fortune. But I am rather too warm, my dear, +and must say with Tartuffe, “’tis through excess of zeal.”</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I will tell you, my dear child, a thought that has occurred +to me on the frequent losses you and M. de Grignan sustain at +cards. I would have you both be cautious. It is not pleasant +<span class="pagenum" id="page_405">405</span> +to be made a dupe of; and be assured that it is not natural +to be perpetually the winner or the loser. It is not long +since I was led into the tricks of the Hôtel de la Vieuville. +You remember, I suppose, how our pockets were picked there. +You are not to imagine every body plays as fairly as you do +yourself. The concern I have for your interest makes me say so +much; and as it comes from a heart entirely devoted to you, +I am persuaded you will not be displeased at it.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_334" href="#fnanchor_334"><span class="label">[334]</span></a> +A game at cards.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_335" href="#fnanchor_335"><span class="label">[335]</span></a> +A game at cards.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Providence.</span>—You say you never mention Providence but +when you have a disorder on your lungs, whereas that subject +always exhausts mine, for I can find none that furnishes so +large a field for discussion, observation and inquiry; and why +may we not discourse as well on this as on natural philosophy? +Why did you not still say, as you did last year, that our fears, +our reasonings, our decisions, our wills, our desires, are only +so many means employed by God for the execution of his +purposes? Is not this an inexhaustible subject, fraught with +the most entertaining variety?</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>Believe me there is no experiment in natural philosophy more +interesting than the investigation of the connection and diversity +of our several sentiments; so that you see, <i>It is God’s +will</i> may be paraphrased in a thousand different ways.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Free Will.</span>—I have no other answer to make you upon +what St. Augustin says, except that I hear and understand +him, when he tells me, and repeats to me five hundred times +in the same book, that all things depend, as the apostle says, +“not on him that willeth, nor on him that runneth, but on +God, that showeth mercy to whom it pleaseth him; that it is +not for any merit in man, that God bestows his grace, but +according to his own good pleasure; that man may not glory +in his own strength, seeing he receives all things from God.” +His whole book is in this strain, filled with passages from +Scripture, the writings of the Apostle Paul, and the Homilies +of the Church. He calls our free will, a deliverance, and an +<span class="pagenum" id="page_406">406</span> +aptitude to love God, because we are no longer under the +dominion of the devil, and are chosen from all eternity, according +to the decrees of the Almighty before all ages. When I +read in this book the following passage, “How could God +call men to judgment, if they were not free agents?” I confess +I am at a loss to understand it, and am disposed to think +it a mystery: but as free will can not put our salvation in our +own power, and as we must always be dependent on God, I +have no desire to understand it better, and will endeavor, as +much as possible, to remain in a state of humility and dependence.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Devices.</span>—As to devices, my dear child, my poor brain is +in a very bad condition for thinking of any, much less for +inventing them; however, as there are twelve hours in the +day, and above fifty in the night, my memory has furnished +me with a rocket raised to a great height in the air, with these +words; <i lang="it">Che peri, pur che s’innalzi</i>.<a id="fnanchor_336" href="#footnote_336" class="fnanchor">[336]</a> I am afraid I have seen +this somewhere in the late tournaments, though I can not +exactly say where or when; for I think it too pretty to be +my own. I remember also having seen in some book, a +rocket on the subject of a lover who had been bold enough to +declare himself to his mistress, with these words, <i lang="it">Da l’ardore +l’ardire</i>,<a id="fnanchor_337" href="#footnote_337" class="fnanchor">[337]</a> which is pretty but does not apply in this instance. +I am not quite sure whether the first I have mentioned is in +strict conformity to the rules of devices: for I do not perfectly +understand them; all I know is, that it pleased me, and +whether it was in a tournament, or on a seal, is a matter of +no great importance; it is scarcely possible to invent new +ones for every occasion. You have heard me a thousand +times repeat that part of a line in Tasso, <i lang="it">L’alte non temo</i>:<a id="fnanchor_338" href="#footnote_338" class="fnanchor">[338]</a> I +used to repeat this so often, that the Count de Chapelles had +a seal engraved, with an eagle flying toward the sun, and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_407">407</span> +<i lang="it">L’alte non temo</i> for the motto: a very happy device.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>M. de Montmoron came hither post: among other +things we were talking about devices: he assures me he does +not remember to have seen any where the one I proposed: he +knew the one with these words, <i lang="it">Da l’ardore l’ardire</i>, but that +is not the thing: the other, he says, is much more complete, +<i lang="it">Che peri, pur che s’innalzi</i>. And whether it is my own, or +borrowed, he thinks it excellent.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I have seen a device which suits me exactly; it is a leafless +tree, apparently dead, with this inscription round it, <i lang="it">Fin che +sol ritorni</i>.<a id="fnanchor_339" href="#footnote_339" class="fnanchor">[339]</a> What think you of it, my child?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_336" href="#fnanchor_336"><span class="label">[336]</span></a> +Let it perish, so it be exalted.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_337" href="#fnanchor_337"><span class="label">[337]</span></a> +My boldness arises from my ardor.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_338" href="#fnanchor_338"><span class="label">[338]</span></a> +I rise without fear.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_339" href="#fnanchor_339"><span class="label">[339]</span></a> +Till the sun returns.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Use of Reason.</span>—I am still alone, my dear child, +without being dull: my health is good; I have plenty of +books, work, and fine weather; these, with a little reason, go +a great way.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pecuniary Embarrassments.</span>—You ask, why am I not +with you? Alas! I could easily answer you, if I were +inclined to debase my letter with a detail of the reasons that +obliged me to quit you, of the misery of this country, the +sums that are owing me here, the delays in the payment of +them, what I owe elsewhere, and the ruin my affairs must +have sustained had I not taken this resolution in time. You +well know that I put it off for two years with pleasure; but +there are extremes, my dear child, in which we should destroy +every thing in attempting to wrestle with necessity; the property +I possess is no longer my own; I must preserve the +same honor and the same probity I have all my life professed. +This, this, my child is the cruel cause that tears me from you; +and is this a subject to entertain you with?</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">An Obstinate Son.</span>—In regard to my son, I find I have +courage enough to tell him my sentiments without disguise. +I wrote him a letter which I think unanswerable; but the +<span class="pagenum" id="page_408">408</span> +more I enforce my reasons, the more he urges his arguments, +and he appears so determined, that I now perfectly understand +what is meant by an unconquerable wish. There is a degree +of ardor in the desire which animates him, that no prudence +can withstand. I can not accuse myself of having preferred +my own interest to his. I wish for nothing but to see him +walk in the path I have traced out for him. He is wrong in +all his arguments, and far beside the mark; I have endeavored +to set him right by incontestable arguments, corroborated +by the opinion of all our friends; and ask him if he has +not some doubts, seeing he is alone in an opinion which every +one else disapproves? He answers me always by an obstinate +perseverance; so that I am reduced to the last expedient, +that of keeping him from making a rash or injurious bargain.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Forgiving Mother.</span>—As I was returning from my walk +yesterday, I met the poor <i lang="it">frater</i>,<a id="fnanchor_340" href="#footnote_340" class="fnanchor">[340]</a> at the end of the mall, who +immediately fell upon his knees, so conscious of having done +wrong in having been three weeks under ground, singing +matins, that he thought he dared not approach me otherwise. +I had resolved to scold him heartily, but I was so glad to see +him, that I could not find an angry word to use. You know +how entertaining he is; he embraced me a thousand times, +and gave me the worst reasons in the world; which, however, +I received as sterling; we chat, we read, we walk, and we +wear away the year; or rather, what is left of it.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_340" href="#fnanchor_340"><span class="label">[340]</span></a> +Her son.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Love—its symptoms.</span>—You want to know the symptoms +of this love, of which I spoke to you the other day. <i lang="la">Imprimis</i>, +To be the first on all occasions to deny it: to affect an air of +great indifference, which is a sure mark of the contrary: the +opinion of those who can judge from being near: the public +voice: an entire suspension of all motion in the globular +machine: a neglect of ordinary concerns to attend to a single +<span class="pagenum" id="page_409">409</span> +one: a continual satirizing old people who are so foolish as to +be in love. “Such nonsense! they must be idiots! fools! +And with a young woman too! Very pretty indeed! it +would become me mighty well! I had rather break both my +arms and legs.” And then we make answer internally: “Indeed +what you say is very true; but, for all that you are in +love: you tell us all these fine things: your reflections are +doubtless very just, very true, very tormenting; but for all +that you are in love; reason is on your side, but love is +stronger than reason; at the same time you are sick, you +weep, you are out of humor, and you are in love.”</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Chess.</span>—You tell me of chess what I have often thought +before. In my opinion, there could not have been contrived +a better expedient to humble pride than this game, which at +once sets before our view the narrowness and insignificance of +the human mind. I think it would be of real utility to any +one fond of such reflections. But then, on the other hand, +the foresight, the penetration, the address in defending ourselves, +as in attacking our adversary, the success attending the +right management of the game, is so pleasing, and affords so +much inward satisfaction, that it may at the same time nourish +our pride and swell our self-sufficiency. I am still far from +being cured of this passion, and therefore want to be further +convinced of my own weakness.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Alone.</span>—I am delighted to be alone; I walk out, I amuse +myself with reading and work, and I go to church; in short +I ask pardon of the company I expect, but I own I do wondrous +well without them.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Courtier.</span>—The other day the dauphin was shooting at a +mark, and shot very wide of it: M. de Montausier rallied him +upon it; and told the Marquis de Créqui, who is very skillful +to fire, saying to the dauphin, “See how well he will hit the +mark.” The arch youth had the complaisance to shoot a foot +<span class="pagenum" id="page_410">410</span> +further from it than the dauphin, which turned the laugh on +M. de Montausier: “Ah! little wretch,” said he, “you deserve +to be hanged.”</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">The King.</span>—The king, in reality, is well served: neither +life nor fortune is considered when his pleasure is the question. +If we were as well disposed toward God, we should be saints +indeed.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christian Humility.</span>—I know very well that Jesus Christ, +St. Paul, and St. Augustine, preached and exhorted, it was +their business; this latter gives good reason for doing so. +But a poor sinner, recovered only three days from a worse +state than ours, should keep silence, penetrated with the mercy +of God toward him, occupied only with his happiness, and the +true gratitude he owes to his Saviour, for having selected and +distinguished him from so many others, without any merit, +through free grace: such should be the sentiments of his +heart, and if charity should make him interest himself for his +neighbor, it should display itself in lamentations before God, +and in supplicating the same grace for others that has so plentifully +been poured upon him. Such was that penitent and +holy princess, Madame de Longueville; she did not forget her +situation nor the abyss from which God had saved her; she +preserved the remembrance as a foundation for her penitence +and her lively acknowledgment to the Almighty. Thus is +Christian humility preserved and the grace of Jesus Christ +honored. This does not preclude reflection and Christian conversation +with our friends; but no sermons, no scolding; these +revolt, and make us recollect and refer persons to their past +life, because we find they have forgotten it. I am astonished +that people of good sense should fall into this injustice; but we +ought to be astonished at nothing; for what do we not meet +with in our journey through life?</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_411">411</span> +<span class="smcap">Home Life.</span>—We lead so regular a life that it is scarcely +possible to be ill. We rise at eight, and I often walk till nine, +when the bell rings for mass, to breathe the fresh air in the +woods; after mass we dress, bid each other good-day, return +and gather orange-flowers, dine, and work or read till five. +Since my son’s absence, I read to save his little wife’s lungs; I +leave her at five, and return to those delightful groves, with a +servant who follows me: I take books with me, change my +route, and vary my walks; from a book of devotion I turn to +one of history, this creates a little change; I think of God, +and his over-ruling providence possesses my soul, and reflect on +futurity; at length, about eight o’clock I hear a bell. This is +the summons to supper. I prefer this life infinitely to that of +Rennes; is it not a fit solitude for a person who should think +of her salvation, and who either is or would be a Christian? +In short, my dearest child, there is nothing but you that I +prefer to the tranquil repose I enjoy here; for I own with +pleasure, that I would willingly pass some more time with +you if it pleased God.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Liberty at Home.</span>—What do you say my child? would +you not suffer me to have two or three hours to myself, after +having been at mass, to dinner, and till five o’clock working, +or talking with my daughter-in-law? she would, I believe, be +as much vexed at this as myself: she is a good little woman, +and we agree wonderfully well together; but we have a great +taste for the liberty of parting and meeting again afterward. +When I am with you, my child, I own I never leave you but +with regret and consideration for you; with every other person, +it is from consideration for myself. Nothing can be more +just or more natural: it is impossible to feel for two persons +what I feel for you; leave us, therefore, a little to our sacred +freedom; it agrees with me, and by the help of books the time +passes in this way as quickly as it does at your brilliant +castle.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_412">412</span> +<span class="smcap">Readings.</span>—Our readings are delightful. We have Abbadie<a id="fnanchor_341" href="#footnote_341" class="fnanchor">[341]</a> +and the History of the Church; this is marrying the +lute to the voice. You are not fond of wagers; I know not +how we could captivate you a whole winter here. You skim +lightly, and are not fond of history; and we have no pleasure +but when we are attached to our subject and make it a business. +Sometimes, by way of change, we read <i lang="fr">Les petites Lettres</i> +of Pascal; good heavens! how delightful they are, and how +well my son reads them! I constantly think of my daughter, +and how worthy of her this extreme propriety of reasoning +would be: but your brother says you find that it is always +the same thing: ah! so much the better; can there be a +more perfect style, more finely wrought, more delicate unaffected +raillery, or more nearly allied to the dialogues of +Plato, which are so very beautiful! And when, after the first +ten letters, he addresses himself to the R. P.s, what seriousness! +what solidity! what force! what eloquence! what a +way of supporting it and of making it understood! All this +is to be found in the last eight letters, which are very different +from the former. I am persuaded you never did more than +glance over them, selecting the most beautiful passages; but +they should be read leisurely.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>You ask me what books we are reading. When we have +company reading is laid aside; but before the meeting of the +states, we read some little books that scarcely took us up a +moment:—Mohammed II., who took Constantinople from the +last emperor of the East; this is a great event, so singular, +brilliant, and extraordinary, that we are carried away with it; +and it happened but two hundred and thirty-six years ago:—the +Conspiracy of Portugal, which is very fine: the Variations +of M. de Maux: a volume of the History of the Church, the +second is too full of the detail of the councils, and therefore +might be tedious: <i lang="fr">Les Iconoclastes</i> and the Arianism of Maimbourg; +this author is detestable, his style disagreeable; he is +always desirous of being satirical, and compares Arius, a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_413">413</span> +princess and a courtier, to M. Arnauld, Madame de Longueville, +and Treville; but setting aside these fooleries, the historical +passages are so very fine, the Council of Nice so admirable, +that it is read with pleasure; and as he brings us down +to Theodosius, we shall find consolation for all our evils in +the elegant style of M. de Flechier.<a id="fnanchor_342" href="#footnote_342" class="fnanchor">[342]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_341" href="#fnanchor_341"><span class="label">[341]</span></a> +Author of <i lang="fr">La Vérité de la Religion Chrétienne</i>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_342" href="#fnanchor_342"><span class="label">[342]</span></a> +Esprit Flechier, Bishop of Nîmes, author of the Life of Theodosius.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Arianism.</span>—I am at present reading the history of Arianism; +I neither like the author<a id="fnanchor_343" href="#footnote_343" class="fnanchor">[343]</a> nor his style: but the history +itself is admirable; it is indeed that of the whole world: it +has a share in every thing, and seems to have springs that move +all the powers of the earth. The genius of Arius was astonishing; +as it likewise is, to see how his heresy spread itself +over the world; almost all the bishops join in the error; St. +Athanasius alone stands forth to defend the divinity of Jesus. +These great events are truly worthy of admiration. When I +wish to feast my understanding and my soul, I retire into my +closet; I listen to <i>our fathers</i>, and their glorious morality, +which makes us so well acquainted with our own hearts.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I am employed in reading my Arianism: it is a strange +history, in which nothing displeases me but the author and +the style; but I have a pencil, and am revenged on him, by +marking some passages which I think highly diverting from +the earnest desire he shows of drawing parallels between the +Arians and the Jansenists, and the perplexity he is under to +reconcile the conduct of the Church in the first ages of Christianity +with that of the Church at present. Instead of passing +slightly over them, he says, that the Church for <i>good reasons</i> +does not act now as it did then.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_343" href="#fnanchor_343"><span class="label">[343]</span></a> +Louis Maimbourg.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Adoration.</span>—I find communion is frequent in Provence; to +my shame be it spoken, I neglected the immaculate conception +<span class="pagenum" id="page_414">414</span> +of the Mother, to reserve myself wholly for the nativity +of the Son; for this we can not be too well prepared.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jealousy.</span>—You are doubtless convinced that my sentiments +and yours are the same; but I want to teach you +jealousy, at least in theory, and assure you, <i lang="it">credi a me pur che +l’ho provato</i>,<a id="fnanchor_344" href="#footnote_344" class="fnanchor">[344]</a> that we often say things we do not think; and +even if we did think them, would that be a sign of not loving? +Quite the contrary; for if we were to analyze these +speeches, so full of anger and resentment, we should find a +great deal of affection and attachment at the bottom. Some +hearts are remarkably delicate; when these happen to meet +with a cool or indifferent disposition, a very considerable +progress is made in the region of jealousy. This I have +thought myself obliged in conscience to say to you; make +your own reflections upon it, for I can not pretend to enter +into particulars at the distance of two hundred leagues.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_344" href="#fnanchor_344"><span class="label">[344]</span></a> +Believe me for I have proved it.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Folly.</span>—A young man came to visit me the other day, who +is the son of a gentleman of Anjou, with whom I was formerly +intimately acquainted. At his entrance I beheld a fine, +graceful, handsome figure, which struck me with pleasure; +but, alas! as soon as he opened his mouth, he laughed at every +word he spoke, which made <i>me</i> almost ready to cry. He has +a smattering of Paris and the opera; he sings; is familiar and +airy; and repeats with great gravity, “Quand on n’a point ce +qu’on aime, qu’importe, qu’importe, à quel prix?”<a id="fnanchor_345" href="#footnote_345" class="fnanchor">[345]</a> instead of <i>to +obtain what we love</i>, which you know are the words of the +opera. I recommend this charming alteration to M. de Grignan, +to set it to music.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_345" href="#fnanchor_345"><span class="label">[345]</span></a> +To obtain what we do not love, what price is too great?</p> + +<p class="pl3"><small><span class="ssrf">Transcription note</span>—A more accurate translation would be:<br> +<span class="pl3"><i>When we love but do not possess, what price is too great?</i></span></small></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Lot of Mankind.</span>—I wish to write in my prayer-book +what M. de Comines says of the cross purposes of human life. +It is pleasant to see that, even in his time, tribulation and +<span class="pagenum" id="page_415">415</span> +misery were the lot of mankind. His style gives peculiar +grace to the solidity of his argument. For my part, I am determined +to be more than ever convinced of the impossibility +of being happy in this world, since God keeps <i>loyally</i> to what +he has promised.<a id="fnanchor_346" href="#footnote_346" class="fnanchor">[346]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_346" href="#fnanchor_346"><span class="label">[346]</span></a> +This is the passage from Comines.</p> + +<p class="cent">“No creature is exempt from suffering. All eat their bread in pain.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Expenses, Retrenchments, etc.</span>—I readily conceive that +you are fearful of looking into the expense you have incurred: +it is a machine that must not be touched, lest it fall and crush +you with its weight. There is something of enchantment in +the magnificence of your castle, and the elegance of your table. +The dilapidation must be ruinous, and I can not conceive what +you mean by saying that it is not considerable. It is a kind +of black art, like that among courtiers, who, though they have +not a penny in their pockets, undertake the most expensive +journeys both by land and water, follow every fashion, are at +every ball, masquerade, and ring, in every lottery, and still go +the same round, though overwhelmed in debts. I forgot to +mention gaming, which is another curious article. Then +estates dwindle away; but no matter, they still go on. Just +so it is with you.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I fancy that by this time you are somewhat cured of your +Grignan economy, where you were to live for little or nothing; +for it was nothing, it seems, nothing at all, to have four or five +tables, to keep open house, and furnish entertainment for man +and horse; a thing that no one in the world now thinks of +doing: in short, say what you please, that famous caravansera +of yours appears to me to teem with ruin; this concourse of +people seems to me like the flood which carries all before it. +In short, my child, I dare not think of this vortex; Paris will +prove your resting-place: stay here at least till you have confronted +your expenses, and can look your return in the face.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_416">416</span> +There are many things yet to settle, which concern you as +much as myself, and I might as well not have made this journey +at all, as to make it too short; so that I must resolve to +drain the bitter cup to the bottom. Besides, as I observed to +you in a former letter, the money I save by being here, serves +to pay off a part of my debts elsewhere; without this expedient, +what could I have done? You well know what I mean; +it has cost me many an uneasy moment: and, indeed, what +could you yourself have done, but for the assistance you received? +At present, I fancy, you have made matters up tolerably +well.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Baptism.</span>—What you said the other day, as to humor and +memory, was perfectly just; they are certainly things which +are not sufficiently known. I also intend to convict you of +heresy, my child; and, be as angry as you please, I insist, that +the death of Jesus Christ is not alone sufficient, without baptism: +he requires the water, the spirit, and the blood, and it +is on these conditions alone that his death can be of service +to us. No part of the old man can enter into heaven, but by +regeneration through Jesus Christ. If you ask me my reasons, +I shall reply with St. Augustine, that I can give none, +any more than I can tell why, having come into the world to +save all men, he saves so very few; or why he concealed himself +during his life-time, and would not let any one know or +follow him. I can give no reason for all these things; but of +this I am certain, that since he thought fit they should be so, +they must be right and proper, seeing that his will is truth +and justice.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Order.</span>—If Providence delights in order, and order is no +other than the will of God, there must be many things contrary +to his will. The persecutions against St. Athanasius, and +other orthodox divines, and the calm prosperity of tyrants, are +all contrary to order, and consequently to the will of God; +<span class="pagenum" id="page_417">417</span> +therefore, with leave of Father Malebranche,<a id="fnanchor_347" href="#footnote_347" class="fnanchor">[347]</a> would it not be as +well to confine ourselves to what St. Augustine says, that God +permits all things that come to pass, that he may derive glory +from them to himself, by ways unknown to man? St. Augustine +acknowledges no rule or order but the will of God, and if +we do not follow his doctrine, we shall have the mortification +of finding, that, as scarcely any thing in this world is agreeable +to order, every thing must pass contrary to his will who +made all things; which, in my mind, is a shocking supposition.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_347" href="#fnanchor_347"><span class="label">[347]</span></a> +Father Malebranche says, that “all that is done in nature is done +from the nature of order.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary Blanche.</span><a id="fnanchor_348" href="#footnote_348" class="fnanchor">[348]</a>—You give me an excellent idea of your +eldest daughter; I see her before me; pray embrace her for +me; I rejoice that she is happy. For your son, you may love +him as much as you please; he deserves it; every one speaks +highly of him, and praises him in a way that would give you +pleasure; we expect him this week. I have felt all the force +of the phrase he made use of to gain esteem, “which must +come, or tell the reason why:” it brought tears into my eyes +at the moment; but esteem is come already, and will not have +to say why it staid away. The reputation of this child is already +commenced, and will now only increase.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_348" href="#fnanchor_348"><span class="label">[348]</span></a> +Mary Blanche, eldest daughter of Madame de Grignan. She was +a nun at St. Mary at Aix.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The young Marquis de Grignan.</span><a id="fnanchor_349" href="#footnote_349" class="fnanchor">[349]</a>—Your son was last +night at the Duke de Chartres’ ball; he was very handsome, +and will inform you of his success. You must not, however, +calculate upon his studying much; he owned to us yesterday, +very sincerely, that he is at present incapable of paying proper +attention; his youth hurries him away, and he does not understand +what he reads. We grieve that he has not, at least, +a taste for reading, and that he wants inclination more than +<span class="pagenum" id="page_418">418</span> +time. His frankness prevented our scolding him; I know not +what we did not say to him; I mean the chevalier, myself +and Corbinelli, who was rather warm upon the occasion. +But we must not fatigue or force him; this taste will come in +time, my dear; for it is not possible, that, with so much spirit, +good sense, and love for his profession, he should have no +desire to be made acquainted with the exploits of the heroes +of antiquity, and particularly <i>Cæsar at the head of his Commentaries</i>. +Have patience, and do not fret: he would be too +perfect were he fond of reading.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I am also of opinion, that by reading we learn to write; +I know some officers of rank, whose style is vulgar; it is, +however, a delightful thing to be able to communicate our +thoughts; but it also often happens that these people write +as they think, and as they speak; every thing is in unison.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_349" href="#fnanchor_349"><span class="label">[349]</span></a> +Grandson of Madame the Sévigné.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Paulina.</span><a id="fnanchor_350" href="#footnote_350" class="fnanchor">[350]</a>—I am pleased with Coulanges’ praise of Paulina; +it is well applied, and makes me understand what sort of +charms she possesses, curbed however by persons who have +not given her the best nose<a id="fnanchor_351" href="#footnote_351" class="fnanchor">[351]</a> in the world. If the count had +<span class="pagenum" id="page_419">419</span> +given her his fine eyes and fine person, and left the rest to you, +Paulina would have set the world on fire; she would have +been irresistible; this pretty mixture is a thousand times better, +and must certainly form a very pretty personage. Her +sprightliness resembles yours; your wit always bore away +the palm, as you say of hers; I like this panegyric. She will +soon learn Italian, with the assistance of a better mistress than +you had. You deserve as excellent a daughter as mine has +been. I told you that you might do what you wished with +yours, from her disposition to please you; she appears to me +worthy of your love.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>Paulina then is not perfect; I could never have supposed +that her chief imperfection would have been ignorance of religion. +You must instruct her in this, which you are very +capable of doing; it is your duty, and you have good books +to assist you: in return, your sister-in-law, the abbess, will +teach her the world.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>You astonish me by what you say of Paulina; pray, pray, +my dear child, keep her with you; think not that a convent +can repair the errors of education, whether as to religion, with +which the sisterhood are very little acquainted, or as to any +thing else. You will do much better at Grignan, when you +have time for application. You will make her read good +authors; you will converse with her, and M. de la Garde will +assist you: I am convinced that this is preferable to a convent.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_350" href="#fnanchor_350"><span class="label">[350]</span></a> +Paulina de Grignan, born in 1674, and married in 1695, to the +Marquis de Simiane, was noticed at five or six years of age, for the +agreeableness of her wit, as well as the beauty of her person. Her letters +were already looked upon as performances in which the pleasing +and the natural were equally combined. She had scarcely entered her +fourth year, when she would occasionally utter repartees full of wit and +pleasantry. She was not more than thirteen when she wrote, at Madame +de Grignan’s request, a small piece of devotion which the brightest +genius might have been proud of. It is easy to guess how a person +thus favored by nature must turn out, educated under the eyes of +a mother and grandmother whose good sense seemed as it were transfused +into her. She excelled not only in the epistolary style, but also +in the poetic, though she never wrote but for amusement. The solid +principles of true religion, in which she was brought up, shone forth in +her, amid the bustle of courts and secular affairs; and never with so +much splendor as in the last year of her life, which she employed wholly +in the exercise of the most sublime virtues of Christianity.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_351" href="#fnanchor_351"><span class="label">[351]</span></a> +Paulina’s nose resembled her grandmother’s.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Faith in Christ.</span>—So then, you read St. Paul and St. Augustine; +two excellent laborers to establish the absolute will +of God. They never scruple to assert, that God disposes of +his creatures as the potter does of his clay; some he chooses, +some he rejects. They are no loss to apologize for his justice, +since there is no other justice but his will. It is justice itself, +it is the rule of right; and, after all, what does he owe to man? +Is he in any way dependent on him? Not at all. He, therefore, +does them justice in rejecting them, on account of the +stain of original sin, which is communicated to all; and he +<span class="pagenum" id="page_420">420</span> +selects a few, whom he saves by his son Jesus Christ, who +himself says, “I know my sheep, and am known of mine: I +will lead them forth to the pasture, and not one shall be lost.” +“I have chosen you,” saith he in another place to his apostles, +“and you have not chosen me.” There are numberless passages +of this nature; I meet with them continually, and understand +them all; and when I find others that seem to contradict +them, I say to myself, This is to be understood figuratively, +as when we read that “God was in wrath,” that “God +repented him,” and the like: and I always abide by that first +and great truth, which represents God to me as he is, the +sovereign master, the supreme creator and author of the universe; +in a word, as a being infinitely perfect, agreeably to +Descartes’ idea. Such are my humble and reverential thoughts, +from which, however, I deduce no ridiculous consequences, +nor do they deprive me of the hope of being of the number +of the elect of God, after the mercies he has bestowed on me, +which are so many foundations upon which to ground my +confidence.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Fire-eater.</span>—Yesterday a young man came here from +Vitré, whom I knew to have lived formerly as footman with +M. Coulanges. M. de Grignan has seen him at Aix. He +showed me a printed list of the feats he performed with fire; +he has the secret of the man you have heard spoken of at +Paris. Among a thousand wonderful things that he did, and +which I am astonished the government permits, on account +of the consequences, I was struck with one in particular, which +is soon done; this was the letting fall from his hand into his +mouth ten or twelve drops of flaming sealing-wax, with which +he appeared to be no more affected than if it had been so +much cold water; he did not make the least grimace, or sign +of uneasiness, and his tongue looked as fair and unhurt after +the operation as before. I have often heard of these fire-eaters; +but I must confess, that to see the thing performed in my +own room, and under my very eye, struck me with astonishment.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_421">421</span> +<span class="smcap">Books.</span>—We pass our time here very quietly; this you can +not doubt; but very swiftly, which will surprise you: work, +walking, conversation, reading, all these are called in to our +assistance. Speaking of books, you tell me wonders of M. +Nicole’s last production; I have read some passages that appeared +to me very fine; the author’s style enlightens, as you +say, and makes us enter into ourselves, in such a way as discovers +the beauty of his mind and the goodness of his heart; +for he never scolds out of season, which is the worst thing in +the world, and never produces the desired effect. I did not +purchase the book at the time, which was in Lent: I contented +myself with the good Le Tourneux.<a id="fnanchor_352" href="#footnote_352" class="fnanchor">[352]</a> We are reading a +treatise of the pious man of Port-Royal upon continual prayer, +which is a sequel to certain pious works that are very fine; +but this, which is much larger, is so spiritual, so luminous, and +so holy, that though it be a thousand degrees above our understandings, +it does not fail to please and charm us. We are +delighted to find that there have been, and still are, people in +the world, to whom God has communicated his Holy Spirit +and grace in such abundance; but, good heavens! when shall +we be possessed of one little spark, of one single degree? How +sad it is to find ourselves so far behind here, and so near in +other things! fie, fie, let us not name this misfortune! we +ought to humble ourselves at it a hundred times a day.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_352" href="#fnanchor_352"><span class="label">[352]</span></a> +Nicholas de Tourneux, confessor of Port-Royal, so well-known by +his excellent work, entitled “The Christian Year,” and by a great number +of other important works.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Liberty of Mind.</span>—There are certain periods of life in +which we attend to nothing but ourselves. You indeed have +never been much occupied in that way; but when we came +down this river together, we were more engaged in disputing +about the Count des Chapelles than in admiring the beauties +of the rural scenes that surrounded us. Now, the case is +exactly the reverse: we observe a profound silence, are perfectly +at our ease, reading, musing, admiring, out of the way +<span class="pagenum" id="page_422">422</span> +of all sorts of news, and living upon our own reflections. The +good abbé (her uncle) is always praying: I listen attentively to +his pious ejaculations; but when he has got to his beads I beg +to be excused, finding that I can meditate much better without +them. In short, we manage to pass twelve or fourteen hours +without being very unhappy; such a fine thing is liberty.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Nuns of Saint-Marie.</span>—My greatest satisfaction is in +visiting the nuns of Saint-Marie; they are truly amiable +women; they still retain the remembrance of you, of which +they do not fail to make a merit with me: they are neither +silly nor conceited, like some you know; they do not believe +the present Pope<a id="fnanchor_353" href="#footnote_353" class="fnanchor">[353]</a> to be a heretic; they understand the religion +they profess, and will never reject the Holy Scriptures because +they have been translated by worthy men; they pay all due +honor to the saving grace of Christ; they acknowledge the +power of providence; they educate the young girls committed +to their care very properly, and neither teach them to lie nor +to dissemble; no chimeras, no idolatry is to be found among +them. In short, I have a great regard for them. M. de Grignan +would think them Jansenists; for my part, I think them +Christians: there are two of them who have an infinite deal of +wit. I shall go to their house to-morrow to write, and I shall +dine with them on Saturday: they are all the comfort I have +here.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_353" href="#fnanchor_353"><span class="label">[353]</span></a> +Innocent XI., who passed for favoring the Jansenists, +merely because he took no steps against them.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Moral Essays.</span>—Do you not intend to read the Moral +Essays, and to give me your opinion of them? For my part, +I am charmed with them; and so I am with the funeral +oration on M. de Turenne; there are passages in it which +must have affected all that were present. I do not doubt but +it has been sent you; tell me if you do not think it very fine. +Do you not intend to finish Josephus? We read a great deal +of serious as well as lighter subjects; fable and history. We +<span class="pagenum" id="page_423">423</span> +are so deeply engaged with these, that we have scarcely leisure +for any other employments. They pity us at Paris; they +think us confined to a fire-side by the inclemency of the season, +and languishing under a dearth of amusement; but, my dear, +I walk; I find a thousand diversions; the woods are neither +wild nor inhospitable. It is not for passing my time here +instead of at Paris that I am to be pitied.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">History of the Bible.</span>—I am, moreover, reading the emblems +of the Holy Scriptures,<a id="fnanchor_354" href="#footnote_354" class="fnanchor">[354]</a> which begin from Adam. I +have begun with the creation of the world, which you are so +fond of, and shall end with the death of our Saviour, which +you know is an admirable series. We find in it every circumstance, +though related concisely; the style is fine; it is done +by an eminent hand: the history is interspersed throughout +with excellent reflections, taken from the fathers, and is very +entertaining. For my own part, I go much further than the +Jesuits; and when I see the reproaches of ingratitude, and +the dreadful punishments with which God afflicted his people, +I can not help concluding, that we, who are freed from the yoke +to which they were subjected, are, in consequence, highly +culpable, and justly deserve those scourges of fire and water +which the Almighty employs when he thinks fit. The Jesuits +do not say enough on this subject, and others give cause to +murmur against the justice of the Deity, in weakening the +supports of our spiritual liberty, as they do. You see what +fruit I derive from my reading. I fancy my confessor will +enjoin me to read the philosophy of Descartes.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_354" href="#fnanchor_354"><span class="label">[354]</span></a> +History of the Old and New Testament, by M. de Saci, Sieur de +Royaumont. He composed this book in the Bastille. It is, they say, +filled with allusions to the vicissitudes of Jansenism in that age, M. +de Saci was president of the nuns at Port-Royal.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Affection.</span>—I fancy myself qualified to write a treatise on +affection; there are a thousand things depending on it, a +thousand things to be shunned, in order to prevent those we +<span class="pagenum" id="page_424">424</span> +love from smarting for it: there are innumerable instances +where we give them pain, and in which we might alleviate +their feelings, were we to reflect and to turn things in all the +points of view we ought, out of regard to the object of our +love. In short, I could make it appear in my book, that there +are a thousand different ways of proving our regard without +talking of it; as well as of saying by actions that we have no +real regard, even while the treacherous tongue is making protestations +to the contrary. I mean no one in particular, but +what I have written, I have written.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Submission.</span>—I beg you will read the second part of the +second treatise in the first volume of <i>Moral Essays</i>; I am +sure you know it, but you may not perhaps have observed it +particularly; it is on the subject of <i>submission to the will of +God</i>. You will there see how clearly it is demonstrated that +Providence governs all things; that is my creed, by that I +abide: and though a contrary doctrine may be advanced elsewhere, +to keep fair with all sides, I shall consider such conduct +only in the light of a political stratagem, and follow the +example of those who believe as I do, though they may +change their note.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philosophy.</span>—You say that I make God the author of +every thing that happens; read, read, I say, that part of the +treatise I have pointed out to you, and you will find that we +are to look to Him for every thing, but with reverence and +humility, and consider man only as the executor of his orders, +from whose agency he can draw what effects he thinks proper. +It is thus we reason, when our eyes are lifted up to heaven, +but, in general, we are apt to confine our views to the poor +contemptible second causes that strike our bodily senses, and +bear with impatience what we ought to receive with submission; +and such, alas! is my present wretched situation. I +join with you in believing that philosophy is good for little, +except to those who do not stand in need of it. You desire +<span class="pagenum" id="page_425">425</span> +me to love you more and more: indeed, you embarrass me; +I know not where to find that degree of comparison; it is beyond +my conception: but this I am certain of, that I never +can, in thought, word, or deed, evince the thousandth part of +the affection I bear you; and this is that sometimes distracts +me.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Old Age.</span>—So then you were struck with an expression of +Madame de la Fayette’s (“you are old,”) blended with so +much friendship. Though I say to myself that this is a truth +which should not be forgotten, I confess I was all astonishment +at it; for I yet feel no sort of decay that puts me in +mind of it. I can not, however refrain from calculating and +reflecting, and I find that the conditions of life are very hard. +It seems to me that I have been dragged against my will to +the fatal period, when <i>old age</i> must be endured; I see it, I +have attained it; and I would, at least, contrive not to go +beyond it, not to advance in the road of infirmities, pain, loss +of memory, <i>disfigurements</i> which are ready to lay hold of me; +and I hear a voice which says, You must go on in spite of +yourself; or, if you will not, you must die, an alternative at +which nature recoils. Such, however, is the fate of those who +have reached a certain period.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>I contemplate this evil, which has not yet proved itself so, +with heroic courage; I prepare myself for its consequences +with peace and tranquillity; and seeing there is no way of +escape, and that I am not the strongest, I think of the obligation +I owe to God, for conducting me so gently to the grave. +I thank him for the desire he daily gives me to prepare for +death, and the wish of not draining my life to the dregs. +Extreme old age is frightful and humiliating: the good Corbinelli +and I see a painful instance of this truth hourly, in the +poor Abbé de Coulanges, whose helplessness and infirmities +make us wish never to reach this period.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="page_426">426</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sermons.</span>—When I am as good as M. de la Garde, if ever +God grants me this grace, I shall like all sermons; in the +mean while I content myself with the Gospels as explained by +M. le Tourneux; these are real sermons, and nothing but the +vanity of man could load modern discourses with their present +contents. We sometimes read the Homilies of St. John +Chrysostom; these are divine, and please us so highly, that I +persist in not going to Rennes till passion week, to avoid being +exposed to the eloquence of the preachers who hold forth in +behalf of the parliament.</p> + +<div class="thincent">* * * * *</div> + +<p>The Marshal de Grammont was so transported the other day, +at a sermon of Bourdaloüe’s, that he cried out, in the middle +of a passage that struck him, “By ——, he is right.” Madame +burst out a-laughing, and the sermon was interrupted so long +that nobody knew what would be the consequence. If your +preachers are as you represent them, I am apt to think they +will be in no great danger of their being interrupted by such +praises.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Josephus.</span>—I am glad you like Josephus, Herod, and Aristobulus. +I beg you to go on, and see the end of the siege of +Jerusalem, and the fate of Josaphat. Take courage; every +thing is beautiful in this historian, every thing is grand, every +thing is magnificent, every thing is worthy of you; let not an +idle fancy prevail with you to lay him aside. I am in the +History of France; that of the Crusades has occasioned my +looking into it, but it is not to be compared to a single leaf +of Josephus. Alas! with what pleasure we weep over the +misfortunes of Aristobulus and Mariamne.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Hope ever.</span>—We should never despair of our good fortune. +I thought my son’s situation quite hopeless, after so many +storms and shipwrecks, without employments, and out of the +way of fortune; and while I was indulging these melancholy +reflections, Providence destined, or had destined, us to so +advantageous a marriage, that I could not have wished for a +<span class="pagenum" id="page_427">427</span> +better alliance, even at the time when my son had the greatest +reason to expect it. It is thus we grope in the dark, not +knowing our way, taking good for evil, and evil for good, in +entire ignorance.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Twilight.</span>—I hate twilight when I have nobody to chat +with; and I had rather be alone in the woods, than alone in +a room. This is like plunging up to the neck in water to save +one’s self from the rain: but any thing rather than an arm-chair.</p> + +<hr class="hr22"> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Presentiment.</span>—Good Heavens! my dear child, what +fools your women are, both living and dead! your top-knots<a id="fnanchor_355" href="#footnote_355" class="fnanchor">[355]</a> +shock me! What a profanation! it smells of paganism; foh! +It would make me shudder at the thoughts of dying in Provence; +I would, at least, be assured that the milliner and +undertaker were not sent for at the same time. Fie, fie, +indeed! but no more of this.<a id="fnanchor_356" href="#footnote_356" class="fnanchor">[356]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_355" href="#fnanchor_355"><span class="label">[355]</span></a> +It was the custom in Provence to bury the dead with their faces +uncovered; and the women who wore ribbons as a head-dress, retained +them in their coffins.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_356" href="#fnanchor_356"><span class="label">[356]</span></a> +This passage might deserve the name of presentiment. All she +feared came to pass. She died in Provence, and the very head-dress +which was so repugnant to her mind, adorned her in her coffin.</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="page_428">LETTERS ON THE DEATH OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ.</h2> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h3>LETTER I.<br> +<small>FROM THE COUNTESS DE GRIGNAN TO THE PRESIDENT DE MOULCEAU.</small></h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, April 18, 1696.</p> + +<p>Your politeness, sir, need not lead you to fear the renewal +of my grief,<a id="fnanchor_357" href="#footnote_357" class="fnanchor">[357]</a> in speaking to me of the afflicting loss I have +sustained. This is an object which my mind bears constantly +in view, and which is so deeply engraven in my heart that +nothing has power to increase or diminish it. I am convinced, +sir, that you could not have heard the dreadful misfortune +which has happened to me without shedding tears; I can answer +for your heart: you lose a friend of incomparable merit +and fidelity; nothing is more worthy of your regret; and +what, sir, do not I lose? what perfections were not united in her +to me, by different characters, most dear and most precious? +A loss so complete and so irreparable, leads me to seek for +consolation only in the bitterness of tears and groans. I have +not strength to raise my eyes to the place whence comfort +flows; I can yet only cast them around me, and I no longer +see the dear being who has loaded me with blessings, whose +attention from day to day has been occupied in adding fresh +proofs of her love to the charms of her society. It is too +true, sir, that it requires more than human fortitude to bear so +<span class="pagenum" id="page_429">429</span> +cruel a disunion and so much privation. I was far from being +prepared for it: the perfect health I saw her enjoy, and a +year’s illness, which a hundred times endangered my own life, +had taken from me the idea that the order of nature could be +fulfilled by her dying first. I flattered myself that I should +never have this great evil to endure: it is come upon me, and +I feel it in all its severity. I deserve your pity, sir; and some +share in the honor of your friendship, if sincere esteem and +high veneration for your virtue can deserve it. My sentiments +have been the same toward you since I had the pleasure of +knowing you; and I believe I have more than once told you +that it is impossible for any one to respect you more than I do.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_357" href="#fnanchor_357"><span class="label">[357]</span></a> +Madame de Sévigné, as it appears, died early in April.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER II.<br> +<small>FROM M. DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE.<a id="fnanchor_358" href="#footnote_358" class="fnanchor">[358]</a></small></h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, May 25, 1696.</p> + +<p>Far from taking it unkindly, madam, that you did not +write to me with your own hand, I am very much surprised +that you even thought of me at a time so cruel and so fatal as +the present. I did not doubt your sensibility at the loss we +have sustained; and I could easily conceive what it would cost +your excellent heart. God of heaven, what a blow is this to +us all! For myself, I am lost in the thought that I shall no +longer see the dear cousin to whom I have been from infancy +so affectionately attached, and who returned this attachment +so tenderly and so faithfully. If you could see, madam, all +that passes here, you would be still better acquainted with the +merit of your grandmother, for never was worth more truly +acknowledged than hers; and the public renders her, with +pious regret, all the honor which is due to her. Madame de +Coulanges is grieved to an excess that it is impossible to +<span class="pagenum" id="page_430">430</span> +describe, and I tremble for its effect upon her own health. From +the day that announced to us the fatal illness, which in the +end took our friend from us forever, we have lost all peace of +mind. The Duchess de Chaulnes is almost dead, and poor +Madame de la Troche—.<a id="fnanchor_359" href="#footnote_359" class="fnanchor">[359]</a> In short, we meet together to +weep, and to regret what we have lost; and in the midst of +our grief, we are not without anxiety for the health of your +mother. Do not write to me; order one of your meanest +attendants to inform us how you are: I entreat you to believe +that your mother’s health and your own are very precious to +me, for more reasons than one; for I think I owe it to the +memory of Madame de Sévigné, to be more attached to you +and Madame de Grignan than before, from knowing so well +the sentiments she entertained for her and for you. I shall +not write to your mother for a long time, for fear of increasing +her grief by my letters; but omit me not, whenever an opportunity +offers; make mention of my name; be assured that of +all your servants, relations, friends, no one is more deeply +afflicted than I am, no one feels a greater interest in all that +concerns you. I shall not show your letter immediately to +Madame de Coulanges; but I shall not fail to tell her that you +do not forget her. I can assure you that you owe her this justice +on account of her love for you. Allow me to pay my +sad compliments to M. de Simiane, the Chevalier de Grignan, +and M. de la Garde. Heavens, what a scene in this +royal château! Poor Mademoiselle de Marsillac too, who has +so well discharged all the duties of friendship, how I feel for +her!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<p><a id="footnote_358" href="#fnanchor_358"><span class="label">[358]</span></a> +The dear <i>Pauline</i>, the favorite grand-daughter of Madame de Sévigné. +See page <a href="#footnote_350">418</a>.</p> + +<p><a id="footnote_359" href="#fnanchor_359"><span class="label">[359]</span></a> +This phrase is incomplete.</p> +</div> + +<h3>LETTER III.<br> +<small>FROM MADAME DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE.</small></h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, May 2, 1696.</p> + +<p>I am truly obliged to you, madame, for still thinking of +me. I knew all your excellences; but the affection of your +<span class="pagenum" id="page_431">431</span> +heart, and the regard you have felt for a person so worthy of +being beloved as she whom you regret, appear to me to be +above all praise. Ah! madam, how much reason have you +to believe me to be deeply affected! I can think of no other +subject; I can talk of nothing else. I am ignorant of the +particulars of this fatal illness, and the eagerness with which +I seek for them shows that I have little power over myself. +I spent the whole of yesterday with the prior of St. Catharine’s. +You may guess upon what our conversation turned. +I showed him the letter you have done me the honor to write +to me. It gave him real pleasure, for persons of his turn of +mind are so convinced that this life ought only to serve as a +passport to the other, that the dispositions in which we leave +the world are to them the only ones that are worthy of attention. +But we think of what we have lost, and we lament +it. For myself, I have no female friend left. My turn will +soon come; it is reasonable to expect it; but to hear a person +of your age entertain such serious and melancholy +thoughts is rare indeed. Your understanding, madam, +makes me forget your youth; and this, added to the natural +partiality I feel for you, seems to authorize me to address you +as I do.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"> + +<h3>LETTER IV.<br> +<small>FROM THE COUNT DE GRIGNAN TO M. DE COULANGES.</small></h3> + +<p class="rdate"><span class="smcap">Grignan</span>, May 23, 1696.</p> + +<p>You, sir, can understand better than any one the magnitude +of the loss we have sustained, and my just grief. Madame +de Sévigné’s distinguished merit was perfectly known +to you. It is not merely a mother-in-law that I regret; this +name does not always command esteem; it is an amiable and +excellent friend, and a delightful companion. But it is a circumstance +more worthy of our admiration than our regret, +<span class="pagenum" id="page_432">432</span> +that this noble-minded woman contemplated the approach of +death, which she expected from the moment of her attack, +with astonishing firmness and submission. She, who was so +tender and so timid respecting those she loved, displayed the +utmost fortitude and piety when she believed that she ought +to think only of herself; and we can not but remark how +useful and important it is to fill the mind with good things +and sacred subjects, for which Madame de Sévigné appears +to have had a peculiar taste, not to say a surprising avidity, +by the use she made of these excellent provisions in the last +moments of her life. I relate these particulars to you, sir, +because they accord with your sentiments, and will be gratifying +to the friendship you have borne for her whom we lament; +and at the same time my mind is so full of them that +it is a relief to me to find a man so well disposed as you +are to listen to the recital, and take pleasure in hearing it. I +hope, sir, that the memory of a friend who highly esteemed +you will contribute to preserve to me the regard with which +you have long honored me. I prize it too highly, and wish +it too much, not to deserve it a little.</p> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h2 id="page_433">INDEX.</h2> + +<table style="width: 60%; margin-bottom: 3em"> +<tr> + <th> </th> + <th style="text-align: right"><small>PAGE</small></th> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>A</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Adhémar, Count (see <a href="#footnote_16">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Adoration,</td> + + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_413">413</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Affection,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_423">423</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Alone,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_409">409</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Apparition, An,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_362">362</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Arianism,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_413">413</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>B</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Baptism,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_416">416</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bellefond, Marshal,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_75">75</a>, <a href="#page_152">152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Blanchfort,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_392">392</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bleeding, An anecdote,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_401">401</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Books,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_421">421</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bouillon, Duchess de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_189">189</a>, <a href="#page_191">191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bourdaloüe,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_91">91</a>, <a href="#page_111">111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Brancas,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bride, A,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_401">401</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Brinon, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_260">260</a>, <a href="#page_270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Brinvilliers, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_154">154</a>, <a href="#page_155">155</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Brittany, Disturbances in,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_124">124</a>, <a href="#page_238">238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bussy, Count de (see <a href="#footnote_3">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_19">19</a>, <a href="#page_350">350</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Bussy, Count de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_19">19</a>-<a href="#page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>C</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Calprenedre, La,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Chantal, Baroness de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Charles II. of England,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_245">245</a>, <a href="#page_246">246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Chaulnes, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Châtelet, Magdelen de (see <a href="#footnote_43">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Chaulnes, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Chaulnes, Duke de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_386">386</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Chess,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_409">409</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Children, Hints about,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_395">395</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Christian Humility,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_410">410</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum" id="page_434">434</span> + Colbert,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_178">178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Company,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_401">401</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Condé, Prince de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Conti, Prince de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_353">353</a>, <a href="#page_356">356</a>, <a href="#page_361">361</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Corbinelli,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_181">181</a>, <a href="#page_217">217</a>, <a href="#page_355">355</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Coulanges, M. de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_368">368</a>-<a href="#page_393">393</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Coulanges, M. de, Letters from,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_425">425</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Coulanges, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_187">187</a>, <a href="#page_212">212</a>, <a href="#page_223">223</a>, <a href="#page_426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Court News,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Courtier, A,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_409">409</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>D</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Dauphiness,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_208">208</a>, <a href="#page_216">216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Death,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Death of Madame de Sévigné,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_428">428</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Departure of Madame de Sévigné,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Descartes (termed <i>Father</i> in the Letters),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_238">238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Devices, Several,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_406">406</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Dreux, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_214">214</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Dubois,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_220">220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Dullness,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_134">134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>E</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Elopement,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_331">331</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Esther, Tragedy of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_283">283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Evening employments,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_400">400</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Expenses,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_415">415</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>F</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Faith in Christ,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_419">419</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Fayette, Madame de La,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_211">211</a>, <a href="#page_212">212</a>, <a href="#page_294">294</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Feuillade, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Fire-eater, The,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_420">420</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Flechier, (see <a href="#footnote_185">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Folly,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_414">414</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Forgiving Mother, A,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_408">408</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Fortune, Calculation of her,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Fouquet, M.,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_205">205</a>, <a href="#page_208">208</a>, <a href="#page_297">297</a>-<a href="#page_329">329</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Fouquet, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_300">300</a>, <a href="#page_303">303</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Free will,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_405">405</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>G</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Gaming,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_404">404</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">General Preface,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_III">III</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Geneviève,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Gourville, M.,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_8">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grammont, Countess de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_182">182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum" id="page_435">435</span> + Grammont, Marshal de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_91">91</a>, <a href="#page_422">422</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Count de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_26">26</a>, <a href="#page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Count de, Letter from,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_427">427</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Count de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_338">338</a>-<a href="#page_346">346</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Madame or Countess, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_28">28</a>-<a href="#page_296">296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Countess de, Letters from,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_424">424</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, Mademoiselle,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_357">357</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Grignan, the young Marquis,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_417">417</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Guiche, Count de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_91">91</a>, <a href="#page_92">92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>H</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Harcourt, Countess de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">History of the Bible,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_423">423</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Home Life,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_411">411</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Hope ever,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>J</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Jealousy,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_414">414</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Jews, their religion,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Joli, Claude,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_29">29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Josephus,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>K</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">King, The (see <a href="#footnote_175">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_410">410</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">King of England,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_265">265</a>, <a href="#page_269">269</a>, <a href="#page_271">271</a>, <a href="#page_280">280</a>, <a href="#page_282">282</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">King of France, Anecdote of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_308">308</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">King of France, Generosity of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_364">364</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>L</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">La Marans,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_76">76</a>, <a href="#page_89">89</a>, <a href="#page_107">107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">La Trousse,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Launoi, Mademoiselle de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Lauzun, Duke de, Marriage of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_369">369</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Lavardin, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_228">228</a>, <a href="#page_234">234</a>, <a href="#page_378">378</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">La Voisin, The prisoner,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_184">184</a>, <a href="#page_190">190</a>, <a href="#page_200">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Liberty at Home,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_411">411</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Liberty of Mind,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_421">421</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Living, Rules of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_399">399</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Longueville, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_89">89</a>, <a href="#page_210">210</a>, <a href="#page_211">211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Lot of Mankind, The,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_414">414</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Louvois, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_381">381</a>, <a href="#page_383">383</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Love, its symptoms,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_408">408</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Luxembourg, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_185">185</a>, <a href="#page_188">188</a>, <a href="#page_192">192</a>, <a href="#page_215">215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>M</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Mainbourg, Father (see <a href="#footnote_132">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum" id="page_436">436</span> + Maine, Duke of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Mademoiselle de Montpensier, Marriage of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_368">368</a>-<a href="#page_373">373</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Maintenon, Madame de (see <a href="#footnote_156">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_181">181</a>, <a href="#page_182">182</a>, <a href="#page_223">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Marriage, The impromptu,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_400">400</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Mary Blanche,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_417">417</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Mary Stuart (see <a href="#footnote_225">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Maxims,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_57">57</a>, <a href="#page_67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Méri, Chevalier de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Montespan, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_118">118</a>, <a href="#page_119">119</a>, <a href="#page_160">160</a>, <a href="#page_396">396</a>, <a href="#page_397">397</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Montmort, Abbé,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Moonlight Walk,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_230">230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Moral Essays,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_422">422</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Moulceau, President de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_347">347</a>-<a href="#page_367">367</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>N</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Namur,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_388">388</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Nicole,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_61">61</a>, <a href="#page_70">70</a>, <a href="#page_72">72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Ninon de l’Enclos,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_8">8</a>, <a href="#page_39">39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Noailles, Duke de (see <a href="#footnote_302">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_348">348</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Nuns of St. Marie,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_422">422</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>O</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Obstinate Son,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_407">407</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Old age,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_425">425</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Order,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_56">56</a>, <a href="#page_416">416</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Order de la St. Esprit,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_255">255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>P</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Pain,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_81">81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Paulina,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_162">162</a>, <a href="#page_164">164</a>, <a href="#page_279">279</a>, <a href="#page_289">289</a>, <a href="#page_291">291</a>, <a href="#page_418">418</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Pecuniary embarrassments,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_407">407</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Philipsburg,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_252">252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Philosophy,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_424">424</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Plessis, Mademoiselle du,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_49">49</a>, <a href="#page_51">51</a>, <a href="#page_60">60</a>, <a href="#page_225">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Polignac, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_363">363</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Pomponne, M. de, his dismissal,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_177">177</a>, <a href="#page_187">187</a>, <a href="#page_193">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Pomponne, M. de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_297">297</a>-<a href="#page_329">329</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Port Royal,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_395">395</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Potable Gold (see <a href="#footnote_148">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_167">167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Preface, General,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Presentiment,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_427">427</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Providence,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_405">405</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Puissort (see <a href="#footnote_278">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_302">302</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>Q</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Quarrels in High Life,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_402">402</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum" id="page_437">437</span> + Queen of England,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_261">261</a>, <a href="#page_271">271</a>, <a href="#page_273">273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Queen of France, Illness of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_312">312</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Queen of Spain poisoned (see <a href="#footnote_149">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>R</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Rabutin-Chantal, Marie de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Racine,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_75">75</a>, <a href="#page_80">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Readings,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_412">412</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Reason, Use of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_405">405</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Reflections,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_396">396</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Regrets,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Reproaches,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Retz, Cardinal de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_114">114</a>, <a href="#page_117">117</a>, <a href="#page_120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Rheims, Archbishop of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Rheumatism,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Richelieu, Cardinal (see <a href="#footnote_199">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_229">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Robbery (see <a href="#footnote_104">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Rochefoucault, M. de la,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_42">42</a>, <a href="#page_82">82</a>, <a href="#page_202">202</a>, <a href="#page_204">204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Rocks, The (Madame de Sévigné’s estate),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Roquette, Gabriel de (see <a href="#footnote_182">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"> <a href="#page_210">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>S</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Saint Simon, Duke of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Scarron, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_74">74</a>, <a href="#page_394">394</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Schomberg, Count de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Schomberg, Madame de (see <a href="#footnote_95">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Selections from various letters,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_394">394</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sermons,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Madame de, and her times,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_5">5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Marguerite de (see <a href="#footnote_11">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Marquis de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_172">172</a>, <a href="#page_183">183</a>, <a href="#page_198">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Marquis de, Letters to,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_330">330</a>-<a href="#page_337">337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Madame de, Death of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_428">428</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sévigné, Marquis de, Extravagance of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_403">403</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Sobieski, John (see <a href="#footnote_86">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Soissons, Countess de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_186">186</a>, <a href="#page_190">190</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">St. Augustine,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_157">157</a>, <a href="#page_414">414</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">St. Cyr,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Submission,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_424">424</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Supper at Madame Coulanges,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_394">394</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>T</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Telescope, The,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_398">398</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Termes, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_168">168</a>, <a href="#page_169">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Thianges, Madame de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Thianges, Mademoiselle de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_341">341</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum" id="page_438">438</span> + Transparencies,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Trappe, La,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Turenne, Marshall de (see <a href="#footnote_49">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_64">64</a>, <a href="#page_126">126</a>-<a href="#page_135">135</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Twilight,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_427">427</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>V</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Vallière, Duchess de la,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_33">33</a>, <a href="#page_104">104</a>, <a href="#page_114">114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Vardes, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_54">54</a>, <a href="#page_351">351</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Vatel,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_44">44</a>, <a href="#page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Vendôme, Chevalier,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_93">93</a>, <a href="#page_94">94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Ventadour, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Versailles in 1676,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_396">396</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Villars, Abbé (see <a href="#footnote_52">note</a>),</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_68">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Villeroi, Marshal de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_189">189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Vivonne, M. de,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_93">93</a>, <a href="#page_94">94</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdch" colspan="2"><b>W</b></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Whims,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Words, The use of,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Work,</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_399">399</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="hr3"> + +<h2 id="toc">TABLE OF CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table class="cs9"> +<tr> + <th>Section</th> + <th style="text-align: right">Page</th> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Preface to the Revised Edition</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_III"><small>III</small></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Madame de Sévigné and her times</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_5">5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters of Madame de Sévigné, + from 1655 to 1669, addressed to the Count de Bussy</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to Madame de Grignan from 1671 to 1690</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to M. de Pomponne</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_297">297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to her son the Marquis de +Sévigné</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_330">330</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to the Count de Grignan from 1670 to 1696</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_338">338</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to the President de Moulceau from 1681 to 1682</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_347">347</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters to M. de Coulanges from 1676 to 1696</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_368">368</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Selections from various letters</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_394">394</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Letters on the death of Madame de Sévigné</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_428">428</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdl">Index</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#page_433">433</a></td> +</tr> 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