THE MERCURY GALLANT.
Letter I.
I Needed not have been put in mind of the promiſe I made you at your going from Paris, to ſend you often an account of ſuch Novelties as were worthy of the curioſity of the moſt ingenious perſons of that Countrey, which is like for ſo long a2 time to be made happy with your reſidence. They which have the perſon continually in their thoughts, ſeldom forget their promiſes. I doubt not Madam, but you underſtand ſo well what that means, that I need explain it no further. Proceed we therefore to our News, or rather firſt, to the order I have reſolved to obſerve in giving you theſe accounts. I will punctually write to you once in eight days, and then give you the moſt particular and curious relation I can of all that has happened in the week aforegoing. Sending you things, which the Gazets give no account of, or at leaſt not ſo full and clear a one. The moſt minute things that paſs here ſhall not eſcape my Quill: You ſhall have all Deaths and Weddings of conſequence, with ſuch Circumſtances as may create that delight in ſuch news, which they have not in themſelves. I will endeavour to unravel the truth of all great actions, where valour ſhall make it ſelf obſervable in the Army, and will often lay naked before you things which fame gives but at random; becauſe ſhe not ſtaying to ſearch the depth of them, the firſt rumours3 ſhe ſpreads are for the moſt part ſhort of truth. I will not forget to tell you who receive favours from our great Monarch; he gives with ſo endearing a grace, that•hough his gifts are always conſiderable,•he obliging manner with which he gives,•reeds often as much delight in the hearer;•s the magnificence of his gifts in the recei•er; and whereas there often happens pro•eedings ſo extraordinary, and ſo full of•ntrigue, that the beſt invented Romances•ome ſhort of them, I ſhall nor fail to di•ertiſe you with them, and ſend you the•eal Circumſtances, which are ſeldom•nown but to perſons who make diligent•arch after them. Curioſity bringing to Paris•ot only many brave people from all Pro•inces of France, but likewiſe numbers of••rangers. I will give you advice of the•orth of thoſe attract any admiration. I•ill ſend you all ſuch witty pieces as have•y reputation, as Songs, Verſes, or o••er ſuch like works. I will ſend you the••cceſs of all new Plays, and what Books〈◊〉Gallantry are Printed: I ſay of Gallan••y, becauſe I pretend not to ſpeak of••oſe which concern Arts or Sciences,4 not being able to perform it ſo well as thoſe who every fifteen days give us an account of them. But I will do ſomewhat more then I have yet promiſed, and often ſend you ſome new adventures in form of Hiſtories. Paris is big enough to furniſh me with them, and every day ſomething conſiderable happens there, and thoſe who make it part of their buſineſs to underſtand the Town often hear of ſtrange adventures, and are ſometimes witneſs to them: ſo that I fear not the giving you a new Story almoſt every week; and when Paris fails by chance to furniſh me, I cannot doubt to learn ſomewhat divertſiing from the great number of ſtrangers are continually in this City I will add to this all the News worth hearing from the Ruelle•Balls, or any meetings, and here with not omit the new Modes, the Countrey is generally well pleaſed to know them, nor can I readily t•ll any thing they more deſire; I believe likewiſe you will be of my mind, that the Miſſes of Paris will often furniſh me with pleaſant ſubjects, and that all theſe things together and apart, will continually ſupply me with a ſack full of5 news, wherewithall to entertain you: I ſhall yet meddle little with forreign news, or matters of State, and ſpeak only of thoſe great publick news of which people diſcourſe every where, who make no profeſſion of underſtanding them; but as there is no news ſo publick, but has ſomething of privacy in it; I will ſend you the opinions of thoſe who ſhould know things beſt. If I proſecute my deſign, and you keep my Letters, they may for the future ſerve as Memories to the curious, and many things may be met with here, cannot be found elſewhere, becauſe of the diverſity of the matter; but it matters not much whether they be uſeful to others, ſo they divertiſe you; that's my only aim and therefore I begin with a pleaſant Story before I enter upon the particularities of this weeks news.
A young gallant coming ſome days ſince to viſit a fair Lady, to whom he had no other pretence of love, then to keep himſelf it talk (for 'tis a moſt ordinary practice here, and the moſt part of our young people, if they be put out of the road of talking a little love to the Ladies, and praiſing6 their beauties, have not a word to ſay for themſelves) This young blade, who I am telling this ſtory of, having run over, and over all the Leſſons he had learnt, in praiſing every particular charm of the beauty he came to wait on, and at laſt quite ſtranded himſelf, not knowing any other way to entertain her; this lovely perſon tyred with hearing the ſame things again and again, firſt ſlumbred a little, and at laſt fell faſt aſleep, though ſhe deſigned it not; but having wearied her ſelf the night before at a Ball, and reliſhing ſo ill now the tedious divertiſement of him that entertained her, ſleep ſeized her unawares. The Gallant had a fate quite contrary; the beauty of this fair ſleeper, and the motion of her Breaſts as ſhe breathed, awakened his Senſes; he viewed her with a great deal of paſſion, and his heart oft told him, he ought to improve the opportunity; but whilſt he ſtood gazing, and not knowing what to reſolve, he caſt his Eyes on a Necklace of Pearl, worth twenty thouſand Livers, which ſhe had about her Neck, and obſerved, That the Ribbon which tyed it, did as it were preſent it ſelf to him. This idle7 lover, whoſe name I will conceal under that of Cleontes, was immediately ſurprized with imaginations quite contrary to thoſe he had had but a minute before. He had about two dayes ſince loſt all his Money at play, he was naturally expenſive, and already owed ſo much, that his credit was almoſt crackt; beſides, he was young, and had always been a little inclinable to knavery, and all theſe incouragements meeting together, ſoon formed in him a temptation, utterly different from the former; and now all his amorous glances were caſt at the Neck-lace. After having a good while viewed it, he turned his eyes towards the door, his thoughts began all at once to run one way, but yet he could not fix them; he gets up, walks two or three turns about the Chamber, comes to the Stairs head to ſee if any body might perchance be coming; but finding all things favouring his deſign, returns to Beliſa; (for ſo I ſhall call this fair Lady in the ſequel of the ſtory.) He was no ſooner come nigh her, but he grew as ſtiff as a ſtatue, and ſtood like one that had loſt all ſenſe and motion, making reflexions on the action he8 was about. I am here alone ſaid he to himſelf, and none elſe can be charged with the Neck-lace but my ſelf, and if I go away without ſaying any thing, I conclude my ſelf guilty. If I ſtay after I have taken it, they will make ſuch ſtrict ſearch, that they will find it about me, hide it where I can: I had much better let it alone, and relinquiſh ſo vile an attempt. But if I let it alone (replyed he ſuddenly to himſelf) can I ever in reaſon hope fortune ſhould again do any thing for me, and twenty thouſand Franks will be a very convenient ſum for me, he then began to caſt up in his head how he would diſpoſe thoſe twenty thouſand Livers. He would pay but few debts, but inſtead of that he would put himſelf into a magnificent Equipage, as to Cloaths, buy ſuch and ſuch Points and Laces, and put his Train into the fineſt Liveries in the World, and with ſuch a tempting adjuſtment, he though himſelf ſecure of the Conqueſt of at leaſt a dozen hearts of thoſe gay women, who are taken with fine out-ſides, and are ſooner ſurprized with gaudery then worth, who are ſo ſottiſh to think he cannot be a worthy man,9 who has not brisk accouterments, or keeps but a modeſt train. Cleontes having thus diſpoſed the twenty thouſand Livers in his Coxcombe, takes the Neck-lace; but he was no ſooner maſter of it, then he felt a trembling over all his body, and ſeized with a violent fear of being ſurprized with it about him he reſolved to return it: He was juſt about executing what his ſecret repentance had determined, when it came into his head to ſwallow the Neck-lace, which conſiſted of two and thirty Pearls. 'Twas a hard task this, but his greedy deſire of ſo much money brought it to effect. When he had ſwallowed the laſt Pearl, he began to be as much troubled what to do with the Ribbon; he was a good while ſtudying how to diſpoſe it, and at length concluded to cut it into ſuch little ſcraps as were ſcarce perceptible. You muſt think he was a good while doing all this, and therefore may the eaſier believe Beliſa awakened almoſt as ſoon as he had done, ſhe asks preſently for her Neck-lace. Cleontes denyes the having taken it, ſhe thought he only intended to make her ſearch for it, and very gallantly turns all into10 a Jeſt, but was ſtrangely troubled when ſhe perceived he ſtill denyed it, will all that ſeriouſneſs men uſe when they would have what they ſay thought truth. If you will (ſaid he to her) command another ſuit of Cloaths to be given me, I will ſtrip my ſelf before any body you ſhall name, and leave mine with you; nay, they ſhall have my very Shirt to ſearch. Beliſa was in more then a peck of troubles. Certain ſhe was, ſhe had the Neck-lace on before ſhe fell aſleep, and none but Cleontes had been in the Chamber, and yet the Neck-lace was not to be found, though ſhe had made as diligent a ſearch, as ſhe could, and a ſearch ſuitable to the greatneſs of her loſs. Cleantes urged her to ſearch his Pockets; ſhe believed ſince he preſſed it ſo much, ſhe might chance find it there, and that he only jeſted all this while to vex her a little, ſhe reſolves therefore to ſatisfy him, with hopes to ſatisfy her ſelf; but juſt as ſhe had put in her hand, Clidamant enters into the Room, and thinks ſhe was imbracing him. This Clidamant was one of thoſe priviledged lovers, who may come in without knocking, or ſending word who they11 are. 'Twill be an eaſie matter Madam for you to believe, he did or ſaid ſomething, that jealous lovers uſe to do, when they think they find Miſtreſſes falſe, he could not reſtrain himſelf, and Cleontes ſeemed to rejoyce rather then be troubled at it, he had hopes this new alarme, might ſuppreſs all farther clamour about the Neck-lace, and having ſome bravery (for heart none can think he wanted, after a Cordial of two and thirty ſuch Pills as he had ſwallowed) he told Clidamant he would go forth, and there expect him to decide their difference. The jealous man was about to follow him, when Beliſa ſtop'd them both, and told the whole adventure. Clidamant thought it ſo ſtrange, that he could not at firſt believe it; but his jealouſy made him determine to try all ways imaginable, to diſcover whether Beliſa had told him truth. He was ſtudying how to effect it, when three or four of the afflicted Ladies friends, and of Clidamants acquaintance, came into the Room; they ſoon were told how the whole caſe ſtood. Their amazement was great, but it was yet made greater, when they ſaw nothing could perſwade12 Cleontes to tell what was become of the Neck-lace. Intreaties and threatnings were both imployed, but all to no purpoſe, and the afternoon was quite ſpent without making any diſcovery. Beliſas grief for the loſs of her Neck-lace increaſed more and more, as her hopes of ever finding it decayed, ſhe being aſſured, that Cleontes muſt have ſtole it, and hid it where ever it was, having either caſt it into ſome by Corner, or thrown it to ſome body out of the Window. The manner in which Beliſa ſpoke this, made all the Gentlemen believe it to be true, and therefore they reſolved to put it to the utmoſt teſt, and as ſoon as it was quite dark they ſent for a Sack which was no ſooner got, but ſeizing all four on Cleontes, they violently thruſt him into it, and having tyed it faſt, carryed him to the Window. That Window was two Stories high, and anſwered to a Court, in which lay ſome ſquare ſtones for building. As ſoon as they had him at the Window they threatned to throw him down; if he would not confeſs what he had done with the Neck-lace, and at laſt ſo terribly frightned him, that he owned he had it,13 promiſed to reſtore it; but deſired time, 'twas granted him, but on condition he ſhould tell what he had done with it, he ſtumbled at that a great while; but finding himſelf preſſed too hard, at length confeſſed the whole truth. Whereupon they preſently took him out of the Sack, ſtript him in ſpite of his teeth, and laid him in a ſumptuous bed. And immediately one of the Gentlemen went, and fetch'd a vomit, which he took care ſhould be ſtrong enough, and by its operation you'l believe it was ſo, Cleontes refuſed a great while to take it, but at laſt out of the fear of the ſcandal, he ſubmitted; for they threatned if he did not, to carry him to Priſon, and to publiſh every where that he was a Thief, he had many doleful reachings and ſtrainings, and ſuffered infinite pangs and gripings; but at laſt (though at ſeveral times) he brought up one and thirty of the Pearls: There was one yet behind; he offered to pay double the value for it, but Clidamont would have him take the other Potion, which put him to mighty torment before he could bring up the two and thirtieth Pearl, however at length it came, and they14 diſmiſſed the poor unfortunate wretch, who went away purged to the life, and more caſt down then he could have been after ſix months ſickneſs. This Madam, is an adventure happened ſome dayes ſince, and is yet known to few, there is ſomething me thinks ſo new in it, that I dare believe you have ſcarce read the like; but let us proceed to more publick news.
Though I have no intention at other times to entertain you with the Funeral honours paid to thoſe, who are of birth eminent enough to be ſpoke of it the Gazet, and that I deſign not to trouble you with reading of publick News, unleſs they be extraordinary; yet I will not omit obſerving what there is of novelty, in thoſe affairs, which elſe ſeem fitting to be paſſed over in ſilence, becauſe of the little pleaſure taken in reading them. I believe the news of the ſervice performed at Roûen for the late Madam de Montauſier is of the number; and that it being ſo eaſily to be gueſt at, (it being ſo cuſtomary a thing to pay Funeral Rites to the dead) I might, and ought to have let it paſs; and yet the extraordinary worth of this Honourable defunct, and the15 particular eſteem Monſieur Pilot primier Preſident of the Parliament of Roûen had for her, occaſioned theſe ſad duties to be celebrated with ſome Circumſtances worthy remark, and though that honourable and renowned body never uſed to accompany dead Corps, on the like Ceremony; they would needs condeſcend to do ſomewhat extraordinary to honour the memory of a perſon ſo eſteemable for her worth and piety, as the late Madam de Montauſier.
I know not whether it be in my Rule to tell you, that the Abbot of Novalles hath lately made appear his great wit and judgment in the Sorbonne, even to the aſtoniſhment of all the old Doctors; you will ſay perhaps reading this news, That if I give you an account of all that maintain a Theſis, I ſhall ſtuff my Letters with things not at all curious; but when you ſhall underſtand, that he did in his firſt act on matters of Divinity, what others do not till their laſt, you may perhaps think this Circumſtance makes the news worth ſending, and it may induce you to conceive a fancy for this worthy Abbot, which may make you diſtinguiſh him from others, when you hear16 him ſpoke of; for ſince it is one of my deſigns in writing you News, to give you a knowledge of the deſerts of the moſt conſiderable perſons in France; I will let ſlip no occaſion of ſpeaking of them, and if the News I may ſometimes ſend you of them, have nothing weighty enough in it ſelf, to make you underſtand their particular value; yet the Elogies I ſhall give them will at leaſt make you know them: And thus the leaſt curious News may be acceptable.
The King continuing dayly to do ſomething conſiderable for the glory of France, has cauſed to be opened here ſome dayes paſt an Academy of Architecture eſtabliſhed by his Majeſty, and Sieur Blondel, the Kings Profeſſor in the Mathematicks, and who is likewiſe to officiate in the ſame function, in this gave great Teſtimonies of his wit and judgment in an Oration he made in praiſe of the King on this occaſion. I know not Madam whether you are acquainted with this eminent perſon; but he paſſes in the judgment of moſt men, for a very able man, he has travelled much, ſeen both the Indies; had many different imployments, all which17 he has diſcharged with Honour, has commanded Ships, and 'tis to him that Paris is obliged for the deſign of the Courſe, at which he continually labours, and which will beautifie the City from Port Richlein to Port. St. Anthony. This Madam is all the news I can give you this week, I hope within eight days to ſend you ſomething more divertizing, and entertain you about a Piece ready for the Theatre, which friends to the Author mightily cry up. It has not yet been acted, but without doubt they have reaſon for wh•t they ſay, and the ſucceſs will be anſwerable to their judgment of it.
ParisJan. 1. 1672.
Letter II.
SInce I have propoſed to begin the weekly news, I have tyed my ſelf to write as often as I can, with fome extraordinary adventure; you have here Madam a true one, which will doubtleſs pleaſe you.
A young Sovereign Gallant, and amorous, being one day walking without the ordinary confident of his Gallanteries, after having ſtudied upon ſomething for a while, haſtily asks for him, which obliged all that Princes Courtiers to look out every was for Cleodates. (ſo will I name that favourite, or rather under that name ſpeak of him in the Story, ſince you have given me an Item, that I ſhould put feigned names to all the Gallant Adventures, I ſhall get to ſend you) Philemon, a young Cavalier, more ſolicitous then any of the reſt, to make his Complements to the favourite, was moſthappy, and thought himſelf the more ſo; becauſe as he imagined his maſter had particularly addreſſed himſelf19 to him to ſeek him; he flyes to Cleodates houſe, which had a back door directly opening toward the Princes Palace, and which he found only put to, he muſt have gone a great way about to the ordinary Gate of entrance, and there to no purpoſe asked for Cleodates: For that Cavalier no leſs Gallant then his Maſter, whoſe Confident he was, had gone out alone, and taking a turn about, came in again by that private door, without being perceived by any of his people. This way then Philemon went in without meeting any body; he goes up a little pair of Stairs which ſtood in a by Corner; but which he knew very well, this not being the firſt time he had tryed that paſſage, and came preſently to the Chamber, where he thought he might find Cleodates; but ſeeing no one there, he was forced to knock at a little Cloſet door ſtood by it. After having knockt a good while, it came into his head to look through the Key-hole; for he thought he heard ſome body within, he preſently obſerved Cleodates kiſſing a Lady, but could not diſcover who ſhe was, her face being hid from him; only he took notice ſhe had Green20 Silk Stockings on, and very rich Garters He eaſily gueſſed by their not anſwering nor ſtirring up and down, that they would not have it known they were in that Cloſet and that they would not open the doo•for any one whatever. Philemon hereupo•returns with intention to tell the Prince h•could not find Cleodates; he did ſo indeed but 'twas in a way made him ſuſpect there was a myſtery in it; for he could not forbear laughing at uttering his name. Th•Prince would needs know the reaſon, an•very earneſtly required it, he was ſoon ſa•ſatisfied for Sovereigns not being to be refuſed any thing; Philemon told him all h•had ſeen. This adventure which one would have thought ſhould have diverted the Prince, begot a dumps in him, made Philemon a hundred times repent his weakneſs in diſcovering a thing he obſerved grieved his Maſter, and might be prejudicial to Cleodates. This Prince loved a young beauty in his Court, and now grew ſuſpicious his favourite might be his Rival; he asked Philemon if he knew the Lady he had ſeen by her Legs; Philemon was ſo ready to anſwer yes, that he had not time to conſider21 how he might by it both diſpleaſe his Maſter, and looſe his Friend. The Prince replyed, If that Lady were one of the Court he would know her e're it were long, and at that inſtant obliged the Princeſs his Wife to ſend for all the Ladies of the Court; and as ſoon as they were come, propoſed to them to mount immediately on horſe-back, and ſee a chaſe; ſome ſaid they ſhould have time given them to put ſhorter Coats, others were of a contrary opinion, The Prince could have wiſhed it, that he might the better have ſeen their Stockings; but then he doubted they might in changing Cloaths, change Stockings too; but whatever he feared, he was ſoon recovered of it, as you will hear by the ſequel. This Prince, who was naturally Gallant, appeared ſo in this occaſion, ſomewhat more ſo then uſual, and talking pleaſantly with all the Ladies, told them, that he would ſet them all on Horſe-back; you may eaſily gueſs what he meant by it, and that by this contrivance he only deſigned to diſcover the Lady with the Green Stockings. He had already ſeated a great many, without22 finding what he feared to find, when at laſt he diſcovered one of the delicateſt Legs in the world, and on it a Green Silk Stocking. You will be as much ſurprized as he was Madam, when you ſhall underſtand, that it was upon his Miſtreſs he found them; but 'tis no time to ſtand wondering now, or if you will wonder what you have yet to hear, will but amaze you will more. The Prince in deſpair, ſtretcht on the extreams of love and jealouſy, gave a ſhreck at the ſight of thoſe Stockings, and ſtood like one aſtoniſhed; Philemon, who was ſtill near him, perceiving the cauſe of his diſquiet, told him in his ear, That the Stockings he had ſeen were of a deeper Green, and the Garters of another Colour. Thou would'ſt abuſe me (replyed the Prince) only to aſſwage my grief; but if I find no other Green Stockins, I ſhall give no faith to any thing thou ſayeſt. At theſe words he endeavered to appear Blith and Gay, as he did before, and with a Countenance full of mirth and jollity, though his heart were heavy, proceeded to ſeat the reſt of his Ladies on Horſe-back. He was come now to the23 very laſt, without finding any other Green Stockings but his Miſtreſſes, and the fear he ſhould fail of finding any other, hindred him from caſting up his eyes on her whoſe Leggs he only look'd on, without knowing whoſe they were; he was much ſurprized to find Stockins and Garters both to be like thoſe Philemon had deſcribed. Philemon, who thought of nothing more then relieving the Prince from the trouble he had put him, and making it appear he had no intention to deceive him, kept ſtill his Eyes caſt downwards; ſo that at the ſame time both he and the Prince cryed out they had found what they ſought for, if their joy were great, their amazement was no leſs, when lifting up their Eyes, almoſt both at a time they perceived. I believe you are very impatient now to know, and that your curioſity would be very burdenſome to you, if I ſhould long delay it. It was Philemons wife, which fight made him look as like a Coxcomb, as indeed he was. The Prince appeared as much amazed as he; but yet could not forbear laughing from the bottom of his heart. The Srory goes no farther, and ſince I24 have promiſed to write you nothing but truth, I will add nothing of my own, though it were eaſie to invent a thouſand fine things on ſo delicate an occaſion.
Monſieur the Duke de Feûillade, of the illuſtrious houſe D'Buſton ſo conſiderable, for the many Hero's iſſued from that Family; and for that great Maſter of Rhodes of the ſame name, and ſo renowned in his own perſon, and ſo well known in the Ottoman Empire, who after a thouſand gallant Actions done for the Honour and Service of the King his Maſter, had the happineſs to ſee the Infidels chaſed out of Hungary, after their being defeated by thoſe brave French Troops he commanded, who following the Orders he gave them, and imitating his valour, defeated an almoſt innumerable Army, compoſed of the choiſeſt Forces of the Muſulmen; he, whoſe name is at this day ſo famous, through the whole Empire of the Turks, that ſame Mounſieur de Feûillade has been preſented by the King with the charge of Collonel of his Regiment of French Guards, his Majeſty did him the Honour to receive him in perſon into this Charge, which is ſo25 much the more glorious, becauſe thoſe who enjoy it, receive thereby the Honours pavable to the Children of France. This Dukes Oath was received by the Marſhal Duke Du Ple•sis, who was choſen out among all the Marſhals in France who are Commiſſaries of His Majeſties Forces. This Marſhal is famous for his great Employs, for many Towns and Battails won, for the Siege of Roſes, where the Over flowings of the Waters, and all the Inconveniences of a hard ſeaſon, ſeemed to have conſpired together to oppoſe his Succeſs: yet though he aſſailed that City with fewer forces then defended it, his valour made the King Maſter of it, which his Majeſty recompenſed with the ſtaff of Marſhal of France. This great Captain is likewiſe famous for the gain of the glorious Battel of Rochel, which he won with ſo much advantage, and which decided the fortune of the Realm in a time wherein the Civil Wars had wrought ſo much confuſion. 'Twas this Battel diſperſed the Enemies of France, and made the frontiers of the Kingdom the Barriers againſt the Enterprizes of the Revolted Party.
26Some days paſt was acted on the Theatre of the Hoſtel de Burgogne, a Tragedy called Bajazet, which has gain'd the repute of an excellent Work, and you perhaps will think it ſo, when you hear 'tis a Compoſition of Mounſieur Racines, ſince nothing but what is moſt accompliſhed comes from the Pen of that Eminent Author. The Subject of the Tragedy is Turkiſh, as the Author ſays in his Preface: I will tell in two words what I could learn of that Story from the Hiſtorians of the Country, by which you may judge of the Admirable Genius of Poeſie, that without taking any thing elſewhere, could form ſo excellent a Tragedy.
Amurath had three Brothers when he went to beſiege Babylon, two he cauſed to be ſtrangled, neither of which was called Bajazet, the third was ſaved from his fury, becauſe he had no children to ſucceed in the Empire. This Grand Signior carried with him in that Voyage his favourite Sultaneſs. The Grand Vizier who was called Mahomet Baſha went likewiſe, as we may ſee in a relation writ by a Turk of the Seraglio, and tranſlated into French by Mounſieur du Loir27 who was then at Conſtantinople; and this was that Great Vizier who began the aſſault of that famous Town towards the Levant, with the Governour of Greece, Ali Baſha, the Son of Arlan, and the Aga of the Janizaries with his Regiment. At his return he entred triumphantly into Conſtantinople, as his Maſter had done ſome days before. Yet the Author of Bajazet does ingeniouſly make him ſtay at Conſtantinople under the name of Achomat, to favour the deſigns of Roxana, who is here found in the Seraglio at Byzantium, though ſhe were indeed in his Highneſs Camp, and all this to raiſe Bajazet to the Empire, whoſe name is very well invented. The third Brother of Sultan Amurath which remained, and eſcaped his wrath, was called Ibrahim, whom this cruel Emperour had the barbarous thoughts of deſtroying in that extream ſickneſs which ſeized him, and of which he died, with deſign (ſay they) to leave for Succeſſor the young Muſtapha Capoudan Baſſa his Favourite, whom he had given in marriage to an onely daughter he had by his beſt beloved Sultaneſs. I cannot yield to them who think this piece expreſſes not enough28 of the Turkiſh nature. There are Turks truly Gallant; and ſince it pleaſes, no matter how; nor coſts it more when we are feigning, to invent honeſt and gentile Characters, than thoſe barbarous ones which agree not with the humour of the Ladies of our Age, whom 'tis a thing of the greateſt Importance to pleaſe. Gallantry, Bravery, and Goodneſs, are not things without Turkiſh Examples; and we have a very pleaſant Hiſtory in a Letter of Mounſieur de Loir writ to Mounſieur de Charpentier in 1641, which it's poſſible you would not be diſpleaſed if I ſhould rehearſe to you: ſome of it you ſhall have. He ſays, ſpeaking of a Friend of his newly arrived at Conſtantinople:
He was no ſooner got hither, but within three days a Lady gave him private notice of the inclination ſhe had for him; ſhe cauſed one of her Companions to throw into his Windows Citrons ſtuck with Cloves, which are here the firſt Letters and Embaſſies of Love, and he finding the ſweetneſs of being beloved, anſwered with the ſame fervency the paſſion of her that loved him. She was a young Turkiſh Damſel of very29 good quality called Zenakhoub, with whom he entertained an Amorous Commerce, of which the Hiſtory ſets down each particular. And ſurely if Adventures are thought the more pleaſing the more hazardous they are, few can claim preferrence to this intrigue; and though your ſelf ſhould impoſe ſilence on me, I cannot forbear telling what at laſt happened to him, which is an Adventure worth relating, and cannot be unpleaſant in the reading. This raſh man had often diſguiſed himſelf like a Woman, to ſee his Love in Marriage-Aſſemblies, whither he was introduced by a Jew Woman intruſted with their ſecrets, and paſſed for a young Slave, ſhe ſaid ſhe had lately bought; his Youth, his Knowledge in the Countrey-Language, and the love he was inflamed with, were a favourable Paſport to him: But it was not long ere by an unheard-of Boldneſs and ſtrange Imprudence, going to ſee his Miſtreſs in mans Attire, he was like to loſe her, and be loſt. Zenakhoub had a long time been ſought in Marriage, which ſhe had always concealed from this new Lover, reſolving never to tell it him till it was impoſſible for her to hinder30 it longer, and now ſhe found it unavoidable. She therefore ſent one morning (very early) to ſeek her new Love, commanding him to come immediately with the Jew, whilſt the Turks were at their prayers at break of day, for that ſhe feared ſhe ſhould never more have an opportunity to ſpeak with him. He was ſo ſhortned in time that he could not onely not diſguiſe his Sex, but had ſcarce leaſure to hide his own Habits under a Veſt, and to cover his Chin with a falſe Beard, and coming thus to Zenakhoub, was at his entrance amazed to find her in ſuch a ſerious meditation, but was much more when with many ſighs and interrupting ſobs ſhe told him of her Marriage, and that ſhe onely ſent for him to take her laſt leave of him. He was aſtoniſhed at firſt, not being able to ſpeak a word, ſadneſs had ſo ſeiz'd his Soul: but during his ſilence, his Eyes gave evidence to Zenakhoub of the extream Grief he felt within. At laſt, both having for a good while entertained each other by looks, Zenakhoub with a great ſigh gave him notice 'twas time to part. I'll not tell you what they might ſay on this occaſion, for beſides31 the recital would be too long, I will eaſe you of the grief I felt, when he made me the Rehearſal, and you may imagine that, but you cannot think what happened to them: He held Zenakhoub faſt by the hand, and he has ſwore to me that he thought verily the fire of his kiſſes would have burnt her, if the tears he had ſhed from above, had not allayed and moderated their flame. To ſpeak all in a word, that at laſt the violences of his love had tranſported him beyond thoſe bounds of reſpect which that virtuous Maid had ſet him, and within which he had always kept; he would have kiſt her mouth, but ſhe who felt her Soul almoſt yielding to her Paſſion, and her Reaſon now at laſt gaſp, fearing her Reſiſtance would at length too weakly defend her Modeſty, with a ſtrange and ſudden motion drew forth a Dagger ſhe had at her Girdle, and preſenting it to him, conjured him by all the moſt obliging Conſiderations, rather to take away her Life, than attempt to offend her Honour. All our Lovers heat at this was turn'd to Ice, but being again by little and little warmed with this Amorous Conteſtation, as he was32 about to diſarm her, preſſing down her hand, he ſtruck the Dagger into her Thigh, ſo that what with the ſight o•her Bloud, and the other Agitations of her Soul, ſhe fell into a ſwound. The ſhreek he gave, ſeeing her in that condition, was heard by the Woman of the Houſe, who run in preſently, to whom they could not refuſe opening the Chamber-door, but before they got in, Zenakhoub's Nurſe had ſhut up in an Alcove him that had been the cauſe of all this noiſe; and the blow having onely raced the Skin, thoſe that found it having carried Zenakhoub into a Balcony to give her freſh air, imputed it onely to a little faint-heartedneſs. Mean time, ſome were run to look for her Mother, who came in great haſte, and found her Daughter juſt recovering her ſpirits with the help of cold Water thrown into her face: but ſhe was about to fall again into her ſwoun, upon ſeeing her ſelf in her Mothers Arms, and in the doubts and fears ſhe was in for her Lover. 'Twas well for her ſhe was thought to be ſo weak, ſhe had otherwiſe given too apparent Teſtimonies of the cauſe of her trouble; but before33 ſhe was fully come to her ſelf, ſhe obſerved her Mother teſtified more kindneſs than anger, and judged both by it and by her lamenting her miſhap, that ſhe knew neither of the Author nor Cauſe. Yet ſhe was not out of fear for her Lover, who for his part paſt the time no better, and heard no one come near the place where he was, but he imagined they came to him; and he gave himſelf over to diſcovery, when the Jew feigning to look out ſome Cloaths, threw him a Womans Habit to diſguiſe himſelf in. I believe now that you would be glad to be rid of your fears you are in for him: and to that purpoſe it will be enough to tell you, that favoured by that diſguiſe he got out of the houſe: but his love not thus ſatisfied, foryed him to another hazard again, to ſee Zenakhoub, before he left her for ever; and, which I almoſt tremble at when I but think of it, made him take the boldneſs to go in where ſhe was, and to whiſper ſomething in the Jew's Ear, as if he had been a Slave ſent to her about ſome buſineſs. If Zenakhoub's Mother had not been otherwiſe employ'd, or prepoſſeſs'd with grief, or had34 taken the leaſt notice how the Jew was aſtoniſhed, and grew pale at his entrance, or how her Daughter changed Countenance, which on a ſudden was all in a flame, it had poſſibly put any other thoughts into her head than what ſhe feared, that this ſudden change was a ſymptome of Zenakhoub's diſtemperature: But ſhe ſuſpected nothing, and the ſick Lady having called the Jew to her, as if ſhe deſired ſome aſſiſtance from her, to help her to raiſe her head upon the pillow; ſhe commanded her immediately to carry away that raſh man, to give ſome eaſe to her Spirit toſſed and perplexed betwixt Fear and Love. They departed immediately, and Zenakhoub's Wound being more favourable than hurtful, ſerved onely for a pretence to retard the Marriage.
But let us return to the Author of Bajazet, whoſe Work has occaſioned the recital of this Adventute. I have nothing to ſay to you of his Worth. It is ſo Great, that there is no place left on Parnaſſus worthy to offer him. His Friends would ſeat him between Sophocles35 and Euripides, in whoſe Works Diogenes Laertius would make us believe Socrates had the greateſt ſhare in the ſublimeſt parts: The Rivals of this French Euripides or Socrates, would I doubt not be willing to ſee him gone to thoſe great Perſonages among the Greeks, though upon condition that his memory were as glorious as theirs ever deſerved to be.
Paris9 January 1672.
Letter III.
I Cannot tell, Madam, whether my Letters have the good fortune to pleaſe you, but I aſſure you, I am very diligent to inform my ſelf of the moſt curious Novelties, and moſt ſurprizing Adventures; and I believe this wherewith I am about to entertain you, will appear no leſs wonderful than the former. It happened ſometime ſince in one of the Provinces of this Kingdom, where it is yet the whole ſubject of Diſcourſe.
Celiantes a Perſon of Quality, handſome, witty, valiant, and who had given Evidences of his Judgment and Valour in an Age37 when others ſeem but to peep into the World, fell deeply in love with the young Lydiana. You may think now I am going to paint her out like a Heroine in a Romance, and intend to tell you ſhe was the faireſt Perſon in the World; but ſince I am to relate a true ſtory, I will leave the Curioſity of thoſe pretty Imbelliſhments to the Ingenious Inventers of Romances, wherewith the pleaſant Wits of France have often diverted the whole World. All that I can ſay for Lydiana's advantage, is, that ſhe had a well-ſhap'd Body, and had a great deal of Wit; and if ſhe did not paſs for a Beauty, ſhe muſt needs have ſome pleaſing Features, which though all the World could not find out, appeared ſo at leaſt in the Eyes of her Lover, if it be true that Proverbs never lie. Lydiana was of Quality, and had a great Portion, and beſides was to be Heireſs to two of her Relations, who had the repute to be the richeſt men of their Country. You know Madam, that there cannot be much deceit; thoſe that appear rich in the Countrey, are ſo indeed. Their Wealth appears to the Eyes of all the World, and38 their Lands are a ſubſtance not to be carried away in a night. Lydiana's great Riches, and the hopes of thoſe great Inheritances like to fall to her, gain'd her an incredible number of Suiters of all Qualities, among whom Celiante appeared not the leaſt paſſionate. Since ſhe was not fair, and had the wit to know ſhe was not ſo, ſhe reſolved to diſpoſe her heart to him who mixed the leaſt Intereſt and hopes of Gain with his Love. This was a hard thing to find out. Men know ſo well how to diſſemble; and when there is Intereſt in the caſe, there are few but find preſently the way to become Hypocrites. Lydiana after having the beſt ſhe could examined them all, and tried them by a thouſand cunning practices, believed Celiantes the honeſteſt man of them all; and judging him the moſt upright and leaſt covetous, thought ſhe ought to diſpoſe of her heart to him: He perceived her inclination towards him, which made him preſs forward his love the more, and he ſoon obtained what he wiſhed; there can little reſiſtance be found after ſuch Reſolutions as Lydiana's. The Intelligence formed between39 them was ſoon found out by the reſt of the Suitors of this Ingenious Lady, and her Relations were not long ignorant of it. The Choice of Lydiana's Heart agreed not with Theirs, they had not taken ſuch precaution in making it as ſhe had done, but the richeſt ſeemed to them moſt worthy to have her. I will not relate to you the croſſes theſe Lovers met with, nor what Lydiana ſuffered between Love and her Friends; few Amorous Hiſtories but will ſupply you with ſuch Traverſes. I will be ſatisfied to tell you, that after many Diſputes the prudent Lydiana knew ſo well how to manage things with her Relations, that ſoon after they not onely yielded ſhe ſhould not marry whom they had firſt pitched upon, but likewiſe conſented ſhe ſhould eſpouſe Celiantes. Nothing could be more happy than the firſt years of their Marriage, they loved like Lovers; nor was there ever ſeen a more perfect Union, which might happily have endured longer, if the Eyes of the young Eliſa had not come to diſturb their Content and Quiet. Never was there Woman more ſubtile, nor practiſed more Arts and Devices to pleaſe. She40 pleaſed indeed Celiantes unhappily for him, and knew how to allure him with ſo much Cunning and Artifice, that he loſt by little and little all the love he had for his wife, he preſently forgot his good Humour and Complaiſance towards her, from thence paſſed to Indifference, and his Indifference ſoon turned to Neglect. Neither did miſchiefs ſtop here, but as theſe Miſſes are not content with mens hearts, but onely ſubject them to draw in ſomewhat elſe; Celiantes found himſelf inſenſibly engaged to make every day new Preſents to Eliſa, and that cunning Whore had ſuch ſly contrivances to bring occaſions about, that they ſeemed as it were to preſent themſelves. You may eaſily gueſs Lydiana bore not very patiently both the loſs of Celiantes heart, and the conſumption of their Eſtate. There were many ſtorms about it, that made a thundring noiſe, but Lydiana loving her Husband paſſionately, ſtill appeaſed all theſe vehemencies by a compliant ſubmiſſion. Till in the end things grew to that height of diſtreſs, ſhe could no longer forbear, but was forced loudly to complain; for blows and ill uſage followed his Indifference,41 Neglect, and waſte of Eſtate. The Clamour Lydiana made, gladded inſtead of afflicting Celiantes, he took thence occaſion to leave his Wife, and to go live with his Miſs. Lydiana, who now began to believe ſhe had not ſo much love as formerly for her Husband, becauſe ſhe had no reaſon to love him, was not ſenſible at once of all her Grief, and all her Love. Nay, now ſhe began to think ſhe might come to hate him, becauſe ſhe found her heart endeavouring to entertain a hatred of him: Yet again ſhe would have ſome returns of kindneſs which made her endure all the moſt violent Torments of Jealouſie, which at laſt threw her into ſo furious a deſpair, that at length ſhe determined to execute what I am about to tell you. She feigned her ſelf ſick, and that ſhe daily grew worſe and worſe, having corrupted a Doctor to aver the ſame thing. She deſired then to ſee her Husband, as being unwilling to die till ſhe were reconciled with him. He was ſent for in haſte to the Countrey, where he lived with Eliſa: His Intereſt made him come with all ſpeed and diligence, for he had yet ſome conſiderable42 things to hope from his Wife, if he made his peace with her before ſhe died. He was no ſooner arrived, but he begg'd her pardon, which ſhe as ſoon granted him, at leaſt in appearence; and they ſeemed the beſt agreed people in the World. After the ſecond day ſhe deſired he would lie in her Chamber, and not at all leave her, he yielded to her requeſt, and a Bed was ſet up for him near to hers. Short time after, ſhe declared her ſelf ſomewhat better, and that there was no neceſſity for any other than her Husband to lie in the room, 'twas thought ſhe had ſomething in private to ſay to him; ſo at laſt they conſented, though with ſome oppoſition, for fear ſhe might be taken ill in the night. She ſeemed extreamly kind that evening to her Husband; but when he was faſt aſleep, ſhe riſes and hides the Key of the Door, then places ſome Faggots in the middle of the Chamber with the Tables and Chairs, and ſo ſets fire to it in many places, and to the Matreſſes of the two Beds. There was already a great flame, when Celiantes awoke: he would have run ſtraight to the door, but the ſmoke and fire hindred his finding it;43 and if he had found it, it had been to ſmall purpoſe. You muſt die, ſaid Lydiana, ſtopping him by the Arm; and though thou wouldeſt not live with me, I will let thee ſee I have love enough for thee to die with thee. She added ſomewhat elſe, and he anſwered her; but thoſe who came to help them could neither hear what it was, nor prevent the fires conſuming both of them. Eliſa was ſo penitent for having been the cauſe of ſo cruel an accident, that ſhe went into a Nunnery, but all her penitence for her Crimes will not reſtore Life to theſe two unfortunate Perſons, whom Love has made periſh in flames much fiercer than his own.
There is nothing talked of here but pleaſure and divertiſements, nor were ever Balls or Muſick ſo much in the mode. The Commedians have lately acted here a piece ſtuffed full of them, which is intituled The Marriage of Bacchus and Ariana; the Songs took mightily, the Airs being compoſed by the famous Monſieur de Moliere, whoſe abilities are every where known, and who has been for many years imployed to compoſe44 the Aires for the Kings Balads. He is the Author of The loves of the Sun, which got ſo much fame the year laſt paſt, and which this preſent Winter has been the buſineſs of the Theatre; for almoſt two Months I will ſay no more of his works; he is too much my friend, and therefore the praiſes I give him, may perhaps be ſuſpected.
After having undergone the troubles of a long Voyage, and ſuffered all thoſe inconveniencies which the Sea oppreſſes them with, whoſe tempers cannot away with it; Monſieur Curtin is at laſt happily arrived in Sweden. Though he be yet but young, he manages all truſts impoſed on him with the prudence and diſcretion of the moſt ancient men, and that have been the longeſt verſt in imployes. And we muſt needs believe his merits to be great, if we judge of them by the many Services, wherein the King has made uſe of him.
Monſieur the Duke D'Eſtrees, as intelligent in Affairs of Counſel, as of War, parted ſome dayes ſince extraordinary Embaſſador for Rome; he is Son to the45 late Marſhal D'Eſtrees, ſo famous for the War of the Princes of Italy, which his diſcontents conceived againſt the Court of Rome made him ſtir up, and who in many other Embaſſes had favourable ſucceſſes.
ParisJan. 16. 1672.
Letter IV.
THough there be nothing more ordinary then Compliment, nothing for the moſt part is more troubleſome and uſeleſs. I therefore intreat you Madam to excuſe them at the front of my Letters, and that I may immediately fall to the Story I intend to relate, and take now one, which I'le aſſure you is very new.
One of thoſe young people, who pretend to know all things, and yet do nothing, of thoſe able Coxcombs who ſpend moſt part of their lives in waiting for imployes, having devoured all his income, which was not much, flattering himſelf ſtill with the hopes of a great fortune, at length finding himſelf ſomewhat oppreſſed for want of means, believed, that he might more commodiouſly wait for an imployment, to raiſe him to the heights he dream'd of, if he married, and eat up a Wives fortune, as he had done his own. 47His pretended endowments ſoon made him find out a woman, and the mighty things he boaſted himſelf capable of, made it be thought, that if he could but one day get the leaſt imploy in the Treaſury, he might in a little time gain two or three Millions of Eſtate. He wanted not famous examples of his prodigious fortunes, to authorize his great hopes, and he made it evident, that all thoſe who had gained ſuch great fortunes, were but Aſles and Fops in Compariſon of him. The Parents of her he deſired to marry, ſwallowed this Gudgeon, and believed, that if one day he came into the management of buſineſs, he might give Commiſſions to all their Family, and one of theſe Gentlemen fully relyed upon it, for three or four of his Children. And as many Nephews. There was likewiſe one of the richeſt amongſt them, who being to give ſome recompence to a ſervant had waited on him for ten years, opened his Purſe-ſtrings, which he had already untyed, and promiſed him a Commiſſion of a hundred Crowns Rent. The man accepted the Bargain, and fancyed to himſelf, that48 after that Commiſſion, he ſhould get another; that ſoon after he ſhould have his Coach, and poſſibly in a little more time might buy ſome Marquiſate; nay, he did not deſpair, but it might come to a Dutchy; upon theſe ſplendid hopes of the whole family of the future Spouſe, all whoſe Relations had their heads filled with Chimera's, the Marriage was agreed upon, celebrated and conſummated all at once; ſo earneſt were theſe imagining people at it, and ſo fearful leaſt the main Engine of ſuch great fortunes ſhould eſcape them, and their Family. There was nothing but Feaſts and Rejoycings ſucceeded the Marriage, at which nothing was talked of, but the future greatneſs of the new Husband, two or three Months paſſed in this manner, and no imployments came to ſupply the expence. The Relations of the Wife beſtirred themſelves mightily to get one for their new Kinſman; they imployed their Friends, but with all their ſolicitations they could get only a Serving-man; which he refuſed with much diſdain, in the mean time the Portion he got with his wife waſted, and he became almoſt49 as beggerly as before; and now his vexation was the more, becauſe he had now a Wife to maintain, whoſe humour is a little whoriſh, and who loved to live high. The Gallants came, and it being now much to the purpoſe, were well received not by the Husband; for he was naturally jealous; but they told him, That thoſe that came thither were perſons of quality, and who might help him to an imployment. Being in theſe ſtraits he was forced to make a virtue of neceſſity; having hopes to get a Commiſſion by their means; but though all theſe reaſons made him ſuffer their coming thither, he could not do it but with much perplexity, and his continual preſence, growing troubleſome to them, there was one, who to get rid of him, gave him an imployment in the Countrey. He was dubious at firſt whether he ſhould accept it, not being willing to go from his Wife; but in the end he was perſwaded to part, the imployment being conſiderable. They told him, Fortune offered not her ſelf every day, and that who once let her eſcape, did not eaſily find her again. To it then he goes, but50 with much reluctancy; ſo much he feared his Wives growing more whoriſh in his abſence; he was not deceived in it, and had notice of it by one of thoſe impertinent friends, who giving advice to Huſbands of what their Wives do, wrong them more then their Wives themſelves, though all they ſay of them be true. This poor Husband endured much ſorrow, with vexing that his Wife enjoyed more pleaſure then he; he was many times about to quit his imployment, and come to be her Goaler; but having no reaſonable pretence, he ſaw well that his return would be to no other purpoſe then to make his misfortunes more publick. This made him change his determinations, but as a jealous man continually meditating, it came one day into his head, to find out a way that his Wife ſhould no longer be ſo fair, believing that with her beauty ſhe would looſe many of her lovers; and this was the Stratagem he concluded of, he ſent her a Packet by the Poſt, into which he made up a very fine Box of Gold. This Box was filled with Gunpowder, and ſo ordered, that when the Scrue was opened it51 ſhould take fire by means of a Stone plaplaced to that purpoſe. This preſent was delivered ſafe to the party to whom it was deſigned; but it was given to her in his preſence from whom her Husband held his Commiſſion, he thought it a Picture ſent from ſome other Lover, and earneſtly ſnatches the Box, but his Jealous Curioſity was ſoon puniſhed, for in opening it, it wrought the ſame effect on him the Huſband deſign'd it ſhould have done on his Wife. This Adventure became a Town-talk. The Gallant believing the Huſband had ſent the Box, and ſoon after took away his Commiſſion, on a falſe pretence of ill management. He returned to his Wife, where he and the whole Family are expecting new Commiſſions, which may one day put them in a condition to ſatisfie their mighty hopes.
Mounſieur the Marquiſs de Villars has made his Publick Entry into Madrid with a great deal of Magnificence: You know he is a very comely Gentleman, excellently humoured, and of a tried Valour; and the choice made of him to be Ambaſſadour in52 Spain, where ſuch delicacy of Judgment is required, is a certain evidence of his Abilities.
Mounſieur de Pompone is lately returned from Sweden, and has already taken his Oath as Secretary of State: His Worth is known to all the World, ſince 'tis that has raiſed him to this Dignity. There is no perſon but is perſwaded he will behave himſelf worthy of the Choice made of him by the Greateſt and Wiſeſt King of the World; and great things are expected from him. He writes with more ſpirit and life than can be obſerved in any of the moſt ſtudied Letters of our Academians.
Letter V.
SInce I have told you in my laſt I would uſe no more Complements, but begin all my Letters with the Stories I intend to relate; I will keep my word with you, and begin.
An old covetous Fellow, who had yet no Children, and who was deſperate fearful of any expence, was almoſt ready to run mad, when his Wife told him ſhe believed ſhe had conceived; he began to caſt up in his Brain all that a Child would coſt him, till it came to be thirty years of Age, and framed ſo exact an accompt of it, that he reckoned likewiſe the food they54 took in their Mothers Bellies, alledging that Women with Child eat both for Themſelves and their Children: He added together all theſe ſums, and then caſt up how much they would purchaſe, if he laid them out in Rents, and how much the Intereſt upon Intereſt would produce. He found the total to amount ſo high, that he repented a thouſand and a thouſand times the day that ever he was married, and made a full reſolution never to attempt getting any more Children, deeming it a pleaſure unbecoming a diſcreet and underſtanding man. Whilſt he was making theſe Accounts and theſe Reflections, his Wife perceived certainly ſhe was with Child, and no more doubt to be made of it; ſhe told it to her griping Husband, whoſe grief was twice as much as it had been before, and from that very minute he began ſeveral Retrenchments in his Houſe, that his Thrift might help bear the charges of the coming Infant; but how gripple ſoever he were, he could ſave little this way, ſince rather than a ſuperfluity, there was already a want of many neceſſary things. But if his torment were great, to ſee his Wife55 with Child, it was doubled and redoubled, when about the ſixth month ſhe told him that ſhe believed ſhe was with Child with two, and that many knowing Women doubted it; he was then ready to hang himſelf; but one we call a Man-midwife, a Friend of his, eas'd him of this vexation, by aſſuring him the contrary. Soon after, ſcolding with his Wife, he told her 'twas convenient to conſider which would coſt leaſt, to bring up a Boy or a Girl; and after having well examined the matter, and reckoned at their fingers ends the expence of one and the other, they found that a Boy would coſt leaſt, becauſe he might make his own fortune; but the Father and the Mother muſt make out the Girles, by providing her a portion. I will have you then ſaid the Husband bring me a Boy. That is neirher in your power nor mine, reply'd the Wife. It ſhall be as I tell you, replyed the Husband. It may be ſo, indeed, anſwered the Wife, if Nature has thought good to make one. Let Nature have made one or no, cry'd the old Wreth in wrath, I ſay you ſhall be brought to Bed of a Boy, or at leaſt the Child you bring56 forth ſhall appear to the eyes of the world whatever I will have it to be: for if you be brought to bed of a Girl, we will ſay 'tis a Boy, and bring it up under that habit. The Woman was forced to conſent, and all the reſt of her time they fortified themſelves in this Reſolution. Her hour being come, ſhe was brought to bed of a Girl, and to make it be believed a Boy, they took thoſe courſes they had before contrived. All that ſaw it were deceived, and when it grew in years many young Maids fell in love with it. This young Beauty being ill treated by her Father, and worſe fed, reſolved to leave the Covetous Miſer, and as ſoon as ſhe found her ſelf able to carry a Muſquet, enliſted her ſelf and came to the Army, where in the firſt Field ſhe made her ſelf be taken notice of. All that ſaw her, took a liking to her, they could give no reaſon for, and ſhe had a kind of modeſt and obliging carriage, which hindred thoſe who were Enemies to Worth in all others, from envying her. She was always very retired; and though ſhe knew not her ſelf what ſhe was, ſhe lived as if ſhe deſigned a concealment; and it ſucceeded ſo happily,57 that never any ſuſpected it. She was not yet grown to all the marks neceſſary to diſtinguiſh her: for though ſhe was pretty large, ſhe was very young, and had ſtrength enough to undergo the toyls of War. In the firſt Garriſon where ſhe quartered, her Landlords Daughter fell deſperately in love with her, and fearing her ſelf to be already with Child by a Lover that was lately dead, and willing to hide her ſhame by clapping up a Match with this Object of her New Love, ſhe omitted nothing might gain his good Will, doing a thouſand obliging things for this fair Souldier, to bring her deſign to effect: ſhe followed him every where, gave him meetings in an hundred different places, that all the World might take notice of her love, and ſpeak of it to her Father. Her plot took, for thoſe who ſpoke of it told him, That after ſo much talk of this her Paſſion, he would never find any one would marry her, and therefore to ſalve his Reputation, he muſt of force give her to him ſhe loved ſo fervently. The Good Man was of their opinion, and after having a little chid his Daughter,58 and given her ſome good Leſſons, he talked with her about marrying the young Souldier quartered with him. It is to be obſerved that this Diſguiſed Maid paſſed for a young Lad of a good Family, and pretty rich, who was come to the Army without his Friends Conſent; and this was the chief Motive to make mine Hoſt reſolve to give him his Daughter. I will not trouble you with all that paſſed till the wedding-day, but onely bring this new-married Couple to Bed: There 'tis I believe you expect them. The Bride's heart went pit-a-pat out of fear her Husband ſhould diſcover another had reap'd thoſe Favours ſhould have been reſerved for him: But that fear ſoon vaniſhed, when ſhe perceived too clearly that he was in a Condition to examine nothing; thus from one danger ſhe apprehended, ſhe fell into a worſe, from which ſhe would ſoon have with-drawn her ſelf, if ſhe had not been with Child, by diſcovering all. But however, ſhe did nothing; and was ſo long conſulting with her ſelf what to do, that her Great Belly appeared; and now ſhe59 thought it too late to ſpeak: But unhappily for her, as ſhe was in her Ninth Moneth, and a bed with her pretended Husband, one of her Kinſwomen came into the Chamber while they were aſleep, and putting her hand on the bed to wake her Couſin, who ſtirr'd not at the noiſe ſhe made coming in, ſhe met with the Breſts of the Maiden Husband, which lay uncovered, and preſently it was known ſhe was a Woman, for the Kinſwomans aſtoniſhment was ſo great, that ſhe cried our aloud what ſhe had diſcovered. This is the original of that Adventure has been of late ſo much talked of, and which has made ſo many ignorant people publiſh, That one Maid got another with Child.
Mounſieur the Chancellour finding himſelf much afflicted with his Diſtemper, has ordered his Children to return the Seals into his Majeſties hands, fearing leſt his Malady ſhould hinder him from ſerving him with the ſame application he had done for this thirty nine years, in which he had officiated in this important Charge. Mounſieur the Duke of Coaſlin carried60 word of it, and did it in a way very ſatisfactory to his Majeſty. I know not, Madam, whether you have ever underſtood all the Worth of that Duke; his Valour is well known, and he eſteemed one of the beſt men in the world, and the moſt officious Friend, earneſt to do kindneſſes, and joyful when he has done them. As for his internal parts, the place he has in the Academy is a ſufficient Teſtimony of them.
Paris30 January 1672.
Letter VI.
I Am very doubtful Madam whether this Letter will have the good fortune to pleaſe you. and I have a great deal of reaſon to doubt it, ſince inſtead of finding as in the precedent, ſome divertizing Story, you will underſtand that ſuch is my grief for the death of the good Chancellor, that I am not in a condition to relate Adventures. That great Chancellor is now no more, nor had death ſo long ſpared him, but to make France more ſenſible of his loſs. He was a man of eminent knowledge, of admirable eloquence, and a Prudence often put to the teſt in the Counſels62 of two of the greateſt Kings in the world he was a great Benefactor to learning, the Protector of all knowing men, and for a Crown to all his glories, he was the ſtrongeſt prop and buttreſs of the Church that any age has known. Nor do I ſay this but upon the credit of many Prelates, who publiſh it as a truth. Never did man better underſtand the Juſtice, Ordinances and Laws of the Kingdom, nor appeared more to value able men of whatever profeſſion. He ſought with much labour and diligence to underſtand what belonged to his employment, or to thoſe Counſels he was obliged to give in affairs of State, often acknowledging the ſearch he had made of perſons who might give him the leaſt light, though he had much more underſtanding then thoſe he conſulted with.
But if death hath raviſhed from us one great Miniſter. The King has made another by giving Mounſier de Louvoy the quality of Miniſter of State, he ows this advancement only to his worth; for it is apparent, that his vigilance, exactneſs and good conduct in all things depending on63 his miniſtry, have made his Majeſty diſcern in him the moſt accompliſhed policies, which obliged him to make choiſe of him to aſſiſt in all Counſels in the quality of Miniſter of State. Though he be yet very young, there ſhines in him all the prudence and ſagacity of a Counſellor grown gray in affairs. All his actions are beautified with an incorruptible fidelity, and an exemplary ſtrictneſs, which may be obſerved in his ſeventy towards his dependants, when they at any time faulter in their duty, he is always ready to applaud and recompence good ſervice, but he is inexorable when men ſtray from their duty. The choice he makes of thoſe he puts into imployments under him, juſtifies the good choiſe the King made when he left things to hir diſpoſe, and daily intruſts him with affairs of moſt concern both to the publick, and to his own particular glory.
Death the day before yeſterday ſnatcht from us Madam the Princeſs of Conty, ſhe was as you very well know daughter of Count Martinozzi, and of a Siſter of the late Cardinal Mazarine. Though nature64 had given her a great portion of beauty, her devotion made her neglect it, ſhe lived with Mounſier the Prince of Conty with that reſpect made her reguarded with much kindneſs and conſideration. Her great piety none are ignorant of, and her plentiful Almes could not be hid from the world. Her care in bringing up her Children was worthy ſo great a Princeſs, and the fruits of her endeavours may be ſeen in thoſe little Princes, in whom may be obſerved qualities above the uſual reach of ſuch tender ſpirits.
ParisFebruary 6. 1672.
Letter VII.
I Believe, Madam, fame has already given you an account, how ſince the death of the late Lord Chancellor, the King would himſelf take the Charge of Keeper of his Seals; but perhaps you have not yet heard, that the firſt day he took that care upon him, he imployed himſelf at it for near ſeven hours, and yet that hindred him not from holding the ſame day two Counſels of more then three hours and a halfe each. Never was Prince heard of, that took ſo much pains, or laboured ſo hard for the good of his Subjects, his Majeſty has ſince named to have66 care of the Seal with deliberative voice, ſix ordinary Counſellors of ſtate, who are the Meſieurs D' Aligre, de Seve, Poncet, Boucherat, Puſſort, and Voiſin; he has nominated likewiſe fix Maſters of Requeſts, which are the Meſsieurs Barretin le Boulanger de Haqueville, le Pelletier, de Faucon, de Lamoignon, and Pelliſon. The Kings prudence may be judged of by the merit of thoſe he has named.
Monſieur D' Aligre is of Sixty Nine years of Age, and Son of a Chancellor, he has been Fifty years in the Counſel, has paſſed through all Charges, and been a long time Director of the Finances; his honeſty and uprightneſs are known and eſteemed by all the world.
Monſieur de Seve has been Secretary of the Cloſet, Maſter of Requeſts, and ſince Provoſt of the Merchants; he is at this preſent one of the Eldeſt Councellors of State, and has ever been one of the moſt zealout Servants of his King.
67The many different Charges undergone by Monſieur Poncet, have got him a great fame, and made his merits be acknowledged.
Monſieur Boucherat is well known by the great imployments he has had, and the many important Commiſſions he has always diſcharged to his Majeſties content, particularly in Britany, where he has been often Commiſſioner of the States for the King, he is a man of great Learning.
Monſieur Puſſort is eſtemable for many things, and particularly for the invention of new Laws and Ordinances, which may deliver the French from oppreſſion,
Monſieur Voiſin has Signalized himſelf in many occaſions, reſpecting his Miniſtry, he has been Provoſt of the Merchants, where he deſerved the place of Ordinary of the Counſel, with which he was honoured.
68Monſieur Barretin is ſometime ſince returned from the Super-intendence of Poictou he is Maſter of the Requeſts, and Preſident of the great Counſel, I know, Madam, you are ſenſible of his worth, and therefore ſhall ſay no more of it.
Monſieur le Boulange de Haqueville is a man whoſe uprightneſs is well known in the Council, he has a great deal of wit, and makes himſelf be diſtinguiſhed by a particular way of reporting affairs.
Monſieur le Pelletier de la Houſſaye is fearleſs, a good Judge, and who knows how to value a good Cauſe.
Monſieur de Lamoignon is Son to Monſieur the premier Preſident. The great worth of his Father, and the care he had of his Childrens Education, would ſufficiently of themſelves ſpeak advantagiouſly of him, if he had not of himſelf given particular Evidences of his merit. He has Signalized himſelf in the Parliament, and continues to do ſo every day in the Council, thereupon his Majeſty has choſen him an Aſſiſtant of the Seal.
69Monſieur Pelliſſon is known by all the world, his judgment and his uprightneſs are indiſputable, and though he had every where left Evidences of them, the Favours he continually is receiving from the King, would be an aſſured Teſtimony for him.
The Young Marchioneſſe, whom you know very well, who began to play ſo well on the Lute, is fallen into deſpair ſome dayes ſince. Monſieur Gaultier, who taught her, had aſſured her ſhe ſhould in a little time play as well as Madam Moiſelle de Lenclos. 'Twas a bold word that; but he was one might give deciſions in thoſe ſort of Affairs. Thoſe were the laſt words that great Maſter ſpoke about playing on the Lute; For at his going from this young Marchioneſſe, he fell ſick of a diſtemper, which he is ſince dead of. She no ſooner heard the News; but reſolving her Lute ſhould not ſurvive ſo great a Maſter, ſhe broke it all in pieces, and has determined never to play more. I will not diſcant on this action, but leave you to judge of it. But if the death of70 Monſieur Gualtier hinders her from ever playing on the Lute, ſo well as Madam de Lenclos, ſhe may yet endeavour to reſemble her in her wit and judgment, with which you know that excellent perſon is infinitely well ſtored.
ParisFebruary 13, 1672.
Letter VIII.
I Cannot tell, Madam, whether you may have yet heard of any Adventure happened ſometime ſince in this City, and which has been occaſion of much pleaſant diſcourſe this Carnaval in all the Balls at Paris.
A young married man, being one afternoon with ſome of his Friends, told them, that that Evening he had a Meeting at his houſe, and that he gave a Ball to a Siſter of his Wives, that ſojourned with her. One of the moſt pleaſant fellows of the Company perſwaded to go in Maſquarade, and told the young married man, His72 pleaſure would be much the greater, if he came along with them in a diſguiſe. He conſented, and they preſently ſent for Habits of Maſquerade. The Hour of the Ball being come, they all went thither, and their Gentee carriage made many Conqueſts. The young Huſband made one, which in the end pleaſed him not at all; for his Wife fell in love with him without knowing him, ſhe ſtaid not long before ſhe gave him ſigns of it, tenderly ſweezing his hand, and he anſwered his kindneſs in the moſt loving manner he could; for the Adventure had a little Chilled his Blood, and never was man ſo vexed to be taken for another; yet he was reſolved to ſee how far the buſineſs would go; but he found all things ſo well diſpoſed, that it was no mighty task to make himſelf happy. I mean happy in quality of Gallant, for he was not ſo as Husband. His wife, who had doubtleſs heard ſome good Goſſips ſay, That a favourable occaſion muſt never be loſt; For it is a hard matter to find again thoſe we let ſcape, thought beſt to make uſe of73 this opportunity which the Ball preſented; and ſince the confuſion of ſo many people as were there gave her the means of ſtealing ſafely from them, without being perceived; ſhe thought it a duty to love, and nature to ſlip àſide with her new Gallant, and 'twas no ſooner thought then done. She led him up a private pair of Stairs into a Chamber, where they could not be ſurprized. I will not tell you all that paſſed there; but the Lady was very well contented; yet it ſomewhat troubled her, that he would not ſpeak to her, and that for fear to be known he had put out the light before he unmatched himſelf. She asked him many times the reaſon of it. He would not then anſwer her; but as ſoon as he had proceeded far enough to convince her of diſloyalty, he broke ſilence, and began to reproch her with her falſeneſs. She was ſo much the more bold to anſwer him, becauſe there was no light to diſcover any change of Countenance, and having thereby time to recover from any ſurprize. She told him ſhe knew him as ſoon as he came into the houſe, and that ſhe only contrived74 this to laugh a little with him: He was not at all ſatisfied with theſe, but would, and will paſs for what other men are ſo afraid of being accounted; and though it were done by himſelf, yet he believed himſelf as ſubſtantial a Cuckold as any man in the world could make him. He would never ſee his Wife from that time, and deſigns to ſue out a ſeparation from her. I leave you to judge whether he or I have reaſon; and paſs to other News.
The King willing to acknowledge the merits of Monſieur Pauchau, and recompence his ſervices, gave him ſome days paſt a Commiſſion to be one of the Maſters of acccounts, and joyned a conſiderable ſum to that gift; his Majeſty likewiſe let him know, that he ſhould attend to the ſame ſervices under Monſieur Pompone, he had formerly done under Monſieur de Lyon.
75The Meſsieurs de Vendoſme are lately returned from Italy, where they have gained repute in all places where they have paſſed. The vivacity of their Spirits is a thing incredible, and and they compoſe Verſes with ſo much ſmoothneſs, as would make great Authors jealous if their quality would admit them to do it often. Monſieur the Cardinal Patron, cauſed to be ſet up for them the repreſentation of an Opera, to give them ſome divertiſement. Judge by that, Madam, what conſiderable things theſe Opera's are, when perſons of ſuch high quality are concerned in them, and honour them with their preſence.
Monſieur de Camus has beſtowed on him by the King the Charge of Premier Preſident of the Court of Aydes, his merit muſt needs be extraordinary, ſince he was preferred before ſo many deſerving perſons, and who had the ſame pretenſions. It is he, who76 was formerly Proctor General of the ſame Chamber.
ParisFebruary 20, 1672.
Letter IX.
I am afraid that at opening this Letter, finding it ſo ſhort you will think me Idle: but pray conſider that I cannot be ſo in any thing relates to you, but throw all the fault on this Weeks barrenneſs of News.
Mounſieur Deſpincha Marquiſs of Ternes, of one of the beſt Families of Auvergne, Lieutenant General of the Kings Naval Forces and Galleys of France, and who had ſerved under three Kings with much Zeal, Fidelity, and Glory, dy'd ſome days ſince: His long life may teach thoſe who are fearful of the Sea-Air, that one may live as long there as on Land.
78Mounſieur the Cavalier D' Arquien is received in reverſion to the Charge of Captain Colonel of one hundred Swiſſers of the Gardes du Corps of Mounſieur: He is remarkable for his pleaſant Countenance, and handſome Garb; which often ſtretches to Magnificence. He holds one of the firſt degrees among thoſe who are accounted handſome men at Court.
Paris27. Febr. 1672.
Letter X.
I Expect one of my Friends to come and give me an account of an Adventure newly happened, which I deſign to communicate to you: But leſt the Poſt-hour ſhould come too quick upon me, I hope Madam, you will pardon me, if at this time I begin my Letter with the Weeks News.
Monſieur de la Mothe Houdancour died ſome days ſince at the age of fourſcore years, he had ſignaliz'd himſelf at the Siege of Rochel and at that of Montmelian. The ſeveral Employments and Governments that he had, were the juſteſt Evidences of his Deſervings.
80Monſieur de Tholouſe, Great Almoner to the Queen, and of one of the moſt Illuſtrious Families of Tuſcany, and which has produced many Cardinals, after having been Embaſſadour for the King in Venice and Poland (where he deſerved the Nomination of that Crown for a Cardinals Cap) and after Embaſſadour in Spain, and Preſident of the Eſtates in Languedoc, where ſerving the King very beneficially, he knew likewiſe how to pleaſe and gain the love of all the Orders, is at length honoured with the Eminent Dignity of Cardinal, and his Holineſs preferred him before many others upon the Kings Recommendation, who ſtrengthened the Nomination of Poland.
I will make you no long diſcourſe of the death of Madam; you cannot but know it, and fame flies quick with miſadventures that befal Crowned Heads. Yet it may be ſhe may not have told you that that young Princeſs knew the King even in the greateſt diſtraction of her diſtemper, and even then when ſhe knew no other perſon. She was carried to S. Denis with all the Pomp due to her Quality, and Monſieur81 the Cardinal of Bovillon made an Oration which drew the admiration of all the Aſſembly; You know that he joyns to his Great Birth a Capacity above his Age, and a Prudence makes him be look'd on with wonder by all that know him.
The Ariana of Monſieur Corneille the younger, which has been ſo long expected, appeared on the Stage on Fryday laſt; there was never any thing writ more feelingly; and that Princeſs expreſſes her ſelf in Conceptions ſo ſoft and new, that it is not to be imagined any thing can be done better in that way: And to ſay all in a word, the Excellencies of Bajazet have not hindred it, Admirers to find ſome in this Piece, and to ſee it more than once.
ParisMarch 5. 1672.
Letter XI.
I Believe, Madam, what I am about to write you of Monſieur Le — whom you know very well, and better perhaps than I do, will gain the Credit with you to be thought a pleaſant Adventure; and that the reading it will contribute no leſs to your advertiſement, than that of the beſt contrived Story imaginable which is not ſo true nor ſo new. You know, Madam, that that ſmall Friend of ours, (whom I will now call Cleantes) could never be perſwaded to declare his Choice either of the Church, the Long Robe, or the Sword: for ſometimes he83 would by all means be an Abbot; and the next morning, quitting that Reſolution, he would needs be a Counſellour; and within a minute or two after, nothing would ſerve his turn but to be a Souldier. His Relations and Friends having at laſt preſſed him to determine upon ſomething, and having been ſomewhat ſevere upon him for his Irreſolution, he promiſed them he would very ſuddenly declare his Choice, and that on the morrow he would adviſe what courſe was beſt. You will never, Madam, be able to imagine of whom he took Counſel, and what he did to put himſelf into a Condition to receive it. He borrowed a Sute of Arms, and all the Habiliments of War: He ſent to a Counſellour who was a Friend of his, for a Lawyers Gown, and he intreated an Abbot that was of his Acquaintance to lend him onely for one Afternoon his Surplice and his Rochet. All this Harneſs he cauſed to be carried into his Cloſet, where he had four great Looking-glaſſes. In ſhort, being there alone, and having ſhut to the Door, he armes himſelf Cap-a-pe, puts the pot upon his head, takes the Sword and Piſtol84 into his hand, conſults his four Looking-glaſſes, ſtruts in a warlike manner half a dozen turns up and down his Cloſet, furiouſly aſſails the figures in the Tapiſtry, and finds in himſelf Courage, Strength, and Reſolution enough to go to the Army. He therefore examines all the Advantages of that Profeſſion, and the fortunes that he might riſe to: Such and ſuch, ſaid he within himſelf, have had ſuch Commands: Such have been made Marſhals of France at ſuch an Age; ſuch have made their Actions the talk of the World, and their names have ſerved to lengthen out Gazetts, they are gazed at whereever they go, and marked out with the finger for Brave Men; None dare ſpeak almoſt to them, but their Reputation makes them every where be dreaded. After having run over theſe fancies in his brain, he began to make reflexions on the pleaſures he ſhould enjoy upon his Return from a Campaign to appear with all the Equipage of a Marquiſs; for he concluded that gay and fine people made many more conqueſts than others: he believed he ſaw already a great Plume wagging in his Hat, and his Coat glittering all85 over with Embroydery, that it out-vy'd the Sun, whereever he went; he fancied all Eyes followed him, and he could not doubt but his manly preſence ſupported and ſet off with this Equipage of a Marquiſs, and of a Marquiſs that was come from the Army, muſt captive the ſtubborneſt hearts, and make the Ladies fall flat before him. Theſe magnanimous thoughts ſtirred up afreſh his Courage in the Cloſet, and he ſummoned all his Courage together, and redoubled his blows againſt a Squadron of Horſe that was in the Tapiſtry; But, O dire miſchance! blinded with too furious a height of Courage, he unfortunately miſt the Hangings, and his Sword lighting upon one of the Looking-glaſſes broke it all in pieces; he preſently throws down his Arms with a reſolution never to handle them more: He believed now he ſhould be unfortunate in the Army, that he ſhould certainly be ſlain, and the broken Looking-glaſs was an infallible preſage of it. Well then, Arms laid aſide, he takes up the Gown, and cloaths himſelf like a Counſellour, putting on a little Minikin Ruff, and a ſhort white Perriwig: He conſults86 with remaining Looking-glaſſes, and thinks this Habit became him mighty prettily, and begins to feel his Spirits exalted that way: So he ſets himſelf to examine the Advantages of this Profeſſion, which he finds very conſiderable. All People that have Courage, ſaid he within himſelf, do not come to be Marſhals of France, the number would then be too great, and one muſt have expoſed ones life a thouſand times before one can juſtly pretend to that Dignity. This thought made him frown and grow pale at once; he found a Counſellours condition much better and ſecurer; and in time, thinks he, I may come to be a Judge, without running any hazard of my Life. He propoſes to himſelf a thouſand Pleaſures and Delights before it came to that; Fancies to himſelf an Anti-chamber, and all the Stairs leading up to it full of Clients ready to caſt themſelves on their Knees before him, and calling him, My Lord. He ſmirks and ſmiles, imagining he ſees among them a great many pretty Women, and theſe thoughts egg on others which fill his whole Brainpan full of a thouſand raviſhing Conceptions. Here therefore87 he reſolves to fix his Standard, and to become a Counſellour; but yet he will firſt put on the Rochet to ſee how it becomes him. And now he admires his incomparable Gravity, and being mightily taken with himſelf, it comes into his head, that he might one day arrive to be a Cardinal: O then! how ſhould he look in a Scarlet Robe! A Counſellour now ſeems to him but a Coxcomb, in compariſon of a Cardinal: No, no, ſaid he within himſelf, I am not of the humour to undergo the toyls and labour which a man of the Long Robe muſt ſubmit to; what a thouſand troubles doe continually haunt him, after having ſpent a whole evening in reading over Breviates, and perhaps the beſt part of the Night, he muſt be rouzed by four or five a Clock in the morning, with bawling and crying, Good Sir, Remember my cauſe; Pray Sir, Remember my cauſe; and this din continues all the while he is within doors, nor ſcapes he when he gets out, but at every corner ſome are watching to catch him, and ring their cauſe in his ears. If I think to go eat or drink with my Friends, they themſelves grow my Tormentors, and88 are recommending one Cauſe or another; or if I go to court my Miſtreſs, and take an hours divertiſement with her, ſhe is worſe than all the reſt; and being gained by the almighty power of Preſents, I muſt not be admitted to the touch of her finger without the extracting ſome promiſe from me, and if I promiſe her, I muſt keep my word, and then ten to one fall into injuſtice. No, no, I will not be a Counſellour, 'tis too weighty a Charge; 'tis better being an Abbot, they live as they pleaſe: They — He was about to inlarge himſelf upon the Advantages of this Profeſſion, when a beautiful young perſon whom he loved, and was deſigned to be married too as ſoon as he was ſettled, entred the Cloſet together with her Mother. He believed he had ſhut the door very ſecurely; but alas, he had left the Key in it, his Brain was ſo overwhelmed with Imaginations and Whimſeys concerning the Choice he was to make. He could not be more ſurprized to ſee them come in, than the Ladies were to ſee him in that poſture. They asked him what was the meaning of his being habited in that manner? He told them he89 had determined to become a Church-man, and had put on the Rochet to ſee how the Habit agreed with him: He was hardly to be known, for he had put off his Perruque, his Hair reach'd but to his Ears, and the ſquare Cap he had put on, almoſt covered them, ſo that he look'd mighty ridiculouſly to the Ladies in that diſguiſe. They asked him again and again whether he would be ſtedfaſt in his Reſolution to become a Church-man? He told them, Yes, and that they could not juſtly complain of him if he took that Courſe; for if he deſerted his Miſtreſs, 'twas for God alone; and that ſince he left her not for any other beauty, they ought not to be angry with him, nor could not accuſe him of Inconſtancy. They told him they believed they ſhould be guilty of a great crime, if they ſhould endeavour by any conſiderations to divert him from ſo pious a deſign; and ſoon after left him, without ſeeming either glad or ſorrowful at the accident. The Mother who knew very well, and had ſeen many evidences of his natural Inconſtancy of Mind, was glad to be ſo rid of him. She had another Match ready for her Daughter,90 and that fair Maid had ſome inclination for him ſhe deſigned her; ſo that things were eaſily concluded. The pretended Abbot heard of it, and was ready to run mad; he comes and throws himſelf at his Miſtreſſes feet, proteſts, That to enjoy her he would renounce all the Abbeys in the world, and would embrace whatever profeſſion ſhe liked beſt. But it was now too late, and things were too far gone, which did ſo much afflict him, that he is ſince turned Monk. I know not how long his unquiet and irreſolute Spirit will ſuffer him to ſtay in the Convent; but I believe to any one of his humour, confinement will be very tedious and irkſome. Few people know this Adventure, and I am confident, Madam, you will find it very extraordinary; and though you may have ſome commiſeration for our friends misfortune; yet you cannot at the ſame time forbear laughing at his follies.
Never did one year produce ſo many excellent pieces for the Theatre, and the famous Moliere has not deceived us in the91 hopes he inſpired almoſt four years ago, that there ſhould be one day repreſented at the Place Royal a Comical piece after his own Mode, which ſhould be abſolutely accompliſhed. We are excellently divertized ſometimes by thoſe Pretieuſes or Femmes Scavantes (wiſe women) ſometimes by the pleaſant railleries of a certain Henrietta, and then by the ridiculous conceipts of a Fantaſtick, who believes all the world with him, and would perſwade others ſo too; I omit ſpeaking of the Character of a Father, who would make us believe, that is Maſter of his houſe, and braves it nobly when he is alone; but is as quiet as a Lamb if his Wife but appear. I ſay little likewiſe of the humour of Monſieur Triſſotin, who brimful of underſtanding, and puffed up with the glory he believes he has deſerved, appears ſo full of confidence in himſelf, that he looks upon all Mankind beſides as contemptible. The ridiculous opinion which a Mother ſpoil'd with reading, ſeems to have conceived for this Mounſier Triſſotin is no leſs pleaſant, and this humour as violent as that of the92 Father in Tartuffe, would laſt for ever, if by the ingenious Artifice of the falſe news of a Cauſe loſt, and of a Bankrout (which is an invention not at all inferiour to that of the Buffoon in the impoſtor) a Brother, who though but young, appears a man of exquiſite underſtanding, did not break it off by laying open the whole piece, There is in the third Act a quarrel between Monſieur Triſſotin, and another wiſe man very divertiſing, and at laſt there is the return of a certain Kitching Maid, called Martina who makes the whole Audience laugh with an infinite number of Jolly things, which ſhe ſayes in her Gibbriſh, to prove, That men ſhould have the preference of women. This is a moſt confuſed account of the moſt conſiderable parts of this Comedy, which has got the vogue of all Paris. There are throughout the whole a thouſand wittly quirks, many happy expreſſions, and new and bold ways of ſpeaking, the invention of which can never enough be praiſed, and is impoſſible to be imitated. Many people have made different applications of perſons93 in this Comedy, and a quarrel the Author had about eight years ago with a learned man, whom they think repreſented by Triſſotin has given occaſion to the publick talk; but Monſieur Moliere is ſufficiently juſtified in that by a ſpeech he made publickly two days before the firſt repreſentation of his piece; nor ought ſuch a pretended Cenſure of this ingenious Comedy give him any trouble, if he be as wiſe, and as able a man, as 'tis ſaid he is; ſince 'twill only make his merit ſhine the brighter, and ſtir up in people a deſire to know him, read his writings, and hear his Sermons. Ariſtophanes blemiſhed not the reputation of Socrates, by playing upon him in his Faries; nor was that great Philoſophers eſteem at all leſſened in Greece. But to be the better Judges of the Comedy I have been ſpeaking of, I would adviſe all the world to ſee it, and to divertize themſelves, without examining things at Random, or liſtning to the Critical humour of moſt people,94 who think it a monſtrous witty thing to find fault.
ParisMarch 12. 1672.
Letter XII.
THe Arch Biſhop of Paris, director of the French Academy went with them ſome dayes paſt to Verſailles to return the King thanks for the Honour he had done to that Illuſtrious and Learned Society, to take upon himſelf the place of their Protector in the room of the dead Chancellor. He made his Compliment to the King after his ordinary rate; that is, with a great deal of Wit and Eloquence. You know well, that with the comlineſs of his perſon, which pleaſes at firſt ſight, he has a moſt delightful way of utterance, and that never perſon brought forth words with ſo96 much eaſe, aptneſs, and delicacy; beſides he is endowed with all the knowledge of the moſt accompliſhed Doctors, which he gives Evidence off on all occaſions; but I undertake not to write hi•Panegerick, leaving it to them deſign his Hiſtory.
Mounſieur D'Angeau, Governour of Anjou, and ſometime Camp-maſter of the Regiment du Roy, and deſigned Ambaſſador for Sweden, who is likewiſe of this Academy, gave a Magnificent treat to this Prelate, with all the Academians of his confraternity, Mounſieur de Corin was not of their number, for fear, as 'tis ſaid, leaſt he ſhould lay hold on the occaſion, to complain to the King of the Comedy 'tis pretended Mounſieur de Moliere has made againſt him; but it is not to be believed, that a man, who often converſes with the chief perſons of Court, and whom Madammoiſelle honours with the name of Friend, can be the Object of ſo bloody a Satyre. The reſemblance they attribute to him, agrees not with a man, who has publiſhed works with an approbation as general, as that of his paraphraſe on the Song of Songs. 97I ſpeak not of his works of Gallantry, of which there are many Editions, thoſe are Playes he divertized himſelf with, before he made profeſſion; which ſince his firſt embracing it, he has ever held to the ſame Auſterity he now maintains it with.
There was in this Aſſembly Mounſieur Quinault, ſo well known for his ſmooth and ſoft Verſes; Mounſieur Deſmareſts ſo famous for a great number of extraordinary works, which at once ſet forth both the heighth of Wit, and depth of Knowledge. The Famous Mounſieur Corneille the Elder, was here too. I can ſay nothing of him, which will not be beneath him; he is the only man whoſe works may be praiſed without ſeeing them, and from whom notwithſtanding his great Age we may yet expect accompliſhed things, as will doubtleſs, be his laſt Tragedy, which will appear next Winter under the name of Pulcheria, and which cannot fail pleaſing of thoſe, who are in their right Senſes, as it has already pleaſed all have had the happineſs to read98 it. There were likewiſe in this Illuſtrious Company the two Abbeyes Tallemont, the one chief Almoner to Madam, whoſe merit is indiſputable, and who with ſo much ſucceſs and, and ſo much benefit to the publick, made that excellent Tranſlation of the Lives of Plutarch. The other in a thouſand occaſions has ſhewed his ingenuity, and made himſelf be admired, as well for his pleaſant and witty Compoſitions, and by hi•Sermons, which declare his Eloquence and Learning. I had forgot Mounſieur L'Abbot Jeſtu, whoſe Sermons charmed the whole Court, and whoſe ſoft and Divine Poems give him the preference before all undertake thoſe ways of writing, from whom we might expect many admirable things, did not a diſtemper of aſcending vapours hinder his doing any thing. I cannot forget Mounſieur the Duke D'Anguien, whoſe exquiſite Gallanteries, Frolickſome and Gallant Verſes, and high feats of Arms, are unknown to no perſon, who captives all that know him, by an obliging Civility, and by the kindneſſes he is ready to do for all the99 world upon all occaſions. There are many others very conſiderable for their Worth and Endowments, whoſe names I cannot now remember.
Paris19. March.
Letter XIII.
I Now ſend you, Madam, what you were pleaſed to let me know was much deſired in your Province; and what you have often wiſhed for, to communicate to ſome Gentlemen your Friends: for, for the Ladies, I believe they had rather underſtand the eſtate of thoſe hearts that ſigh for them, than that of the KING ' •Forces.
101
| Regiments Names. | Number of Companies. |
| Picardy. | 70 |
| Champaigne. | 70 |
| Navarre. | 70 |
| Piedmont. | 70 |
| Normandy. | 70 |
| 102La Marine. | 70 |
| La Marine. | 32 |
| Caſtelnau. | 33 |
| Avergne. | 33 |
| De Sault. | 33 |
| Bandeville. | 16 |
| Regiment du Roy. | 70 |
| Regiment Royal. | 70 |
| Regiment d'Anjou. | 70 |
| Praſlin. | 18 |
| Ly |