PARIS, Wednesday, June 5, 1675.
I have not received any of your letters since that from Sens; you will
therefore easily conceive how anxious I am to be informed of your
health and safety. I am fully persuaded you have written to me, and
complain of nothing but the management, or rather mismanagement of the
post. According to the calculations of your friends here, you should be
by this time at Grignan, unless you were detained at Lyons during the
holidays. In short, my dear child, I have accompanied you step by step
all the way, and am in hopes the Rhône behaved with proper respect to
you. I have been at Livri with Corbinelli; but returned here with all
the haste I could, that I might not lose a moment in seeing our dear
cardinal. The great affection he has for you, and the long friendship
which has subsisted between him and me, have attached me to him very
sincerely; I see him every evening from eight till ten, and I think he
is very glad to have me with him till his bed-time. Our conversation
is constantly about you; this is a subject we are fond of expatiating
upon, and indeed it seems the master-sentiment of both hearts. He is
for coming hither, but I can not bear this house when you are not in it.
The nuncio informed him yesterday that he had just learned by a courier
from Rome that he was appointed to a cardinalship. The pope[108]
has lately made a promotion of his creatures, as it is called. The
crowns are put off for these five or six years, and consequently M. de
Marseilles.[109] The nuncio told Bonvoulour, who went to congratulate
him on his promotion, that he hoped his holiness would not now accept
Cardinal de Retz’s resignation of his hat; that he should use all his
endeavors to dissuade his holiness from doing so, as he had the honor
of being his colleague: so now we have another cardinal, Cardinal de
Spada. Cardinal de Retz sets out on Tuesday; I dread the day; for I
shall suffer extremely in losing so valuable a friend: his courage
seems to increase in proportion as that of his friend diminishes.
[108] Clement X.
[109] Toussaint de Forbin-Janson, Bishop of Marseilles, and
afterward Bishop of Beauvois, was not made cardinal till 1690, at
the promotion by Alexander VIII.
The Duchess de la Vallière pronounced her vows yesterday.[110] Madame
de Villars promised to take me to see it; but by some misunderstanding
we thought we should not get places. Nothing more, however, was
necessary than to present ourselves at the door, though the queen had
given out that the admission should not be general; and, after all, we
did not go. Madame de Villars was very much vexed at it. The beautiful
duchess performed this action like every other of her life, in the
most charming manner possible: she is surprisingly handsome: but you
will be astonished to hear that M. de Condom’s (Bossuet’s) sermon was
not so good as was expected. The coadjutor was there; he will tell you
how well the affair goes on with respect to M. de Paris and M. de St.
Paul; but he finds the shade of M. de Toulon and the spirit of M. de
Marseilles every where.
[110] For more than three years she had only received at court
insults from her rival and unkindness from the king. She remained
there, she said, merely from a spirit of penitence, and added,
“When the life of a Carmelite appears to me too severe, I have
only to call to mind what those persons made me suffer,” pointing
to the king and to Madame de Montespan.
Madame de Coulanges goes from hence on Monday with Corbinelli: this
deprives me of my companions. You know how good Corbinelli is to me,
and how kindly he enters into all my sentiments. I am convinced of his
friendship, and feel his absence; but, my child, after having lost you,
of what else can I complain? It is true that you are interested in my
complaints, because he is one of those with whom I most enjoyed the
consolation of speaking of you; for you must not imagine, that those to
whom I can not speak freely are as agreeable to me as those who enter
into my feelings. You seem to me to be apprehensive that I make myself
ridiculous, and that I am too apt to divulge my sentiments on this
pleasing subject. No, no, my dear, fear nothing; I am able to govern
the torrent. Trust to me, and let me love you, till it shall please God
to take you out of my heart, in order to place himself there; for you
can yield to none but him. In short, my heart is so entirely occupied
with, and so full of you, that finding myself incapable of any other
thought, I have been restrained from performing the devotions of the
season. Adieu, my dear child, for the present. I shall finish my letter
this evening.
I have just received a letter from Macon; I can not yet read it
without the fountain playing its old tricks: my heart is so extremely
sensible that the least thing that affects it quite overcomes me. You
may imagine that, with this fine disposition, I frequently meet with
opportunities to try it; but, pray, have no fears for my health. I can
never forget the philosophy you inspired me with the evening before we
parted; I improve by it as much as I can; but I have such an habitual
weakness, that in spite of your good lessons, I often yield to my
emotion.
Our cardinal will have left me before you receive this; it will be
a melancholy day to me, for I am extremely attached to his person,
his merit, his conversation, which I enjoy as much as I can, and the
friendship he expresses for me. His soul is of so superior an order
that it is not to be expected that his life should be attended with
only common events. He that makes it a law to himself, to do always
what is most great and heroic, must place his retreat in some proper
part of his life, like a shade beautifully disposed in a piece of
painting, and leave his friends to lament it.
How facetious you are, my child, with the newspaper in your hand!
What! can you derive amusement from it already? I did expect that you
would at least have waited till you had crossed the vile Durance.
The conversation between the king and the prince appears to me very
humorous; I think you would have been entertained with it even here.
I have just received a letter from the chevalier, who is well; he is
with the army, and has only had five attacks of the ague: this is one
subject of uneasiness less; but his letter which is full of friendship,
is in the true German style; for he will not believe a syllable of
the retreat of Cardinal de Retz: he desires me to tell him the truth,
which I shall not fail to do. I shall distribute all your compliments,
and I am sure, they will be well received; every body thinks it an
honor to be remembered by you; M. de Coulanges was quite proud of it.
The coadjutor will relate to you the success of his journey; but he
will not boast that he was on the point of being stifled at Madame
de Louvois’ by twenty women, who each supposed they had a right to
embrace him: this occasioned a confusion, an oppression, a suffocation,
of which the bare idea almost suffocates me, accompanied by the most
high-flown, reiterated, and affected compliments that it is possible to
conceive: Madame de Coulanges describes the scene very drolly. I wish
you may have the company at Grignan you mention. My son is well; he
sends you a thousand remembrances. M. de Grignan will be very willing
for me to embrace him, now that he is no longer occupied with the
bustle of the boat.