had much better have been fricaseed in snow*, than tossed up in so high a sauce. I am only afraid that you will not find the affair so very extraordinary as it really is; but take this with you, that the beloved, or the hated person rather, who is the cause of all this, appears no more concerned at it, than if it was a simple cold in the head. I think such conduct deserves to be severely punished; and I am astonished that M. de la Reinie †, who is so excellent a civil magistrate, has made no provisión against crimes of this kind. I hope, my child, you will take the very first opportunity to inform me, when you perceive a change likely to happen in your affairs: I am aware it is not the case now; but you know it may be the work of an instant. I am sure, my dear countess, you are convinced that I wish, as much as you can possibly do, to see and embrace you once more; and, if we cannot fall upon a method of annihilating the distance that separates us, we must even follow the footsteps of our forefathers, and make on each side every possible advance towards a closer contact; I am sure it will be the most agreeable task I can propose to myself. Use your endeavours to reconcile me with M. de Grignan. If he would cover me with confusion, he has nothing more to do than to be in full health. We think and talk of him every day in our mall, and often say how dexterously he would drive the ball to the end of it in two strides and a half. I entreat my dear little marquis not to neglect that game, nor any thing else that may render him agreeable; he cannot be too much so: embrace him for me, and my sweet Paulina also; and do not forget my compliments to the mesdemoiselles de Gri * Ninon l'Enclos used to say of M. de Sévigné, that he was a perfect fricasee of snow. + Lieutenant-general of police, gnan: but with all this I seem to forget you, my beloved child: however, say to yourself on my part whatever is tender and affectionate. FROM M. DE SÉVIGNÉ. I AM very desirous to say something to you that may tally with the style of this letter; but that is impossible, for several reasons: besides, I am in a very ill humour; the cause my mother has glanced at. I see no one who can do me justice for the vile treatment I have received, unless it be M. de la Reinie. Had I in any way brought it upon myself, I should have laid the blame at my own door; but who would imagine, that a person we have seen sitting in presence of the queen, as one of her companions, could treat a man as she has treated me, 'and that she should propose such a ridiculous method of cure as she has done? I imagined that my dislike to her person, added to the natural frigidity of my temperament, would have been my safeguard; but unhappily I was too good-natured, and I have taken a most cruel way to give the lie to the disgraceful reports that were spread concerning me. You must acknowledge, my dear sister, that this is a curious way of entertaining you; but what affects me the most, will always be uppermost. I will not embrace you; no, not even kiss your hand; it is not that perhaps I am not very well, but that perhaps I am very ill. This is a very mortifying alternative, and perhaps is a comical fellow, as our friend said. I am M. de Grignan's very humble ser vant. Oui, mon frere, je suis un méchant, un coupable, Un malheureux pécheur rempli d'iniquité*. * Yes, brother, I am a wicked, guilty man, an unhappy sinner full of iniquity. See Act III. Scene vi. of the Tartuffe. FROM MADAME de sévigné. WHAT can be said to so honest a confession? Indeed I am terribly frightened at that same perhaps. Heaven knows what may be the event! My ever dear and ever good child, adieu ! LETTER DCLXIII. TO THE SAME. The Rocks, Sunday, Sept. 8, 1690. Ir is renewing the pangs of separation, to discover to me, as you do, what grounds I have for apprehension. Do you recollect our reflections upon the loss of Charleroi, at the very time that Montal had been for more than a fortnight in possession of the place, which he had relieved? I find that I had just the same causeless apprehensions in regard to your furniture, which was safely arrived; I am glad to have been deceived in this respect, and hope the day will at length come, when we shall be able to talk with more certainty. At present we shoot at such a distance, that it is next to an impossibility to hit the mark. I wait with great impatience for the decision which is to do such credit to your prognostications. Your brother is looking out for a wife from another quarter. We have been under terrible apprehensions; thank Heaven they proved at length to have been false alarms, and a few anodyne potions will finish the affair, It was a mere trifle; nothing more than the overflowing of the bile, occasioned by the heat of the medicines he had taken at Paris. I assure you it is no small joy to us all to be thus delivered from our fears. I find then that you have left off bathing, my child. The relief you have found from it in your colic, without your lungs suffering, is surprising. I am charmed to find that you are returned to your afternoon's nap; indulge it, my child, for it will be a means of strengthening you after the weakness which the warm bath generally occasions. Montgobert continues to oblige me, by giving me a true and particular account of your health. She seems to be so happy in your recovery, and I consider myself so much indebted to her for it, that I can hardly think this line of Corneille's applicable to her: Qu' importe de mon cœur, si je fais mon devoir ? On the contrary, I think we might turn it thus, "What signify my humours, my oddities, or my jealousy, if my heart does its duty ?" I have received two of her letters together; she owed me the account of the success of the bathing: she has told me of the humorous letters you all wrote the other day to M. de Coulanges: she likewise tells me what an infinite crowd of company pours in upon you from all sides; I can hardly think it possible for one roof to contain such a number of perI fancy you will yet have an addition in your three brothers-in-law; at least, the chevalier writes in a way that makes me think so. Yours is really a sons. strange kind of retirement; ours begins to lose its name; my son has introduced new life amongst us. The good princess goes on as usual; she makes one at ombre with my son and M. du Plessis; and, that I may come in for my share of amusement, she now and then gives me a turn at reversis. All this is very sociable: however, to keep up the appearance of solitude at least, I bave had a shady walk made, almost as long as the What signifies my heart, if I do my duty ? great one, which I call my Hermitage: it is so beautiful, and so finely planted, that my son ought to kiss the prints of my footsteps, every time I walk in it; but as they amount to near twelve hundred a day, and it would be rather too violent exercise for him in the present heated state of his blood, I shall give him credit for this mark of gratitude till a future day. I have made use of your name, in order to oblige the princess to desist from teasing me with invectives against her poor daughter, who is a thousand miles off; and by dint of telling her how happy she is, and asking her what she can desire more, I have at length brought her to write in affectionate terms, and that from her heart too; for her husband is not only rich and great, but is likewise a man of real merit. I have even persuaded her to pay her a visit next year; in short, my dear, I have done wonders. She desires a thousand and a thousand kind remembrances to you, and is of opinion, that we are perfectly in the right to love each other as we do. I have said all that is to be said about Brancas's visit to mademoiselle de Coulanges: be under no apprehension that he will make it like the one he paid us at Vitré. Thoughtless as he is, he will take care to do nothing that can injure himself; he is more likely to mistake Lyons for Avignon, and forget that he was to go thither. I have also answered beforehand the article of M. de Pamiers*. Poor Sanguin is dead; he was an honest worthy creature! his family are inconsolable: here is a blue ribbon vacant; if his post † does not go to his son, would to God M. de Grignan could have it; nothing could better suit the noble deportment for which he has ever been remarkable; and it is the best See the Letter 21 August. + That of head master of the king's household, which M. de Sanguin had purchased of marshal Bellefond. ་ |