Chapter XCV: Letter LXXXIV: THE ROCKS, Friday, May 31, 1680

Notwithstanding this letter will not go till Sunday, I am resolved to begin it to-day, that I may date once more in the month of May. I fear that of June will appear still longer to me. I am certain, however, of not seeing so fine a country as the one I have left. There is a month in the year in which it rains every day; this is owing to your prayers; why will you not leave Providence a little to itself? sometimes too much rain, sometimes too great drought; you are never contented. God forgive me! but this puts me in mind of the story of Jupiter in Lucian, who is so wearied with the incessant importunities of mortals, that he sends Mercury to inquire into the matter, and, at the same time, orders ten thousand bushels of hail to fall upon Egypt, to stop their mouths.

I will no longer oblige you to answer me on the subject of the Divine Providence, which I so greatly revere; and which, in my opinion, commands and orders every thing in the world. I am persuaded you will not dare to treat this opinion as an inconceivable mystery, with the disciples of your Father Descartes; it would be indeed inconceivable, that God should have made the world, and not direct all that passes in it. Those who make such fine restrictions and contradistinctions in their writings, speak much more freely, and with greater truth on the subject, when they have no crooked policy to govern them. These _cutpurses_ are very agreeable in their conversation. I shall not mention their names, because I fancy you guess the principal one: the others are the Abbé du Pile, and M. Dubois,[189] whom you are acquainted with, and who has an infinite share of wit. Poor Nicole is still in the Ardennes,[190] and M. Arnauld buried under ground, like a mole.[191] But whither is my pen running? This is not what I meant to say to you. I intended to tell you that I received your letters at the place where we dined the day I left Nantes, and that, having no other means of conversing with you at so great a distance, the reading of them forms an occupation preferable to every other.

[189] Dubois, of the French Academy, who translated several works
of Cicero and Saint Augustin.

[190] The forest of Ardennes, in the Low Countries.

[191] After the death of Madame de Longueville, these able
writers, fearing persecution, left France. Arnauld retired into
the Low Countries, where he lived long unknown and in poverty.
He remained there till his death. Nicole, more conciliating and
less dreaded, returned to France. He figured in the quarrel of
Bossuet and Fénelon. He supported the former, but with prudence
and moderation.

We found the roads greatly improved between Nantes and Rennes, thanks to the care of M. de Chaulnes; but the incessant rains we have had of late have made them as if two winters had followed close upon each other. We were continually in sloughs, or rivers of water; we did not dare to cross over by Chateaubriant, for fear of being unable to get further. We arrived at Rennes on Ascension eve, and dear good Marbeuf was ready to devour me; nothing would satisfy her, but my taking up my abode for a time at her house, but I refused; I would neither sup nor sleep there: the next day she gave me a very elegant public breakfast, when the governor, and every person of note in the town, came to visit me. We set out again at ten o’clock, though every body assured me, that I had time enough before me, and that the roads were _like this room_; for that, you know, is the usual comparison: however, we found them so much _like this room_, that we did not get there till after midnight, and were all the way up to the axle-trees in water, and from Vitré to this place, a road I have passed a thousand and a thousand times, it was impossible to know it again; the causeways are become impassable; the ruts are sunk to a frightful depth; the little inequalities are perfect mountains and caverns; in a word, _finding_ that we could no longer _find_ our way, we sent to Pilois for help; he came accordingly bringing with him about a dozen stout country-fellows, some of whom held up the carriage, while others went before with wisps of lighted straw; and all spoke such jargon, that we were ready to die with laughing; at length, thus attended, we arrived here, our horses jaded, our people dripping, our carriage almost broken down, and ourselves tolerably fatigued; we made a very light supper, went to bed, slept heartily, and this morning, when we awoke, we found ourselves safe and sound at the Rocks, though very much out of sorts. I had taken the precaution to send a servant before us, that we might not come into the midst of a dust of four years standing; and we are tolerably decent at least. We have been entertained with a great number of visitors from Vitré, such as the Recollets, Mademoiselle du Plessis, still in tears for her mother, etc. etc., but I had not a moment’s comfort till I had got rid of them all, which was about six o’clock in the evening, and had spent a little time in my woods, with honest Pilois. The walks and alleys are really enchanting; there are half a dozen new ones you have never seen. By the by, be under no apprehension about my exposing myself to the damps; I know it would make you angry if I did, and that is sufficient to deter me.

You always tell me that you are in good health, and so does Montgobert; and yet I can not help thinking that the plan of plunging twice a day into the Rhône can only suit a person whose blood is violently heated. I entreat you, my child, to consult a very grave and learned author in regard to the effects bathing may have on your lungs: you know I was witness to the evident injury you sustained from your half-baths, though they were advised by Fagon.[192]

[192] First physician to Louis XIV.

You must certainly have stood in need of all your strength to support the numerous visitors you have had; twenty persons extraordinary at table makes me start a little. These are whole retinues, as Corbinelli used to call them, when he found himself so crowded in your drawing-room, and neither saluted nor took notice of any one; it must be owned that your house is the most frequented of any in the country; this is living at rack and manger. Do you remember when we had all the Fouesnels here, with what impatience we waited for the happy minute when they were to take their leave; how cheerfully we bid them adieu in our hearts, and how terrified we were lest they should yield to the false entreaties we made them to stay; how our hearts bounded when we saw them fairly gone; and our reflections how much bad company was preferable to good, the latter occasioning pain when they leave us, whereas the departure of the other takes a weight from the mind, and restores it to freedom? do you remember all this, and how perfectly we enjoyed ourselves upon the occasion?

Madame de Coulanges writes me word that Madame de Maintenon has lost a cane to the dauphin; Madame de Coulanges has ordered it to be made. The head is a pomegranate of gold, studded with rubies; it opens and discovers the miniature picture of the dauphiness, with these words underneath, _Il piu grato nasconde_.[193] Clement formerly made this device for you; but that which seemed an exaggeration when applied to you, is perfectly true with regard to this princess. The beautiful Fontanges still continues very ill. My son tells me they pass their time very pleasantly at Fontainebleau. Corneille’s comedies are the delight of the whole court; I have written to my son that it must be a great pleasure to be obliged to be there, to have a master, a place, and the favor of the great; and had it been my case I should have been extremely fond of that part of the world; that the contrary was the sole reason of my removing to such a distance from it; that this kind of contempt was, in fact, the result of disappointment and vexation, and that _I abused it out of pure revenge_, as Montaigne says of youth; in short, that I wondered how he could prefer passing his time as I do, with Madame du Plessis and Mademoiselle de Launay, to spending it in the midst of all that is gay and great.

[193] The greatest charms are concealed.

What I say for myself, my child, I say in reality for you; for do not imagine, if M. de Grignan and you were situated agreeably to your merit, that you would have any dislike to such a life; but it does not please Providence that you should arrive at more greatness than you at present possess. As to myself, I have seen the day when little, very little, was wanting for fortune to have placed me in the most agreeable situation in the world; when, all of a sudden, the scene changed to imprisonment and exile.[194] Do you think my fortune has been the happiest in the world? yet I am content; or, if I have my moments of murmuring, it is not on my own account.

[194] Madame de Sévigné alludes to the banishment of M. de Bussy,
the chief of her house, and the confinement of M. de Fouquet,
her intimate friend. To which may be added, the exile of the
Arnaulds, and, further back still, the misfortunes of Cardinal de
Retz, her relation and friend.

Your description of Madame D.’s conduct is very amusing; it is a sort of economy in love, worthy of Armida. You seem to believe that M. de Rouillé will not return; I am sorry for it, and I should be still more so were it not that I believe your stay in Provence almost at an end, and consequently that you can have little occasion for him. If any thing is to be done in the assembly, the coadjutor will give a good account of it, in the absence of M. de Grignan.