Chapter XXIV: Letter XIII: THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 10, 1671

I am going to entertain you to-day, my dear child, with what is called rain and fine weather. I had not your letters till Friday, and I answered them the Sunday following. I begin then with the rain, for fair weather is out of the question. For this week past it has rained incessantly; I say incessantly--for the rain has only been interrupted by storms. I can not stir abroad, my workmen are all dispersed, and I am devoured with melancholy; La Mousse, too, is very low-spirited. We read, indeed, and that just keeps us alive. My son is gone to Rennes, whither we thought it necessary to send him, to pay a visit to the first president, and several other friends that I have there; if he has time, I shall prevail on him to go and see Monsieur de Coëtquen; he is old enough now for these things. There was a ball at Vitré again on Sunday. I very much fear that my son will become too fond of the company of ten or a dozen men that supped with him the other night at the castle of Sévigné; they may be borne with, but he should be very cautious of forming too great an intimacy with them. A dispute arose between two of the party about some trifle or other; the lie was given; to it they went; the company endeavored to part them; there was a great deal of talk and very little sense; however, monsieur le marquis[38] had the honor of making up the difference, and afterward set out for Rennes. There have been great cabals at Vitré: Mademoiselle de Croqueoison complains that, at a ball the other day, Mademoiselle du Cerni did not offer her part of some oranges she had. We must hear what Mademoiselle du Plessis and the Launayes have to say on this subject, as they know all the circumstances relating to it. As to Mademoiselle du Plessis, she lets all her affairs at Vitré run to ruin, because she will not stir in them, from the fear of making me jealous on account of her new friend; and it was but the other day that, to make me quite easy, she said as many ill-natured things of her as she could. When it is fine weather, this nonsense makes me laugh, but when it is bad and gloomy, I could give her a box on the ear, as you once did. Madame de Coulanges writes me word that she has heard nothing of Brancas, except that out of his six coach-horses he has only one left, and that he was the last person to discover it. I hear no news. Our little Alégre is at her mother’s, and it is thought that M. de Seignelai is to be married to her. I suppose you are in want of persons to furnish you with intelligence; for my part, I despise trivial occurrences; I am only for those that surprise and astonish; such a one I met with this very morning while the abbé and I were in his study together. We found, in reckoning with those counters of his which are so good, that with all that has fallen to me, I ought to be worth 530,000 livres.[39] Do you know that what our dear abbé has left me will not amount to less than 80,000 francs? And do you think I am not impatient to be in possession? And 100,000 francs from Burgundy; this has come since you were married, the rest, viz.: 100,000 crowns by my marriage; 100,000 crowns since by M. de Chalons, and 20,000 francs, in little legacies, from one or two of my uncles; but do you not wonder whither my pen is running with me? I should do much better to tell you what I suffer every day, when I reflect in what places Providence has destined us to pass our lives. This is a continual source of uneasiness to me, but let it not be so to you; you have not the same reason; you are with a husband that adores you, and in the midst of honors and splendor; but endeavor, if possible, to work some miracle in your affairs, so that your return to Paris may be retarded only by the duties of your post, and not from necessity. It is very easy to talk thus; I wish it was as easily carried into execution, and wishes are not forbidden us. They write me word that Madame de Valavoire is at Paris, and that she is forever talking of your beauty, politeness, wit, talents, and, in short, of the new head-dress you have invented, which it seems you have executed in as good a style as if you had been in the midst of the court. Madame de la Troche and I have at least the honor of having described it so well as to put you in the way of performing these wonders. She is at Paris still, that La Troche. She is going to her own house about the latter end of this month. As for me, I do not know what the States intend doing; but I fancy I shall run away for fear of being ruined. It is a mighty pretty thing to put myself to the expense of near a thousand crowns in dinners and suppers, and all for the honor of keeping a summer-house for M. and Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de Rohan, M. de Lavardin, and half Brittany, who, without knowing any thing of me, will, to be in the fashion, honor me with their company. Well, we shall see how it will turn out. I shall only regret leaving M. d’Harroüis and this house, before I have half finished my business. But, my dear child, the greatest inclination I have at present is to be a little religious. I plague La Mousse about it every day. I belong neither to God nor to the devil. I am quite weary of such a situation, though, between you and me, I look upon it as the most natural one in the world. I am not the devil’s, because I fear God, and have at the bottom a principle of religion; then, on the other hand, I am not properly God’s, because his law appears hard and irksome to me, and I can not bring myself to acts of self-denial; so that altogether I am one of those called lukewarm Christians, the great number of which does not in the least surprise me, for I perfectly understand their sentiments and the reasons that influence them. However, we are told that this is a state highly displeasing to God; if so, we must get out of it. Alas! this is the difficulty. Was ever any thing so mad as I am, to be thus eternally pestering you with my rhapsodies? My dear child, _I ask excuse_, as they say here; but I must chat with you, it is so truly delightful to me. Be sure, however, not to return me an answer, only let me hear of your health, with a little spice of your sentiments, that I may see that you are happy, and that you like Grignan; that is all. Love me; though we have turned the world into ridicule, it is natural, it is good.

[38] Meaning her son, the Marquis of Sévigné.

[39] Upward of 20,000_l._ sterling, reckoning a livre at 10_d._
halfpenny.