THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 10, 1671.
I am going to entertain you to-day, my dear child, with what is called
rain and fine weather. I had not your letters till Friday, and I
answered them the Sunday following. I begin then with the rain, for
fair weather is out of the question. For this week past it has rained
incessantly; I say incessantly--for the rain has only been interrupted
by storms. I can not stir abroad, my workmen are all dispersed, and I
am devoured with melancholy; La Mousse, too, is very low-spirited. We
read, indeed, and that just keeps us alive. My son is gone to Rennes,
whither we thought it necessary to send him, to pay a visit to the
first president, and several other friends that I have there; if he
has time, I shall prevail on him to go and see Monsieur de Coëtquen;
he is old enough now for these things. There was a ball at Vitré again
on Sunday. I very much fear that my son will become too fond of the
company of ten or a dozen men that supped with him the other night
at the castle of Sévigné; they may be borne with, but he should be
very cautious of forming too great an intimacy with them. A dispute
arose between two of the party about some trifle or other; the lie was
given; to it they went; the company endeavored to part them; there
was a great deal of talk and very little sense; however, monsieur le
marquis[38] had the honor of making up the difference, and afterward
set out for Rennes. There have been great cabals at Vitré: Mademoiselle
de Croqueoison complains that, at a ball the other day, Mademoiselle du
Cerni did not offer her part of some oranges she had. We must hear what
Mademoiselle du Plessis and the Launayes have to say on this subject,
as they know all the circumstances relating to it. As to Mademoiselle
du Plessis, she lets all her affairs at Vitré run to ruin, because she
will not stir in them, from the fear of making me jealous on account
of her new friend; and it was but the other day that, to make me quite
easy, she said as many ill-natured things of her as she could. When it
is fine weather, this nonsense makes me laugh, but when it is bad and
gloomy, I could give her a box on the ear, as you once did. Madame de
Coulanges writes me word that she has heard nothing of Brancas, except
that out of his six coach-horses he has only one left, and that he was
the last person to discover it. I hear no news. Our little Alégre is at
her mother’s, and it is thought that M. de Seignelai is to be married
to her. I suppose you are in want of persons to furnish you with
intelligence; for my part, I despise trivial occurrences; I am only
for those that surprise and astonish; such a one I met with this very
morning while the abbé and I were in his study together. We found, in
reckoning with those counters of his which are so good, that with all
that has fallen to me, I ought to be worth 530,000 livres.[39] Do you
know that what our dear abbé has left me will not amount to less than
80,000 francs? And do you think I am not impatient to be in possession?
And 100,000 francs from Burgundy; this has come since you were married,
the rest, viz.: 100,000 crowns by my marriage; 100,000 crowns since by
M. de Chalons, and 20,000 francs, in little legacies, from one or two
of my uncles; but do you not wonder whither my pen is running with me?
I should do much better to tell you what I suffer every day, when I
reflect in what places Providence has destined us to pass our lives.
This is a continual source of uneasiness to me, but let it not be so
to you; you have not the same reason; you are with a husband that
adores you, and in the midst of honors and splendor; but endeavor, if
possible, to work some miracle in your affairs, so that your return
to Paris may be retarded only by the duties of your post, and not
from necessity. It is very easy to talk thus; I wish it was as easily
carried into execution, and wishes are not forbidden us. They write
me word that Madame de Valavoire is at Paris, and that she is forever
talking of your beauty, politeness, wit, talents, and, in short, of the
new head-dress you have invented, which it seems you have executed in
as good a style as if you had been in the midst of the court. Madame de
la Troche and I have at least the honor of having described it so well
as to put you in the way of performing these wonders. She is at Paris
still, that La Troche. She is going to her own house about the latter
end of this month. As for me, I do not know what the States intend
doing; but I fancy I shall run away for fear of being ruined. It is a
mighty pretty thing to put myself to the expense of near a thousand
crowns in dinners and suppers, and all for the honor of keeping a
summer-house for M. and Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Rohan, M. de
Lavardin, and half Brittany, who, without knowing any thing of me,
will, to be in the fashion, honor me with their company. Well, we shall
see how it will turn out. I shall only regret leaving M. d’Harroüis
and this house, before I have half finished my business. But, my dear
child, the greatest inclination I have at present is to be a little
religious. I plague La Mousse about it every day. I belong neither to
God nor to the devil. I am quite weary of such a situation, though,
between you and me, I look upon it as the most natural one in the
world. I am not the devil’s, because I fear God, and have at the bottom
a principle of religion; then, on the other hand, I am not properly
God’s, because his law appears hard and irksome to me, and I can not
bring myself to acts of self-denial; so that altogether I am one of
those called lukewarm Christians, the great number of which does not
in the least surprise me, for I perfectly understand their sentiments
and the reasons that influence them. However, we are told that this
is a state highly displeasing to God; if so, we must get out of it.
Alas! this is the difficulty. Was ever any thing so mad as I am, to be
thus eternally pestering you with my rhapsodies? My dear child, _I ask
excuse_, as they say here; but I must chat with you, it is so truly
delightful to me. Be sure, however, not to return me an answer, only
let me hear of your health, with a little spice of your sentiments,
that I may see that you are happy, and that you like Grignan; that is
all. Love me; though we have turned the world into ridicule, it is
natural, it is good.
[38] Meaning her son, the Marquis of Sévigné.
[39] Upward of 20,000_l._ sterling, reckoning a livre at 10_d._
halfpenny.