If I had not had fever and great agitation, Madame, from the sad
employment of yesterday in opening the caskets of Monsieur's papers,
scented with the most violent perfumes, you would have heard from
me earlier; but I can no longer delay expressing to you how touched
I am by the favours that the king did yesterday to my son, and the
manner in which he has treated both him and myself; and as all this
is the result of your good counsels, Madame, be pleased to allow me
to express my sense of it and to assure you that I shall keep, very
inviolably, the promise of friendship which I made to you; I beg
you to continue to me your counsels and advice, and not to doubt a
gratitude which can end only with my life.
_To Louise, Comtesse Palatine._
VERSAILLES, July 15, 1701.
My health is still much weakened; this is the first time for eight
days that the fever has left me. Since the blow that struck me I have
had eighteen paroxysms of fever, and I thought it was the will of God
to end my sad life; but it was not so. I am left with great lassitude
and weakness of the legs, which I attribute to the shock of Monsieur's
death; they continued to tremble for twenty-four hours as if from a
violent attack of fever. Nothing could have been more dreadful than
what I witnessed. At nine o'clock in the evening Monsieur left my
room, gay and laughing; at half-past ten they called me, and I found
him almost unconscious; but he recognized me and said a few words
with much difficulty. I stayed the whole night beside him, and the
next morning at six o'clock, when there was no longer any hope, they
carried me away unconscious.
I am grateful to you for the share you take in my misfortune, which
is dreadful, and I thank you with all my heart. I beg you to let the
Queen-dowager of Denmark know how much I am touched that her Majesty
has remembered me in my trouble.
I have need to find, in my sad situation, something to divert my
thoughts; everything is forbidden to me at present except walking; my
greatest comfort is the kindness of the king, of which he continues to
give me many proofs. He comes to see me and takes me to walk with him.
Saturday was the day when Monsieur was interred, and though I was not
present, I wept much, as you can well imagine.
I have every reason to rejoice in the king's favour, and so has my
son, whom the king has made a very great seigneur. I am well pleased
for him; we live happily together; he is a good lad with very good
feelings.
October, 1701.
My health is now perfect, and to keep it so I drive out as much as I
can. All the others hunt daily with the king, and go twice a week to
the theatre. I am deprived of those things, as you know, and between
ourselves, it is not a little privation to be obliged to forego those
two amusements. I walk out often on foot and go a good three miles
in the forest; that disperses the melancholy that would otherwise
crush me; especially when I hear talk about public affairs of which
I had previously never heard a word in all my life. I should be very
fortunate if I could understand them as you do, but I never could,
and at fifty one is too old to begin to learn; I should only make
myself as annoying and irritating as a bed-bug. Apropos of bed-bugs,
they nearly ate up the little Queen of Spain on her passage up the
Mediterranean in the Spanish galleys. Her people were obliged to sit
up with her all night. She arrived a few days ago at Toulon, and went
from there by land to Barcelona because, so she wrote me, she could
not endure the sea any longer. I would not be in her place; to be a
queen is painful in any country, but to be Queen of Spain is worst of
all.
I must acknowledge that the death of King James has made me very sad;
his widow is in a situation to melt a heart of rock. The good king
died with a firmness I cannot describe, and with as much tranquillity
as if he were going to sleep. The evening before his death he said: "I
forgive my daughter with all my heart for the harm she did me; and I
pray God to pardon her, and also the Prince of Orange and all my other
enemies." The Queen of England cannot be consoled for the death of
her husband, though she bears her sorrow with Christian resignation.
I have nothing new to tell you; I walk and read and write; sometimes
the king drives me to the hunt in his calèche. There are hunts every
day; Sundays and Wednesdays are my son's days; the king hunts Mondays
and Thursdays; Wednesdays and Saturdays Monseigneur hunts the wolf;
M. le Comte de Toulouse, Mondays and Wednesdays; the Duc du Maine,
Tuesdays; and M. le Duc, Fridays. They say if all the hunting kennels
were united there would be from 900 to 1000 dogs. Twice a week there
is a comedy. But you know, of course, that I go nowhere; which vexes
me, for I must own that the theatre is the greatest amusement I have
in the world, and the only pleasure that remains to me.
You are wrong in supposing that I have ceased to read the Bible; I
read three chapters every morning. You ought not to imagine that
French Catholics are as silly as German Catholics; it is quite another
thing,--one might almost say it is another religion. Any one reads
Holy Scripture who chooses. Nobody here thinks the pope infallible,
and when he excommunicated Lavardin in Rome everybody laughed and
never dreamed of a pilgrimage. There is as much difference in France
from the Catholic of Germany as there is from those of Italy and Spain.
Those who wish to serve God in truth and according to His word should
read Holy Scripture every day; otherwise we sit in darkness. I am
persuaded that good religion is founded on the word of God, and
consists in having Jesus Christ in the heart; all the rest is only the
prating of priests. Of whatever religion we be, it is only by works
that true faith is shown, and only by them can it be judged who does
right. To love God and our neighbour is the law and the prophets, as
our Lord Jesus Christ teaches us.
I heard yesterday, through a letter from my aunt, the Electress of
Brunswick, of the death of our poor Charles-Maurice. I am sincerely
afflicted by it, and I pity you from the bottom of my heart. If
Charles-Maurice had not loved wine so much he would have been a
perfect philosopher. He has paid dear for his fault, for I am sure
that drunkenness shortened his life; he could not keep from drinking,
and he burnt up his body.
If the Court of France was what it used to be one might learn here
how to behave in society; but--excepting the king and Monsieur--no
one any longer knows what politeness is. The young men think only of
horrible debauchery. I do not advise any one to send their children
here; for instead of learning good things, they will only take lessons
in misconduct. You are right in blaming Germans who send their sons
to France; how I wish that you and I were men and could go to the
wars!--but that's a completely useless wish to have. The higher one's
position in life the more polite we ought to be in order to set a good
example to others. It is impossible to be more polite than the king;
but his children and grandchildren are not so at all. If I could with
propriety return to Germany you would see me there quickly. I love
that country; I think it more agreeable than all others, because there
is less of luxury that I do not care for, and more of the frankness
and integrity which I seek. But, be it said between ourselves, I was
placed here against my will, and here I must stay till I die. There
is no likelihood that we shall see each other again in this life; and
what will become of us after that God only knows.