world. They were in the true newspaper style, for they were articles from Copenhagen and Oldembourg; in short, I wrote down all I knew.

It is true, that there is a soul, a tendency of mind, in a certain country, which might follow the steps of mothers and grandmothers, if care were not taken to turn the current another way. The sprightliness, and desire of pleasing, is very great, while the want of beauty is thought nothing of; it is a trifling circumstance which seems to be overlooked, or at least to have no effect. All this furnishes infinite matter of conversation, which fills up the interregnum*.

You have stopt my mouth with the reasons you opposed to mine on the prince's journey. My good correspondence is all at an end. Madame de Coulanges is gone, and little Coulanges with her, and is to call upon you. He tells me, that the very day on which he wrote to me, the abbé Têtu had given a dinner to mesdames Schomberg, de Fontevraud, and de la Fayette, without inviting madame de Coulanges, and that I may judge by this circumstance of the disgrace of my friend. Tanto t'odiaro, quanti t'amai (I hate thee as much as I once loved thee), is my opinion.

Poor La Troche is in great affliction at the death of her good uncle de Varennes, who died lately at Bourbon. She no longer sends me any news; I must therefore write to you at the princess's expense. She invited me to dine with her on Thursday; to-morrow I am to invite her here, which will finish all. I had a fricasee, and a tart, upon my mind, and not being able to vie with her in many respects, I am determined at

* This seems to express, in terms that are purposely mysterious, the situation of the king and madame de Maintenon, which she herself described in these words: "He always goes away in despair, though he is never repulsed.”

least to have the satisfaction of owing her nothing in collations. She speaks of you with an affection that pleases me. She will take your compliments in good part, and will be pleased to find that you, as I do, side with her daughter. She attributes her niece's agitation merely to an ignorance of what is the matter with her*. She says it is a violent fever, and that she knows it to be $0. You are aware I cannot pretend to contradict her. I have acquainted mademoiselle de Grignan with the tragical story of father Payen. If instead of attempting to reason with the robber, and endeavouring to conver him, he had only said, "I am only taking a walk, sir, for my amusement," he might perhaps have still been at Notre-Dame des Anges: but he had not invention enough: it comes from the good abbé's, who has revealed it to none but ourselves. Besides, father Payen was booted, and dirty; so that the excuse would not have done so well for him as for us. It is certain that no persons can have been more exposed, or better preserved, than we have been. How many pleasant days have we passed in questa diletta parte, al cielo si cara (in that delightful spot, to heaven so dear)! The greatest violence we ever experienced, was that upon poor Marion. You often prepared your mind for much greater disasters; do you remember it? But you have never been fortunate enough to have your virtue and courage put to the trial. In short, my dear, as the old proverb says, "they are well protected whom God protects." I know not how he has protected your brother in his precious amours; let me know what your opinion is:

*Madame de Tarente believed that Madame was in love with the king. If any thing could confirm this singular suspicion, it would be the violent jealousy this princess, naturally mild and amiable, displayed with regard to madame de Maintenon, in the fragments of her letters which have been published.

he is going to Flanders; I am sure he will return here again as soon as he can.

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. This is very amusing. As for your father Malebranche, I understand but too well his meaning, by that curious impulse † of his. I had rather be silent than argue in such a way. We may plainly see, that he does not say what he thinks, nor think what he says. Excuse the play of words; but this is so much my opinion, that I could not help writing it.

It seems, then, that you are no longer accustomed to philosophise, though you are to arguing. I do not pity you, where you are. I only pity myself for being condemned to live at such a distance from you, at a period of life when I have so little time to spare. The good abbé would willingly have a glass or two of the wine which bestows ten years of life: he was greatly pleased with the thought of the wine, and of growing young again. He was the other day covered with nosegays in honour of his birth-day; he remembered the pretty lines you wrote last year on the occasion. They were indeed pretty! He hopes to see you once more in his pleasant abbey, at the mercy of thieves and wolves, and

all that could have happened to Marion. Though he is now in his seventy-fifth year, he enjoys a good state of health. You say the same of yourself. God grant it may be true! there is nothing I so ardently desire. Adieu, my dearest child; you are the delight of my heart and of all my mental faculties.

LETTER* DCLI.

FROM MADAME de sévigné to the Count de bussy.

The Rocks, July 28, 1680.

I WAITED till you were at the cover, my dear cousin, and in reality, you have beaten a great extent of ground. I am delighted that poor little Langhac is well, and that you are at last returned to philosophise and moralise usefully in your own house; for it is impossible to think as you do, without being well armed and well fortified against the cruel and obstinate attacks of ill fortune. In fifty years, it will be all equal, and those who are now the happiest, will have passed, like the rest, into the resistless tide which carries all before it. Reflect seriously on your side, as we do on ours, and continue to love us in spite of the distance which separates us. I, you know, am accustomed to love at the distance of two hundred leagues; judge, therefore, whether you may not depend on me. The Provençale is tolerably well, but the time of her return is still uncertain. Mine, I fancy, will be towards the end of the year. We have the same amusements with us that you have with you. Nothing occupies the mind so agreeably as making alterations in the house and gardens, but your beautiful situation at Chaseu leaves no room for improvement. I shall never forget your sheep and your meadows, nor your conversation and hospitality.

LETTER DCLII.

FROM MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ TO THE COUNTESS DE GRIGNAN,

The Rocks, Wednesday, July 31, 1680.

Ir cannot be denied that we are a little cloudy: the delay of a post, a letter detained, fills us with painful apprehensions. But let us not send our grumblings so far; let us keep them to ourselves on each side; let us spare the post-boys the trouble of conveying backwards. and forwards the reasons we know so well how to frame for ourselves, and let us mutually pardon each other the little follies which are inseparable from a friendship more cruelly divided than any other I know. I wonder sometimes why it has pleased Providence to cast us at such a distance from each other. The princess de Tarente is much better reconciled to the exile of her daughter*, and they keep up a pretty good correspondence together. I gave her as handsome an entertainment on Monday as I could. I had recourse to my neighbours for some partridges, which are scarce here; every thing else is plentiful, and good. Our good Marbeuf was one of the party. She has been here only one day, and two at the princess's. She is going back to the Chaulnes family at Rennes, who, by the bye, have sent their compliments of inquiry to know if they should wait on us here. The princess sent back what answer she pleased, in her own language. I said No, on my part, and that I would accompany the-princess to pay my respects to them; and that she would gladly volunteer a visit, having no intention to disturb the so

*See Letter, July 21.