Chapter XXXVII: Letter XXVI: PARIS, Wednesday, May 4, 1672

It is impossible, my dear child, to tell you how much I pity, how much I praise, and how much I admire you: thus I divide my discourse into three heads. First, _I pity you_ in being so subject to the vapors and low spirits, as they will certainly do you much harm. Secondly, _I praise you_ for subduing them when there is occasion, especially on M. de Grignan’s account, whom they must make very uneasy; it is a pleasing proof of the regard and consideration you have for him. Thirdly and lastly, _I admire you_ for suppressing your natural inclination, to appear what you are not: this is really heroic, and the fruit of your philosophy: you have ample matter in yourself to call it into exercise. We were saying the other day that there is no real evil in life, except great pain; all the rest is merely imaginary, and depends on the light in which we view things. All other evils are curable either by time, moderation in our wishes, or strength of mind; and may be lightened by reflection, religion, or philosophy. But pain tyrannizes over both soul and body. Confidence in God may indeed enable us to bear it with patience, and turn it to our advantage, but it will not diminish it.

This seems to savor of the Fauxbourg Saint Germain,[61] but it comes from my poor aunt’s apartment, where I was the leader of the conversation. The subject arose naturally from her extreme sufferings, which, she maintains, are infinitely superior to every evil that life is subject to. M. de la Rochefoucault is of the same opinion: he is still tormented with the gout; he has lost his true mother,[62] and he lamented her death so tenderly and affectionately that I almost adored him: she was a woman of extraordinary merit, and was the only person in the world, he said, who was unchangeable in her love to him. Fail not to write to him; both you and M. de Grignan. M. de Rochefoucault’s affection for his family is unparalleled: he maintains that it is one of the chains that attach us to one another. We have discovered, and related, and reconciled many things relative to his foolish mother (Madame de Marans), which explain to us clearly what you once said, that it was not what we thought, but quite another thing; yes truly it was quite another thing, or perhaps better still, it was this and that too; one was without prejudice to the other; she wedded the lute to the voice, and spiritual things to coarseness and indelicacy. My child, we have found a good vein, and one which explains the mystery of a quarrel you once had in the council-chamber of Madame de la Fayette. I will tell you the rest in Provence.

[61] That is, from Madame de la Fayette, at whose house M. de
Rochefoucault, and some of the most select company in Paris,
used to meet.

[62] Gabrielle du Plessis Liancourt.

My aunt is in a state which does not seem likely to terminate. Your journey is exceedingly well-timed, perhaps ours may tally with it. We have a great desire to pass some part of our Whitsuntide on the road, either at Moulins or at Lyons. The abbé wishes it no less than myself. There is not a man of quality (of the sword I mean) in Paris. I went on Sunday to hear mass at the Minims. “We shall find our poor Minims quite deserted,” said I to Mademoiselle de la Trousse, “we shall not find a creature there, except the Marquis d’Alluye.”[63] Well, we went into the church, where the first and only creature we saw was the Marquis d’Alluye: I could not help laughing till I fairly cried at the oddity of the thing; in short he is left behind, and is going to his government on the sea-coast. The coast must be guarded, you know.

[63] Paul d’Escloubleau, Marquis d’Alluye and de Sourdis,
governor of the city and country of Orleans, and of the Pays
Chartrain.

The lover of her whom you style _the incomparable_,[64] did not meet her at the first stage, but on the road, in a house of Sanguin’s, a little beyond that which you know; he remained there two hours. It is thought he then saw the children for the first time. The fair one stays there, attended by a guard and a female friend; she is to be there for four or five months. Madame de la Vallière is at St. Germain. Madame de Thianges is here with her father; I saw her daughter the other day, she is beautiful beyond all imagination. Some people pretend that the king went straight to Nanteuil, but it is certain that the fair one is at the house called Genitoi. I tell you nothing but the truth; there is nothing I have a greater aversion and contempt for than idle stories.

[64] The king and Madame de Montespan.

You have taken your departure, then, my dear. Well, I will live in the hope of hearing from you at every stage. I shall not be behindhand on my side. I have managed so well as to find a friend at the post-office, who is very careful of our letters. I have for these several days past been occupied in adorning my cottage; Saint Aubin has effected wonders. I shall sleep there to-morrow. I swear to you that the reason I like it so well is because it is intended for you. You will be very well accommodated in my apartment, and I shall not be less so. I will tell you how charmingly every thing is contrived. I am extremely uneasy about your poor brother; this terrible war makes us tremble for those we love; whenever I think of it it fills me with horror; but then, again, I comfort myself with the thought that it may not be so bad as I apprehend, for I have remarked that things seldom happen as we expect them to do.

Pray let me know what has happened between the Princess Harcourt and you.[65] Brancas is dreadfully chagrined that you do not love his daughter. M. d’Uzès has promised to re-establish peace between all parties: I should be glad to know what has occasioned the coolness between you.

[65] Frances de Brancas, wife of Alphonso Henry Chartres, of
Lorrain, Prince of Harcourt, and daughter of Charles de Brancas,
gentleman of honor to Queen Anne of Austria.

You tell me of your son, that his beauty grows less, and his merit increases: I am sorry for the loss of his beauty, and I am rejoiced to find that he loves wine; this is a little spice of Brittany and Burgundy together, which will produce a charming effect with the prudence of the Grignans. As for your daughter, she is quite the reverse; her beauty increases, and her merit lessens. I assure you, she is very pretty, but as obstinate as a demon; she has her little wills and little designs of her own; she diverts us extremely; she has a beautiful complexion, blue eyes, black hair, a nose neither handsome nor ugly; her chin, her cheeks, and the turn of her face are faultless. I shall say nothing of her mouth, it will do very well. She has a very sweet voice: Madame de Coulanges thinks it suits her mouth admirably.

I fancy, my dear child, that I shall at last be a convert to your opinion. I meet with vexations in life that are insupportable, and find, notwithstanding my fine reasoning at the beginning of this letter, there are many evils which, though less severe than bodily pain, are nevertheless equally to be dreaded.