THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 12, 1680.
So, I have written a sermon without thinking of it! I am as much
surprised at this as the Count de Soissons,[198] when he was told he
had made prose. It is true, I feel myself disposed to do all honor to
the grace of Christ. I do not cry out, as the queen-mother did in the
excess of her zeal against those vile Jansenists, “Ah! fie, fie upon
grace!” I say the contrary, and can bring good vouchers for it. Since
you have imparted to me your visions, with regard to the fortunes of
your brothers-in-law, I will tell you sincerely that I was afraid the
air of a house, where saving grace was sometimes talked of, might have
injured the Abbé de Grignan. Thank heaven, I have done no more harm
than yourself; and if I am silent for the future, as I ought, and
certainly shall be, it will not be from the fear of injuring any one.
Your young bishops are seldom suspected of this heresy. I have just
been writing to the chevalier: he has absolutely forgotten me, and as
he is not infected with the Grignan indolence, it may be a serious
business.
[198] It is singular that Molière should have found in a nobleman
the most laughable instances of ignorance, with which he endows
his _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_.
Your great building, my dear, is begun to-day; Du But will do all he
can to hasten the workmen. There was no possibility of commencing
sooner, and there is time enough to complete every thing. I send you
a letter of Madame de Lavardin’s, by which you will see what are her
sentiments. I am almost tempted to send you likewise a very long letter
I have received from Madame de Mouci, in which she takes pleasure
in acquainting me with every thing she has done relatively to this
marriage; she has made choice of me, in preference to any other person,
to communicate the whole of his conduct to. She is in the right; the
second volume is worthy the admiration of any one who had read the
first. She seems happy in taking every opportunity of loading M. de
Lavardin with favors, by means of the influence she has over his
mother. She has made her give a thousand pounds worth of pearls; she
has made her give all the fire-irons, stoves, candlesticks, tables,
and silver waiters, that were worth having; handsome tapestry, fine
old furniture, with linen and dressing gowns, which Madame de Mouci
selected herself. Her heart takes this method of avenging itself;
but for her it would have been a mere village wedding. She has made
her give considerable estates to her son, and, to crown all, she
will manage so that the new married couple will not live in the same
house with the mother, whose overbearing temper, and rigid observance
of hours, would by no means suit the young couple. Madame de Mouci
delights in displaying to me the liberality of her soul, and I am
amazed to see the extraordinary manner in which she contributes to
M. de Lavardin’s happiness. The desire of being singular, and of
distinguishing ourselves by stepping a little out of the common road,
seems to me to be the source of many virtues. She writes me word
that she should be very happy if I were at Paris, because I should
understand her; no one else being able to comprehend what she is doing.
She adds besides that I should die with laughing, to see the grimaces
Madame de Lavardin makes, every time the devil of avarice is cast out
of her by the power of her exorcisms. The poor lady seems perfectly
exhausted, _like the nuns of Loudun_.[199] It must certainly be a very
comic scene.
[199] Alluding to the _Histoire des Diables de Loudun_, History
of the Devils of Loudun. It is well known that the fierce
hatred of Cardinal de Richelieu, the maneuvers of the Capuchin
Joseph, and the cruelty of the judge, Laubardement, caused
the unfortunate curé Urbain Grandier to perish in the flames,
as convicted of the crime of magic, “upon the deposition of
Ashtaroth, devil of the order of Seraphims, and chief of the
possessing devils, and Eusas, Cham, Acaos, Zebulan, Nephthaim,
Uriel, and Acas, of the order of the principalities.” These are
the terms of the sentence.
I have also received some very entertaining letters from the
Marchioness d’Huxelles. The fair widows do wonders. Madame de Coulanges
assures me, that she is to set out on the 20th for Lyons; she writes me
a thousand trifles. This city will become the source of all the private
intelligence of the court; but do you suppose she will communicate any
of this precious commodity to the inhabitants?
I had a visit the other day from an Augustin friar, a poor creature,
a very poor creature indeed. He assumed the airs of a preacher, but I
answered his pompous ignorance only with a smile of contempt; he still
went on, till at last I was strongly tempted to throw a book at his
head. I fancy Madame de Coulanges will be ready to reply in the same
way to the ladies of Lyons. Young Coulanges will be with you; he has
given up M. de Chaulnes and Brittany for Lyons and the Grignans. I am
quite of his opinion, my dearest child, and my greatest joy would be to
make one of your party. Ah! how I should like to sup in your delightful
grotto! How pleased I should be with M. de Grignan’s music, and those
beautiful passages in the opera, which have often made my eyes glisten.
Oh! it would be a charming party. Your house is a little town. Really,
to reflect upon our situations and dispositions, it might be supposed
some magic change had been wrought upon us. And yet, to the honor of
both, you fill your exalted station admirably, and shine as in your
proper sphere; while I and my humble fortune seem fitted for the woods,
and the solitude I inhabit. The truth is, I am assured from whence all
this comes; it is necessary to raise our eyes to Heaven, after having
long kept them fixed upon the earth.
The other evening one of my people told me, “that it was very warm
in the mall; that there was not a breath of air stirring, and that
the moon shone with the finest effect imaginable.” I could not resist
the temptation, so on I put bonnets, cloaks, capuchins, and all the
needless defenses you could wish; and forth I sallied to the mall,
where the air was as mild as in my own room. I found there a thousand
fantastic illusions of the night, black and white friars, linen
scattered here and there, black men in one place, others buried upright
against trees, little dwarfs who just showed their heads and concealed
the rest of their bodies, priests who dared not approach me, etc., etc.
After having laughed heartily at all these figures, and fully convinced
ourselves of the true origin of what are called spirits, apparitions,
that play their farces in the theater of our imaginations, we returned
to the house without sitting down, or feeling the lest dew. I beg your
pardon, my dear child, but I thought myself obliged, after the example
of the ancients, as the foolish fellow we met in the gardens at Livri
used to say, to show this mark of respect to the moon; I assure you I
have sustained no injury from it.
There has fallen to me, out of the clouds, one of the prettiest
calambour[200] chaplets in the world; this is doubtless because I tell
my beads so well. The best ball to the best player, you know. This
chaplet has a cross of diamonds hanging to it, with a death’s head of
coral; _I have certainly seen that vile face somewhere_. Tell me, I
beseech you, how it found its way to me at such a distance? In the mean
time, I shall not tell my beads without considerable musings; I am of
opinion that it will occasion greater distractions. I wait your answer
on this subject.
[200] _Calembour_, _calambouc_, or _calambac_, are knots of
the aloe-tree round which the resin collects and hardens by
incorporation. This calembouc held to the fire emits a fine
perfume. The aloe-tree grows in the woods of Cochin-China.
Have you heard the story of Madame de Saint-Pouanges? They concealed
it a long time from me, lest it should prevent me from returning to
Paris in a carriage. This lady was going to Fontainebleau, for we
should let no advantage slip, where she pretended she should be highly
entertained; she had a very pretty place at court, was young, and
had a taste for all the pleasures suitable to her years; she adopted
the fashionable mode of setting out at six o’clock in the evening,
and driving post, so as to get in about midnight. But, listen to the
consequences: her carriage was overturned by the way, a piece of
broken glass pierced through her stays into her body, and she died of
the wound. They write me word from Paris that she lost her reason,
between the pain the surgeons gave her and the mortification of dying
in the bloom of youth. Is not this a curious adventure? If you know it
already, it will be ridiculous to tell it you a second time; but it has
made a strange impression on my brain. It seems Madame de Nevers[201]
has made one, on the greatest head in the world, and has turned another
smaller one quite topsy-turvy; but I do not find that this has been
attended with any serious consequences.
[201] Madame de Nevers, the daughter of Madame de Thianges, was a
perfect beauty. The _greatest head_ is the king; but it was not
true that he had designs upon her, as it was said she had upon
him. The other _smaller head_ was the duke, the son of the great
Condé, who was really very much in love with her.
The king took the sacrament on Whitsunday. Madame de Fontange’s
influence still continues brilliant and solid; but what are we to think
of this friendship? I have received a letter from M. Pomponne, in the
midst of his retirement, of which I am more proud than if it had been
from amid all the splendor of St. Germain. It is there he is again
become as perfect as at Frêne. Ah! how excellent a use does he make of
his disgrace, and what charming company he is in!