THE ROCKS, Sunday, Sept. 22, 1680.
You are so much of a philosopher, my beloved child, that there is no
such thing as giving vent to the transports of the heart with you.
You are continually anticipating hopes; and you pass over the joy of
possession, to contemplate the hour of separation. Believe me, we ought
to manage differently the blessings which Providence has in store for
us. After having made you this reproach, it remains with me honestly to
confess that I deserve it as much as you do, and that it is impossible
for any one to be more alarmed at the cruel rapidity of time, or to
have a stronger foretaste of those sorrows which generally follow in
the train of pleasures. In short, my child, this life is a perpetual
checker-work of good and evil, pleasure and pain. When in possession of
what we desire, we are only so much the nearer losing it; and when at a
distance from it, we live in the expectation of enjoying it again. It
is our business, therefore, to take things as God is pleased to send
them. For my part, I am resolved to indulge myself in the delightful
hope of seeing you, without any mixture of alloy.
You are very unjust, my love, in the judgment you pass upon yourself;
you say, that though people at first think you agreeable, upon a longer
acquaintance they cease to love you; it is precisely the reverse; you
have a certain air of superiority that makes people afraid of you, and
despair of ever being admitted into the number of your friends; but
when once they know you, it is impossible not to be attached to you;
and if any of your acquaintance seem to shun you, it is only because
they love you, and can not bear the thought of not being so much loved
in return as they wish. I have heard many persons extol the charms of
your friendship to the skies, and afterward reflect on their own want
of merit, which prevented them from preserving that happiness; thus
each blames himself for a degree of coldness; but where there is no
real cause of complaint on either side, it seems only to require a
little leisurely conversation to be good friends again.
I have a great desire to read Terence; nothing could give me greater
pleasure than to see the originals, of which the copies have afforded
me so much pleasure. My son will translate to me satire against foolish
amours;[211] he ought to be able to write one himself, or at least to
profit by this; if the situation he is in at present does not correct
him, I know not what will. We read books of controversy; one has lately
been published[212] in answer to the Prejudices, to which I wish M.
Arnauld had replied; but I fancy that he has been forbidden; and it is
thought more advisable to leave this book unanswered, though it may do
injury to religion, than to permit the publication of another that may
serve to justify the Jansenists from the errors with which they have
been reproached; but more of this another time. I have been promised
the coadjutor’s speech, but I have not yet had it; my son and several
others speak highly in its praise.
[211] She, no doubt, alludes here to the well-known description
of the extravagance of lovers, which is to be found in Terence’s
Eunuch, Scene I. beginning in these words:
In amore hæc omnia insunt vitia, etc.
[212] Written by the Protestant minister Claude, entitled, “A
Defense of the Reformation against the ‘Well-founded Prejudices’
of M. Nicole.”