Chapter XCVII: Letter LXXXVI: THE ROCKS, Wednesday, June 12, 1680

So, I have written a sermon without thinking of it! I am as much surprised at this as the Count de Soissons,[198] when he was told he had made prose. It is true, I feel myself disposed to do all honor to the grace of Christ. I do not cry out, as the queen-mother did in the excess of her zeal against those vile Jansenists, “Ah! fie, fie upon grace!” I say the contrary, and can bring good vouchers for it. Since you have imparted to me your visions, with regard to the fortunes of your brothers-in-law, I will tell you sincerely that I was afraid the air of a house, where saving grace was sometimes talked of, might have injured the Abbé de Grignan. Thank heaven, I have done no more harm than yourself; and if I am silent for the future, as I ought, and certainly shall be, it will not be from the fear of injuring any one. Your young bishops are seldom suspected of this heresy. I have just been writing to the chevalier: he has absolutely forgotten me, and as he is not infected with the Grignan indolence, it may be a serious business.

[198] It is singular that Molière should have found in a nobleman
the most laughable instances of ignorance, with which he endows
his _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_.

Your great building, my dear, is begun to-day; Du But will do all he can to hasten the workmen. There was no possibility of commencing sooner, and there is time enough to complete every thing. I send you a letter of Madame de Lavardin’s, by which you will see what are her sentiments. I am almost tempted to send you likewise a very long letter I have received from Madame de Mouci, in which she takes pleasure in acquainting me with every thing she has done relatively to this marriage; she has made choice of me, in preference to any other person, to communicate the whole of his conduct to. She is in the right; the second volume is worthy the admiration of any one who had read the first. She seems happy in taking every opportunity of loading M. de Lavardin with favors, by means of the influence she has over his mother. She has made her give a thousand pounds worth of pearls; she has made her give all the fire-irons, stoves, candlesticks, tables, and silver waiters, that were worth having; handsome tapestry, fine old furniture, with linen and dressing gowns, which Madame de Mouci selected herself. Her heart takes this method of avenging itself; but for her it would have been a mere village wedding. She has made her give considerable estates to her son, and, to crown all, she will manage so that the new married couple will not live in the same house with the mother, whose overbearing temper, and rigid observance of hours, would by no means suit the young couple. Madame de Mouci delights in displaying to me the liberality of her soul, and I am amazed to see the extraordinary manner in which she contributes to M. de Lavardin’s happiness. The desire of being singular, and of distinguishing ourselves by stepping a little out of the common road, seems to me to be the source of many virtues. She writes me word that she should be very happy if I were at Paris, because I should understand her; no one else being able to comprehend what she is doing. She adds besides that I should die with laughing, to see the grimaces Madame de Lavardin makes, every time the devil of avarice is cast out of her by the power of her exorcisms. The poor lady seems perfectly exhausted, _like the nuns of Loudun_.[199] It must certainly be a very comic scene.

[199] Alluding to the _Histoire des Diables de Loudun_, History
of the Devils of Loudun. It is well known that the fierce
hatred of Cardinal de Richelieu, the maneuvers of the Capuchin
Joseph, and the cruelty of the judge, Laubardement, caused
the unfortunate curé Urbain Grandier to perish in the flames,
as convicted of the crime of magic, “upon the deposition of
Ashtaroth, devil of the order of Seraphims, and chief of the
possessing devils, and Eusas, Cham, Acaos, Zebulan, Nephthaim,
Uriel, and Acas, of the order of the principalities.” These are
the terms of the sentence.

I have also received some very entertaining letters from the Marchioness d’Huxelles. The fair widows do wonders. Madame de Coulanges assures me, that she is to set out on the 20th for Lyons; she writes me a thousand trifles. This city will become the source of all the private intelligence of the court; but do you suppose she will communicate any of this precious commodity to the inhabitants?

I had a visit the other day from an Augustin friar, a poor creature, a very poor creature indeed. He assumed the airs of a preacher, but I answered his pompous ignorance only with a smile of contempt; he still went on, till at last I was strongly tempted to throw a book at his head. I fancy Madame de Coulanges will be ready to reply in the same way to the ladies of Lyons. Young Coulanges will be with you; he has given up M. de Chaulnes and Brittany for Lyons and the Grignans. I am quite of his opinion, my dearest child, and my greatest joy would be to make one of your party. Ah! how I should like to sup in your delightful grotto! How pleased I should be with M. de Grignan’s music, and those beautiful passages in the opera, which have often made my eyes glisten. Oh! it would be a charming party. Your house is a little town. Really, to reflect upon our situations and dispositions, it might be supposed some magic change had been wrought upon us. And yet, to the honor of both, you fill your exalted station admirably, and shine as in your proper sphere; while I and my humble fortune seem fitted for the woods, and the solitude I inhabit. The truth is, I am assured from whence all this comes; it is necessary to raise our eyes to Heaven, after having long kept them fixed upon the earth.

The other evening one of my people told me, “that it was very warm in the mall; that there was not a breath of air stirring, and that the moon shone with the finest effect imaginable.” I could not resist the temptation, so on I put bonnets, cloaks, capuchins, and all the needless defenses you could wish; and forth I sallied to the mall, where the air was as mild as in my own room. I found there a thousand fantastic illusions of the night, black and white friars, linen scattered here and there, black men in one place, others buried upright against trees, little dwarfs who just showed their heads and concealed the rest of their bodies, priests who dared not approach me, etc., etc. After having laughed heartily at all these figures, and fully convinced ourselves of the true origin of what are called spirits, apparitions, that play their farces in the theater of our imaginations, we returned to the house without sitting down, or feeling the lest dew. I beg your pardon, my dear child, but I thought myself obliged, after the example of the ancients, as the foolish fellow we met in the gardens at Livri used to say, to show this mark of respect to the moon; I assure you I have sustained no injury from it.

There has fallen to me, out of the clouds, one of the prettiest calambour[200] chaplets in the world; this is doubtless because I tell my beads so well. The best ball to the best player, you know. This chaplet has a cross of diamonds hanging to it, with a death’s head of coral; _I have certainly seen that vile face somewhere_. Tell me, I beseech you, how it found its way to me at such a distance? In the mean time, I shall not tell my beads without considerable musings; I am of opinion that it will occasion greater distractions. I wait your answer on this subject.

[200] _Calembour_, _calambouc_, or _calambac_, are knots of
the aloe-tree round which the resin collects and hardens by
incorporation. This calembouc held to the fire emits a fine
perfume. The aloe-tree grows in the woods of Cochin-China.

Have you heard the story of Madame de Saint-Pouanges? They concealed it a long time from me, lest it should prevent me from returning to Paris in a carriage. This lady was going to Fontainebleau, for we should let no advantage slip, where she pretended she should be highly entertained; she had a very pretty place at court, was young, and had a taste for all the pleasures suitable to her years; she adopted the fashionable mode of setting out at six o’clock in the evening, and driving post, so as to get in about midnight. But, listen to the consequences: her carriage was overturned by the way, a piece of broken glass pierced through her stays into her body, and she died of the wound. They write me word from Paris that she lost her reason, between the pain the surgeons gave her and the mortification of dying in the bloom of youth. Is not this a curious adventure? If you know it already, it will be ridiculous to tell it you a second time; but it has made a strange impression on my brain. It seems Madame de Nevers[201] has made one, on the greatest head in the world, and has turned another smaller one quite topsy-turvy; but I do not find that this has been attended with any serious consequences.

[201] Madame de Nevers, the daughter of Madame de Thianges, was a
perfect beauty. The _greatest head_ is the king; but it was not
true that he had designs upon her, as it was said she had upon
him. The other _smaller head_ was the duke, the son of the great
Condé, who was really very much in love with her.

The king took the sacrament on Whitsunday. Madame de Fontange’s influence still continues brilliant and solid; but what are we to think of this friendship? I have received a letter from M. Pomponne, in the midst of his retirement, of which I am more proud than if it had been from amid all the splendor of St. Germain. It is there he is again become as perfect as at Frêne. Ah! how excellent a use does he make of his disgrace, and what charming company he is in!