cient). We are just arrived at this city, so delightfully situated: I can never pass by the foot of a certain tower*, without remembering the poor cardinal and his melancholy end, still more melancholy than you can imagine however, I shall pass over this subject altogether, as I have a thousand things to say upon it, which are, perhaps, better unsaid, and it may please Providence to give us an opportunity, some day, of discussing it to the bottom.

Well then, here we are at M. d'Harouis's, welcomed and attended, as if at home. I dread lest M. de Molac, who is here, should come and repeat to me, twenty times over, as he did, you know, once when you were with me, "You should have sent me word of this! you should have sent me word of this!" Do you recollect this folly? In the interim I am employed in reading a packet of yours that I have received; it is the only pleasure I have, though, I assure you, it does not come unattended with emotion: this is a natural consequence my love for you.

of

Indeed, indeed, my dear child, you write too much; you destroy your poor constitution; it will never hold out, if you do not manage it a little better, and curb your pen when it is running away with you: so delicate a state of health as yours, requires care and cir

* The tower of the castle of Nantes, to which cardinal de Retz was sent from St. Vincennes, the 12th August, 1654, and from whence he made his escape the latter end of the same month.

+ The Dictionnaire Historique says, that he lived like Catiline, and died like Atticus. This exaggerated comparison as to his life, seems to be very conjectural with respect to his death. Atticus starved himself to death, to terminate the sufferings of an incurable fistula. Nothing of this kind is known of cardinal de Retz. Madame de Sévigné has said before, that a week's fever terminated his existence. But notwithstanding this, she implies, in this letter, that his death was violent, or rather, perhaps, that it was unchristian.

cumspection. It is true, that the subjects you treat would suffer under any hand but yours: nevertheless, you must be careful of yourself; I hope you will amend in this particular; and now I answer your letter.

In the first place, then, I hope you did not rank me in the number of those who wished for your departure, since nothing can be more grievous to me, than to be separated from you; but speak the truth, and take to yourself all the honour which is justly your due; say that you love M. de Grignan, who, indeed, is deserving of it, and that you were charmed with an opportunity of obliging him. I have more than once remarked, that you could not be completely happy, when he was far from you. He has a politeness and complaisance that are more capable of influencing you, and of drawing you to the further end of the world, than the conduct of any other person: by always making you the mistress of your own actions, he makes himself the master of them: this is natural to him; but if such a heart as yours required any skill to manage it, he has found the true method. Through all his complaisant yieldings, you saw what was his wish, and you determined to indulge that wish. He should, therefore, be a little more explicit in regard to such very expensive excursions, or you should give your reasons a little more peremptorily, since it is surely for the common interest of both, to lay aside the part of governors, which you play but too well for your own interest. You will say this is idle talk, as the thing is done; and that nothing therefore remains, but to repair the disorder as well as possible. I have received M. de Grignan's letter, which is a very polite one; he wishes to convince me, that I ought not to entertain an ill opinion

of him, and gives his reasons so well, that I have not a

word to say.

Your little apartment shall be fitted up according to your own directions; I fancy the workmen are to set about it to-day: honest du But is to be superintendant. Surely, my dear child, we may hope for some better destiny, than to be separated at such a distance from each other, as we are at present: you are very fortu nate to have given such orders as to your estate of Entrecasteaux, and to find it thrive so well. I very much fear I shall meet with the contrary in this neighbourhood: I shall, however, inform you of every thing.

I have read your letter over again this morning, and I cannot comprehend why you would include me in the every one, who you say wished you gone; this is a reflection I am not acquainted with. I shall find time to think of it, though I am no longer in a boat: I fancy I have judged better of the true reason of your departure. You may comfort yourself, for the expense of the Aix journey, by reflecting, that M. de Grignan would not have spent less had you not been with him, that his return would also have been attended with expense: think too of the necessity there would have been for fine clothes for the dauphiness's wedding; and lastly, that this journey may, perhaps, have determined the fate of mademoiselle de Grignan. Thus Providence has ordered every thing for the best. All this has offered itself to my imagination, by way of consolation for a thing that is past, and consequently no longer in our power, and of which we talk only for talking's sake; but at the same time I must ask you very seriously, if it is really possible that you could have entertained a thought, that I was pleased to see you go, and in such a situation? By your answer, I shall judge what you think

of my affection for you, and in what manner you can reconcile two such contraries.

Adieu, my dearest child! I cannot reproach myself with a thought relative to you, that is not perfectly conformable to that inviolable love I have always expressed for you.

Nantes, Tuesday night, May 14.

I have this moment received your packet; and though the post is ready to set out, I cannot forbear writing a line or two, to thank you and my pretty Paulina for your kindness. You have fatigued yourself terribly, my child; pray take some rest, and be careful how you throw yourself into such a state again. Follow the advice of La Rouviere; I shall make it a matter of no small merit on his side with madame de Thianges, that he has cured her brother *; I wish he had cured you also.

We have formed a very just opinion of the prior of Cabrieres, he is a true Mock Doctor: nevertheless, madame Coulanges writes word, that, in making his faggots, he has made a cure of madame de Fontanges, who is returned to court, and who, on the very day of her arrival, received a most flattering visit. It seems the king will have the prior settled at Paris, and he goes back only to come again.

The comparison of Carthage and your apartment is equally just and beautiful, it speaks for itself; I love these sprightly sallies. Would you think it? I have shut myself up to-day, purposely to be at leisure to write to you; and have, with unparalleled rudeness, shut my doors against all the ladies: I had to answer M. de Grignan, and to finish this letter, without reckoning a

Marshal de Vivonne,

thousand notes that I have received from my other friends. Adieu; on Saturday you shall hear from me: again. Let me know if your journey has not injured you: ours has not been attended with a single inconvenience.

LETTER DCXXVIII.

TO THE SAME.

Nantes, Friday, May 17, 1680.

want of my

I ASSURE you, my child, I am heartily tired of this place; neither M. de Molac, nor the ladies, with all their civilities, can comfort me for the woods; for I no longer think of Paris. The Rocks! the Rocks! I sigh for the Rocks! I long for my Rochecourbière*; I long to rove through those delightful alleys, instead of being confined to a society that affords. me no pleasure. 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 † 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 honour 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

* A very pleasant grotto in the gardens at Grignan, in which to rest when tired with walking.

+ Innocent XI., who passed for favouring the Jansenists, merely because he took no steps against them.