TO M. DE GRIGNAN. How have you been able, my dear count, to keep yourself from being pierced through, and utterly consumed, exposed as you have been, the whole winter, to the fire of those eyes, of which your charming wife has given me so humorous a description? A person thus employed may live any where, and every where: and your Provence seems the best adapted of any other place to the exercise of this fine talent; for there are always birds of passage: but where I am, one may perish for want of supplies. I am delighted with the visit you paid to M. de Louvois. There are certain things respecting which expense should not be regarded: Montanègre has suffered more than you in that way. I conjure you not to let my daughter answer this letter; it is a monster in bulk: but I have nothing to do; I am in perfect health, and it is my greatest pleasure to prattle to her. LETTER DCXXXIII. TO THE SAME. The Rocks, Wednesday, June 5, 1680. Ar 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 the Moral Essays speaks so humourously, 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 thus 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 one of them, whichever it may be, without a desire to read it through. Some are religious tracts, that do honour 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 bye-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*: 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 embel * 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 honours of her house, which she humorously called skimming her pot. lishment 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. 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 ridicu lous. The favour of her female friend (madame de Maintenon) still continues. The queen accuses her as 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 cannot conceive, my dear, how you could think your presence was an obstacle to the fortunes of your brothers; you are not formed to be the image of ill luck. You have not a sufficiently good opinion of yourself; and as to your saying that your fire-side hindered the chevalier from making his court, by rendering him inactive, let me tell you he has only changed fire-sides, and that fortune found him out in his own chamber, muffled up in flannels with the rheumatism. The abbé de Grignan was in despair; he would have given his chance for an old song, when suddenly, by a chain of things too long to tell you now, he is presented, accepted, and actually in possession of one of the prettiest bishoprics in France. How are you now, my dear? this is no bad provision: who knows what may happen? I consider futurity as a dark road, in which the traveller may find light and accommodation when he least thinks of it. M. de Lavardin is going to be married* in good earnest; and madame de Mouci + 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. 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 cannot 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 had 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 Britany, 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 * To Louise-Anne de Noailles, sister to Anne Julius duke of Noailles, and marshal of France. Marie de Harlaie, sister to Achilles de Harlaie, at that time attorney-general, and afterwards first president of the parliament of Paris. 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 DCXXXIV. TO THE SAME. The Rocks, Whitsunday, June 9, 1680. So then it seems, that with regard to attention to history, you are what I am with respect to the chaplet *, you cannot tell what Justin treats about. Young de Biais said, that she had seen something of the conversion of St. Augustin at the end of Quintus Curtius; you might say the same, and yet you will not let me say, my daughter has too much understanding. As you are not at all the fatter for being ignorant, let me advise con over the old lessons of your father Descartes. I you to wish you could have Corbinelli with you just now; I think he would amuse you. For my part, I find the days insupportably long; I think they have no end: seven, eight, nine o'clock, still broad day! When any of our ladies honour me with their visits, I run immediately to my work, for I do not think them worthy of sharing with me in the pleasures of my walks. When * See note to the letter of the 12th of May. |