Chapter CXI: Letter C: PARIS, Friday, December 31, 1688

_Per torner dunque al nostro proposito_,[238] I must tell you, my child, that all the uncertainties of the day before yesterday, which seemed to be fixed by the assurances M. de Lamoignon gave us that the King of England was at Calais, are now changed into the certainty that he is detained in England; and that if this ill fortune has not befallen him, he has perished; for he was to make his escape, and embark a few hours after the queen. So, that though we have no certain intelligence of his being arrested, there is not a single person who does not now credit it. Such is our situation; and such the way in which we are closing the present year, and entering upon that of ’89; a year marked out by extraordinary predictions, as pregnant with great events. Not one, however, will take place that is not agreeable to the order of Providence, like all our actions, and all our journeyings. We must submit to every thing, and look boldly in the face of futurity; this is going a great way.

[238] To return then to our proposition.

In the mean while, count, I address myself to you. Yesterday the Knights of St. Michael went through the ceremony with several of those of the order of the Holy Ghost, at the hour I mentioned to you after vespers, and to-morrow the rest will do the same. The chevalier will inform you how it is managed with respect to the absentees. You must make your profession of faith, and give an account of your life and manners. Of this you will be duly informed; you are not the only one; and in the mean time _hold off, fair and softly_. Yesterday, M. de Chevreuse, of the order of St. Michael, passed before M. de la Rochefoucault, who said to him, “Sir, you pass before me, which you have no right to do.” M. de Chevreuse replied, “Sir, I have a right, for I am Duke de Luynes.” “Oh, sir,” rejoined the other, “in this respect I yield to you.” The gazette will inform you, my dear count, that M. de Luynes has given this duchy to his son, with the king’s permission; and M. de Chevreuse, who will henceforward be called M. de Luynes, the duchy of Chevreuse to his son, who will be styled Duke de Montfort. Your son’s comrades are highly distinguished by titles. It is said that some troops are to be sent into Brittany with M. de Momont, Major-General, to be under the command of M. de Chaulnes; there will be encampments in all the provinces. You need only refer to the map, to judge whether we have occasion to be on our guard on all sides; cast your eyes for a moment over all Europe. Madame de Barillon is very uneasy respecting her husband;[239] but it is said at random, for no letters arrive, that he is safe, though the chapel of the King of England has been pulled down, as well as that belonging to the embassador’s household. Time will clear up all this. But who am I speaking to? is it still to this count? My dear child, your good lady, who swore she would not touch a card till the King of England had won a battle, will not probably play again for a long time. Poor woman! The Prince of Orange is in London--this is still the subject of my letter, as it is of all conversation, for every one considers himself as concerned in this great scene. The queen is still in a convent at Boulogne, always in tears at the absence of her husband, whom she passionately loves.

[239] M. de Barillon was the French Embassador to England.

Madame de Brinon is quite forgotten. A new comedy is said to be in rehearsal, which is to be represented at St. Cyr, and is called Esther. The carnival does not promise to be very gay. My son’s letters are constantly filled with the most affectionate sentiments for you and M. de Grignan. We expect your letters, but probably shall not answer them till Monday. The chevalier and I have very long conversations about you; he is tolerably well, and when your son returns from Chalons, he intends to accompany him to Versailles. The good Corbinelli exhausts his rhetoric upon the present situation of affairs, and at the same time adores you. Adieu, my lovely child; I embrace you a thousand times, and wish you a happy year in that of 1689.