Chapter LX: Letter XLIX: THE ROCKS, Sunday, Oct. 20, 1675

I can not sufficiently admire the diligence and fidelity of the post. I received on the 18th your letter of the 9th, that is, in nine days only after date, which is all that can be desired. But, my dear, we must soon put an end to our admirations; for, as you say, you are going still further off, that we may both be exactly in the spot which Providence has assigned us. For my part, God knows, I acquit myself very ill in my residence; but you, heavens! M. d’Angers (H. Arnauld) can not do more. When I think, however, of our separation, and how much I deserve to enjoy the pleasure of being with you, and of all your affection for me, and then reflect that we are placed at two different ends of the globe, you must excuse me if I can not view this part of our history with gayety of heart. Common sense opposes it, and my infinite love still more. I have nothing to do but take refuge in submission to the will of Providence. I am very glad you have seen M. de la Garde; he does me great honor in approving my turn of mind: he is a very good judge. I am sorry you are going to lose him so soon, for he is really a worthy man. Your conversations must have been endless. So he is to take the archbishop away to La Garde. It was very well said of him, that he was like a river which fertilized and made every country flourish through which it passed. I find he did wonders at Grignan.

M. de Chaulnes is at Rennes with four thousand men; he has removed the parliament to Vannes, which has occasioned a terrible desolation. The ruin of Rennes brings with it that of the whole province. Madame de Marbeuf is at Vitré; she has brought me a thousand compliments from Madame de Chaulnes, and from M. de Vins, who intends paying me a visit. I am not under the least apprehension about these troops on my own account, but I can not help feeling for the despair and desolation our poor province suffers at present. It is supposed we shall not have any assembly of the states here, or if we have, it will be only to buy off the taxes which we gave two million five hundred thousand livres to have taken off only two years ago, and which have been all laid upon our shoulders again; and, perhaps, they may set a price too upon bringing the parliament back to Rennes. M. de Montmoron[126] is fled out of the town, to a seat belonging to one of his friends, at about three leagues distance from hence, that he may avoid hearing the cries and lamentations of the people at seeing their dear parliament removed. You see I am quite a Breton, but, you know, it is owing to the air I breathe, and to something else, for every creature, without distinction, is in affliction throughout the province. Be under no concern about my health, my dearest child; I am extremely well. Madame de Tarente has given me an essence that has cured her of vapors that were worse than mine: two drops are to be taken for fifteen days following, in any beverage that is drunk at table, and it cures effectually. She has told me circumstances of its efficacy, which have all the air of those in the comedy of the Médecin Forcé; but I believe them all, and I would take some of the essence now if it were not that I think it a pity to make use of so admirable a remedy when I have no real occasion for it. I will send you, some time or other, the remainder of the prosperities of the boat. You will make La Plessis too vain, for I shall tell her how much you love her. Except what I told you the other day, I do not think a better creature exists. She is here every day. I have some of your excellent Hungary water in my pocket; I am quite in love with it; it cures all my sorrows; I wish I could send some of it to Rennes.

[126] He was a Sévigné, and dean of the parliament of Brittany.

My woods continue very beautiful still, and the verdure is a hundred times finer than at Livri; I do not know whether this proceeds from the nature of the trees themselves, or from the refreshing rains we have here; but there is certainly no comparison; every thing here looks as green now as in the month of May. The leaves that fall are brown, it is true, but those that remain on the trees are not at all faded; you never observed this beauty in them. As to that blessed tree that saved your life, I am often tempted to build a little chapel there. It seems to carry its head above all the rest, and exceeds them in bulk as well as stature, and with very good reason, for it saved you. I may, at least, repeat to it the stanza of Medor, in Ariosto, in which he wishes happiness and peace to the cave that had given him so much pleasure. Our sentences are not at all disfigured; I visit them frequently. I think they are rather increased, and two trees that are close to each other, often present us with two contrary sentiments, “_La lontananza ogni grand piaga salda_,”[127] and “_Piaga d’amor non si sana mais_.”[128] There are five or six thus contradictory. The good princess was charmed with them, as I am with the letter you have written our good abbé, on Jacob’s journey to the land of promise, in your closet.

[127] Time is a cure for wounds however deep.

[128] The wounds of love are never to be healed.

Madame de Lavardin has informed me of what is still to be kept secret for a few days longer, that D’Olonne is going to marry his brother to Mademoiselle de Noirmoutier. He gives him all his lands in Poitou, besides a great quantity of jewels and furniture. They are at La Ferté-Milon, where this curious affair is to be made up. I never thought D’Olonne would have given himself any concern about his name or family.