THE COURTSHIP OF PIERRE COSTE AND OTHER LETTERS
Pierre Coste would be quite forgotten to-day if, by a singular piece of
good luck, he had not translated Locke's _Essay_ into French. Born at Uzes,
in Southern France, in 1668, Coste fled to Holland at the Revocation of the
Edict of Nantes. Though accepted as a minister by the Synod of Amsterdam,
he appears never to have fulfilled pastoral duties. He knew Latin, Greek,
and Hebrew; he had studied divinity; so to earn a living, he became a proof
reader. In spite of his precarious condition, he seems to have had friends
in high places, Charles Drelincourt, for instance, professor of medicine at
Leyden University, and physician in ordinary to William of Orange and Mary,
and Jean Le Clerc, the author of the _Bibliotheque universelle_.
On the latter's advice, Coste learned enough English to translate Locke's
_Thoughts concerning Education_. The favourable reception of the work
induced him to undertake a translation of the _Essay on Human
Understanding_: Locke heard of this and, in order to supervise the work,
he invited Coste to come over to England. Locke was then living with Sir
Francis Masham, at Oates, in England. Coste quite naturally became the
tutor to the young Mashams, none being more qualified to apply the
principles of the _Thoughts concerning Education_ than the translator.
Coste lived on at Oates till Locke's death in 1704. He subsequently became
tutor to the son of the Earl of Shaftesbury, the author of the
_Characteristics_. We can trace him to Paris, following the chequered
career of a man of letters; thence he went to Montpellier and Rome,
wandered about Germany and Holland, returned to England, and finally found
his way back to Paris, where he died in 1747.
Like all the "Dutch journalists," with the exception of Bayle and Le Clerc,
he was merely a compiler and translator. Besides Locke, he translated
Newton, Shaftesbury, Lady Masham. He published editions of Montaigne and La
Fontaine; he wrote a life of Conde. Original work he never sought to
achieve. "I have no ambition," he writes, "if I had, I should be unable to
satisfy it." He is no more than a good-tempered, careless Southerner. With
nothing of the Camisard about him, he invincibly recalls one of those
sunny, self-possessed sons of Provence. Surely it was an accident of birth
that made him a native of the Cevennes, he should have come into the world
a little lower down in the valley of the Rhone. Of course he is often
insolvent, but when the duns clamour, a generous patron never fails to
interfere. The great people he meets do not impress him; on the contrary he
laughs at their foibles most indulgently. The background in which these
eminent men live lends piquancy to Coste's letters; but the difficulty of
understanding the allusions is somewhat irritating. The impression is that
of a black void faintly illuminated by intermittent flashes of light. There
is, however, some slight compensation in the recreating work of filling up
the gaps with surmises.
Coste's correspondence we do not intend to publish in full. A selection
must be made. All that concerns the relations between "Dutch journalists"
and English writers interests the history of comparative literature. The
information about Locke and the spread of his philosophy in France, must be
carefully treasured up. But there are also familiar letters which throw the
most vivid light on the life of some French refugees in Amsterdam. Thanks
to them we shall know something about the man as well as about his works.
I
COSTE AND THE ENGLISH WRITERS
One of the letters printed below tells how Coste came to know Locke.
"Speaking of that doctor (Drelincourt), I must say I have had the occasion
to write to a famous English physician named Locke, of whom you have so
often heard me speak. Yesterday I received a book with which he had been
kind enough to present me. I shall thank him at the earliest opportunity."
It appears that the success attending the operation performed by Locke on
the first Earl of Shaftesbury in 1668 was not to be eclipsed by the
publication of the _Essay_. Contemporaries spoke in the same breath of
Locke and Sydenham as great physicians.
Into Coste's life at Oates we can get only a few glimpses, just some
recollections jotted down long after Locke's death. Thus, on 8th January
1740, Coste wrote to La Motte, the "Dutch journalist," to complain about
the "cape" with which the engraver had adorned Locke's portrait, heading an
edition of the _Traite de l'Education_. Locke, he said, had never been a
physician. "He could not bear being called a doctor. King William gave him
the title and Mr. Locke begged an English lord to tell the King that the
title was not his."
The anecdote clears up the mystery contained in a letter of Bayle. In the
first edition of the famous _Dictionary_ (1698) Bayle had mentioned
"Doctor" Locke. For Bayle as for every one in Holland who remembered the
first Earl of Shaftesbury, Locke was a celebrated physician. Locke
corrected the mistake, probably through the medium of Coste; but Bayle
failed to understand. "I am very sorry," he answered, "that he has taken
so ill the granting of a title which will do him no harm in any reader's
mind."[283] Bayle was not aware that Locke had been denied in 1666 his
doctorship by the hostile Oxford authorities. Locke's behaviour is a
characteristic instance of hard-dying resentment.
In February 1705, there had appeared in the _Nouvelles de la Republique des
Lettres_, an "eloge" or kind of obituary notice on Locke.[284] After a
short account of the philosopher's life, followed some details on his
character, among which it may be read that he was impatient of
contradiction and easily roused to anger. "In general, it must be owned, he
was naturally somewhat choleric. But his anger never lasted long. If he
retained any resentment, it was against himself for having given way to so
ridiculous a passion; which, as he used to say, may do a great deal of
harm, but never yet did the least good. He would often blame himself for
this weakness." The following passage in one of Coste's letters may serve
to illustrate that general statement: "I remember that conversing one day
with Mr. Locke, the discourse happening to light upon innate ideas, I
ventured this objection: what must we think of birds such as the goldfinch
that, hatched in the parents' nest, will fly away at last into the open in
quest of food without either parent taking the least care, and that, a
year later, know very well where and how to find and select the material
necessary for building a nest, which proves to be made and fitted up with
as much or more art than the one in which they were hatched? Whence have
come the ideas of those materials and the art of building a nest with them?
To which Mr. Locke bluntly replied: 'I did not write my book to explain the
actions of dumb creatures!' The answer is very good and the title of the
book 'Philosophical Essay Concerning Human Understanding' shows it to be
relevant." By the way, in alluding to the strange workings of heredity,
Coste had come unawares upon the strongest argument in favour of innate
ideas.
After Locke's death, a quarrel broke out among his friends. Anthony
Collins, the free-thinker, loth to admit of a single objection to his
master's theory such as he conceived it to be, thought that both Le Clerc
and Coste were pursuing a deliberate plan of disparagement and resolved to
denounce them publicly. In 1720, one of his dependents, the refugee
Desmaizeaux, published a volume of Locke's posthumous works, prefaced with
an attack on Coste. Le Clerc, whose explanation had been accepted, was
spared.[285] "M. Coste," wrote Desmaizeaux, "in several writings, and in
his common conversation throughout France, Holland, and England, has
aspersed and blackened the memory of Mr. Locke, in those very respects
wherein he was his panegyrist before."[286] No trace remains of the
written strictures. A hitherto unpublished letter explains and justifies
Collins' resentment. Reviewing a pamphlet of one Carroll against Locke, the
Catholic _Journal de Trevoux_ happened to say: "Such is the idea
entertained in England about Mr. Locke whom a _Letter written to Abbe Dauxi
by Mr. De La Coste_ charges us with slandering. The printed letter has been
circulated in Paris.... We are pleased to see English writers judge their
countrymen in the same way as ourselves. Perhaps the exaggerated praise
that M. Le Clerc heaps upon his friend Mr. Locke, is a more decisive proof
that we have found out the latter's impiety."[287] On receiving the review,
Coste indignantly denied having written the _Letter to Abbe Dauxi_. The
attitude of the Trevoux reviewers he failed to understand. "Their synopsis
of the _Essay_ appeared to me very good, as far as I remember, and Mr.
Locke, to whom I read it, was pretty well satisfied."[288] To show that his
feelings toward his patron were unchanged, Coste reprinted his "eloge" in
the second edition of his translation of the _Essay_ (1729), adding these
words: "If my voice is useless to the glory of Locke, it will serve at
least to witness that having seen and admired his fine qualities, it was a
pleasure for me to perpetuate their memory."
In Coste's papers information abounds on the corrections he made to the
several editions of his translation of Locke. It would be an invidious task
to transcribe the long lists of errata that he sends to faithful La Motte,
who seems to supervise the work of the press, but it may prove interesting
to know the names of great people on the Continent who are to receive
presentation copies of the _Essay_. They are "the nuntio in Brussels, the
Duchesse du Maine, M. Remond in Paris, Abbe Salier, sub-librarian to the
King."[289] In 1737, he mentions the success of the _Thoughts concerning
Education_, reprinted in Rouen, upon the fourth Dutch edition. But the
_Reasonableness of Christianity_ fell dead from the press, the Paris
booksellers not having a single copy in 1739.
On the spread of Locke's ideas on the Continent, Coste's letters bear out
the evidence to be gathered elsewhere, notably from the Desmaizeaux papers
in the British Museum. While the _Thoughts concerning Education_ and the
_Essay_ were eagerly read, no one seemed to care about the social compact
theory, toleration, or latitudinarian theology. As early as August 1700,
Bernard writes to Desmaizeaux from the Hague that "Mr. Locke's book in
French sells marvellously well." In 1707, according to Mrs. Burnet, the
Bishop of Salisbury's wife, the _Essay_ was extensively read in
Brussels.[290] In 1721, Veissiere informed Desmaizeaux that he had
presented the chancellor in Paris with "a miscellaneous collection of
pieces of _Look_, in English," and received profuse thanks. The same year,
another correspondent from Paris congratulated Desmaizeaux upon the
publication of "_M. Look's_" posthumous works, and begged for information
on the meaning of the words _gravitation_ and _attraction_, "the English
language," he added, "not being quite unknown to me." This, of course, was
before Voltaire had "discovered" either Locke or Newton and summed up for
the benefit of his countrymen their respective contributions to the
advancement of anti-clericalism and free thought.
But it must be borne in mind that Peter Coste was not entirely engrossed in
translations of Locke. One day, he gave La Motte his appreciation on
Richard Cumberland's _De legibus naturae disquisitio philosophica_ "written
in so rude a style one does not know whether it be Latin or English....
Those defects," he added, "have disappeared from Barbeyrac's translation."
But an "English gentleman, a friend of Mr. Locke, with whom he studied in
the same college at Oxford," has undertaken to publish an abridged edition
"ampler than the original one and still less readable."
At another time, Coste was interested in a less serious book, Richardson's
_Pamela_. The famous novel had just appeared unsigned. With Southern
rashness, Coste met the difficulty of authorship with a wild guess. "I
heard about _Pamela_ in Paris, but I never read even a word of the book."
However, he knows who wrote it, "'Tis M. Bernard, the son of our friend
(the editor of the _Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres_) and minister
to a French Church in London. I know it as a fact. The success of the work
caused no doubt the author to let out the secret, which he had kept at
first by publishing his work in English."[291] The eagerness with which
these cosmopolitan writers seize upon any successful book, is both amusing
and instructive.
To one of his correspondents Coste wrote about the same time: "I am, have
been, and will remain all my life, to all appearances, in continual
torment." It was a weary old man who talked on in that way. Fortune had
ceased to smile. Now let us turn to another scene: Peter Coste, in all the
confident strength of early manhood, is writing a series of letters of love
which the author of _Pamela_ would have surely appreciated.
II
LETTERS OF COSTE TO MADEMOISELLE BRUN[292]
In 1694, one Brun, a native most probably of Languedoc, in partnership with
a fellow-countryman of the name of Rouviere, established himself as a
trader in Amsterdam. The two merchants took a house in the most busy part
of the city, the Heer-Gracht. They were both married. Madame Rouviere being
still young, speedily became a confidante for the daughters of her
husband's partner. Three of these lived in Amsterdam, the fourth had
married a refugee, her father's business agent in London. To make this home
circle complete, another name must be mentioned, Mademoiselle Durand,
destined to marry a gentleman, M. de Bruguiere, and according to the
etiquette of old France to be henceforth styled "Madame."
It appears that Coste, the press-corrector, would be a frequent visitor at
the house in the Heer-Gracht. There he met his friend, the journalist De La
Motte. An intimacy naturally grew up between Coste and one of the
daughters. Whenever they had to part for a time, he used to write either to
her or to her sisters and friends. She answered occasionally. Only one of
her letters is extant.
I
MADEMOISELLE,--(He has been ill, has delayed answering. Compliments: the
letter received has delighted him.) We must love you well to rejoice in
hearing how well you are diverting yourselves at the Hague, while here we
drag on our miserable lives without the least pleasure. You seem slow to
believe us so unhappy, for you speak of our garden and the study therein as
of an earthly paradise. But you are greatly mistaken if you imagine the
place, which appeared so charming when you were there, is still so, when
you are there no longer. It's quite another thing. Your absence has
disturbed everything. Our garden yields no more fruit. Even the weeds no
sooner spring but they wither.... Such desolation is not limited to our
garden, all Amsterdam feels it. Which reminds me of a conversation that
took place over a fortnight ago in a house where I happened to be in good
company.... A Fleming who had come from the Hague two days before, told us
how charming a place it was.... I know the reason well, said I to myself:
"Which proceeds neither from the magnificent throne
Of his British Majesty,
Nor from the Ambassadors that are gathered together here
To appease the upstirred hearts
Of all the princes in Europe.
One speedily sees, unless one be a mole,
That two Iris's have caused the vast change
And therefore
If in our business city
Such charms are not to be found
As in the large Dutch burgh,
It is because those Iris's are not there."
... Ah! had I been able, I should have simply laughed from Leyden to Harlem
and leapt for joy from Harlem to Amsterdam. But that would not have been
more possible than for Mlle Durand to come into the world before Mlle
Rouviere.[293] When I take thought, I reflect that at bottom you do me the
favour to send me your love as well as to Mlle Prades and M. de La
Motte....--COSTE.[294]
II
[The letter is addressed to "Monsieur Convenent, conseiller d'Orange, pour
rendre a Mademoiselle Durand, a la Haye." Written about the same time as
the preceding.]
MESDEMOISELLES,--We thought we had to thank you only for the honour you did
us to inform us on Saturday that you would welcome us with pleasure in your
company to Leyden.... (usual old-fashioned complimentary phrases).
You no doubt wish to know what became of us after the fatal moment of our
parting from you. We went on board feeling very sad, and now talking, now
holding our tongues, lying down, leaning, yawning, dozing and sleeping, we
reached Harlem. Those that did not sleep, heard the nightingale and the
cuckoo sing.[295] I was of the number as well as Mlle Isabeau who, hearing
the cuckoo sing, softly breathed quite a pretty song. She would have sung,
but the glory to gain was too little with a cuckoo for a rival. As to the
nightingale, she dare not try her strength against his, for fear of
failure. There is risk everywhere, yet I believe that, had she had the
courage to enter the lists, she would have come out victorious. As to M.
Rouviere, he woke up only when compelled to leave the boat, and cross the
town of Harlem. Do you know what he did to sleep so soundly? He made me
promise to read him some of Madame Des Houlieres'[296] poetry, paying me
for my trouble, of course. He handed me an apple, on condition I should
read until he fell asleep, and I won the apple very soon. I had not read
six lines before I laid down the book to eat my apple, and there was no
further need to take up the book.
Having crossed Harlem, we went on board once more and met in the boat a
great talker, just back from England, a brother to M. Vasserot; he left us
only the liberty to listen and to ask a question now and then, to compel
him to change his subject. The talk was all about England....
Though I long to see you, I prefer being deprived of your presence to
enjoying it, if your stay at the Hague may help Mlle Durand to recover
health, which with all my heart I wish she will do.... I shall be as
careful to tell you all that happens here as Mlle Durand must be to note
all she feels in order to instruct M. Drelincourt. Talking of that doctor,
I have had occasion to write to a famous English physician, named Locke, of
whom you have heard me so often speak. Yesterday I received a book with
which he was kind enough to present me. I shall thank him at the earliest
opportunity. If Mlle Durand thinks it proper, I shall send him an account
of her sickness, begging him to point out what remedies he thinks fit....
COSTE.
III
[From England, where Coste is staying, he writes a series of letters, by
way of pastime, no doubt, when not engaged in the austerer task of
translating the _Essay_, under Locke's immediate supervision.]
_To Mademoiselle Suson and to Mesdemoiselles Isabeau and Jeannette to beg
them to prevail upon Mademoiselle Suson to take up a pen._
MADEMOISELLE,--You love me little, in spite of your fine protests; or you
know little what true friendship is. 'Tis not punctilious, as you feign to
think. You are not witty enough, you say, to answer my letter. 'Tis untrue,
an't please you; but even if it was so, must we be witty to write to a
friend? Let us only consult our hearts, and utter what they feel. As to
terms, a friend never stops to criticise them. Heavens! whoever amused
himself with reading a letter from a friend with a dictionary and a grammar
in his hand, to find out some obsolete word or sorry turn of phrase?
Friendship is not irksome, and it is one of the finest privileges a friend
has when writing to a friend, to say all he chooses to say in the way he
chooses without fearing anything. He ventures everything and runs no risk.
That freedom is the best part of friendship; without it I should not care a
button (je ne donnerois pas un clou) for that sweet union so boasted of, so
rare, so seldom known.
If this is not enough to induce you to write, I shall have recourse to
three or four intercessors that have more power perhaps over your mind than
I.
I begin with Mlle Isabeau. The worst soldiers are always placed in front of
the army, because, if they run away, all hopes are not lost. I act in the
same way. I do not trust Mlle Isabeau very much. According to her temper,
she will fight for or against me. Maybe she will be neither for nor
against, and should I find her in that fatal frame of mind, it would be
idle for me to say: "Now, Mlle Isabeau, a line or two, please. Take pity on
a poor lonely man who has scarcely lived since your going away. You can
make him spend some sweet moments in writing to him, send him only four
lines, or at least beseech Mlle Suson to write." _She does not answer._ "Is
it possible, Mlle Isabeau, for you to have forgotten me so? Are the
promises"--_She speaks to the wall._ If I become more pressing, I may
elicit a crushing reply. So I turn to Mlle Rouviere who will speak up for
me, I am sure, and in such moving terms that Mlle Suson must surrender.
"Who are you talking about?" she will say. "About that Englishman who would
like perhaps to be with us here. What does he want? A letter from Mlle
Suson. Well, you must write to him to-day, without fail. Give me the
letter, I shall get it posted. Now, there's a merchant just stepping into
the warehouse, I must go and see what he wants, I shall be back in a
moment, excuse me, won't you, business above all." Oh, the fatal motto, the
cursed merchant! the troublesome fellow but for whom I had carried my suit.
Mlle Suson said nothing. She was half convinced by Mlle Rouviere's natural
eloquence, together with that good grace inseparable from whatever she says
and which it is impossible to withstand.
But let us not lose heart! I have still my reserves to bring up. What Mlle
Rouviere has only tried, Mlle Durand will accomplish without so much ado.
"The poor fellow," she will say, "he is right. Let us write to him without
haggling." And immediately, taking a large sheet of paper, she will write
this or something like:
_You are right to blame my sister's carelessness. Since we think of you
sometimes, it is just to tell you so. That will please you, you say; I am
very glad of it, and--well--you may depend upon it._
No doubt Mlle Suson will follow that example and go on with the letter. I
therefore thank Mlle Durand for the four lines and all the others that
Mlle Suson will add, since it is through her intercession that I get them.
If you still resist, Mademoiselle, I shall send Mlle Jeannette forward as a
sharpshooter that, if he dared, would fight furiously for me. But she will
attempt something and say: "Why, certainly, sister, you should write to
him!" She would say more but she is afraid you will reply: "Jeannette, mind
your own business." If you venture as far as that, I shall tell you that
you take an unfair advantage of your birthright and that she is right in
advising you to keep your promise.
But we must not come to that pass. I am sure that Mlle Rouviere, Mlle
Durand, and Mlle Isabeau (I write the name down with trembling) will have
determined you to fulfil your promise, and that you will listen with
pleasure to what Mlle Jeannette says to strengthen you in your resolve.
I had written this when I received Mr. De La Motte's last letter in which
he informs me that you have begun a letter to me. So I have no doubt you
wish to write to me. You have begun. 'Tis half the work. Take up the pen
again and get the work over.... If you have not the leisure to write a long
letter, write a short one. I shall always receive it with profit.
I beg of you to assure Monsieur your father and Mademoiselle your mother of
my humblest regards. I have seen their granddaughter, your niece, a very
pretty child. Whenever I go to London I shall not fail to see her, as well
as Mlle Gigon, whom I ask you to greet from me when you write to her. I am,
etc.--COSTE.
IV
[To congratulate Mlle Durand on her marriage.]
TO MADAME DE BRUGUIERE
MADAME,--I shall not want many words to persuade you that I heard the news
of your marriage with much joy (usual florid compliments). You have above
all a kind inclination for your husband. Yes! that last is not wanting, I
have it from good authority, and it was absolutely necessary. 'Tis that
gives relish to marriage, which, without it, would, according to those
skilled in the matter, be only a dull, insipid union.... I present my
compliments to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Rouviere and wish them a happy New
Year. I take part in the joy of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Brun and in that
they will soon have of being once more grandparents.
_N.B._ Pardon me, please, Madame, the liberty I take to inclose a letter to
Mademoiselle Suson.
TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON
MADEMOISELLE,--Though a marriage has deprived me of the so-long-wished-for
pleasure of receiving one of your letters, I am quite ready to write to
you before receiving an answer to this letter and to those that I have
already written to you to congratulate you on an adventure similar to your
sister's.... I received, Mademoiselle, a very courteous letter from your
good London friend, and I answered it two days later. There's a hint for
you! But I wish to have the merit of perfect resignation, to suffer without
complaining. Mlle Gigon mentions Messieurs Malbois and Mace as persons in
good health. I do not know whether I shall be able to see them this winter.
M. De La Motte sends me word that you have received my last letter and
finds I have pretty truly sketched your characters.
I do not withdraw what I said about Mlle Rouviere's natural eloquence. No
one can take it from her, without taking her life too, but I know not
whether she has the goodwill I credited her with in my letter. Had Mlle
Rouviere spoken in my favour, she would have moved you, and the bride would
not have failed to make you take up your pen, had she deigned to set you an
example. But I do not see that you were either stirred by Mlle Rouviere's
persuasive speech or enticed by Mme de Bruguiere's example.... I thought
Mlle R. would speak for me, that Mme de B. would take up a pen to encourage
you to write.... As to Mademoiselle Isabeau, she cannot deny it, I have
drawn her portrait after nature.... The heat of passion at seeing my letter
did not last long. Like a heap of straw that blazes up, it cooled down
almost as soon as it burst out....
As to Mademoiselle Jeannette, I am sure she did what she could for me. I am
much obliged to her for her zeal. Please excuse the blots in my letter. I
have not the leisure to copy it out.... Adieu, Mademoiselle, love me always
as I love you or almost.--P. COSTE.
V
[Coste writes twice to complain of her silence.]
TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON DE BRUN, AT AMSTERDAM
MADEMOISELLE,--I see that in friendship as in love (the two passions are
much akin), who loses pays. For the last six months you have been promising
to answer my last letter, and, now I am beginning to despair of seeing the
wished-for answer, you tell me, "Could you not, Monsieur, write to me
sometimes without exacting an answer...." You know too well the price of
your letters not to lavish them upon me. You will not have them match my
own in number.... I was charmed with your letter, I cannot keep silence
about it, I read it over many times and shall read it again....
Your artless compliment upon the New Year, went home. It quite moved me. I
am very glad to see that my tastes quite agree with your own. That makes
me believe I am reasonable. I have no ambition, and if I had, I should be
incapable of satisfying it. I am very little encumbered with money and in
no condition to amass much, however that may be necessary to the regard of
the world. When I dwell on all that, I sometimes fancy it would be as well
for me to leave this world quickly, as to linger on in an everlasting
circle of toilsome vain occupations, but coming soon after to think that I
have a few good friends in this world, I say to myself, that it is worth
while living to enjoy so sweet a pleasure.--COSTE.
VI
TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON BRUN
MADEMOISELLE,--For your intention of writing to me, I owe you at least one
letter. See how much obliged I should be to you if you deigned to carry out
your intention. I do not care to reproach a friend. But I congratulate
myself in mildly rebuking you, if I thereby oblige you to write. Lay your
hand on your conscience. Have I not a right to complain a little? I have
been writing for over a year and you have not once thought of answering me.
I know that friendship does not stand upon ceremony, but can it put up with
such carelessness? No, Mademoiselle. You know too well the delicacy of that
charming passion, which is the keenest pleasure of high-born souls, not to
agree with me....--COSTE.
VII
[Two significant letters follow, one of which is the young girl's answer.]
MADEMOISELLE,--Having opened a few days ago one of the finest books written
in this age, I read these charming words: "To be with those we love is
enough. To dream, talk, keep silence, think of them, think of more
indifferent things, but to be _near them_, is all one."
I could not see those words, Mademoiselle, without thinking of you, and I
could not help adding: "What a torment it is to be far from her whom one
loves." After thinking of that, I could not help writing.
I do not know whether you will take this for sterling truth; I mean to say,
whether you will believe what I say. I am persuaded that you will not be in
the least tempted to doubt my sincerity; but I do not know whether you will
make much account of it. Here you are accused, you Dutch people, of loving
only bills of exchange. As for me, I know a man who would value more highly
than gold, however bright it may be, a compliment from you that would be as
sincere as the one I have just paid you. I am, etc.--COSTE.
OATES, _6th February 1699_, O.S.
Pay the bearer 99,000,000,000 and a few millions,
within six days, on sight.
Mademoiselle Suson Brun, the Her-Gracht, Amsterdam.
VIII
THE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE
MONSIEUR,--I am in receipt of yours of the 6th inst., and seeing you have
drawn on me a bill of 99,000,000,000, I shall not fail to meet it when due;
if there is anything in this city that I can do for you, I am yours to
command. That is, Monsieur, the extent of the business gibberish I have
acquired in five years' time. If you ask me only to acknowledge the receipt
of your letter, you are now satisfied; but I should not be if I did not
speak a language less barbarous and more intelligible than that one to
persons like you and me. So I shall tell you, Monsieur, that of all the
letters that I have received from you, none pleased me more than the last.
You ever love me, you say, and if you read some sweet thing, you remember
me; I own I did not dare expect that from you; not but that I know you to
be a sincere and true friend, but I was afraid of the distance, the fine
ladies you would find in England and the persons of merit[297] you see
every day; but above all I was afraid of human nature, unfit, it is said,
for constancy; I beg your pardon, Monsieur, if I have confounded you with
so many people from whom you deserve to be distinguished, as much on this
score as on others already known to me ere I was convinced of the last.
If the esteem I have for you was not of the highest, it would no doubt
increase on discovering in you so rare a virtue, for I terribly love kind
friends, and though of a sex to whose lot levity falls, nothing would pain
me more than to cease loving one I had loved: what pleasure therefore it is
for me who have loved, love, and will love you all my life, to have a
friend such as I should wish to have! Ever love me, dear Monsieur, and
believe that the brightness of gold, though I am in Holland, will never
cause me such pleasure as the mere thought of having a friend tried by
time. But I know not of what I am thinking. You ask only for a compliment
and I am returning professions of love and lengthily too; no matter,
compliments are only compliments, that is to say speeches generally devoid
of meaning and that are far from expressing the true feelings of the heart,
consequently they would be unfit to express the sincerity of the friendship
I entertain for you; for
Of loyal friends if the fashion is lost,
_I_ still love as women loved of old.
I write down those lines with a trembling hand, not knowing very well how
that sort of thing must be put, but the lines express so fully my meaning
that I thought you might overstep the rules, if the rhythm is not right;
however that may be, you must be persuaded that such are the feelings of
your kind friend.
(From Amsterdam, _3rd March 1699_.)
IX
[A gap in the correspondence. Two years later Coste writes the following
letters.]
TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON
... Last century, you were infatuated with wit, you say, and you thought
yourself bound to write in a sublime style. Don't tell me that,
Mademoiselle. I know you too well to believe that of you. I know that last
century your mind had depth and strength and you were strong-minded; you
wrote well, knowing what tone to assume and never departing from it. If
that be a fault, you are not rid of it at the beginning of this century....
As for me, I fancy that a charming shepherdess who, after talking to her
shepherd about rain and fair weather, suddenly said without regard to
connection in subjects: "Oh, dear Tirtis, how I love thee!" would persuade
him far better than a more witty shepherdess who, coming more skilfully to
the point, said: "See the lamb yonder, how pretty it is, how charmingly it
frisks about the grass, it is my pet, I love it much, but, dear Tirtis,
less than thee!" That is more witty but not so moving, if I am to believe
those skilled in the matter....
"Yes, in my heart your portrait is engraved
So deeply that, had I no eyes,
Yet I should never lose the idea
Of the charming features that Heaven bestowed on thee."
X
TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON BRUN
[The last letter has caused him much disquiet. Suson has fallen ill of
"languor and melancholy".]
A peace-loving creature has brought you back to health; and you think
yourself thereby protected against all the malicious reflections of our
friend. Asses' milk may cool the blood, enliven the complexion and restore
the healthful look that you had lost,
"But its effect reaches not unto the heart."
If the sickness should be in that part, you must needs be wary; you might
still remain ill a long time, in spite of your asses. There are remedies
against love, but none are infallible. Such is a great master's decision.
See whether it would be becoming for an ass to gainsay it.... Proud as you
should be and delicate to the utmost, I do not think you in great danger
in the country where you are. So I deem you quite cured. You may proclaim
your victory, and, since you wish it, I shall proclaim it with you.... As
for me, if I was to discover that you had allowed yourself to be touched by
the merit of a gentleman who would feel some true tenderness for you, I
should not esteem you the less, provided that love did not deprive me of
your friendship. And, between you and me, I have some doubts on that
score....--COSTE.
XI
[There were grounds to the feelings of jealousy shown in the last letter.
No explicit record is left of what happened. But ten years later Coste, now
married to Marie de Laussac, the eldest daughter of M. de Laussac, an army
chaplain in England, writes to his once dear Suson, since become the wife
of one La Coste, a refugee living in Amsterdam.]
TO MADEMOISELLE LA COSTE, IN AMSTERDAM
MADEMOISELLE,--Then it is true that you complain of my not writing. Never
was a complaint more agreeable. I should have accounted it a great favour
at such a moment for you to think of me sometimes and to ask Mr. De La
Motte news of me when you meet him. That is all I had hoped from you till
Mlle. Isabeau's condition changes. But I did not yet know the extent of
your generosity. I hear that, in spite of your ordinary and extraordinary
business, you find time to read my letters and answer them. I own frankly
that I should doubt it, had not Mr. De La Motte taken the trouble to assure
me it was so; and though I dare not suspect him of wishing to make sport of
me in so serious a matter, nothing can reassure me but the sight of one of
your letters.
Then another motive of fear just comes to my mind: in spite of your good
intentions, you might not keep your promise, under pretence that my letters
need no answer....
Much love and many thanks to all your family. I mean thereby the three
houses, nay, the fourth also soon to be founded. I should like to see
little Marion again before setting out for Germany. I kiss her with all my
heart and am, with a most particular esteem, Mademoiselle, your humble and
obedient servant.--COSTE. 20th June 1712. From Utrecht.
* * * * *
These quaint letters call for little comment: is it not better to let the
curtain drop on their mysteries and leave the story its charmingly
indistinct outline? One or two remarks must suffice.
[Illustration: PIERRE BAYLE
After Chereau]
Pierre Coste seems very anxious to clothe his thoughts in appropriate
literary dress, and his anxiety is shared by Suson. At times the tone
strikes one as so conventional that Coste might be suspected of insincerity
if one did not bear in mind that even the language of true love must follow
the fashion. At any rate Suson is sincere, and nothing is more touching
than her very awkwardness when she tries her hand at the "sublime style."
It is hardly possible to improve upon this very obvious statement without
venturing upon unsafe ground. These old-fashioned lovers' emotions are
tantalisingly unintelligible. Mark that they write to each other quite
openly without even hinting at marriage. No doubt a wealthy merchant's
daughter could not wed a penniless tutor, but then the Bruns, Durands, and
Rouvieres are respectable members of the French congregation in Amsterdam
over whom watches a Consistory as strict on questions of morality as a
Scottish Kirk. So we must fall back upon the hypothesis of a platonic
friendship paralleled in England by no less eminent contemporaries than
Locke[298] and Bishop Burnet.[299] Perhaps these letters of Coste shed some
light on Swift's _Journal to Stella_.
Yet another observation may be added: though the tragic element is absent,
there is pathos, if it be pathetic for exiles to sigh after their native
land. Pierre Bayle called Paris the earthly paradise of the scholars,
Barbeyrac said that Amsterdam was fit only for merchants to live in. Coste
could not brook the Dutch, and Suson laughed at them in unison,
instinctively regretting Languedoc and Provence. Such was the way in which
the refugees, though devoid of poetic sentiment, "hanged their harps upon
the willows by the rivers of Babylon."
FOOTNOTES:
[283] _Lettres choisies_, ii. p. 770.
[284] Reprinted in Locke's _Works_, x. pp. 161 ff.
[285] See our _Influence politique de Locke_, p. 346.
[286] Locke, _Works_, x. p. 162. The most amusing detail in this literary
quarrel is that fifteen years before Desmaizeaux had actually offered
Bernard, the editor of the _Nouvelles de la Republique des Lettres_, a
paper vehemently criticizing Locke. But La Motte interfered, and the offer
was declined. However, La Motte kept Desmaizeaux' letter and threatened to
publish it. _Add. MSS._, 4281, fol. 144, and 4286, fol. 242.
[287] _Memoires pour l'histoire des Sciences et des Beaux-Arts_ (1707), ii.
pp. 934-945.
[288] Letter dated 30th October 1708.
[289] Letter dated 7th January 1735.
[290] Clarke and Foxcroft, _Life of Burnet_, p. 429.
[291] Letter of 29th July 1743.
[292] The MSS. letters are preserved in the library of the _Societe pour
l'histoire du Protestantisme Francais_.
[293] Married women, unless of noble birth, were styled before 1789
_Mademoiselle_.
[294] Written September 1697. In this, as in the following letters, the
passages left out are merely of a complimentary nature.
[295] The touch of nature is wholly unexpected at this date.
[296] She was a contemporary writer of insipid pastorals.
[297] _i.e._ Locke and Mrs. Masham.
[298] Mrs. Blomer, then Rebecca Collier the quakeress.
[299] Mrs. Wharton.