Balzac's remaines, or, His last letters· Written to severall grand and eminent persons in France. Whereunto are annexed the familiar letters of Monsieur de Balzac to his friend Monsieur Chapelain. Never before in English. — Correspondence. English. Selections

Author: Balzac, Jean-Louis Guez, seigneur de, 1597-1654.1658

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BALZAC'S REMAINES, Or, his last LETTERS.

WRITTEN To severall Grand and Eminent Persons in FRANCE.

Whereunto are annexed the Familiar Letters of Monsieur de Balzac to his Friend Monsieur CHAPELAIN.

Never before in English.

LONDON, Printed for Thomas Dring at the George in Fleet-street neer St. Dunstans Church. 1658.

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Mounseur de BALZAC:

R. Gaywo [...]d fecit.

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[...]

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THE STATIONER TO THE READERS.

GENTLEMEN,

I Am not ignorant that the Book which now fills your hands, is uncapable to receive either Supplement or Ornament, from any Preface. And, it may be, in these wild times, there are few can be accused of such a degree of Conceitednesse, as [...] imagine that Balzac may be Complemented. Let this letter then be reckoned as a Tax payd to Custome: being sadly sensible that the labours of greatest merit are like to suffer as abrupt, & rude, except the Reader be courted and invited in the Dedication: There is one grievance more, which I earnestly deprecate; You commonly date the worth of the book, from the Abilities you taste in the Epistle; and if this Humor prevaile here, I am Undone. Besides, you destroy my harmless designe, which was to try whether the Noble [Page] conceptions of the Monsieur, would admitt of any Advantage, and appear more orient, as they are foil'd by this trifle:

If any shall dispute the Decency of the Title, and aske, How these letters came to be call'd choise, since none fell from the same incomparable pen, which did not challenge the same Denomination; J shall easily yeeld: but, must crave leave to affirme; that by persons of high discernment, these have bin gather'd as prime Stars from the other Sporades, and are here presented in one entire Constellation: There was nothing but Gold in the whole Mine; but here you will find such as has bin tried and stamp'd and pass'd in all places, not only Currant, but Admir'd.

He is much a stranger to the world, that does not know that the style of Monsieur Balzac was consider'd in France, as the Treasure and Test of Elegance: And he was esteem'd the best proficient, in that which they call flos linguae, the Delicacy, fineness, and Idiom of language, who had attayn'd the nearest Resemblance of this Author; Observe the vigour and flame of his fancy, the Cleannesse and Roundnesse of his expression, the spirit and brisknesse of his Notions, the prudence and Insinuation of all his Addresses, and you will judge him a fit Parallel for any of his Predecessors, that Rome or Athens has most celebrated.

The Comedian was handsomely, caress'd by him that said, If Jupiter would speake Latine, He might find Apparrell for his thoughts in Plautus his wardrobe; Possibly, if the same Jove had occasion to [Page] transmit his pleasure (those Gods wanting the mysticall waies of Communication which we now ascribe to spirits) he had chosen no other Mercury, but this Frenchman:

I am unwilling to be guilty of so much folly, as to define or distinguish Letters, and then list them under their severall Colours, descanting upon those perfections, which render them peculiarly gratefull to knowing men: lest any should suspect that this one Letter was not written by my selfe. Gentlemen, I shall not blush to acknowledge, that 'tis much my Interest this volume should be generally read: For I believe there is Charme enough in it to dissolve the most covetous Resolutions: And that such revenues of pleasure and improvement will arise from the perusall of this book, as may prevailingly tempt the greatest husbands to buy more.

Your humble servant THOMAS DRING.

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Books Printed for Thomas Dring, and are to be sold at the George in Fleet-street, near St. Dunstans Church.

Law-Books.

THe Pleader, containing perfect Precedents and Forms of Declararions, Pleadings, Issues, Judgements, and Proceedings, in all kinds of actions, both reall and personall; by Mr. Brownlow, Mr. Moyle, Mr. Gulston, and Mr. Cony: published by J. Hern Gent. in Folio.

The Law of Conveyances of all manner of assurances, with directions to sue out and prosecute all manner of Writs; by John Hern Gent. in Octavo.

The Reports of that reverend and learned Judge, Sir Richard Hutton, in Folio.

The twelfth Part of the Reports of Sir Edward Cook, in Folio.

The Reports of that Learned Judge, Owen, in Folio.

The Reading upon the Statute touching Bankrupts, by John Stone, in Octavo.

An abridgement of the Common Law, with the Cases thereof, drawn out of the old and new Books of Law, for the benefit of all Practisers and Students; by W. H. of Graies-Inne, Esq; in Quarto.

An abridgement of the Acts and Ordinances of Parliament, from 1640. to the year 1656. by W. H. Esq; in Quarto.

The Reports of Serjeant Bridgman, in Fol.

The grounds of the Lawes of England, extracted out of the fountains of all Learning, and fitted for all Students and Practitioners, in large Octavo.

A profitable Book of Mr. John Perkins, treating of the Lawes of England, in Octavo.

An exact Abridgement of that excellent Book, called, Doctor and Student, in Octavo.

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The Interpreter, or Book containing the signification of all the words of the Law, by Iohn Cowell, in Fol.

The Maxims of Reason, or the Rule of the Common Law, by Edmond Wingate Esq; in Fol.

An exact Abridgement of all the Statutes in force and use, upon the fourth of Jan. in the yeare 1641. 1643. faithfully extracted out of the said Statutes, from Magna Charta, to the said time, by Edmond Wingate, Esq;

Romances.

ARtamenes or the Grand Cyrus a Romance Compleat in five volumnes in Folio, by Monsieur de Scudery.

Clelia an excellent Romance in three volumes in Folio, by Monsieur de Scudery.

The Illustrious Bassa, a Compleat Romance in Folio, by Monsieur de Scudery.

Astrea, a new excellent and compleat Romance in three volumes in Folio, Translated by a person of honour.

The History of Polindor and Flaetella, a Romance in verse, by J. Harrington Esq;

Histories.

THe History and lives of the philosophers with their figures in two volumes, in Folio, by Thomas Stanly, Esq;

The History of the warrs betwixt Swedeland and Poland with all their policyes; in Folio, by John Fowler.

An Historicall discourse of the City of London with the History of Westminster with the Courts of Justice, Antiquities, and new buildings thereunto belonging, by James Howell Esq; in Folio.

The History of the Goths, Swedes, and Vandalls by the Bishop of Ʋpsall, in Folio.

The History of Masiniello, the second part, with a Continuation of that tumult, and the end of it, by J. H. Esq;

The naturall and experimentall History of winds, written by the Lord Bacon, and translated into English by R. G.

The life and death of Freeman Sands, Esq; by R. Bereman in quarto.

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Divinity.

THings new and old, or a Store-house of above two thousand Similies, Sentences, Allegoryes, Apophthegms, Adagies, Apologues, divine and morall, Politicall and Historicall, with their proper applications; A book that will furnish the Reader with Rarities for the adornment of his discourse upon any subject whatsoever;

Anti-Socinianism, or a Confutation of Socinian heresy; with the description of the lives and deaths of the chiefe Authors of that sect, and w [...]n it was brought into England: by N. Chewny M. A.

Mr. Crag against To [...]bes, with a conviction of the Anabaptists, newly printed with Additions.

A Sermon preached at the assizes at Huntingdon, by J. Gaul.

Mr. Sands paraphrase upon the Psalms, in large Octavo.

Good thoughts for every day in the month, by H. S.

God's house, with the nature and use thereof, as it ought to be understood and respected by Christians under the Gospell: by Simon Gunton, M. A.

Eight sermons of Mr. Cragge, with a treatise of the Lawfullnesse of tithes, and the lawfullness of Marriage by the Minister.

An exhortation for desperate sinners; written by the Right Honourable the Lord Grandison, prisoner in the Isle of Wight.

Sapientia justificata, or an answer to D. Taylor's, Deus justificatus; by J. Gaule.

The Soloquies of St. Bonaventure; Containing his four mentall exercises, and also his treatise called the Bundle of Myrrh, concerning the passion of our Saviour, with 13 spirituall exercises of the said Bonaventure.

Books of the affaires of State, of Choise Letters, and of Poetry.

A Catalogue of the Lords Knights and Gentlemen that have compounded for their estates, with the summes that paid their Compositions; in Octavo.

A Panegyrick of the Queen of Swedeland in Octavo.

Letters of Affaires, Love, and Courtship, written to severall persons of honour and quality, by the exquisite pen of Monsieur de Voiture a member of the famous French Academy, established at Paris by Cardinall Richlieu.

A Trance, or Mercurius Acheronticus; by J. Howell Esq;

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Moderne policy taken from Machiavell and Borgia by an eye witnesse; a most incomparable piece.

The Minister of State; wherein is shewen, the true use of Moderne policy: by Monsieur de Silhon; rendered into English, by Sir Henry Herbert Knight, in Folio.

The Accomplish't Courtier; consisting of institutions and examples, by which Courtiers and officers of estate may square their Transactions prudently, and in good order and Method, by H.W. Gent.

An Apology for Paris, for rejecting of Juno and giving of Her Golden Ball to Ʋenus; by R. B.

Pocula Castalia or Castalian Cupps; by R. Baron Gent.

Mirza a Tragedy, really acted in Persia: by R. B. Gent.

Choise Poems, being Amorous, Morall, Lucory, &c. by Edward Sherburne Esq;

Five new Playes, by Richard Brome, in large Octavo.

Select Poems, by william Hammond, in large Octavo.

Choise Letters of Monsieur de Balzac, to severall Grand and Noble Personages of France; with his Familiar Letters to Monsieur Chapelain.

Wit Restor'd; being select Poems never before printed.

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THE TABLE Of the CHOISE LETTERS.

TO Monsieur de St. Chartres, Counsellor to the King in the grand Councill. 1
To Monsieur de Bois Robert Metel, Abbot of Chastillon. 3
To Monsieur du Pui, Counsellour and Library-Keeper to his Majesty. 4
To Monsieur d'Argenson, Controller of the Revenue in Poictou, &c. 5
To Monsieur the Abbot de Talan. 6
To Monsieur de la Nauve, Ensigne to the Queens Guard. 7
To Monsieur de Gombervile. 8
To Monsieur de Bellejoy. 9
To Monsieur de Clairville 10
To Monsieur de Bois Robert Metell, Abbot of Chastillon. 11 12
To Monsieur de Bonair. 13 14
To Monsieur Charlot, Farmer-Generall of the Taxes. Ib.
To my Lord Bouthilier, Lord Treasurer. 15 16
To Madam de Villesavin. 17 18
To Madam de Bourdet. 19
To Monsieur de Preizac, of the Kings Privy Council 20
To Monsieur de— 21
To my Lord Bishop of Angoulesm, Almoner to the Queen of great Brittan. 22
To Monsieur de Lormu, Counsellor and Physitian to the [Page] King. 23
To Monsieur de Zuylichem, Counsellor and Secretary of State to his Highnesse the Prince of Orange. 24
To Monsieur the President de Pontac. 25 26
To Monsieur the Mayor of Angoulesm. 27
To Monsieur de Villemontée, of the Kings Councell, and Controller of the Revenue in Poictou, Saintonge, Annix, &c. 28
To Monsieur de la Thibaudiere. 29
To Monsieur de — 30
To Monsieur L'Hillier, of the Kings Councell, &c. 32
To Monsieur de Bayers. 35
To Monsieur de Villemontée, of the Kings Councell, Controller of the Revenue in Poictou, Saintonge, Aunix, &c. 36
To Monsieur de Lymerac de Mayat, Captain in the Regiment of Conty. 37
To Monsieur de Priezac, of the Kings Privy Councell. 38
To Monsieur de Couvrelles. Ib.
To Monsieur l'Huillier, of the Kings Councell, &c. 39
To Madam des Leges. 40 41
To Monsieur de Borstel. 42
To Monsieur Menage. 43
To Monsieur Fermin, Counsellor to the King, Controller of the Kings Revenue in the Generality of Limoges, &c. 45
To Monsieur the Marquess of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Alsatia, &c. 46
To my Lord the Arch-Bishop of Corinth, Co-adjutour of the Arch-Bishoprick of Paris. 47
To Monsieur the President Maynard, Counsellor to the King. 48
To Monsieur Menage. 49
To my Lord, the Bishop of Lisieux. 50
To Monsieur the Earl of la Motte Fenelon. 51
To Monsieur de Plassac Maire. 52
To Monsieur Conrart, Counsellor and Secretary to the King. 53
To the reverend Father Hercules, Provincial of the Fathers of the Christian Doctrine. 54
To Monsieur the Chevalier de Mere. 55
To Monsieur de St. Chartres, of the Kings high Councel. 56
To the reverend Father de Marin, a Divine of the Society of Jesus. 57
To the reverend Father d'Estrades, a Divine of the Society [Page] of Jesus, Superiour of the Cloister in Bourdeaux. 58
To Madam, the Marchionesse of Ramboüillet. Ib.
To Monsieur Cossar. 61 62
To Monsieur Menage. 63
To Monsieur de — 64
To Monsieur Gombauld, a Chanter in the Church of Sainctes. 65
To the reverend Father Dalmé, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, professor of Rhetorick. 66
To the reverend Father, Du Creux, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, Rhetorick-professor. 67
To the reverend Father, Stephen of Bourges, a Preaching Capuchin. 68
To Monsieur de Meré, Knight. 69
To Monsieur Colardeau, the Kings Atturney in Fontenay. 70
To the reverend Father Tesseron, of the Society of Jesus, professor of Rhetorick. Ib.
To Monsieur Perrot, of Ablancourt. 71
To the reverend Father, Adam, a Preacher of the Society, of Jesus. 72
To my Lord, the Bishop of Grasse. 73
To Monsieur the Abbot Talon. 74
To Monsieur the Abbot Bouchard. Ib.
To the reverend Father, Josset, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, professor of Rhetorick. 75
To Monsieur de Marca, Counsellour to the King. 76
To Monsieur de Rampalle. 78
To Monsieur de la Cambre, Counsellor and Physitian to the King, and in ordinary to my Lord Chancellor, &c, Ib.
To Monsieur Salmasius. 81
To Monsieur de S [...]udery. Ib.
To Monsieur Perrot, of Ablancourt. 85
To the reverend Father, d'Estrades, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Superiour of the Confessors Cloister in Bourdeaux. 86
To Monsieur de Borstel. 87
To Madam de Nesmond, Superiour of the Ʋrsulines in Angoulesm. Ib.
To my Lord, the Bishop of Grasse. 89 Ib.
To Monsieur Maury, Dr. in Divinity. 90
To Monsieur l'Huillier, Counsellor the King, &c. 91
To Monsieur de Bellejoy. 92
To Monsieur Colardeau, the Kings Atturny in Fontenay. 94
[Page]To Monsieur de la Thibaudier. Ib. 95 96
To Monsieur Conrart, Counsellor and Secretary to the King. 97 Ib.
To Monsieur the President Mainard. 99
To Monsieur Girard, Secretary to the late Lord Duke of Espernon. 100 101
To Monsieur de Bellejoy. 102
To Monsieur Zuilichem, Counsellor and Secretary to his Highnesse the Prince of Orange. 103
To Monsieur de Campaignole, Lieutenant to the Regiment of the Kings Guard. 104
To Monsieur Favereau, Counsellor to the King in the Court of Aydes. 105 106
To Monsieur de Lavaux St. James, Rectour of the University of Poictours. Ib.
To the reverend Father Andrew, a Preacher of the Order of St. Dominick. 108
To the reverend Father Hercules, Provinciall of the Fathers of the Christian Doctrin. Ib.
To my Lord, the Marquis of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant General for the King in Saintonge, Angoumoise. 109
To Monsieur de Burg, an Advocate in the Parliament. 110
To Monsieur Conrart, Counsellor, and Secretary to the King. 111
To Monsieur l'Huilliard, Councellor to the King, &c. 112
To Monsieur the Count of Jonzac, the Kings Lieutenant in Saintonge and Angoumois. Ib.
To Monsieur Perrot d'Ablancourt. 113
To the reverend Father Hercules, Provinciall to the Fathers of the Christian Doctrine. 114
To Monsieur de Menage. 115
To Monsieur the Abbot Talon. 116
To Monsieur de Montrevil, Captain in the Regiment de la Meilleraye. 117
To my Lord, the Arch-Bishop of Tholouse. 118
To Monsieur the Marquis de la Case. 119
To Monsieur d'Argenson, Counsellor to the King, Comptroller of the Revenue in Poictou, Saintonge, &c. 121
To Monsieur Esprit. 122
To Monsieur de la Chetardie. Ib.
To my Lord, the Marquis of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall to the King in Saintonge, Angoumois, &c. 123
[Page]To Monsieur Conrart, Counsellor and Secretary to the King. 124
To Monsieur Costar. 125
To Madam the Countesse of Brienne. 126
To Madam de Masses. Ib.
To Monsieur de Couvrelles. 127
To Monsieur de Borster 128
To my Lord, the Bishop of Grasse. 129
To Monsieur de Bois-Robert Metel, Abbot of Chastillon. 128
To Monsieur de Scudery. 129
To Monsieur de Lorme, Counsellor and Physitian in ordinary to his Majesty. 132
To Monsieur Girard, Official and Prebend of Angoulesm. 133
To Madam the Princesse. 133
To my Lord the Duke of— For Monsieur the Colonel de— 136
To my Lord Seguier, Chancellor of France. 136 137 140 141
To my Lord, the Arch-Bishop of Tholouse. 141 Ib.
To Monsieur le Grasse, Councellour to the King, and Master of Requests in Ordinary of his houshold. 145
To Monsieur Remy, professor of Rhetorick, and Poet Laureat. 151
To Monsieur Daillé. 148
To my Lord the Count d'Avaux, Sur intendant of the Kings Revenue. 149
To Madam the Dutchesse of — 146
To the reverend Father, Ʋital Theron, a Divine of the Society of Jesus. 147
To the reverend Father, de Marin, a Divine of the Society of Jesus. 152
To the reverend Father, Vital Theron, a Divine of the Society of Jesus. Ib.
To Monsieur de Souchotte. 158
To Monsieur Perrot d'Ablancourt. Ib.
To Monsieur de Bourdigal Candé. 159
To Monsieur the Count de la Vauguion. 156
To the reverend Father, Stephen de Brurges, a Capuchin Preacher. 157
To my Lord, the Duke of Espernon, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Guienne, &c. 154
To my Lord, the Duke de la Rochefoucaut, Peer of France. 155
[Page]To Monsieur the Count of Cleremont, &c. 160 161
To my Lord, the Duke of Grammont, Marshal of France. 162
To my Lord, the Duke of Rohan. 163
To Monsieur de Couppeau ville, Abbot of la Victoire. 164
To Monsieur de Bourzeys, Abbot of Cores. 166
To Monsieur the Abbot of Lavardin. Ib.
To Monsieur Salomon, Attourney Generall to the grand Councill. 168
To Monsieur Ferret, Secretary to the late Duke of Weymar. 169
To Monsieur de Blassac Meré. 170 171
To Monsieur Menage. 173 174
To my Lord, the Marquis of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Saintonge, Angoumois, &c. 176 177
To Monsieur de Puy, Counsellor to the King. 178
To Monsieur the President de Nesmond. 179 180 181
To Monsieur de la Nauve, a Member of Parliament in the Court of Enquiries. 182
To Monsieur de Morin, Counsellor to the King, in the Court of the Edict of Guienne. 183
To Monsieur de Monrave, first President of the Parliament of Tholouse. 184
To Monsieur Huillier, Counsellor to the King, &c. 186
To Monsieur de Gomberville. 187
To Monsieur Arnould, Abbot of St. Nicholas. 188 Ib.
To Monsieur Sarran, Counsellor to the King in his Court of Parliament. 190
To Monsieur [...] the President Maynard, Councellor to the King. 191 192
To the Chloris of Monsieur Maynard. 194
To Monsieur Costar. 195
To Madam de Villesavin. 196
To Madamoiselle de Scudery. 197
To Monsieur de Villesavin. 198 Ib.
To the reverend Father Pitard, Provinciall of the Jesuits in Guienne. 199
To Monsieur de Barreaux. 200
To the reverend Father, d'Estrades, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, and Superiour of the Confessors Cloister in Bourdeaux. 201
[Page]To Monsieur de Voiture, Counsellor to the King, &c. 202
To Monsieur de Lyonne Counsellor to the King, and Secretary to my Lord the Cardinall Mazarin. 203
To Monsieur Colletet. 204
To Monsieur Conrart, Counsellor and Secretary to the King. 205
To Monsieur de Souchote. 206
To Monsieur de Bois-Robert, Abbot of Chastillon. 207 208
To Monsieur the Abbot of Beau-regard. 209
To Madam de la Chetardue. 210
To Monsieur Sené, a Divine of the Church of Sainctes. 211
To Monsieur de Morin, Counsellor to the King in the Court of the Edict of Guienne. 212
To Monsieur Salmasius. 216 217
To Monsieur John Frederick Gronovius. 218
To Monsieur Rigault, Counsellor, and Master of the Library to his Majesty. 219
To Monsieur the Abbot of Guyet. 221
To Monsieur Heinsius, the son of the Senior Heinsius. 222
To Madam the Countesse of Brienne. 223
Monsieur Conrart, Councellour and Secretary to the King. 221
To Monsieur Corneille. 223
To Monsieur Costar, 225 226
To Monsieur Grandillaud, President in the Presidiall Court of Angoulesme. 229
To Monsieur d'Argenson, Counsellour to the King and Intendant of Justice in Saintonge. Ib.
To Monsieur Colletet. 230 231
To Monsieur le Prieur Pacquet. 233
To my Lord Seguier, Chancellour of France Ib.
To Monsieur Menage. 236
To Monsieur de Balzac, from his father. 237
To Monsieur Maury, Doctor of Divinity, 238
To Monsieur de Flotte. 239
To Monsieur de Silhon Secretary to my Lord the Cardinal Mazarin. 240 242
To Monsieur John Frederic Gronovius. Ib
To Monsieur de Belleveue Villotreis Counsellour to the King. 244
To Monsieur Ménage. 245
To Monsieur du Herrier, Canon of the Church of Beaucarie. 246
[Page]To Monsieur, Costar. 247
To Monsieur Girard Commissary and Canon of Angoulesm. 248
To my Lord the Marquesse of Montausieur, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Saintonge, Angoumois, &c. 249
To Monsieur de Meré. 250
To Monsieur Moricet, an Advocat in the Parlament. 251
To Monsieur Girard Secretary to the late Duke of Espernon. 252
To Monsieur Conrart Councellour and Secretary to the King 253
To Monsieur Girard Secretary to the late Duke of Espernon 254
To Monsieur L' Huillier Councellour to the King. 255
To Monsieur de la Thibaudiere. 256 257
To Monsieur de Bois-Robert Metel, Abbot of Castillon. 258 259
To Monsieur Conrart, Councellour and Secretary to the King. Ib.

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THE CHOISE LETTERS OF M. de BALZAC,

SIR, My deare Cousen.

Your, &c.

4 June 1641.

LETTER VII. To Monsieur de Gombervile.

SIR,

I Had not a lesse firme perswasion of the immutablenesse of your affection before, then I have now upon the receit of your Letter. Men knew how to love and to be faithfull too, before the art of writing was discover'd: And since that invention they have lyed, deceived, and betrayed one another with greater facility and cunning. Nay, the crafty malice of some ha's even practis'd poisoning by Letters; and revenge ha's been Ingenious to turne these marks of friendship into instruments of destruction. Yet I do not inferre from hence, that we should therefore never trust to a way of communication which may in possibility prove so dangerous. I onely say, we are not to be so precise about evidences of that dubiousnesse, and which serve oftentimes as well to disguise and corrupt truth as to declare it. 'Tis from our hearts that we receive sincere testimonies and assurances of our mutuall passion, though our commerce ha's not been manag'd with the stirre and heat of answers and replyes, yet neither ha's our quiet been cold and lifelesse; nor is silence the same thing with oblivion. Certainly if silence will not be allowed in the rank of Vertues, yet it containes innocence in it, and do's nothing at all detract from the purity of engaged fidelity: But which is some thing more, it conserves it in the memory, by locking and keeping it up in restraint. There is a certaine Author, either ancient or moderne, that in favour of this happy silence pronounces it, The nourishment of the soul and its conceptions. I presume therefore, [Page 9] that these tenne yeares past, you have had my company with you in contemplation. My pourtrait, (but far better drawn and by a more masterly hand, then that which you have of Ferdinand's doing) ha's never been out of your sight; and undoubtedly you have meditated of me during all this long intermission of our converse. You see what justice I do your friendship; and will not you judge as candidly of mine? And unlesse I should now assure you that I resound your name, over all this Province; that I fill this part of the world with relations of the wonders of your generosity, and of the greatnesse of your accomplishments, and that when I would feast my fancy and entertaine it magnificently, I betake my selfe to the Court of King Polexander, could you possibly doubt of the certainty of such manifest and historicall truth? Since you know me so perfectly as you do, I conceive there is no necessity of unripping my brest to you every day: and being also fully perswaded of the affection I have for you, you cannot in reason doubt, that I am in all sincerity, or to speak in the style of those that come from Paris, that I am effectively,

SIR,

Your, &c.

13. Feb. 1646.

LETTER VIII. To Monsieur de Bellejoy.

SIR,

HOwever you are of a contrary opinion, your friend ha's reason to curse his profession. The stipend of a Partisan is preferable to the reputation of a Poet, and 'tis better to lodge in gilded Palaces, then to chante of the Golden age and lye in an Hospitall. The famed Torquato Tasso wore tatter'd breeches, and stood in need of charity. There is a Letter of his abroad in the world, wherein he implores the largesse of a crowne. And yet there is a certaine Ignorant that I could name, who counts his wealth by Millions, and pities the indigence of a senatour of Venice. He dreames of purchasing Principalities and Kingdomes, if there were any to be sold; and his high raptures have scarce left him humility enough to judge himselfe deserving of lesse then Crownes and Scepters. But, I beseech you, what meanes Monsieur the Kings Advocate to engage himselfe into the trouble of writing books? This is such an unseasonable absurdity as admits of no excuse. Surely 'tis too much Vacation [Page 10] with him in his Law-Practice, and there is no great crowding in his apartment at the Palais. I cannot tell what he would have me say concerning the first race of our Kings, and his Latin observations upon the Salick Law. If he should send me the contract of Pharamund's mariage, and an extract of Meroiiée's last will and Testament; or, to go higher, if he should present me with the originall of the Twelve Tables of the old Roman Lawes; with the first draught of those of Solon, or the Manuscripts of those of Lycurgus, and Charondas; yet all these rarities would not have power enough to awaken my benummed curiosity, or tempt me in the least to a desire of knowing more then I do already. My humour is become so fastidious of every thing that is Grave or Serious, that my appetite cannot possibly be restored, but by somewhat that is very delightfull and Merry. In the mood wherein I am at present, I would give both the Goddesses of Equity and Justice, with all the skill in the Lawes, the Ethicks, and the Politickes; for one drinking-song. I am not able to continue the trade any longer. The expectation of golden Letters from me is too unreasonable for my stock to furnish. But even now, I was overwhelm'd in a great crowd of complements of diverse languages; so that rather then go about to pay my debts, I am resolv'd to break, and make a solemne renunciation to all my Greek, Latin, and French. I would sooner choose to get my selfe naturaliz'd in Base Bretagne and buy the place of a Tax-gatherer in the Town of Quinpercorentin. 'Tis more then four nights, since I clos'd my eyes to sleep. Have pitty, Sir, I beseech you, both you and the kings Advocate, upon

SIR,

Your, &c.

19. March. 1640.

LETTER IX. To Monsieur de Clairville.

SIR,

I Had very unquiet apprehensions of the Catarrhe of Monsieur de —, and your Letter ha's not deliver'd me from them, How well complexion'd soever he appeares to your eye, I ever suspected the falsenesse of that scarlet in his cheeks from the first day I saw him. There are deceitfull shews of a firme constitution, and roses of an ill omen. 'Tis not Art alone that is guilty of dawbing and counterfeit; Nature do's some times dissemble, [Page 11] and flatter us with a false Glosse. And hence it is, that I do not alwayes passe my judgment in favour of florid faces and a good colour. Yet I would not have you adde despaire to a man who ha's already received the allarme. Onely advise him thus from me, that he take care to settle his mind in peace, and that I forbid him studying with as much caution as riot. Since you assure me he ha's a great beliefe in my counsells, I enjoyne him to make no more Prefaces or Paraphrases; indeed, not to do any thing at all either in Prose or Verse, as an Author or Translarour. And this upon paine of incurring the displeasure of the dumbe Muse I lately shew'd, him, which is added by a certaine Greek to the other Nine. She was well satisfi'd, as she affirm'd, with the secrecy of his thoughts, and a quiet possession of his Soul. O prudent Muse! transcendently more discreet then all her sisters. Of what incomparable excellency is silence, and how great the vanity of words and ceremony! We commit sins enough beside this, and there is nothing admits of a more easie reformation. But we had rather get rheumes and catarrhes, distill our brains by drops, and become hecticall and consumptive over our papers, then forbeare to make Prefaces and Paraphrases. In expectance of better newes of the health of Monsieur de —, I rest,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 10. 1638.

LETTER X. To Monsieur de Bois Robert Metell, Abbot of Chastillon.

SIR,

VVIth your permission I will begin my Letter as you end all yours, and tell you that I am overpress'd as well as you, although it be not with so faire a burden. I professe my selfe a fugitive from the world and a desertour of civill society. I proclaime this as much as possibly I can. And yet this world and this society make semblance not to understand me. They take no notice of a vow, which I caused to be publish'd in print, that every one might know it. My silence is molested every day by other mens Eloquence, and in penance for my sins I am forc'd to become the mark against which all the complements of France are levell'd. Is it impossible for me to be quit of this trade of a Letter-maker, which drawes persecution upon me from every side? And is there no way to resigne it into the hands [Page 12] of some of our Brethren of the Academy, who perhaps loves the employment and new acquaintances better then I do? Is it not extreamly ridiculous to have no businesse, and yet to write as much as a dozen Bankers; to be idle in perpetuall action, and notwithstanding alwayes at leisure, not to have so much spare time as to pick strawes on Holy dayes? I would faine keep my selfe for a few, and admit comerce only with some select persons. But what reason is there to expect a punctuall answer from me to Questions that come from Roiergne and Givaudan? or that I should make an Elogium upon a book sent me from Castelnau d'Arry, and give my approbation to a piece of Barbary-Latine, or low Brittany French? In which I must delude some with flattery, and incurre the displeasure of others by my freedome? Pardon me, I beseech you, the untoward humour wherein I am: I did not think it would have transported me so farre. Three great packets have irritated it, and almost made me forget what I owe to the civility of your friend. I intend to give him thanks more at large: But it cannot be till the returne of the next Post. I need at least a weeks time to compose my braine, and reduce the acrimony of my Rhetorick. I am ever most passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

7. April. 1641.

LETTER XI. To the same.

SIR,

I Do but little trouble my selfe with the thought of Eloquence, and much lesse of Fortune. I am fallen into that extream degree of languishment, that I have scarce strength enough to tell you of my deplorable condition, or courage to desire the health I want. You have done me singular favours, but I am destitute of taste even of the best things. I am at the same passe with that man of the Country of Epigrams, who desired thirst of him that offer'd him wine. 'Tis not Sir, that I am become so precisely devoted to sobriety, but because I have lost my appetite. Fortune which is able to fill the widest desires of ambition is not able to content the morosity of Melancholly. Even Joy her selfe would be hardly put to it, to cheere my dejected spirits; unlesse perhaps that Holy-Joy that resides in heaven, and very rarely descends to earth; where it lyes hid in the [Page 13] breasts of the reverend Fathers, and glimmers upon the countenances of young novices.

Laetitiam, quae Caelicolum per limina semper
Discursat, raroque imas petit hospita terras,
Curarumque expers, lachrymasque exosa virago
Exultat, totoque abigit suspiria Caelo;
Hanc soli hîc novére deo gens plena, sodales,
Ignati et Francisce, tui, et quos carcere clausit
Insontes Bruno, Bernardique optima proles,
Innuptum aeternumque omnes genus.

My Lord,

BE pleas'd to admit my second addresse either in the way of an acknowledgment or a further instance in the behalfe of the Reverend Father — It were great pitty that his eloquence should lye idle; and his zeal is so impatient of rest, that if he preaches not in your Church, he will have much adoe to be kept within his Cell. I conceived you had formerly granted me this favour for him, and I did already assure him of it. But what I attend from your goodness may be Christned with what name you please. If you would not have it styled the confirmation of a benefit formerly received, let it be the conferring a new one: I am contented to owe it you as long as I live, and as if I received it every day; and will thank you for it as often as you please, for I think it not any trouble to returne you my respects, and protestations that I am

My Lord,

Your, &c.

[...]ul. 25. 1643.

[Page 23]

LETTER XXII. To Monsieur de Lorme, Counsellour and Physitian to the King.

SIR,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 18. 1642.

LETTER IX. To Madam des Loges.

Madam,

I Received your Letter upon the taking the anniversary journey of —. Since you are so good as to give him audience, whensoever he appeares before you, I will only deliver you the matter in grosse of which he shall give you a more particular account at Oradour. He will make you, Madam, a most lamen [...]able relation; you will understand from him that my miseries are everlasting, and the comforts I had, begin to slack. My mind growes obstinate in Melancholly, and abandons it selfe to a faintnesse that makes it incapable of all the noble functions you speak of. The only sustenance that was not unpleasant to it, it now disrelishes like the rest, and my books are no more my comforters. How can cheerfull thoughts be conversant with such fatall objects as environ us on the right, and left hand? or how can we quietly enjoy the Present which is not good, on the Eve of a Future, which must be worse; and which threatens all men with famine and poverty? I protest, I never attain'd to so high a pitch of Philosophy. Monsieur de — himselfe sayes, it would be such a grand equivocation as would make all Philosophers counted ridiculous. He sayes, nothing must be read but the lamentations of Jeremy, nor any thing written but Wills. I am reduced almost to such a condition, and am not valiant enough to resume [Page 41] the employment I have discontinued; did not, Madam, your commands interpose, and you imagine you had occasion of my language. I have sent you what you enjoyned me, and it is drawn from the bottome of my heart. Possibly, it may want the graces and ornaments of a Rhetorician, but I conceive that for that reason it will not be of lesse valid evidence, that he who writ it, is perfectly,

MADAM,

Your, &c.

May 12. 1640.

LETTER X. To the same.

Madam,

I Understood from a friend of mine newly come out of Holland, of the losse you lately receiv'd before Breda, but judging of your griefe according to my acquaintance with your disposition, and not doubting but it is much greater then ordinary, I dare not presume to apply any thing to it. These are maladyes to which forraine medecines are not to be apply'd, since they commonly prove but ineffectuall. It is possible a man may not weep with you; but it is impossible to condemne your teares. The austerest Philosophers do here suspend the severity of their Decrees: and Zeno would be worse then Phalaris, if amidst the tyranny he exercises over humane passions, he were not indulgent to naturall piety. So that, Madam, none hath any title to comfort you but your selfe: you alone are capable to do that good office to your selfe, and manage that affliction which I look upon with amazement. I am confident, you will be successefull in it: for knowing very well that there is as much fortitude as tendernesse in your soul, I do not believe that, contrary to the course of things, you would have fortitude submit, and the weaker get the mastery of the stronger. Heretofore I have heard you valew life so little, that by your own principles it were no great misfortune to do dead. And though you may have renounced this opinion, yet you will grant that the absence which seperates those who live, from those who live no more, is too short a thing to merit any long bemoaning. The cause of obstinate griefes cannot be justified but by presupposing an eternity in this life, or a despaire of that which is to come. But the very example of the persons we bewaile confutes the first supposition, and the last is inconsistent with the [Page 42] promises of the sonne of God. So that, Madam, I should not only forget the common Fundamentalls of our Faith, if I should comply with the persistance of your sadnesse: but on the other side should forget that I deal with a Lady, who is able to read excellent lectures of wisedome to Men; and with a Mother who gives not precedence in point of courage and Magnanimity to all the Matrons of Lacedemon? I will onely therefore represent to you, to banish vulgar thoughts out of your head, that it is not in vaine, we call you Heroine, and besides to give satisfaction to truth and my affection, that it is impossible but I must be sick of all your griefes, being, as I am, withall my soul,

MADAM,

Your, &c.

Dec. 16. 1638.

LETTER XI. To Monsieur de Borstel.

SIR,

THere are words to bewaile other afflictions, there is none to expresse this: for I confesse I know not what are become of my wits, since the losse we received. I am as planet-strucken as if the Sun had tumbled out of the firmament; and instead of blending my teares with yours, or taking heart from your example, I abide here without motion and action, as stiffe, as heavy, and insensible as one of the rockes of my Hermitage. A foul interdicted by griefe cannot make any use of her reason. My Stoicall resolutions are reversed: Zeno and Chrysippus hath given me the slip. Hîc me, & Philosophia, & eloquentia, & loquentia ipsa deficit. What shall I do? what shall I fay in the affrights of an Ecclipse so mortall to all that professe vertue; in the mourning, in the desolation of our Pernassus? Every thing is blind, every thing is deafe, every thing is dumbe amongst the Muses. I have nothing else to say, then, unlesse once againe, that I have lost the use of my speech, except for those three or four words, which will assure you that such as I am, I will be all my life,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 1. 1641.

[Page 43]

LETTER XII. To Monsieur Menage.

SIR,

SInce you have heard talke of Alcimedon, and have a mind to see him, your longing shall be satisfi'd. But I tell you, this is not a counterfeit Alcimedon, as you have been informed, nor do I by a Roman Gentleman personate a French Lord. No man is concealed under this picture. He is a native and true Roman: of the race of the Fabricii, the Fabii, or the Scipioes, chuse which you please. He died of a sicknesse at Rome the day before the City was taken by the duke of Bourbon, who commanded the Emperour Charle's army. It is true, History doth not mention this last of the Romanes, but tradition hath discovered him to me, and you know I have had severall conferences with Marquesse Pompeo. Frangipane, who was a treasury of the rarities of his Country. I am lately in a scurvy humour, withall that I do, and my most darling compositions do not like me a whole day together; yet I must needs tell you, this hath not yet distasted me, and I am still constant to Alcimedon. I shall know from you whether my inclination judges rightly, and if my Love be lawfull.

Rivalisque utinam noster dignum Alcimedonta
Igne tuo credas, Licini; tunc se omnibus unum
Romulidis, meliórque etiam quos protulit Hellas,
Praeferat Alcimedon.

I am, SIR, Your, &c.

Sep. 15. 1643.

LETTER XIII. To the same.

SIR,

Reverend Father,

I Praise God that your race is finish'd & that you are come safe home into a place of rest. This good newes found me in so ill a condition, that you see I have been necessitated these two months to deferre my congratulations of it. I had Winter and all her Clouds in my head. I had neither a distinguishable voyce, nor an articulate sound. I was only able to grumble and murmur —. Now, the inundation is abated, and I begin to descry some appearance and probability of Serenity.

Aut video, aut vidisse puto per nubila Solem.

But on the other side the vapours of my melancholly make it alwayes night in my soule, and the smallest ray of hope cannot shine into it. You perceive from what I would my selfe: but there is no way for me to effect that which, you say, is the pleasure of Heaven.

If the power you have there, were great enough to change December into May, to strew all the way betwixt this and Paris with roses for me, I do not think I could remove out of this desart. After the season were changed, you must metamorphoseme too, and so consequently worke a second Miracle: you must dissolve that charme that confines me to this little scantling of ground, ‘Atque affigit humo divinae particulam aurae.’

Your eloquence is very forceable, and your considerations very prevalent to draw me to you, you have writen me such words as would have perswaded Saint Anthony, and Saint Hilary the Hermite; and such as I cannot oppose with other words. I only say, that those good fathers were in the desart, and you are to [Page 55] reckon mee among the immoveables of that Walke you saw,

Ʋt memora, ut colles, viridisque immora Carentae Prata mei. What will you say to the extravagancy of this Jargon? It is farre from the regularity and cevennesse of your style. Well, some other time my French may be lesse Latinized, and my prof lesse versifyed: but I am so weary with talking over-gravely of late, that I was forced to alter my custome, to try whether I could recover my selfe. You will see the markes of this forc't and set gravity in some writings which my Nephew will deliver you. He hath especiall Order from all the family you love, to assure you, you are perfectly honoured there: For my part, I so reverence your vertue, that if I might be permitted, I would willingly sweare by Hercules; and say, Me Hercule as well as Cardinall Bembo, or Cardinall Sadolet: but my Hercules is not like theirs, a Sonne of Jupiter and Alcmena: nor is he; Hercules the furious.

Ni furor ille, sacros agitat qui numine vates,

Sit furor ille tuus.

Accept of my devotion, I beseech you, and do me the honour to believe, that I am, even with all my soul,

Reverend Father.

Your, &c.

Dec 15. 1643.

LETTER XXIIII. To Monsieur the Chevalier de Mere.

SIR,

SOlitude is, in truth, a fine thing; but there would be a delight in it were there but sometimes a friend of your goodnesse, to whom it might be told so. Idlenesse, is called the food of the gods, and of men like them, but it is when Scipio and Laelius taste it together. If I were your neighbour, how deeply should we be ingag'd in matters of moment? What learned walkes we should make! How rich should I be, possessing the Originall of those good things you write to me? I would not envy the Court for her Delicacies of wit, her sincerity of judgment the Graces and the Flourishings your Letter mentions: But if you do, not buy a House in Angoulmois, these are but wishes which vanish upon the paper; and considering the state I am in, Foitiers is as farre from me as Constantinople. You give me no hopes of this: I am afraid I am condemned to languish for ever in this little corner of the world. I shall be [Page 56] ever abandoned to my evill Angell, and my sad thoughts: there is neither remedy, mitigation, nor compassion taken on my miseries. Indeed, they are very great, I am an Hypocrite, whensoever I would be thought good company. However, such as I am, there is none more then I,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jun. 6. 1646.

LETTER XXV. To Monsieur de St. Chartres, of the Kings high Councell.

SIR,

THe businesse of the Bishoprick may succeed, and the meanes you propound are not very difficult: but your friend is resolved not to make use of the easiest. He too well understands his own unworthinesse, to entertaine that high conceit you would put in his head: and he hath read Saint Chrysostome's books of the Priest-hood with too much attention, not to be afraid of a burden, formidable even to the strength of Angells: he dares not say to his shoulders, as Saint Bernard did. Yet it is a burden that even the weakest desire to carry: there is no Pedant but wishes to be laden hard with it. This is the drift of so many Preachers, and that which so many sermons aime at. But let them runne, and let us be at rest. Let us not set the Gospell, nor Saint Paul on work to sollicite our promotion: they are worthy of a better employment. Do not let us, instead of serving God, make use of Him. It is better to be a Catechumenist all ones life-time, and dy at the Church doore, then enter into the Sanctuary at a breach made by Ambition; How I like the Country and retirement! how I pitty the distempers and the feavers of Competitours! Had I no other disease but that, I should be the soundest man in the world, and though your good will obliges me in this present offer, I beseech you, believe, that I am without hopes or interest,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 4. 1639.

[Page 57]

LETTER XXVI. To the Reverend Father de Marin, a Divine of the Society of Jesus.

Reverend father,

YOu carried away my good dayes with you. Since your departure, I have not passed any one without griefe or pain. Even the good intervalles of my disease have been appropriated to others, not my selfe: and the weakenesse of people on the mending hand, which is priviledged every where else, hath not been able to get me dispensed with, for severall labours which require a perfect health. At length, after all, I am at leisure, and have overtaken the April-sunne, who bestowes strength on me as he receives it himselfe. Blessed be this Ʋisible sonne of the invisible Father, you know it hath been called so heretofore. He hath already put me in possesson of my walks: he will shortly digest and purifie the waters that are prescribed to you: he himselfe will make ready your bathes, and cure you by luxurious medicines: when it is so, will you not be a man of your word, and come neere our Desart? will you not come and contribute to my amendment, by the vicinity of your vertue, and the presence of your good examples? I onely begge you one day in a week. But I speak in earnest, rather then not obtaine this favour, I will set all my friends on work at Rome, to the great Mutio Ʋitelleschi. He would not deny you to the Savages if they had need of you: Shall I be lesse favourably dealt withall then the people of Canada? and do you runne more hastily to an unknowne harvest then a chosen one? You see whither my desire of not being farre from you, and of sometimes enjoying your holy and learned conversation, transports me. Limit your ambition for my sake. Be not jealous of the honour of your Companions: ruminate not on their famous conquests, nor propound to your selfe the conversion of Kingdomes and Kings: fix your selfe to this little corner of the world, and out of humility be an Apostle to your friend.

Sic erit; et voti facies, Marine, potentem
Balzacium, exanguemque dabis pinguescere terram;
Cum propior largos Caelo demiseris imbres.

I conjure you to this, from the bottome of my heart, and am passionately,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Ap. 27. 1644.

[Page 58]

LETTER XXVII. To the Reverend father Destrades a Divine of the Society of Jesus, Superiour of the Cloister in Bourdeaux.

Reverend Father,

VVHen you do a good deed you thinke you receive one, and you are officious with such alacrity, that the way wherewith you oblige, is commonly a second obligation. But I leave the Chapter concerning the businesse in recommendation, to Madam Capaignol, to give you thanks in my own words for your perfumed-Rosary. I esteem it much higher for comming to me from you, then for comming from Peru to you: for I know your staple trafficke is in heaven, from whence grace distils upon devotion. Questionlesse, it will be auspicious to me: it will do much more then you say: for it will impart zeale to me which I want, and make it acceptable after the conferring it upon me: So this sweet odour that makes the sacrifices agreeable, will not be wanting to that of my prayer, Et per te, mi optime & dulcissime pater, etiam in Christo deliciabor. In the mean time, I must tell you, here is strange talke of your passion against Spain; or, to speake more properly, against Castile. Are you certain Saint Ignatius and Saint Xavier will not take it ill at your hands that you declare so openly for the King of Portugall? do you know what their opinions are in so nice a business, and upon a Question so problematicall? however, Reverend Father, you cannot be blamed for being a loyall Frenchman: there is no danger to be feared, nor hazard to be runne in opinions of State: remember ever that verse in Homer that sayes, To serve ones Country is to protect her Temples and to do an act of Religion. Once more I thank you for my Rosarie: but I must acquaint you with all that I repose more confidence in your prayers, then my own; do not forget me then, if you please, when you recommend your well bebeloved to our Lord. and I am from the bottome of my soule,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Mar. 12. 1641.

LETTER XXVIII. To Madam, The Marchionesse of Rambouillet.

Madam,

I Have not yet received the present you were pleased to honour me withall; but the newes of it beeing brought me by [Page 59] Monsieur Chaplain, I was not able any longer to suppress within mymind the acknowledgements I owe you for it: and yet they are such Madam, that it is not easie to draw them out of the thought into the expression, without losing somewhat in the conveyance. To cloathe them in ordinary words were too great an abasement of them: and in conscience I never had more need of that officious figure which aides our good intentions, which dischargeth the poor mans debts, and, not content to describe things to their just value, doth inhaunce them infinitely above themselves. You are acquainted with it, Madam, under the famous name of Hyperbole; and I must confesse to you I have poorly abandon'd it almost eighteen yeares ago, out of a cowardly fear which the reproaches and calumnies of my enemies created in me, without Question very much to my disadvantage: for I easily foresee, that wanting its succour to thank you magnificently, as I desired, I must be constrained to serve my selfe of the simplicity of my mother tongue, and only to tell you, as another mortall would, that I am highly obliged to you for your Present: yet I will adde, Madam, but in the extreamest rigour and severity of truth, That the only news of this Present, hath intirely changed the face of my fortune, and seems to have placed aboundance where before was poverty. If you please, I shall take the Liberty to expound my meaning, and render you an account of the present estate of my affaires: 'Tis most certain, the wrath of Heaven is this year fallen upon our Country; and that for my own particular, I have not been more favourably treated then my neighbours. But though the unseasonable haile and frost in the month of May, have saved us the labour of gathering our Vintage in September, and left us nothing but the sad remainders of their prey; though the promising eares of corne have deceived our expectation, and yielded an inconsiderable harvest, (I demand your pardon Madam for these village expressions) though on the other side, all the Avenues of the Exchequer are most strictly guarded and justest gratifications escape not from it but with difficulty; yet for my own part I am nothing sensible of all these bad consequences; they are misfortunes that concerne not me; and you, madam, are alone the cause that I complain not either of the inclemency of heavens, the barrennesse of the earth, or the covetousnesse of the State. By meanes of you, never year was more plentifull, nor more happy to me then this: for having lost somewhat in ignoble and common things, may I not be [Page 60] more justly thought a gainer, since your hand makes me so bountifull a recompence, in things of rarity and value? in Essences of Jasmin, flower of Orange, musk and Amber grease. But Madam, what will the preciser sort of people say to this? and what answer shall I make to the generation of severe sages, who will think it strange that a man making profession of frugality should bring into his desart the delights and luxury of the Court? that a solitary person should have his boxes full of Frangipane glo [...]es; he, I say, who in reason, should be content with a paire of mittens every winter? I shall not here endeavour to make his apology, or to justifie that by reason which may be defended by authority, and by the example of one who had credit enough to found a Sect. It will not become me, Madam, to be better, or more wise then Aristippus, who knew so well the art of mixing pleasure and temperance together: he did not at all condemne the use of innocent pleasures; he could make a difference betwixt stinks and perfumes, and was nothing inclined to believe, that aromaticall odours were infectious. One day above the rest he decla [...]'d himselfe more openly upon this subject: an impertinent asker of questions, fell upon him in a great assembly, and having held some discourse with him, concerning the austerity to be observed in the lives of Philosophers, upon the suddaine, thinking to put him to the blush, captiously inquired, who it was in the company that smelt so strong of perfumes, 'tis I, answered Aristippus, and another wretch more unhappy then my selfe, known by the name of the King of Persia. Shall I take the boldnesse, Madam, to rank my selfe as the third sinner of that order, and dare to intrude into so noble a society? Yes Madam, for once I shall renture to march by the side of this King and Philosopher who perfum'd themselves; and have some reason to believe, I possesse advantages above them both, because in their time, they had neither a Madam, nor a Madamoyselle de Ramboüillet, to select, and present them with those perfumes. The Latine Poesy makes its vaunt of certaine Essences which Venus and the loves her children made present of to a Romane Lady; but those Essences, Madam, which I expect, are sent me by a nobler hand, then of that Common Venus and her Cupids; 'tis the true Venus Urania, and her adorable daughter; 'tis vertue it selfe embodied, and become visible to the eyes of mortalls; 'tis perfection descended from its heavenly habitation, which does me this day the honour to regale me. I make my publique boast of it: I look upon [Page 61] all the riches and possessions of the earth as things below me, but as there is no glory in the world which equalls mine, I must also beg your beliefe there are no acknowledgments can vye with mine; though yet the greatest part of them remaine within my heart, and cannot make any outward appearance but imperfectly in the protestation which I make, to be allwayes with respect and veneration,

MADAM,

Your, &c.

LETTER XXIX. To Monsieur Costar.

SIR,

I Have received your Pastills, your Powder, and your Cushionets of Odours. But what do you expect I should say of them? They are no mortall things, nor are they to be commended in humane termes. Flora, the spring, the sunne, and Marshall never produced so faire a fruit of their united labours, or made any thing so excellent as these perfumes. Our Doctor sweares they are better then those of Venus when she appear'd to her son Aeneas upon the bank of a River in Lybia. Yet Virgil who is not so prodigall of Divinity as the Poets his successours, gives them the appellation of divine.

Ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem

Spiravêre —.

For your Table books I look on them, and consider, but dare not adventure to use them. I make a conscience of touching so faire things, with such coorse hands as mine. The plates, guilding, and lively colours have been bestowed on them without parsimony. They would have been fit Registers for the private Cabinet of Caesar and Cleopatra. I do not think, when the Conquering God read a lecture to the Muses his scholars, they had such handsome Note-books as these, wherein they diligently writ after him.

Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus

Vidi docentem, Nymphasque discentes, &c.

You know the rest in Latin, but not in Italian, for I just now receiv'd these verses from Florence, where they were made the last month.

Jo vidi (il giuro, et se mia lingua mente
Con furia procellosa
Schiantin le viti mie grandini ac [...]rbe)
[Page 62]Vidi il Padre Lieo steso frā l'erbe,
su cetra armonioso
Trattar d'avorio d'or plettro lucente
Vidi le Ninfe intente
S [...]arfene al canto & à le voci argute
I satiri chinar l'orecchie argute.

You see here I put the change upon you, and deviate as much from my subject as I can. The reason is because I do not intend to slubber over a thanks to you for exquisite presents. I must prepare my selfe a whole moneth for it. I think of consulting all my Muses and to look over all my common places: nay I have a mind to take a potion for that purpose, and be let blood; that my spirits may be clearer and all my faculties more free and active. I most humbly kisse your hands and am with passion,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sept. and 1644.

LETTER XXX. To the same.

SIR,

I Know not how I dare undertake to write to you: for in the condition I am, I can with truth assure you, that I do not see my Letter.

In me tota ruens Hyems

Arcton deseruit

If ruens Hyems grate your eare, it does more mischiefe to my Eyes. But then I have an other way to expresse my self,

Me nebulâ turpi, multo me Jupiter imbre
Atque omni premit Aeolio. Da mitior almâ
Luce frui, Pater, et formosum redde serenum.

I do not beg Jupiter for the drying up my Rheume, and use of my Nose; but meerly that I may be in a condition to injoy your kindnesse, or, if you will have any more in the language of the immortall Gods,

Ʋt saltem Ambrosio Florae immortalis odore
Muneribusque tuis fruar, ô vel Regibus aequis
Par Arabum, Costarde, animo.

In earnest, Sir, your perfumes are admirable, they are even better then those of the last yeare; and if my Rhetorick about this subject were not quite exhausted, they should be attended with as ample thanks as the divine Artenice — I am without reserve,

SIR,

Your, &c.

[Page 63]

THE THIRD BOOK.

LETTER I. To Monsieur Menage.

SIR,

TO obey you, I have read the Spanish Philosopher's Book a second time. The title alwayes pleased me exceedingly; but I cannot say any more of the rest, then what I told a Gentleman of my familiaritie, who first mention'd it to me. I could not find what I sought in it, and in my opinion the Art of the Will required all the sufficiencies of our Gassendus to be display'd answerably to its merit. The Spaniard is in many places enervate and feeble, in others too subtile and abstractive; and repeates the same matter so often, that his sixe Books might be reduc'd to lesse then the halfe of that number without any injury to his subject. A moderne Oratour termed this kind of Tautologie, The dancing the Canaries in a Bushell. And a Poet of antiquity said it was, ‘Ʋnum ponere ferculis tot assem.’

Which may be expressed in ordinary speech, The serving up of one joynt in a dozen or two of dishes. But I beseech you Sir, what sinister advice, what vision or extravagance mov'd this John Eusebius to cite almost perpetually, such authors as have no authority; and were scarce ever heard of? This is giving people for sureties, for whose credit certificates and pledges, yea pawns and engagements of bodies, might be required in their particular affaires. I cannot tell what ranke a Bernardus Sylvester, a Barlaamus Giracensis, or an Odo Cluniacensis, should hold among the genuine and legitimate Fathers of the Church. His treatise beares the Character of the same judgement throughout. All the way he straines his wits in quest of ridiculous novelties both in things and words, that he may seem to renounce the dialect of the Schools, and to speake like a man of another Country, he compounds such a gibberish of his own as farre exceeds the obscurity and canting of the Doctors, and is likewise no lesse savage and remote from the [Page 64] Romane purity. He himself is the Planter of his barbarism and raises a new rebellion of his own head against Cicero. And this with how much indeavour and violence? His care and paines are perspicuous in the defects of his style. He designes to fall, where other men slip unwittingly. He do's not utter his Galamaufry unawares, but 'tis his ayme to plunge himself into it. In a word, intending to speak elegantly, he speaks absurdly with curiosity, and makes choice of all his bad expressions. Could it possibly be, that this man had the liking of Messieurs Du-Puy. I do not believe he is of any great credit with the Jesuits; I mean, the Jesuits of Paris, who have a better pallat then those of Madrid. I am confident, that in this perticular at lest the dreadful Petavius is of the same opinion with the redoubtable Salmasius. Instead of him I read the life of your Mamurra without weariness. It seems to me more lovely and new, at the tenth reading then at the first. How heartily it would have provok'd the laughter of the Cardinal of Perron? How wil it please the Cardinal Bentivoglio, and with what esteem wil the father Strada regard the salt and delicate sawces in it. He who sometimes smiles after a Roman manner, and is as exquisite at ingenious raillery as your self: But if you would see the Elogium of his Life all at length, you may please to see what I have written of it to the father Socrates, and aske of him, if I commend the other Latine Satyres he sent me with the same Language.

Hae, licet ingentis Pansae, Hirtiadaeque superbi,

Nomina clara ferant.

I am ever affectionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Nov. 4. 1643.

LETTER II. To Monsieur de —.

SIR,

I Have lately received newes that gives me very sensible apprehensions of discontent. Monsieur Costar was an Eye-witness of my trouble: and it is most certain, that if a Spanish Philosopher made me lose your favour, I should not easily be reconciled with Spaine, not even after the pacification of Munster. When I writ you my opinion, I did not imagine it would have been injurious to your judgment, for I conceiv'd Sir, you [Page 65] had told me, that some men cry'd up this Modern Doctor, but not that you had any affection for him your self. Had I thought the least of any such thing, I am not so bad a Courtier, a [...] to have willingly contradicted you, in a business of so little importance, and my particular conceits shall alwayes be less dear to me then the contentation of my friends. Therefore be pleased to impute the mistake that is fallen out, either to the dulnesse of my hearing at the time you spoke to me of the Treatise, or to the defect of my understanding when I [...]ead it. And do me the favour to believe that though I am not a professed sider with Johannes Eusebius Nierenbergius é societate Jesu, yet I am not less really,

SIR,

Your, &c.

July. 5. 1644.

LETTER III. To Monsieur Gombauld, a Chanter in the Church of Sainctes.

SIR,

THe Dialogue you did me the favour to send me was taken away from me the same day I received it, and since that time has pass'd through so many hands, that I co [...]ld never be master of it till this day. I have newly read it with such a likeing and relish as I shall retaine a long while in my fancy, and I confess that such kind of Dialogues if we had any in our Language, would bring me out of Love with those of Plato. This little tract, since you would know my opinion of it, is a Library in Epitome, a magazine in a packet, and a Daedalus-shop where all the utensils move of themselves, and all the materialls are alive. It deserves this last attribute upon a particular account, being not only the juice and quintessence of the ancient Sages, but more, the Life and Soul of their wisdome: he is so dextrous in reduceing speculation to use, and study unto action. But this He, Sir, is it not Monsieur de la Hoguette? and what are his intentions of his closeness and concealment? If he will not own a Child so worthy of him, though it want a father, it shall not be destitute of protection. Heroes were never expos'd to the mercy of their fates, but Heaven took care of them; and dubious births have almost ever been the entrance to illustrious lives. I send you the present which Monsieur Chaplain bestowes upon [Page 66] you, and being not able to thanke you sufficiently for that I lately received from you, I must be contented to assure you that I am with much gratitude,

SIR,

Your, &c.

LETTER X. To the Reverend Father Dalmé, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Professour of Rhetorick.

Reverend father,

EIther it was my fault to express my self ill, or your friend's to miss-appprehend my intention. However it be, I am very sensible of the trouble he ha's drawn upon you. It is unquestionably a great crime to abuse that happy fruitfulness, which Heaven hath conferr'd upon your Muse. She must not be harrass'd out every day, but deserves to be kept for grand Holy dayes; and you your self are an ill Husband, to make so many excell [...]nt Verses at a venture, and proceed so farre to leave your marke behind you: One thing that pleases me in this thankless labour that you have taken, is, that it hath given you an occasion to write me a Letter sincerely Latine, and worthy of the purity of Antiquity. I read it often with delight; and had it not been for my vexatious business, and my want of health you should immediately have seen in the same language how highly I valew your exquisite knowledge in it. All that I can say, being oppressed with businesse, and drowned in Rheume, is, that I was much comforted to behold this Ray of the Age of Eloquence, at a time when one would think the Goths were newly risen again to sack Aquitaine, and replant their gibberish: but I concluded, when I read your Latine, that they were not yet Masters of the place where you were, since you held out still for old Rome, and their savage style had not gained you to be an abettor of it. Continue, I beseech you, this la [...]dable designe: oppose your self, stoutly against the vicious imitation of some young Doctors, who labour with might and maine for the re-establishment of Barbarism. Their phrases are either forraigne or poetical; and their Periods, Rhimes and Antitheses. If scurvy books afford any word, either rotten with age, or monstrous by the newness of it; a bolder metaphor then usuall; or an insolent and rash expression; they rake up this dung [Page 67] with care, and bedeck themselves with it with much curiosity. They believe themselves much more handsome, after taking in those ornaments, then they were before. This is a strange malady, and a filthy love? I cannot tell what their braines are made of, to contemne the force, the vigour, and the lustre of Rome, to become enamoured only on her diseases and her carkasse; on her sepulcher, and her ashes. Or if there be any excesse in the last words; what do they think they doe, when they preferre before Senatours and Consulls of the Common-wealth, all magnificent and glittering in their purple, such poore tattered slaves, the remainders of warre and persecution, who after the ruine of the same Republique are come to beg, and weare their ragges in the Provinces? You easily discerne that in these two different Parties, on our side we have our Livy, our Salust, our Cicero: and on the other side they have their Cassiodore their Symmachus, and their Apuleius, coeteráque id genus, ut meus ait Damon, dehonestamenta Latinitatis. I wish them better and sounder fancies: and would very faine see an end of their rebellion against the true and lawfull Nephewes of Remus. I beg of you, reverend father, the good examples you can bestow upon us: but especially I entreat your good opinion, and beseech you to believe me, as truly I am,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Ap. 3. 1643.

LETTER V. To the reverend Father, du Creux, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Rhetorick-Professour.

Reverend father,

I Had a sight of five or six leaves, the other day, which I admired; and without question you saw them before me, since they came from your father Sirmond: he is an admirable father, I have told you often; but he is admirable in divers respects, and is not to be lookt on only one way, he is provided to instruct the learned, and to delight meaner capacities, he hath both the solid and the subtle part of learning: and not to speak of the riches of a choise knowledge managed by a Magisteriall judgment, the dispenser, and regulatour of it, I observe yet in his fourscore, all the fire, all the brave blood, all the gallantry of Spirit, that can be discovered in the very youth of the Demy-Gods. If your Christian severity will not, cannot [Page 68] digest that word, let me say at least in the youth of such men as are more happily born then the rest. I beseech you, contrive it so that your young people set before them this man, who is an honour both to his Age and Country, as a copy how to write by; and not some raw Latinists who would breed Schisms and Heresies in Eloquence: who are crueller enemies of ancient Rome, then ever Hannibal, Iugurtha, Mithridates, &c. They write iron and stones, as they confesse themselves, if not mudde and smoak, as some upbraid them for.

Quis furor ille novus postponere casta profanis,
Impurasque sequi neglecto fonte lacunas,
Et tenebras sordesque tuo praeferre nitori?
Quis Romam violare luto, quod Barbara vexit
Tempestas olim in Latium, nisi natus iniquo
Sydere, nunc velit, & Romani nominis hostis?

You see, an enthusiasm ever possesses me when I discourse with you. I sigh after next Thursday's conversation, and rest,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Aug. 30. 1640.

LETTER VI. To the Reverend father, Stephen of Bourges, a Preaching Capuchin.

Reverend father,

I Send you back the Manifesto and expect the Exhortations, you did me the favour to promise me. It is not so much curiosity to look on them as fine things, as an intention to be benefited by them as saving things that obliges me once more to desire them of you: and you well remember the old Roman saying, Medecines do no good, unlesse they stay by it: Which words cannot, for they passe by without any stopping, since your Latin-Country-friend will be our Nymph's Poet, advise him to lay down the Character of Virgil in his Eclogues for his Idea. I meet not with any Venice-glasse more polished or cleare then that. Ovid's sweetnesse, and facility, likes me exceedingly, under favour of the Critick Victorius, and the Hypercritick —. As for Lucan, Statius, and Claudian, they rant too high, and make too loud a noise in a sick man's chamber. They are Bells, Drummes, and Timbrels which we admit not [Page 69] into our Musick. I write this to you in a huddle, and have but this moment, to tell you, I am,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Ap. 3. 1645.

LETTER VII. To Monsieur de Meré, Knight.

SIR,

YOur judgment is true; the productions of these fine wits are neither free nor naturall. A straining and forcednesse is discernable every where: and aiming to become admirable, they happen to be prodigious. They do not consider that Monsters are produced by excesse, as well as deficiency, and that Giants no more then dwarfs can be said to be of a handsome stature. But shall we put those you speak of, in the Catalogue, who talked so highly to you of the Roman Majesty; and the noblenesse of their style? have a care, Sir, how you condemne them; I beg their pardon of you, for a more considerable interest then their own. For, in earnest, if they are culpable; Virgil cannot be innocent: if in their Poems Caesar forgets his modesty, what I beseech you doth the Head of Caesars race in the Aeneids do, when being asked his name, he answers.

Sum pius Aeneas, famâ super aethera notus.

When he proposes himselfe as a pattern and Idea of true vertue, ‘Disce puer virtutem ex me, &c.’

When he styles himselfe the great Aeneas, and believes a man doth not repine to dye, because t'was he that killed him.

Hoc tamen infelix miseram solabere mortem

Aeneae magni dextrâ cadis, &c?

LETTER XIII. To Monsieur the Abbot Talon.

SIR,

SInce you relish well the last things I writ, and your palat so exceedingly accurate and discerning; I cannot count them utterly ill: it is no small matter to have pleased you, and Monsieur the Attourney Generall Talon, for who dares, in point of Eloquence, contradict a mouth that hath so long while, swayed the ablest and justest Councell in the world. I willingly submit my dead words, dropped upon my paper, to that lively and animated vertue residing on his lips, that produces decrees in the breasts of the judges. I should be contented not to be wholly slighted; but I should be very proud, if it were true, that he had any esteem for me, and that in that Sunne he fights in, he cast pleased aspects upon that shade wherein I am obscur'd. I cannot chuse but apprehend much delight, that my retirement is approved by the most active and best-acting person in the world. Oblige me to tell him this on my part, and to believe me passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 4. 1645.

LETTER XIIII. To Monsieur the Abbot Bouchard.

SIR,

I Make no question of Monsieur Holstenius, his great riches; I only complain of his thriftiness. Of what use is abundance without liberality, unlesse to change the nature of Good, and lock up that which would be communicated? He should either possesse lesse, or impart more: for though I know he hoards up for Posterity, and will enrich our grand-children, yet me thinks, he should not in the meane time disinherit us, nor reserve the best part of his fame for a Future that he shall never see. Be our solicitour, then, to his learned worship, and tell him in the name of all the Grecians and Latins of this kingdome, that we lay claime to his papers, and that he is more obliged to instruct his own Age then another. He is none of those barren ones that continually sit in Libraries, but never hatch any thing. It is expected he should bring forth something Eminent from his long conversation with the Vatican. I received what [Page 75] you did me the favour to send me from him. I confesse, it is purple, and cloath of Tissue: but it is only a patterne, and there is scarce enough to make a sute for a baby. I would have enough to hang a room with, and I beg whole Pieces, &c. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Mar. 14. 1640.

LETTER XV. To the Reverend father Josset, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Professour of Rhetorick.

Reverend father,

I Think, I need not spend much time in justification of my silence, I may rather commend my teares to you, and tell you that common report having killed you, I have with true griefe bewail'd your imagined death. I must confesse, you confuted this falsity after an excellent fashion; for as you were deceased in my thoughts, so you are newly risen againe to my eyes, more gloriously; for so I call the pompe wherein you appeared to me; and that lustre in the work you did me the fa [...]our to send me. Never was so bright a diffusion seen. The fertility of things rare, is only in you; and though there are mothers that people the world with cripples and crook'd-backs, your abundance cannot be said to resemble that unfortunate fecundity. You get only perfect children, ‘Omnes Coelicolas, omnes supera alta tenentes.’

May I dare to hazard a fancy, just now fallen into my head? You so highly sing the triumphs of the Church, and Holy dayes of the State, the death of Martyrs and the birth of Princes, that your verses seeme to accumulate glory to that of Heaven, and ornaments to those of the Lovure: the Saints seeme to receive a new happinesse from you, and Monsieur the Dolphin a second nobility. But you are not only a great Poet, you are a j [...]lly man also; for I confesse, that what you say there, concerning the warre with Spaine, and the Queens lying in, made me laugh in the height of my Melancholly. According to your opinion, the good fortune of the King was so busily employed at Saint Germaines that she could not be at Fontaraby. So Diana suffered her temple at Ephesus to be burnt, that night in which Alexander was brought into the world, while she served as a Midwife to his Mother Olimpias. Plutarch derides this saying of Timeus the Historian, and Cicero admires it in his books of the [Page 76] nature of the Gods. Which of these two are in the right, and to whom shall we judge the prize? or if neither of them must be condemned, what way of accommodation shall we contrive to reconcile them? we wil determine this businesse of consequence at our next interview. In the mean time, I have a thing that more concernes me to speak to you, since you ever love me, Be alwayes mindfull of me in your sacrifices of Love, and Charity: allow me some little share in those excesses and inundations of vertue I have been told of: at least let those overflowings water my barrennesse: I want only the sight of you to grow better. Come reverend father, come and with your presence manure the stones and sands of our desart. I conjure you to it from the bottome of my heart, and am passionately,

Dec. 5. 1638.

Your, &c.

LETTER XVI. To Monsieur de Marca, Councellour to the King.

SIR,

AFter I have told you, I was very sensible of the honour you did me, I must now adde, that I have a share in that honour you have done to our Age; and that I should have been unwilling to dye without seeing your labours in their utmost perfection. This work, Sir, will be no vaine shew of Science nor meer Ornament of Libraries: this will be a piece necessary to the order of things, for want of which the Glory of France was defective: it will at once both beautifie the publique, and strengthen the State. Our Kings shall reckon it among their Demeanes, or put it into the number of their Treasures: and if with your profound Learning you had not a large portion of humility you would give me leave to preferre it before Bucklers faln from Heaven, Images esteemed fatall, and other sacred Gages of the Grandure and Duration of Empires; but you would not have men flye so high, for your sake; and you do not affect to shew your self in so much pompe. The Title you have given to your excellent Book is lesse proud and figurative: it doth not menace the world with an insolent Metaphor, though its modesty (notwithstanding) promise that which none but a perfect understanding can performe. You undertake, Sir, the difficultest accommodation that ever was heard spoken of, since there were any quarrels on Earth: and [Page 77] though Priesthood and Royalty are two powers naturally friends, nay two daughters of the same Father, yet they are ofttimes so embroyled against one another by the interest of their relatives, that it will be hard for Equity her self to succeed in the reconciliation of them. To this is required a moderation the hot-headed French are not very inclinable to, and the haughty Roman, lesse: here must be neither the spirit of a Slave, nor an Enemy: here must be a soul full of light, and emty of passion; the King's power must be acknowledged, and the Pope's authority bowed to: but truth, who is Superiour both to Pope and King, and is the strongest thing in the world must be absolutely depended on. What a Renoune will it be to you, when it is believed, that your designe was meerly to oblige her; and it shall be said you defended her rights, as if you had received pay from her, or were by her commanded to write books! What a brave thing it will one day be, to be styled the Champion of truth? I do not see any thing in your writings that may prejudice your hopes, or so noble a pretention. If you had any such when you writ it, there is nothing of the degenerate or rebell in it, and though as yet I have only considered the outside of the building, and three or four pieces of the Portal, I omit not to comprehend the merit of the whole pile together. I saw at the first glance that your knowledge is wise, your Libertie discreet, and your zeal not blind: the most part of books are notorious by such imperfections, and the greatest part of Readers will easily be cured of them, if they meet with no more books to foment them: for my part, I seek after nothing else, since my gray Haires admonished me to look after what is solid and serious: but especially, Sir, I highly esteem that learned wisdome, without which I should not value all Baronius Latin though he had mountaines of it, nor all Casaubon's Greek, though he were more Atticke then Athens it self; nor all Scaliger's Hebrew and Arabick, though he understood it better then the Rabbins, and the Mufty. With this bait of sound sense and reason, you take my mind, after you had conquered my heart by another charme, and I am not in this particular lesse your abettor, than elsewhere I am obliged to be,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 6. 1641.

[Page 78]

LETTER XVII. To Monsieur de Rampalle.

SIR,

I Prized you, before I knew you loved me; and though such good tidings should have been concealed from me for ever, yet should I have spoke of your verses with passion, because indeed they put me into one: there is fire in them, that creepes into my veines; for I confesse to my shame, my age was a little warmed again with them. I cannot dissemble it, they tickled my heart, and I appeared lesse severe that day I received them, then I was the day before: you touch the soul so to the quick, that he must have none, who feeles not those smart-stroakes: your Art is a second Nature, and your picture's rather the perfection of things then the representation. It is true, the Stories you set down, are such as lead to errour, and forfeited Bishopprickes in the rigour of the Primitive Church, for who can tell but your Metamorphosis may beget others, nay may make more then one — in Diana's retinue, may change chast Ladies into amorous ones, and the pleasure of reading into a temptation of sinning? but I have neither vertue, nor authority suffificient to prescribe you spirituall counsel: it is enough for me to commit destiny holy matters to you; and to tell you concerning the subject of those that are not so, and that are such dangerous weapons in your hands, what an old woman in Rome said when she was reading the tales of Bocace, Would to God this were saying ones prayers! You see by the carelesness of this Letter that I have put off my trade of Declaimer; I have absolutely renounced the Genus demonstrarivum, and deal no more in Eloquence: but I have great doings with truth, and you may believe me when I protest I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

May. 21. 1640.

LETTER XVIII. To Monsieur de la Chambre, Councellour and Physitian to the King, and in ordinary to my Lord Chancellour, &c.

SIR,

YOur humility does you injustice and me a favour: It exalts me, by undervalewing you; but yet I cannot therefore esteem my selfe taller, or reckon you lesser. I understand [Page 79] the style of the place where you are: such submissions are part of your mirth, and at Court you play with those words, which we use in earnest in the Country. It must necessarily be so; else is it possible that you who are ignorant of nothing should not know what your selfe were worth? Would you have excepted your selfe out of the universall knowledge you have acquired, and at once both obeyed and disobeyed the Oracle of Apollo? In earnest, after I had considered, examined, and studied your book a whole fortnight, I concluded that never any knew the worth of a man so perfectly as your self. Never was the God of Delphos more nobly, more punctually obeyed: No, not by him of whose absolute wisedome he gave testimony, nor him that was heretofore called The understanding: nor that other who to this day is called The Genius of nature. This Genius, it is true, hath peeped into the soul, but he stopped at the doore. He hath only made the way open to you; and if I were bold enough, I would say, he is but of the outer Court, you of the Cabinet-councell. There is no recesse nor cranny of the humane soul, but you have penetrated; there is nothing how nimble, swift or secret soever, that passes through it, can escape the perspicacity of your sight, and of which you cannot give a most faithfull and certaine account. Our greatest Philosophers are only Pupills and Grammar Schollers of Aristotle, as Eustathius was of Homer, and Servius of Virgil. Our best moderne books are only repetitions and transcriptions of ancient ones, or at most, but Glosses and Paraphrases on them. I should wrong yours, if I should say the same of it. I should injure the highest and soveraigne Reason, which is interessed in this work, if I should attribute it to the lessons you had learned, or the common places you had collected. You are nothing lesse then Commentatour or transcriber; and to put you in among the number of wits of the second rank would be to degrade you. It may be said then, and that without extravagancy, that you are Philosopher in chiefe: that your writings are Originalls that you have made a great progresse into Truth; that you have there discovered unknown regions, which must beare your name, and the strait of Magellan not more famous, then certaine places you have passed through. There is no question but you are the first that travelled them, and therefore the glory of discovery is due to you. There are things in your book, for the invention of which a Grecian would have thanked his Gods with a Hecatombe. And not to particularize so many, [Page 80] (and those so rare) things; That single discourse of the knowledge of Animals is a novelty would have given birth to a Sect at Athens, and have ranked you among the Founders of Philosophicall Orders. If Aristotle himselfe were returned to the world, so excellent a Novelty would stir up Jealousie in his breast; it would vex him as much as it would inform him; for being so ambitious as he was, he would have been inconsolable for not being the author of it. But in what unknown quarter of the World have you found that loveliness and light (which are wanting in his works) which invite, sollicite, and arrest all eyes to yours. Beauty is there inseparably united with goodness. By your paines it is become broad day in Philosophie, after a night of many Ages; and your words are so clear and pure, so powerfull and efficacious, that farre from obscuring things from quickest sighted, me thinks they might even illuminate the blind; as they display the objects, they strengthen and cherish the sight, They delight both the severe and the sad: and the pleasure of them is such that I make no Question but an expression so flourishing and attractive even in the Thorniest and Roughest matters, would quickly discredit Rome and make France loath Comedies and Entertainments, and such other kind of allurements as voluptuous spirits are taken with. This being so, if I am not the most deceiveed man in the world, and having written nothing but what proceeds from my very heart, and a full perswasion, I may yet come in earnest to answer either, the Drollery or civilities of your Letter. In conclusion I say this, if you have lost any thing by my absence (as you pretend in complement) they are innumerable applauses, loud and frequent acclamations, sometimes interrupted with a silent pause of admiration: they are postures and gestures of a man transported, and such kind of things as Postes and Messengers are not laden with all: these, it may be, you have lost; and in truth, I believe if I had been at Paris when your book came forth, the representation of the Characters you are to treat of in your Chapter of Ecstasy might all have been seen acted by me, though I have not the gift to express them, as you have in paper: in which let it suffice to assure you, that I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 15. 1645.

[Page 81]

LETTER XIX. To Monsieur Salmasius.

SIR,

IT is enough, that I hear you have done me the honour to take cognisance of my cause. After this, I do not expect till you have pronounced judgment, to give you thanks for the justice you have done me. Favourable or contrary, I call it good because, being yours it cannot be bad. And if I were afraid of the extreamest rigour, as I hope something more mild, yet I am too well perswaded of the integrity and sufficiency of my judg, not to approve my condemnation, if comming out of his mouth. In such affaires, I will never appeal from you to any other. Neither the People, nor Posterity, are names great enough to be set in the scale against Salmasius; and if I should say that in the Common-wealth of Letters he holds the same dignity that formerly Queen Zenobias Confident did, who was acknowledged the Oracle of his own Age, and the Treasure of past Centuries, I should speak nothing but what all the sound part of that Republique would averre after me. Do you then Soveraignly decide, Sir, all the matters in contest? Your opinion ought to be the absolute Rule of our differences. Against so legitimate an authority, there is no protection among the Rabbins; no Sanctuary in the East, nor Recruit in the Country of the Hellenists: and how small an inclination soever my Adversary shews to an arbitrement like mine, yet we are each of us obliged to tell you, Tibi summum rerum judicium Dii dedêre, nobis obsequii gloria relicta est. I shall conserve this glory with respect, and continue passionately, whilst I live,

SIR,

Your, &c.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur de Scudery.

SIR,

YOu have not followed the advice of the Secretary of Florence, in the distribution of your favours. He would have counsell'd you to distill them drop by drop, to the end they might hold out the longer. But that Grandeur of courage of which you make profession is above those frugall Maximes [Page 82] it conferres its graces with a full and open hand; and you are of opinion you have given nothing, where you have not inriched. I have found in the same pacquet, your Letter, your Request, your Tragedy, and your Observations upon the Kid. What an Ocean of favours pour d out at once! which had they been well husbanded, had returned you the incom [...] of four severall acknowledgments. But I question not; you were very willing to be quit of three bad Complements, and will receive this only in your own defence. And yet, Sir, I dare not pretend by it to be discharged of my debt: it shall serve to beare witnesse against me how much I owe you, and let you know the desart hath not yet render'd me so savage, but that I have some sense left me of those rarities which are brought me from the civilized world. 'Tis in that number I place the presents you have made me, and you know well I do not now begin to prize your works. I was one amongst the first who ado [...]'d your infant Muses, and clapt my hands at the recitall of your first Essay: since that time my esteem hath grown proportionably with your forces; and having given its applauds to your faire hopes and expectations cannot now refuse its voice to your more ripe and vigorous productions. Few, if any, are ignorant of the merit of your verse; and your prose hath ravish'd some who were not acquainted withall your perfections, which as it may boast an infinity of graces besides those of novelty, so it hath found in the world a vast number of partisans, and adorers, amongst whom I am not the least passionate. Yet it will nothing become me to take cognisance of the difference betwixt you and Monsieur Corneille, since for my own particular I am oftner a starter of doubts then a resolver of questions. However I must needs say, you seeme to me to have attacqued him with addresse and force; and that, for the most part, your objections are lined with strong sense, with subtilty and gallantry it selfe. For all this you may please Sir, to consider that all France is entred into the cause with him; and that there is not one of those judges whom it is reported you have assembled, who hath not praised that, you desi [...]e he should condemne; insomuch that should your Arguments prove invinc [...]ble and your adversary himselfe acknowledge them for such, he had yet wherewithall gloriously to be comforted for the losse of his caus [...], and might avouch boldly that to have pleased an whole k [...]ngdome, imports somewhat more of excellent and grand, then to have composed a piece exactly regular. There is not an Architect in [Page 83] Italy, who hath not some fault to find, in the structure of Fontaine bleau, who doth not call it a Monster of stone, and yet this Monster is the faire habitation of our kings, and the Court is there commodiously lodged. There are many perfect beauties eclipsed, by others whose features carry in them lesse of perfection but more of attract and charme. And since acquired parts are not so noble as the naturall, nor the industry of men to be equally esteemed with the gifts of heaven, I may further adde that to understand the art of pleasing is not so much to be vallued as to understand how without Art to please. Aristotle blames the Flower of Agathon, yet confesses it agreeable, and his Oedipus was not perhaps agreeable, though Aristotle approved it. If it then be true, that the satisfaction of the spectators is the end which the Theater proposeth to its selfe; and that the Professors of that art have sometimes appealed from Caesar to the people; the Kid of the French Poet having pleased as well as the Flower of the Grecian, it must be granted he hath obtained the scope of his representation, and that he hath already reach'd the goale, though he made not to it by the way of Aristotle, nor by the addresses of his Poesy. But you will say, he hath cast a Mist before the eyes of the world, and will accuse him of Magique and enchantment. I know many people that would have the vanity to be proud of such an accusation; and you your selfe will confesse to me that Magique were an excellent thing, if a thing that were lawfull. Would it not be admirable (think you) to be the Authour of innocent Prodigies? to make the sunne appeare at midnight, to prepare a feast without meat or Caterers; to change oake leaves into Gold, and glasse into Diamonds? This is that with which you reproach the Authour of the Kid, who acknowledging himselfe to have violated the rules of art doth oblige you at the same time to avow he hath a secret which hath thriven better with him then the Art it selfe; and not denying but he hath deceived all the Court and all the People, leaves you nothing to conclude but that he is more subtill then all the Court and all the People, and that a finesse put upon so great a number of Persons is more a conquest then a fraud. This being so, Sir, I doubt not but the Messieurs of the Academy will find themselves in the briars about the deciding of your cause; and that on the one side, your Arguments will shake them; as on the other the publique approbation will confirme them. Were I of their number, I should have been in the like paine, had I not by good fortune lighted on your sentence [Page 84] in the Register of Antiquity. It was pronounced fifteen hundred years agoe by a Philosopher of the Stoique Tribe, but such a Philosopher who had a soul not insensible of pleasures. The Satyres and Tragedies fallen from whose hand, we have yet amongst us; one who flourished in the reigne of an Emperour that was both a Poet and Comedian, in the Age of Verses and of Musique. See here the express tearmes of this authentique j [...]dgment which I leave you to interprete to your Ladies, for whose sake you have undertaken a longer and more difficult translation.

Illud mulium est primo aspectu oculos
Occupâsse, etiamsi contemplatio diligens
Inventura est quod arguat: si me interrogas,
Major ille est qui judicium abstulit,
Quàm qui meruit.

Your adversary gaines his ends in the favourable word of Major est; and you also have compassed all you can desire, not coveting any more (as I conceive) then to prove that judicium abstulit. So that you will carry it in the Cabinet, as he hath already done upon the stage. If the Kid be guilty, 'tis of a crime for which he hath been honoured: if he must needs be punish'd, it will yet be, after he hath triumphed. If Plato banish him his Common-wealth, he will first Crown him with flowers and not treat him worse then he formerly treated Homer. If Aristotle find ought wanting in the conduct and management of his plot, he will yet suffer him quietly to enjoy his good fortune and not altogether condemne a designe which its success hath justified. You have too m [...]ch goodness to wish more, you know there is an allay found out for the Law it self in many cases, and that a Court of Equity conserves that which the strictness of Justice would have ruined. Do not then insist upon that rigorous Letter of the Law: nor bind up your self in so severe chaines to the dictates of soveraigne reason. He who designes to satisfie that wholly, and to follow it exactly through all its niceties, would be obliged to contrive a fairer fabrique of a World, then that we live in; he must invent a new nature of things, and search for Idea's above the Heavens. I speak for my own interest; if you are of that beliefe, you will find nothing to be loved, and by consequence I shall runne the hazzard of [Page 85] losing your favour, though it be extreamly dear to me, and that I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 27. 1637.

LETTER XXI. To Monsieur Perrot, of Ablancourt.

SIR,

THis little note threatens you with a large paire of Manuscripts, and I am now making readie for I know not what longe harangve upon the subject of Tiberius and his honest successours. Yet it troubles me to foregoe Liberty for Tyranny, and my Livy for your Tacitus. But Tacitus being become yours, my ill humour against him cannot last. I cannot hate a person whom you love; and to tell you the truth, methinks he is grown more gentle and lesse thorny, since he passed through your hands. The reason is, you contract no soile from the impurity of the matters which you handle; and amidst the corruptions of Policy your morality is preserv'd pure and unconcern'd. A Stoicall Philosopher of this latter Age, as you will grant Justus Lipsius to be, had the same passion as your self: A great Commander, as questionless was the Marquesse Spinola, hath translated the same thing, into his own language; though it never was yet published; and I reveale this secret to you from the mouth of one of his greatest Confidents. So that you are neither singularly gentleman, or the only wise man that hath pleased to make observation upon ill times, and carefully studied the History of a corrupted Empire, with a soul worthy the Repubique in her perfect Glory. You cannot thinke how I prize your work; the beauty and the chastity of your style; both that which nature bestowed largely upon you, and your own acquisitions. But this is a subject for another paire of manuscripts, I conclude with a sincere protestation to continue with all my soul,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jun. 4. 1643.

[Page 86]

LETTER XXII. To the Reverend Father d'Estrades, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, Superiour of the confessours Cloister in Bourdeaux.

Reverend father,

At last my New-years gift are come.

I Have received the controverted discourses you did me the favour to send me, and you were just to call them the Weapons. I adde fatall and invincible, and I think, I speak yet too modestly of them; For, in earnest, who can esteem those Weapons high enough which Monsieur the Grand Prior forged, and you have polished; on which he bestowed the temper and the strength; you the fashion and ornaments? Your Minister is too happy, for dying so faire a death. Certainly Du Moulin and Mestrezat will envy him for it. But for our particular, what should we do: It becomes us to joy as in our Muses behalfe at the honour don them by a man of so high quality, who hath had so great and so illustrious employments, is at present Governour of a Province, and one day may be soveraigne to a Nation made up all of Gentlemen. I confess freely to you, my profession begins not to dislike me so much as it did, I begin to love it a little more, since as well as I, that Gallant Knight is of the same, and we are both Authors in one Language. But I beseech you Reverend father repent not of that good Office you lately did him, and do not conceive that action, though it seem inferiour, is unworthy of you. There is more Glory in Copying out Oracles, then dictating ones own inventions. The Sybills and Prophets did nothing but repeate as well as you. They were but interpreters and messengers; or, not to runne so farre back, Posterity shall not be less beholding to you for preserving a piece of Divinity of Monsieur the Grand Priour, than we are now obliged to Arrian for saving us the reliques of Epictetu [...]'s Philosophy. Doubt not then, to proceed in the Noble Collection of the reasons and arguments of an other: Nevertheless, since in poynt of Learning you are not lesse rich by birth, then fortune and industry hath rendred you; send us something immediately from your own hand, to let your Minister know, you are able to beat him with your unborrow'd forces: this will effectually dispatch him; and not leave him, in the distress you have put him, so much as this small sentence of comfort with which he may possibly flatter his despaire, Is it possible not [Page 87] to yield to the Ʋncle of a man who hath command of Legions? I shall expect this second present for my next new yeares gift, and in the meane time remaine withall my soul,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Jan. 15. 1640.

LETTER XXIII. To Monsieur de Borstel.

SIR,

THe gentleman who delivered me your Letter, brings you the Sermons you would needs have me read, and of which you desired my opinion. I have read them with a great deal of delight, and I may say with much edification: for, in earnest, they do not deviate, me-thinks, from the Orthodox Doctrine; and were it not for two or three little marks, which denote them of the contrary party, and some slight offers at our Outside, which we do not much care to defend, they might be preached with applause in our Ladies Church at Paris. I met with beauty in most places, and vigour almost in all; especially in that of our dear Monsieur Daille. He is none of those Oratours, Seneca's Apes, whose perpetuall Antithesies only touch upon the superficies of the soul. As he uses better weapons then they, so he strikes deeper wounds. He leaves true compunction in the heart, and not false allarmes in the eare. He hath seen the Idea of that Soveraigne Rhetorick, whose pourtrait I drew lately, and Monsieur Costar calls, Queen of the Free States: He hath studyed her among the ablest masters; and though by a certaine scrupulositie entayled on his profession, he dare not display her in her full extent; though he conceales more then he discloses; yet it is easily visible, he doth possesse what he doth not make shew of; and that he is rich and powerfull, though he be modest and thristy — &c. In a word, I am with passion,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Feb. 4. 1639.

LETTER XXIIII. To Madam de Nesmond, Superiour of the Ursulines in Angoulesme.

Madam, my Deare Cosen,

IT is now wednesday morning, and you may keep Monsieur Godeau's book till Friday Evening: but I declare to you, I [Page 88] cannot resolve to endure a longer absence. Do you know how much I do in this for your sake? I seperate my selfe from a friend at all houres of the day; I deprive my self of a companion that makes my solitude happy; I let go a guest that payes me in Rubies and Diamonds. It is true, he will returne speedily: but in the meane time, what a Patience must I practise to be without him to day, to morrow, and the next day? When you have surveyed the wonders I speak of, you will accuse my words of undervalewing and poorenesse: you will deride the meanenesse of my Metaphors, though I draw them from the most precious things Magnificence can be imploy'd in, and make them of Rubies and Diamonds. You will tell me, that in this inferiour world, and amongst all the glories of nature that are visible, no comparison is to be found worthy of my friend: that he is an Angell in a Poets disguise; that he is descended to Earth to teach men the language and Musick of Heaven: at least let us say, and that with a perfect consent and wonder, that before him our Muses were Courtesans, and debauched wenches, and he hath reclaimed them from that scandalous life, to make them Saints and Religious, like you: let us say, he hath reduced Verse to its primitive and Legitimate use: that he hath cleansed Parnassus, when it was filled with all the defilements of humane wit, with the mudde and the corruption of all ages. But what should not I say in a Preface of my making, before the book I send you, since I have made a Ticket speak so much already? One word more in answer to your Letter. Pardon me, Madam my dearest Colen, if I cannot do what you entreat me. I do not think I shall quit St. John Chrysostome, nor St. Leo the Pope, who are the Chaplains of my Desart, for your Preacher, to whose Sermons you invite me. And unlesse your selfe were to preach in your own Chappell, it would be a very difficult task to entice me out of my Hermitage as long as this faire season lasts. Do not think I am in jest when I speak of your Preaching: you want nothing to do it but a priviledge, which by misfortune hath not been granted to your sexe: and you would have eloquence to spare, if the Church would suffer you to make use of it. I wish you a good day, and am with all my soul,

Madam, my Deare Cousen,

Your, &c.

May. 7. 1634.

[Page 89]

LETTER XXV. To My Lord, the Bishop of Grasse.

My Lord,

I Received your Paraphrase on the Canonicall Epistes: But you are more liberall then you conceive you are, or else you give more then you speak of. The Letter you did me the honour to write me, promises me only four Apostles, and I find five in the book I received from your favour. Was it for want of memory that you made no mention of the fifth, or an excesse of humility that you reckoned it for none? This it selfe is one of the marks of Apostleship; and the same God who exalts those of your order in the same rank with Angells, by the power he hath given them, inclines them to debase themselves beneath men, by the example he hath left them. But I am not obliged ever to assent to your Humility, and believe a perfect man that preaches his imperfection. For not to put any dissention between the Saints that triumph above, and those who fight below, I believe I may say, the same spirit that animates you, is no other but that which inspired them, and that you speak with as much vigour as our Fathers did when the blood of our Saviour boiled yet in the Churches veines. I observe in your works the language of those Heroick times, and the courage of those Heroes. Though I am all ice, I kindle at the reading of them; and I should find no difference between the Epistle you have made, and those you have expounded, but that you call them Gentlemen whom the Apostles style Brethren. But it is not through affectation of certain termes out of use, that we are to imitate the primitive Christians. There is no great harme in complying with the age we are of, in things of so small consequence; and without letting slack the antient austerity, some little toleration may be yielded to custome. I am,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

April. 12. 1639.

LETTER XXVI. To the same.

My Lord,

SEek some other then me that may do what you order. You require a thing of me that is not in my power; and your works being my Mistrisses, how can I possibly look on them [Page 90] with the eyes of an enemy? To do this, I must be as Barbarous as the ancient Goths who made warre on all excellent things; or of as ill a nature as that moderne Italian, who commented on Aristotle only to find fault with him. I am neither a Goth, nor Castelvetro. I am your constant and perpetuall Admirer; your Verses, your Prose, your inventions, your imitations, your lutes, your flutes, and your trumpets please me absolutely, and without any condition. Every thing that comes from you does so charme me, that there is no meanes to make me censure uprightly of it; unlesse passion and extasie are competent judges. You shall have nothing else from me, besides that true protestation. But what would you more? what can I say of your last compositions, unlesse that the multitude of The beautious and The good takes away my free election of any one; and that,

As one, who to some flowery garden walkes
Design'd in wreaths t' unite the sever'd stalkes,
Nature's enamell there the more he spies
The more the choice distracts his wondering eyes.

I am without reserve,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Jan. 22. 1644.

LETTER XXVII. To Monsieur Maury, Dr. in Divinity.

SIR,

YOur papers have taught me an infinity of good things, both serious and delightfull, strong and subtle, Attick and Roman in an equall degree: but this shall be our Sundayes conversation, and I will not dilate my self on it till I am with you in attending that desired day. I must tell you newes, that Monsieur de — who was so much your friend, is become your accuser: In earnest, he impeached you yesterday for a Magician, and he still averres that there is something supernaturall in your more then Ovidian smoothnesse. He sweares that that of the Prophets and other inspired persons, nay that of Apollo himselfe their inspirer, was never comparable. For my part, I dare not go so high: I only say, that when you speak in Prose, you are more puzzelled to avoid measures, and number, then we are to find them when we write Verses. I believe it would be no hard task for you to turne all into rime, that ever was [Page 91] written in the world, and set all the Sciences in musicke: that hereafter, Philosophy and Divinity, yea the Law, and Physick too, might be all sung of your composing. There is no Authour so constant and stiffe in his way, but alters in your hands; none so serious and sad but you make him dance as often as you please. There is no mortall in Print, but you in an instant teach him the Language of the Gods, by an extemporary Paraphrase. You have already written a Rhetoricke in Verse; but that is nothing, you will make Cicero a Poet when you please; his Orations and Epistles shall be transformed into Woods and Epigrames, if you resolve it.

O latices numerorum! O verba fluentia cursu
Aeterno! Talis Rhodanus, vesterque Garumna,
Hybernis fluit auctus aquis. Nec verba, sed illas
Res, O Maure, illas, sed vastum ac fine carentem
Miramur rerum Oceanum, quas fundis ab ore;
Formosam que is Burdigalam ditare benignus,
Pictonicumque solum voluisti, & littora laté,
Santonica, insignemque suis sine moenibus urbem.
Que is nostras, mi Maure, beâsti sepius aures.

I most humbly kisse your hands, and am with all my soule,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 30. 1640.

LETTER XXVIII. To Monsieur L'Huillier, Councellour to the KING &c.

SIR,

I Felicitate you for having Monsieur De Roncieres for your Governour, Monsieur Rigault for your Colleague, and Madamoiselle Calista for your Mistress or your disciple. If the word felicitate is not yet a French Denizen, it shall be next year, and Monsieur de Vaugelas hath promised not to oppose it. I congratulate your good fortune in Lorraine, and confess you have cause to slight the three Cities you speak of; though Venice be Queen of the Sea, Rome Metropolis of the earth, and Madrid be accused of aspiring to the Universall Monarchy. If the man of Bilbilis said formerly to a Calista of less merit then yours, Romam tu mihi sola facis, what would he not have said, [Page 92] if besides his mistress he had enjoyed two such friends as you do? what contempt had he not put on the fathers-Conscript, and the Order of Knights on the Palace, and the Palatine Militia; every thing is to be found in three persons differently excellent. A little World so compleat would please me much better then the great one so spoyled. In reality, I count you happier for the converse of that venerable Old Man, then if you were in ordinary with Jupiter, then if that Father of the Gods and King of men should carry you with him to his banquets in the Ocean, though Nectar be poured out there in buckets, and the Muses say Grace to him. Your Letter promises me his Minutius which I have not yet seen (I mean the Minutius of Monsieur your Land-Lord): but to tell you truth, I had rather see some of his own naturall productions then all the works of other men he hath new dress'd up: especially, Sir, I long for the Character of the ancient Christian, which he put me in some hopes of, the last time I had the honour to entertain him. How filtly would such a work come out at the beginning of a civill War, kindled between the Orthodoxe Church-men; and how the representation of the spirit and mildnesse of our fore-fathers, would be effectuall to perswade their quarrelsome Children to peace; both Jesuits and Jansenists!

Exoriare liber priscae virtutis Imago,

Et dubiae tandem properé succurrito Romae.

Love me ever, I beseech you, since your friendship is one of the sweetest consolations of my melancholly Life, and since I am more then any person in the world,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 18. 1642.

LETTER XXIX. To Monsieur de Bellejoy.

SIR,

VVHy do you take it so ill that the late King of Sweden, and the Duke of Weymar are named in a drinking Song? I am not so great a Scholler as you, I want above halfe of it: yet I know that long since Harmodius and Aristogiton were sung, in the most memorable debauches; and hath not your own Athaeneus taught you a Song concerning Harmodius, [Page 93] that begins thus, Most dear Harmodius, thou art not yet dead; the report is that thou yet livest in the fortunate Islands, with active Achilles and brave Diomedes. Upon this song of Harmodius the Loyolist who would have converted you, when you were both in my Chamber, hath brought me a passage out of Aristophanes, and another of one of his commentatours which confirme that of Atheneus: here they are both,

[...],

[...].

Aristophanes Achernensibus: Ad quem locum Scholiastes.

 [...]
 [...],
 [...].

You are admirable in searching out all kind of drinking Songs for me, which you call Bacchanall Odes. Certainly, it is because I writ to you last year, that I had need of an appetite, that I was nauseated with serious matters, and that I never hear more talk of Morality nor Politicks. I am not alwayes in that scurvy humour. We dispute, we discourse, and sometimes declaime in our village, the affaires of the Roman Common-wealth are there treated on; Caesar and Pompey are both arraigned there, you may find controverses and Suasories, with counsels given to Consuls and Dictatours, and if you please to have me tell you after a more Noble manner.

Hic soceri causa, & generi, censente Catone,
Et longa imperia, et nimii damnantur honores.
Hic bona Libertas, tranquilla obscuraque vita,
Praefertur regno Italiae, ac victricibus armis;
Consiliumque damus Syllae, privatus ut altùm
Dormiat, & numeret salsos in littore fluctus,
Aequoreasque legat conchas.

This good counsell that is given to Sylla to sleep soundly, puts me in mind it is time to go to bed, and take leave of your learned Lordship. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Apr. 20. 1641.

[Page 94]

LETTER XXX. To Monsieur Colardeau, the Kings Attourney in Fontenay.

SIR,

I Maintain it openly that your Verse has no whit advantage of your Prose: or if you would not have me speak like the People, I tell all that will hear me, you are not less valiant on foot, then on Horse-back. The Panegyricke to our Monsieur d'Argenson, and the vote for our Monsieur de Villemonte are worthy your Art, and their Vertue. I equally esteem the materialls and the workmanship, the richness of the stuffe and raritie of the embrodery. In how agreeable a dresse you have embellish'd the objects of my love! you represent them to me, if it be possible, more amiable then they seem'd before. It is true, there is a neighbouring Vicar, to whom I shewed both the Pieces, and he produc'd me the story of the two Parrots that were taught to speak at Rome during the War at Actium; one of which the Jugler had instructed to cry AVE VICTOR CAESAR, and the other AVE VICTOR ANTONI: But I stoutly defended the honour of your Muses against his allegation: I answered him, that here was no War, no Enemy; and that to commend the Predecessour and the Successour was one and the same thing? it is only to praise the Kings Creature, the Queens choice, and their Councill's judgment. Let not therefore an assault that I have repelled already for you, give you any disquiet; and enjoy peaceably the glory you have deserv'd by labouring to celebrate that of others; I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 10. 1646.

SIR,

IT is necessary that I be very firmely perswaded that your goodnesse is infinite: for if I could suppose it had any limits, with what forehead durst I appeare before you? Yet I do it, and that with a strange confidence: not only to aske you pardon for doing amisse, but also to beg leave to continue in my fault. Never was such a boldnesse heard of: never did offender lesse dissemble his inclination to evill, nor treated more familiarly with his judge. All that can be said in my justification, is, that I sinne out of infirmity, and that my offences are neither malicious nor voluntary. I languish here at the end of the world without action or motion. I am a burden to my selfe, and of no use to any body else. I am, if you would have me speak in a higher straine, a paralytick limbe of Common society; I have only left, Sir, some principle of life, which I reserve for you, and my hea [...]t is still sound enough to honour you as I ought. That As I ought is as unlimited as your goodnesse: and though you were not an extraordinary person, and one of the things of the world which I admire (who am no very great Admirer) yet you have obliged me to be more then any man in the world,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Oct. 24. 1639.

LETTER XXXV. To the same.

SIR,

YOur Doctour is not Orthodox; at least he hath been ill informed, for I have not so much as dreamt (as he told you) of putting any thing to the presse. I am so nauseated with all things that are called books, that in the mind I now am, I would more willingly blot out all that ever I writ then resolve to write them faire. Be pleas'd then to assure the intelligencer, that he received a false alarme. I do with all my heart forgive the memory of Don Roderigo, and bury all my injuries and my resentments of them in his grave: I am not addicted to disturbe the quiet of Church-yards, to fence with my pen against Ghosts, to violate the Franchises and sanctuary of death. It is [Page 98] true, Sir, my deare Menander hath in his hands two Apologies of mine, which I made long since, and he may dispose of, as he pleases. But it is as true withall, that I defend my selfe there without encountring with any person in it: and my equity, my modesty, and my civilities are such, that my friends of Quercy and Perigor'd have styled them Abjectnesse and Cowardize. I left a copy of these two Apologies at Paris, which N. N. hath a command to present to you from me, with some other compositions Morall and Politicall. You may please to send me your opinion of them at your leisure, and do me alwayes the favour to believe that none can be more passionately then I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Apr. 7. 1639.

[Page 99]

THE FOURTH BOOK.

LETTER I. To Monsieur the President Mainard.

SIR,

VVEe are now in the beginning of October, and your last Letter promised me your Company here in August, if you were alive. I pray Heaven you be rather false then dead, and that you break your word, yet for many yeares to come. I know that, in Poetry, Jupiter laughs at the perjuries of Lovers, But remember your promise was made in prose, and that it is allowed you to be alwayes fabulous. Yet if there be no means to drive you from your fictions, nor reduce your style to the simplicity of truth, it shall not hinder me from enjoying my desires by another way. I have decreed to see you, though I enforce my way through all the Mountaines that separate us, and vanquish all the Barbary betwixt you and me. For this effect, I have in my fancie designed my self a litter, becomming the Equipage of a Spanish Embassadour; and I am now sending to the most noted faires of Poitou to provide a couple of Mules, as black and sleeke as those your Predecessours assigned to draw the Coach of the Moon. When this is done, I set forth for the upper Auvergne, and bring you with the ice [...] and infirmities of my age, the most lively and ardent passion that a heart of five and twenty can be sensible of,

Nec segnis mihi flamma placet. Malé novit amare,

Qui patiens, qui lentus amat.

SIR,

Your &c.

Octo. 5. 1641.

[Page 98]

[...]

[Page 99]

[...]

[Page 100]

LETTER II. To Monsieur Girard, Secretary to the late Lord Duke of Espernon.

SIR,

YOu must needs be a person of much resolution that have undertaken a journey to Paris with the Posse of Bourdeaux. I am jealous of the success of your temerity: for unlesse you be defended with a Parasol as broad as Aiaxe's buckler, I fear you will have cause to complain of the too great brightnesse of the month of July.

Vos Aurae, Aoniis placidae de Montibus Aurae,

Aestum illi lenite, gravem lenite laborem.

A more tender wish cannot be made for a Mistress. But to summon the coole gales so farre, and to make them come from Graece into France, I cannot tell how it should be effected without one of Apolles miracles, who does not alwayes grant me the supplications I addresse to him. However, accept the good intention of your friend, and do not take it ill that I wish you at the head of the River Loire, and on the plains of Beausse; the same gentle aire I suck in on an Evening on the banke of our Charante. I say the Evening; for after that, there is no gentleness for me, I lye ever on Thornes; and have continually unquiet nights. Yet since I have begun to be pleasant with you, I am resolved to go through so. It is better to make you a sharer in my comforts, then tyre you with my Lamentations. I am he, in effect, that dayly wake Aurora; that am a constant waiter on the houres, when they open their Portalls of Heaven; that ever gather that first flower of the day, the Poets speak such fine things of. Nay, I may credibly say, that this very morning, I saw the Rocks that surround the prospect of my Chamber, turned into Porphyry, and that I am a perpetuall witness of the Suns actions,

When a more mild not full expanded ray;

Ʋpon our Hills begins to kindle day.

— The Magi of Persia, and the Indian Gymnosophist could not say more. Thus we talke magnificently of our miseries. Such diseases must be gently palliated as admit of no cure, to try whether Quacking may have better success then Physicke. Since I cannot be happy by a slumber, I endeavour [Page 101] to take all the delight my watchings will allow me,

Sic vigilo Comes Astrorum, falloque dolores

Ipse meos, mihi sic noster dat ludere Phoebus.

At least he furnishes me to write you a Letter without matter. For if I had been so minded, I could have made an end of it at the beginning, as well as that Grand Personage heretofore began at the end. I could have told you immediately and have forgat nothing I had to say, that I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jul. 30. 1642.

LETTER III. To the same.

SIR,

YOu are a notorious deluder, or a deluder notorious. I speak both wayes to satisfie two Grammarians of my acquaintance, who are at variance about the precedence of the adjective. But, to treat you more fairely, I say you have not performed all you promised me; and I have expected, to no purpose, almost four months. Yet I do not deny to admit your justifications, and believe it is only the necessitie of your business that hath made you forfeit your word. I beseech you therefore dispatch that businesse speedily, and come triumph at Balzac for the victories you go to obtain at Paris. The throats of all these Law suits must be cut, and of all that looks like them. The brood must be stifled in the Cradle. For my part I have such a Naturall enmity against them, that I am so farre from becomming a solicitour either of the Councell, the Parliament, or the Exchequer, &c. that I cannot so much as request any thing from the Soveraigne of all these Soveraigne Courts, Nec tanti sunt res humanae, ut Balzacius (why not he as well as Scaliger?) vel ulli Monarchae suplex fit. I am confident you will not returne unedified from the conferences you will have with that Sage person to whose acquaintance I recommend you: and you will confesse to me that his vertue, though high and Soveraign, hath nothing in it strange or Stoicall, Quod pace Zenonis, Chrysippi, Cleanthis, & nostri— dictum sit. Is enim, si nescis, purum putum Stoicismum, etiam cum [Page 102] ad Silviam aut ad Phillidem scribit, multâ cum gravitate profitetur, &c. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

May. 12. 1643.

LETTER IIII. To Monsieur de Bellejoy.

Sir,

I Would not have been so lazy, had I beleev'd you so diligent. I conceived that you having never been at Paris would have taken some time to learne the Mappe of that little world. So that according to my computation, after you had worne out one month in recovering your selfe of your journey, you would have spent another in finding out the Climate where Monsieur Chaplain lives. I have just now given him that testimony I promised you, in the most advantagious language I could devise. He will inform you of it at your first conference, and shall [...]ustifie my affection, in case you accuse it. He is a person of an eminent vertue, all Understanding and all Reason; of whom it may be said, as well as of that other That he dippes his pen in sense. If you are a man that will take counsell, his are more infallible then the oracles of Pythia; but you must attend him with docility and submission: you must know, ‘The greatest Clerks, are not the wisest men.’

Reverend Father,

IF I am esteemed at Rome, it is upon your account; and if Father Strada love me, it is because you have infected him with your passion. I will suppose too, you have not forgot to assure him of mine, and to do me those civill offices to him, which I may justly expect from your goodnesse. Questionlesse, you have magnified the zeal of an Ultramontane, one inamored of his vertue, and almost an Idolatour of those of his Ancestours, qui et pridem comiter observat Maiestatem Populi Romani, & in Provinciâ Gallia, Romana quandoque verba non infeliciter conatur. You cannot believe what an advantage I reap by the friendship of so excellent a pe [...]son, and the longing I had to be one of his familiars as well as your. Since Cardinal Bentivoglio is no more in Italy, and consequently my affection there is free, it goes all directly and i [...] gross to that great Jesuite; and you will oblige me by presenting him this Complement from me, in the [Page 115] vulgar Language of the Country-Muses of his Country.

Non per veder il successor di Piero
Regger col cenno il Mondo in Vaticano,
Ne le reliquie del superbo impero,
Ʋetrei veloce al dolce aer Romano:
Ma sol por honorar voi spirto altero,
D' ogni basso pensier schivo e lontano.

Since you will needs shew him some of my verses, I send you some that speak of Rome and him, atque utinam ex utriusque dignitate — You remember you promised me something — it is a thing I valew above all the most reverend and most Illustrious Titles and Lordships, than all the Green and Purple, I had almost said, than all the Scarlet in the place where you are. How desirous am I of being good, and how much do I need your help towards it! Be mindfull therefore of the work you have undertaken, and begin with a Masse which I beg of you at Santa Maria Major; In illo loco quem Deus optimus Maximus tam manifestus ac praesens, quàm Coelum ac fidera insedit. What will the severe Litterals say concerning this entreaty, and the gentle wits to this Gibberish? The first will judge me to have the fancy and conceits of an old woman; and the others will say, I have the Genius and style of Mamurra: They, will reproach my weaknesse; and these, my barbarisme. Let them call me by what name they please, and think of me what they list. But it suffices me that you know I glory to be your Penitent and Votay, as I am withall my soul,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Jul. 3. 1645.

LETTER XIX. To Monsieur de Menage.

Sir,

I Writ to your friend what opinion I had of your excellent Verses; and now I tell you, I have learnt them by heart and sing them. Your Gondiades is termed nothing else in our village, but.

Francigenûm sublime decus, spes magna Senatûs

Purpurei.

But when shall we see the accomplishment of our hopes, that the sacred Senate may be a full House; and not want one of the noblest members of it? Almost thirty yeares are fled [Page 116] since the decease of Cardinall Perron, me thinks it is high time to fill up his roome; which is yet vacant after so many numerous promotions. There needs no more words to one of so quick an apprehension as you are. Let us come to the person you have celebrated in your Hendecasyllables, whom I love and honour with all my soul. Now he is in the Centre of debauchery, or to speak more favourably in the Country of good-fellowship; oblige him by your perswasions, sometimes to defend himselfe against temptations; especially at the fatall hour of supper,

Nec juvenes imitetur, eum nec Gallicus ardor
In medias coenarum acies, in Bacchica ducat
Praelia, longaevo nimium metuenda Poetae.

Put him in mind that our Plato reckons good cheere twice a day in the number of Prodigies, and that against Birkes and Ragousts, caeteraque id genus ingeniosa gulae irritamenta non satis cauta mortalitas est. I give this counsell to my selfe as well as to him, for though I am not at Paris; yet we find our selves here often in hot service. They are Expeditions, (take this from me, you that know all things) wherein a Constable and a Marshall of France ended their dayes: Illos siquidem ut Medici asseverârunt, gula occidit non gladius. Here is a strange kind of Gibberish and Medley, that would fright our brethren of the Academy. Yet Cicero made use of such a jargon-intermixture of severall Languages in his commerce with M. Pomponio Attico, who, as you know, was none of the least honest fellowes of those times. I bid you good night, and sleep at the period of this line,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 4. 1646.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur the Abbot Talon.

SIR,

YOu command me no hard task, nor impose any thing that weighs me down; when you desire new marks of my love, to a memory that is exceeding deare to me. It will be easie for me to obey you, since it is to follow my own inclination; and yield my selfe to the propensity of my affections. There is so much sweetnesse in the remembrance of our good Cardinall, that I may say; he takes rests upon this subject, that is tyred with any other. The Genus Demonstrativum was almost grown obsolete in the world, but you have restored it to a new youth [Page 117] and strength. But let us have a right understanding betwixt us, if you please; for f you desire verses from me, I know not whether I shall be able to content that desire. I have but a small Talent of Poetry and my vein distills very weakly, drop by drop; it will scarce supply above a Stanza of four in four dayes. An Epigramme draines it quite dry. 'Tis Monsieur the Bishop of Grasse, Monsieur Guyet and Monsieur Ʋoiture who are capable of high and long inspirations of true and just Poems: They are the men of whom you must require Lapidaries, Hymnes, and Apotheoses: and I perswade my selfe they have not kept silence till now, but only to speak with more preparation. It shall be my glory that I opened the Lists for them, and promised such excellent Combatants to the people who expect them. But my comfort is this, that I have already discharged my duty, and by the same meanes given content to a person whom I perfectly esteem. It is not necessary to explaine to you who that person is, and you do not doubt the absolute reality of my being

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 25. 1644.

LETTER XXI. To Monsieur de Montrevil, Captaine in the Regiment de la Meilleraye.

SIR,

THe relation you have given me of the first successes of your Army, and the Protection you obtained from Monsieur the Grand Master for my sisters house, are tokens of remembrance that have something more essentiall in them then ordinary civilities. I knew well enough that you were exceeding good and obliging, but that you were so exact and punctuall, was, to tell you truth, more then I expected from a afriend of two and twenty; who having every where lawfull occasion of distraction, does much more then he is bound to do, when he is a good solliciter. My sister conceives her selfe deeply obliged to your goodnesse, and hath entreated me to testifie her acknowledgments; to which, if you please, I will annexe my own; and tell you besides, that valewing you at the rate I do, I was glad to be confirmed in my opinion by your Letter, and to see there how intelligently you can speak of the affaires of warre. I wish it may be as successefull, Sir, to you, as it is probable it will be [Page 118] glorious to Monsieur your Generall, unless Fortune forsake his side and joyn with the Enemy, and so he faile to accomplish those designes he hath so well attempted. You will have a share, I am confident in those great exploits; and there will be honour for you to be attained. But, if it be possible, I pray let that honour be pure and without the expence of your bloud; and bring back your Lawrels to your winter-Quarters. You deserve to live a pleasant life, and appear at banquets, after you have shewed your self so often in battells. I say the same to our dearest Monsieur de la Guette, and am to both of you passionately,

A most humble, &c.

Aug. 3. 1639.

SIR,

HEre lately passed a Nymph this way, whose elegancy and promptnesse of tongue is admirable. She informed me of an infinite number of things that I was ignorant of before. And though she has not so many mouths, as that other lying Nymph who presides over Panegyrickes and funerall Orations; yet she hath one extreamly eloquent, which does not marre good subjects, as it embellishes only such as are true; I perceive I exercise your patience, and you expect the name of this Nymph. Not to make you Languish any longer; She is called in the Language of men, Madamoiselle de Newfoic. But it concernes you to know, she is your votary, though her selfe adored by me and others. You may please to know, that she sings you in what place soever she can find Auditours or Ecchoes. She hath strewed our Hillocks, our Plaines, and Valleyes with your praises —. Among other things, she affirmes, you better performe the duties of Amity then the illustrious friends mentioned in Lucians Toxaris. She is, in a word, a very magnificent and generous publisher of all your merits. But, to tel you the truth, this last hath made most impression on me, and is the reason why I write this Letter to you, with as little ceremony as if, these six yeares silence, I had written to you by every poste. Nor is this all, I intend something more then a Letter, and I recommend a Suite and a solicitour to you: I entreat your credit and care for him to obtain what he desires, and beseech you to oblige me effectually in his person, with your interest in our common Lord —. I promise my selfe this good office from your friendship, and rest with passion,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Oct. 15. 1643.

LETTER XXVI. To Monsieur de la Chetardie.

Sir, My deare Cousen,

SIR,

To live in your remembrance is an eminent vindication from being as a dead person to al the world; it is to live gloriously to be commended in Madam Desloges Closet by you and M. Borstel. There is no vertue so ambitious that dares desire more, or that would choose for its Coronation day, any other place or persons. I perceive manifestly I was treated with a great deale more grace then justice; and I find my recompence so farre above the meanesse of my merit, that I confess, I ovve you all that you think you have given me. Yet it is not this, for which I am most obliged to you. What honour soever I have received from so eloquent a mouth as yours, your words delight me much more when they cure, than when they commend; and I thank you more heartily for the recovery of our excellent sick Lady, then for my Paneygrick. Since I am so throughly conscious of your power, I cannot in the least doubt the truth of the miracle, and I know long agoe by experience that you are able to accomplish things beyond the ordinary reach. I [Page 128] was almost harrass'd to death in the way to Poictiers, when you fortunately appeared to my succour: & me thinks, it was not less to unweary me in an instant, and to afford me delicacies in a scurvy Inne, then driving away a setled feaver, and giving consolation to an afflicted Lady. After this, why do you talke of the strength of my style and the vertue of my writings, you who act with so much efficacy in your most familiar conversation, and each of whose words is a remedy? Is it possible you can relish such Latin, as is produced amidst the barbarism of our village, eight dayes journey from Monsieur de Thou's gallery, and eighteen ages after Cicero's death? I know not whether I am a Goth or a Roman, or whether it be gibberish, or language that I send abroad: But I am sure you are perfectly obliging, and you prize even the good meaning of such as doe ill. I have nothing to say of this particular, but only that you shall never applaud an ill Actour that honours you more then I, nor that can be with more passion then I am,

Sir,

Your, &c.

Aug. 10. 1638.

LETTER XXXIII. To Monsieur de Borstell.

Sir,

MY two years silence hath been the effect of severall unlucky causes: melancholy and grief have done their parts and there ha's been a little concurrence of debauchery with a great deal of lazinesse and some businesse. Any person besides you, would think strange that I put business into the number of evills, but since you flye from it to the further end of the world, and the leasure of the desart seems more agreeable to you then the most eminent employments at Court I may not fear to disclose my inclination to you which your example ha's justified. You have obliged me, Sir, by the care you have taken to let me understand the truth of that which I knew only by hear-say. Let Rouliers Sonne be of as mean extraction as he can, he is an illustrious Rascal, and I look upon him as the Ventidius of our age. That Ventidius that beat the Parthians in severall battells, and revenged the affronts the Romans had received, climb'd up from slavery to command, by [Page 129] the same steps, that this man ha's done, and this Libel was sung of him all about Rome,

Concurrite omnes augures, Haruspices,
Portentum inusitatum conflatum est recens;
Nam mulos qui fricabat, consul factus est.

I must confess you dive very deep into the truth of things: I admire the relations you have sent me. And who would have thought ten years since, that Limosin would become as polite and as politicke as Tuscany, ‘O fertile Desarts, &c.’

Continue to make me partaker of the fruits that grow in those dry sands you have so well manured. Think on my poverty among your riches; but never doubt I beseech you, that I alwaies am with many acknowledgments,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Dec. 28. 1639.

LETTER XXXIV. To my Lord the Bishop of Grasse.

My Lord,

I Am no longer in the number of profane Poets. The Christian Collection is perfected, and, it may be, you will not be displeased to see your self there under the name of Gratius; If you had rather it should be Daphnis, there is nothing easier then to alter it, for it will not be any prejudice to the measure, ‘Nulla hûc Syllaba contumax repugnat.’

My verses are not otherwise interressed in any thing. And when I commend you, it is not out of a traffique that I drive with Complements. I do not barter with praises for others: nor is it act of gratitude I pay after the favours I have received. These favours in truth do sensibly oblige me, and the thought you had to travell a hundred leagues, on a visit to me, fills all my desart with Glory. But though you had condemned the Author, of whose Paneygrick you have made an Eulogy and should chase me from your approaches with Thunder instead of giving me a visit; yet I am so convinced of your vertue, that I [Page 128] should ever perfectly esteem it; for otherwise, I must do violence to my own inclination, and commit a greater outrage upon my selfe then any mischiefe you could do me, not to be during life, withall my soul,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Apr. 12. 1639.

LETTER XXXV. To Monsieur de Bois-Robert Metel, Abbot of Chastillon.

SIR,

ALl things dye, and are subject to corruption; it is an universall Law. But you have affections that are priviledged: They know no declination; they hold out against old age: having never been more vigorous and ardent. It was an infin [...]te pleasure to me to understand this truth in the Letter you did me the honour to write me, and to behold in it that I am still your favourite, after I have held the place five and twenty yeares. Questionlesse, we shall one day be propos'd for examples, and added to the Fables and Histories. But how fine a thing it would be, Sir, could the other parts of our selves be preserved in the same vigour that our friendship is, and the snow that appeares upon our heads did not signifie, there is ice in our veines? See how deare two vertues cost us, which we could very well spare, Experience and Gravity. In this world we must lose when we get: we cannot be respected, till we come to be pittied: and the Epithete Ʋenerable is most perpetually attended with that of Infirme. For my part, I am sensible of this infirmity as often as [...]ver I have any need of my strength; I do not meane, for running or combatting in the lists, but for walking softly, and taking a few turnes in our Garden. All my fire is retreated to the center of my soul, where, it may be, I can tell you, it is yet quick enough to kindle some thoughts of mirth, and make me a Poet in my old dayes. You speak concerning my Prose much more advantagiously then it deserves: but you take no notice of the new discovery I have made in my own braine. The father Bourbon, and the Embassadours of Sweden liked it well, and encouraged me to travell further into the Country. You shall shortly have your share of such rarities as grow there, which I have brought over from thence lately: but your whole part shall not be hudled with that of the publicks, I promise you yet more then that. There shall [Page 129] be no parcell of my Latin, but Metellus shall gather his custome from, and you shall find him at Balzac in as large Characters as in Horace, where you have read more then once.

Motum ex Metello Consule Civicum.

The Prelate is very well worth the Consul: and is there any thing which I owe not to an affection so constant and pure as yours? I am,

SIR,

Your, &.

Dec. 26. 1644.

LETTER XXXVI. To Monsieur de Scudery.

SIR,

EVery thing that comes out of your hands, every thing that bears your name, is precious. Your remembrance is very obliging in all manners. In a little note, written to another in the simplicity of a sudden thought, raised only by chance, it had been exceeding deare to me. I leave you to imagine with what joy I received it, being embellished, with infinite riches and ornaments, and accompanied with an eloquent Preface, which I found followed by an excellent Poem. If this Poem be the last present you intend to the Theater, as you put us in fear; you cannot take your leave of the people, with an Adieu more remarkeable then that, or that will make your departure more regretted. I subcribe in generall to what is said of it in the Preface, and further adde this, Sir; That Arminius is not only your Master-piece, but the Master-piece of the Art; that he will bring honour to our Muses, and put a jealousie into those of our neighbours. I proceed still, that it is a child which speakes the place of his extraction, and the courage of his father. Meere imitation and the borrowed greatnesse of matter, fly not so high: There is something here naturall and your own; and it was not enough to be a learned and ingenious person but Magnanimity and Gallantry were required to make Germanicus and Arminius speak so nobly. An authour who lived in their time hath given this testimony of the latter. Juvenis genere nobilis, manu fortis, sensu cele [...], ultra barbarum promptus ingenio, nomine Arminius, Segemiri Principis gentis ejus filius, ardorem animi vultu oculisque praeferens, assiduus militiae nostrae prioris comes, et jam Civitatis Romanae jus equestremque consequutus gradum, segnitia Ducis in occasionem sceleris usus est, haud imprudenter speculatus [Page 132] neminem celerius opprimi quàm qui nihil timeret, et frequentissimum initium esse calamitatis securitatem. In this passage, Arminius is the sonne of Segemirus; and if it be so, might not some scrupulous Grammarian demand how you come to make the father of Arminius to be his sister in law? but besides the community of names to either sexe as Hippolite, Anne, &c. You have without question some historicall ground to oppose against this slight objection. It was made to me by one who nevertheless valewes you perfectly and I send it you without any examination. I will ever be of your opinion, and withall my soul,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Apr. 16. 1643.

LETTER XXXVII. To Monsieur de Lorme Councellour and Physitian in ordinary to his Majesty.

SIR,

I Am extreamly taken with the silver Medall, in which you revive Hippolytus with these three words Diis geniti potuere: but I maintaine besides, that the name of Demy-god cannot be disputed against you, but only by such as are ignorant of your fathers merit and the noblenesse of your profession. The good Lord, you speak of, does not know that besides Apollo and Aesculapius, his sonne, there was in Greece one Hercules a Physitian, Peter Mommor calls him in French of Alexica, and he is yet to be seen in the Tapistry of Clement Alexandrinus, but that honest Lord uses no Hangings but of Flanders or those of the Fairies, and knowes no other Hercules but he that carries a Club and a Lions skinne. This Demy-god Physitian we treat of, had an infallible receit to cure pale complexions and yellownesse in lesse then four and twenty houres. He was not contented only to bestow health and good plight upon the Ladies, but he inspired youth and beauty into them. It was he that cured the Queen Alceste of a disease which the faculty of Montpellier had judged incurable; and I mention to you particularly what he did for women, because I know you are readiest to give succour to that sexe which is most delicate and infirme as well as he. But Hercules hath made me forget Hippolytus and I have filled that fragment of paper in which I intended to have thanked you, with a comment upon your Medall. I have no more roome [Page 133] left, Sir, but as much as to assure you that I am ever perfectly,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 12. 1639.

LETTER XXXVIII. To Monsieur Girard, Officiall and Prebend of Angoulesme.

SIR,

IT must be acknowledged that Madamoiselle de Schurman is an admirable Virgin, and her verses are not the least of her wonders. I do not thinke that the Sulpitia, whom Martiall hath so highly extolled, ever made better, or more elegant in her native Latine: But what modesty and vertue there is among the Graces, and beauties of her Verses! how the goodnesse of her soul is agreeably interwoven with the productions of her wit! I am very much obliged to you for the knowledge of this admirable Lady, and for sending me with her Epigrams the eloquent Letter of Monsieur Naudé. I returne you them all againe by my Servant, who should have set forth yesterday had it not been for an accident that befell me, to restore more then I had received. In the midst of this Epistle a new book was brought me, and casting my Eye upon the preface, I found these lines.

Habemus in urbe, unius diei itinere hinc dissitâ, virginem nobilem, haud minus quâm Hippian, numerosa arte multisciam, & tanto magis eo nomine mirandam, quòd in hunc sexum rarò cadit tanta ingenii foecunditas, tanta artium copia, cum omnes calleat; tot virtutum conjunctio, cum nullâ careat. Quaecunque manu confici [...]t mente concipi possunt, tenet una; sic pingit ut nemo melius, sculpit, fingit ex aere, ex cera, ex ligno, fimiliter in Phrygionica arte, & in omnibus quae muliebrium sunt curarum et operum: omnes antiquas et hodiernas provocat ac vincit mulieres: tot vero doctrinarum dotibus instructa est, ut nescias in qua magis antestet: tot linguarum donis ornata est, ut non contenta Europaeis, in orientem usque, studio & industria pervolârit, comparatura ibi Hebraícas, & Arbaicas, Syriacasque, quas adjungeret jam quaesitis. Latinè ita scribit, ut virorum qui totâ vitâ hanc elegantiam affectaverunt, nemo politiús. Gallicas Epistolas tales concinnat, ut vix meliores Balzacius. Cateris in Europa usitatis linguis aequè bene utitur ac illi quibus sunt vernacula. Cum Iudaeis Hebraice, cum Saracenis Arabice [Page 132] potest commercium habere: literarum etiam viris arduas & spinosas sententias ita tractat, Philosophiam nempe Scholasticam et Theolog [...] am, ut omnes flupeant: quia prodigio similis res est, nemo aemuletur, quia nemo potest imitari; nullus etiam invideat, quia supra invidiam ipsa est.

If Monsieur Salmasius be author of this book and the preface, as I am written word, when he puts out a second Edition I shal entreat him instead of Gallicas Epistolas tales concinnat, ut vix meliores Balzacius, thus he will please to change it; multo minus bon [...]s & minus Gallicas Balzacius. I shall think my self yet too much honoured by this allay and moderation to my honour. There is no glory in being neer so excellent a person, in what manner soever it be, and in such a similitude, disadvantage it self is obliging. I attend by my servant the inscriptions of Gruterus, and the Chrysostome of the Father Fronton. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

May. 15. 1646.

[Page 133]

THE SECOND PART

Sept. 4. 1641.

I conceived my Lord, the sight of my last compositions would not be unpleasing to you, and to this purpose I have sent Monsieur the President de Marca, a Christian Poem, sufficiently long-winded, and two Epigrammes upon the occasion of some late occurrences: Futura tibi, Illustrissime virorum, Monumenta qualiacunque, meae in Deum & in Rempublicam pietatis.

[Page 141]

LETTER VI. To the same.

My Lord,

IF the Kings affaires will allow you any intervall of relaxation for the walkes of Chaillot, Monsieur de — will present you half an houres divertisement; and you will find in one of my Muses Prophesies, the sound advice they gave to him, who hath made so bad use of it. You will observe, My Lord, how they forewarned this poor Mortall of his approaching ruine, when he was so rash as to lose the reverence he owed to the Gods —. Lawes have heretofore been delivered in Rythmne, or at least in measure. Anacharsis and Solon made verses, and we have a whole volume left us by Monsieur the Chauncellour de l'Hospitall. It is not to be doubted, but if the burden of the State, which weighes heavier now then ever it did, would at this day permit you to breathe so sweetly, you would give us Master-peices of our Art in the fruits of your leisure. You understand it in perfection as you do all other things that are worthy knowing: and this compleat knowledge, My Lord, makes you here as else where, our last and soveraigne judge. The Academies as well as the Parliaments esteem it an honour to have you for their. Head. All sorts of Tribunalls are subalternate to yours. If Athens were not now Barbarian, and Rome were still Latine, they would acknowledge your Authority. And what insolent Poet of the Low-Countries is he, that would scruple submission to so intelligent a Supremacy? & laying aside his doubts, and suspitions refuse to acquiesce in Oracles of such certainty & which comes so immediately from Heaven —? We do not look upon you only as our Protectour, but also as our example; and for this double reason, our Verse, our Prose, our Prayers, and our Homages are due to you. But in expectance to addresse mine with more solemnity, be pleas'd to do me the honour to remember, that there is a Hermite in the desart, who is your Courtier in his heart: who blesses you incessantly, although he writes to you but seldome; and who, should he perform that duty every day, would not cease to be all his life, more in truth then shew, and with greater zeale then interest,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Aug. 18. 1642.

[Page 140]

LETTER VII. To the same.

My Lord,

YOu may lay new engagements upon my liberty at your pleasure, it is not in my power to be more perfectly yours then I have been long since. You may alwayes have more favours to bestow on me, but I had only one heart to give you, the propriety of which I offered to you eighteen years ago, and you had gain'd it sometime before. It is true, the present was but trivial: I am ashamed to put you in mind now, that great hearts are so necessary in great enterprizes, and unless you reckon a great deal of passion and zeal for something, I should not in time of War have mention'd a toy of so little use as that. Yet my Lord, is there no place for a violent passion, in your service? Cannot a zealous spirit produce some thoughts couragious enough to venter beyond the prospect of our present age, and more Noble then to injure the glory of your great Name? There are some persons over-credulons in my favour, as to imagine so, and I were very happy, if their perswasions were not upon bad grounds. As it is the most ambitious of all my designes, so it is also the most ardent of all my desires. But herein I must confess, I can but little satisfie my self: For, what ever indulgent friends say, I have little encouragement to believe from the view of my sufficiencies. I discover neither a Mine nor a Bank in my brain to suffice for the recompence of supream vertue, for requitall of heroicke actions, and for the price of that which is inestimable. On the other side, I want that other facultie, which descends from above, and is called Enthusiasme. The muses do not answer me at all times when I call them, and I have often times begun Poems that ended at the Invocation. It is possible I shall be better inspired for the future; The excellencies of invention may at length be infused into me from Heaven, and I may have my part of those illuminations it sends down to our brethren of the Academy. I attend this happy hour of inspiration with impatience, that I may employ it well: and I cannot live contented, till I have testified by some eminent act of gratitude (pardon that eminent upon this occasion) that I am as I ought to be,

My LORD.

Your, &c.

Feb. 25. 1645.

[Page 141]

LETTER VIII. To my Lord the Arch-Bishop of Thoulose.

My Lord,

THE successes, of which I receiv'd information from your Letter, redoun'd so much to your glory, that Honouring you perfectly as I do, I could not receive them with a moderate joy. You have had justice at length of the Senate, but it was the same Senate that did it you. You do not only receive the just Honours that are due to you, but even with the consent of them who disputed them with you; & by one and the same victory you have gain'd both your cause and your adversaries affection. So though the conquest be desireable, but the peace far better, nothing should be wanting to your satisfaction who have obtained at once both the Good and the Better. It remaines now, my Lord, that you enjoy this faire calme, and these dayes of Serenity you have made such: that is, employ them all in that harvest that respects you, and in the conduct of that flock which Jesus CHRIST hath entrusted to your care. If you would, you might have climb'd to Glory by other steps; But all things being considered, this is the surest and shortest for him that aimes at nothing but Heaven. Could you exceed Cardinal Baronio in the solidity of your learning, yet it is better to follow Cardinal Borromeo, in the Sanctity of your Life, and be the subject of others writings, then the Historian of their actions. How happy do I esteem the meanest labourers that you use in your great work! and I cannot express how it troubles me to be perpetually desirous of being with you, and yet to stick fast here, and to be able to profess to you only with wishes and idle passions, I know not when, that I am more then any person in the World,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Jul. 25. 1633.

LETTER IX. To the same.

My Lord,

I Perceive there is no possibility, for me to execute my grand enterprize, or to effect what I have had in designe these ten yeares. My journey to Languedoc, is likely to become the exercise [Page 144] of a man that stirs not, or the dreame of one awake. If Heaven will have it so, I shall at least have this happiness, nothing can hinder me the enjoying in my mind, the contentment which I fancy. My imagination, that hath power to bring me neer to places where I desire to be, walks me continually round about this distant happiness, and puts me into possession of one of the apartments of your Palace, and soon after lodges me even in your Library. O how I contemne the Jasper and guildings of the Escuriall, when I am in that Cabinet? This indeed is to inhabite a more Noble and stately Court, to be the guest of an infinite number of rare souls, and blessed intelligences; where after a repast of Tanzies and Mellons, the entertainment might be with light and truth. I do not seek out high words to abuse them, I employ them in their proper and naturall signification: for what is there, My Lord, which the desire of knowledge and ambition of learning can imagine exquisite and rare, but is to be found either in your books, or conversation? those three or four hours I had the honour to pass with you, presented to me the riches of ages, and antiquity! you taught me things which not only the commonalty of the learned are ignorant of, but such as, it may be, the Princes of the Schools understand not. The severall manuscripts your goodness daign'd to shew me, left so faire an impression of Christianity upon my soul, that immediately I divorced my self from my old Loves, and bad adieu to all the muses that are not holy. Since that time I speak nothing but of the Primitive Church and the Oecumenicall Councells: and you have so alienated me from Pagan-Rome, that in those places of History where I meet with Aquilae, I am sometimes ready to change it into Labarum. A communication of such advantage deserves to be sought, though it were at the end of the World; and a thousand leagues are nothing to be travelled for it. To confess freely: the voyages of the Graecian Philosophers into Aegypt, do very much reproach my immobilitie. It is necessary that I rouze up this Lethargy, or to speak more humanely, that I prop up this weakness and provide redress to this infirmity: and since it is impossible it should endure a Coach, unless in a Downe or a Meadow, I am at this instant going to purchase a Litter, to make it more capable of the journey, and transport me without disturbance, to the feet of a greater Master then Gamaliel. The ambition of a spirit cured of the Court, may well be terminated there, where I shall receive your answers to my Questions, after [Page 145] I have rendred you my respects and sworne to you in the presence of Eusebius Theodoret and such like kind of witnesses, that I am ever perfectly,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

March. 4. 1641.

Reverend Father,

YOu make complaints against your old age, and I am resolved to write the Elogium of it. I will extoll it publiquely [Page 153] and in genere Demonstrativo; that age which is priviledged and cherished by Heaven, free and exempted from all the oppressive tribute, that other men pay nature, and purposes as an example by our goddesses, to excite ambition and courage in our young men. The winters of Naples, me thinks, have some resemblance with it, those cleare and serene Winters that are gilded with light, and crowned with roses; that of Masinissa was lesse green and vigourous, and the child which he begot at fourscore was a production not comparable to your Poem at threescore and fifteen. The reason is, that the fire which descends from Heaven by way of inspiration, is not extinguished by the diminution of naturall heat: and if Art have found out the invention of unextinguishable lampes, the Master of Art may very well preserve in its full force the igneous part of our mind, and make the ardour and vivacity of its operations durable. Are there not some sensible representations of this happy duration? who knowes not that gold is refined by waxing old, and that the Sunne its father, is as bright in one thousand six hundred and forty two, as he was the very day of his creation? I must therefore disclaime that erroneous sentence which I have formerly so much cryed up as a proposition of eternall truth, That there was never seen a handsome old woman. Pardon me that rash expression, I was not then acquainted with your Muse, which gives my proposition the lye, and decryes a Proverbe, to which I thought to have given eternity. Her age do's not cause the declining of her beauty, but is the confirmation of it by the very suffrage of Time, by approbation of the Present, as well as the Past: it is not a mark of the victory of yeares over her, but a trophy of her resistance and strength against time. I speak as I am really perswaded; but were I as couragious as the Authours of your Country, I should expresse much more: I should say at least of this admirable old Lady, that at the age of Hecuba she had as many Lovers, as Helena in the flower of her youth. I could alledge an infinite numbers as well of those that burn at Paris, as that sigh on this side the Loire: But it suffices me to speak for my selfe, who am the most passionate of them all, and as much as any person in the world,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Marh. 4. 1642.

[Page 154]

LETTER XVIII. To my Lord the Duke of Espernon, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Guienne, &c.

My Lord,

THe obligations I have to you, affect me in such a sensible manner, that I am much unsatisfied with my selfe, that I am able only to testifie to you vulgar resentments and acknowledgments for them. Perhaps it were a safer crime to present you with none at all. The silence of meditation is somewhat more devout then the Musick of Hymnes and Songs. There is no Sermon so eloquent as an Extasie, and study may have flattery and dissembling, when the distraction of the soul discovers the bottome and secrets. 'Tis with confusion of my thought, My Lord, and a discomposed spirit, that I thank you for your favours. It was with transport, and the losse of speech, that I received them lately: and I should yet continue in the same condition; were I not afraid to breed ill example among those that receive favours. My traunce must not ever continue so drowzy as to hinder me from turning my eyes sometimes towards that side from whence my good fortune shines. If I be dumbe with admiration, I will at least make signes, that I am not ungratefull on purpose: and when I shall taste those pleasant dayes at Plassac which you invite me to seek, I will say, at least in my heart, that you and the Sunne bestow them on me, or make use of a verse in Virgil, ‘It is a God that do's indulge this leisure.’

The gods, my Lord, (I speak in the Language of Virgil) can not make a richer present to mankind: nay, they have not reserved a better for themselves: for it was affirm'd by one that leisure was their businesse, and by another that it was their proper possession. I hid my selfe in the village for the better pursuance of this businesse of Heaven, and to enjoy a happy idlenesse: to satiety but my fruition hath been disturbed, and I could not escape discovery. Though this little corner of the world be unknown both to the ancient and moderne Geography, and Mercator speakes no more of it then Ptolomy, my ill fate ha's pleas'd to bring it into reputation since my comming to it; and it is now depriv'd of that sweet and peaceable obscurity, wherein things unknown do rest. All the Prose and Verse in Christendome have learnt the way thither: Paraphrases and Comments, Orations and Panegyricks, flock to it from all parts: [Page 155] but especially Letters, which claime a right to be admitted from the farthest Countries of the earth, and do verily believe they come to their own home, because I have written volumes of them. They do me much honour; I confess it: This persecution is too glorious for me: But yet it is still a persecution to a spirit over-charged, and that is no longer able —. I fret and repine here in vaine against this glory: there is no way to acquit me from it but by escaping into some place of freedome; where there is not only a porter to tell them, I am not within, but a Captain to speak it with authority, and repell curiosity from searching after me. You do me the favour, my Lord, to offer me this place of refuge, wherein I may hope to be in security: and I know well enough that without need either of Captain or Souldiers, you have no house but your Name alone fortifies. It is the safeguard of other mens, and War respects it, even upon the door of a cottage. How can I fear my quiet then, when so powerfull an authority assures it to me, and your goodness vouchsafes to own me, of whom I am and will ever be passionately all my life,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Janua. 5. 1645.

LETTER XIX. To my Lord the Duke, de la Roche-foucaut, Peer of France.

My Lord,

IT is a great reproach to me to be so neer a neighbour to you and make so little improvement of that advantage. But it would be a kind of lesser treason to live in your territories, and repose my self under your protection without expressing one thought of gratitude for it. It troubles me I am not able to say an action of it, and I heartily wish it were possible for me to venture so far. But my repose being grown to an incapacity of motion, I am constrained, my Lord, to render you my duty in my mind, and be of the Court of Ʋertevill in the same manner, I am of the Academy of Paris, that is, without stirring from hence to either. My indisposition sowes thornes for me every where: it meets with precipices in the eevenest wayes, and the infirmities of age do already so over-press me, that if they encrease never so little more, I shall not dare to go out of my [Page 156] Chamber till I have made my will. In this pitious estate, you preceive cleerly, my Lord, my faults are rather from necessity then choice, and that I am not guilty of my unhappiness. I lose so much in the want of your commerce, & your person hath so many Qualities to render it desireable, abstracted from those of your condition, that were I naturally an Enemy of greatness, I should not be so much my own foe, as to keep at distance from my good when it were in my power to approach it. There needs not more for this, but common sense, and self-love, and as in some mens judgment, I have some of this love to spare, so in my own opinion, I do not altogether fail in the rationall part. You may please to permit me, this little act of vaine glory upon this occasion. I will receive it as a favour from you: But on the otherside, you will do me justice in this honourable beliefe of me, that there is no person more truly in his heart then my self,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Apr. 12. 1639.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur the Count de la Vauguion.

SIR,

THe day you had the goodness to come and visit me, my spirits were so enfeebled with a restless night, and I was so incapable of all reasonable Society, that if you went not away with a very low opinion of me, you did an act of very high charity. Since that time the disgrace of that unlucky half hour hath lain upon my heart, and I have often fancied what you might conceive of the testimonies and approbation of the publique. Questionless, Sir, you accused the people either of simplicity or imposture: you judg'd that they had suffer'd themselves to be deluded by a very unable man, or else they would deceive others for his sake; had I but an indifferent esteem of you, I should comfort my self up against all you could speak thereupon: but I knowing your valour great as your valew, I must confess, Sir, I have doubtfull apprehensions of my reputation, for I am afraid I have either utterly lost it with you, or extreamly endangered it. To piece my self up again some way or other, and try to shew my self to you at a more advantagious light then you saw me, I have just now resolved to send you the discourse I was obliged to make Of the conversation of [Page 157] the Romans. You will find there what you sought in mine: at least you cannot be ill entertain'd in a place where Consuls and Dictatours make up the honour of the house. I shall think my labour happy if it please you better then I have done: but I should esteem my self much happyer then my labour, and believe I had repaired my detriment with advantage, could I but evidence to you with what respect, I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Mar. 28. 1640.

LETTER XXI. To the Reverend Father Stephen de Bourges, a Capuchin Preacher.

Reverend Father,

YOu ought to commiserate me, instead of complaining of me. You know well on whom the unhappiness of your seperation falls, or at least who loses most by it, since you will be so good as to take a share in the mishap. For my justification, be pleas'd to consider only the present estate of things. You are the distributer of the favours of heaven at the distance of a league and halfe from hence: The treasures of the Church flow in torrents from your Lips: You deal out your largesses every morning; while I am tormented that these good things are done in my absence, and am so out of favour that no one drop of these inundations reaches me. The people receive the benefits, and I only hear the newes of them. I who presum'd my self your confident, who would and am not able to be neer you. This is to tell you, Reverend father, that there is a superiour force against which we are too feeble, and inevitable mischiefs, which meet us when we would flye them. Your divinity shall pardon me this errour if you please. I now acknowledge, that fatal necessity in my own person too, I feel the violences and chaines of destiny, which captive the most arbitrary and independent —. The world is so importunate, it does not allow a man leisure to say his prayers, and its importunity proceeds so far, & sometimes to that curiosity that it is troublesome even in the bosome of the desart. It seeks out men in a place, where it is written over the door, that there is no body within; that it is the Mansion of silence, the Sanctuary of sloath. At our first meeting I shall expound this last article, [Page 158] and lay open my moanes to you to receive your comforts. I am with passion,

Reverend father,

Your, &c.

Mar. 4. 1646.

LETTER XXII. To Monsieur de Souchotte.

SIR,

VVHatsoever opinion you have of the Barbarism of our climate, we are not so contemptible at Rome, but her largesses arrive to us; nor so little curious of rarity, as not to obtain a Jubile as well as you. Your Letter having found me in this good mind, had no great difficulty to perswade me to that good work you request of me. I shall be very glad to please you, in my obedience to the Church, and do an act of Religion that may either acquire or recover me a friend to the merits of Monsieur de Saint Germain. It is not possible for me to hate him, being as I am a member of the body of the Faithful: and if I had not esteem'd him, I should not be in the Catalogue of the reasonable. Oblige me therefore by assuring him of my affection and respects, after you have told him that I have sent you my injuries and my resentments to be laid upon the altar whereon he makes his vowes and sacrifices; that is, the Altar of Peace and Love, he must offer on it both for himself and me, all our froward passions, and all the sowreness and bitterness of our spirits. I am resolved not to contribute to the continuance of disorder, or nourish my self with the quintessence of gall, nor grow old in a bad constance. You may adde as many civilities as you please to this Christian protestation. I make this universall profession to you, that I am without reserve,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Ap. 25. 1645.

LETTER XXIII. To Monsieur Perrot d'Ablancourt.

SIR,

YOu will perceive by the Copy of what you requested of me, in what manner I determine our compliance to the present state of affaires, and what has ever been my opinion [Page 159] del tempo & della signoria. The Letter is of an ancient date, as you know already; it was written to a man who had need of the like advice, but made very ill use of what I gave him: for some few yeares afterwards, being engaged in the revolt of Rochell, he died in a Sea-fight, wherein he commanded a vessell against the King. It might be said of him that he Renowned himselfe in his destruction, and that he shewd miracles of courage, had he not done them in a bad cause, and had not his valour been his crime.

Ah quantâ Virtute scelus defendis, Amice!
Quam fortis reus, atque invito qualia Marte
Neptuno mirante geris?

THat you may know your reputation hath no limits, and that you are esteemed both within and without the World; I advertise you, that Monsieur de la — is to come to preach you in our desart, and that in a weeks conversation we have had together, he hath told me more things of you then a dozen mistresses that he left at Paris. The charmes of your tongue are sufficiently known, and you have made great experiments of them: but be assured they never wrought more powerfully [...]hen on the spirit of this Gentleman, you never spoke with more success then when he heard you, and never dismiss'd an auditour better edified. Salust was his first beloved. Quintilian [...]ath since taken Salusts place, and you have succeeded Quintilian. I saw the beginning of a book he is writing of your [...]pophthegms; he hath learnt you by heart, and understands you throughly: so that if by any mischance you should be lost, you might be retriv'd in his [...]emory. I leave you Sir, to imagine, the pleasure he did me, to concurre so exactly with my resentments, and chuse my inclinations for the subject of his [Page 165] discourse. It lyes upon him to give you a further account, when he sees you, and informe you of the first motions your name excited in a languishing soul, and the continuance of my joy in the sequell of his relations. He told me nothing concerning you, but I desired him to repeate it; and mentioned nothing of vows but what deserved this complement of the Academy Italian, Di gratia Signor un altra Ʋolta: But particularly the description of the feast, you made Monsieur Chavigny, was acted over more then once at my most humble supplication. I found in it I know not what of learned Antiquity. But on your conscience, Sir, was that Terence which was served in for one of your sweet-meats, so stuck with perfumes and covered with flowers, absolutely of your owne invention? Is it not an Originall of Maecenos, or at least that gallant man of the following Century, qui deliciarum arbiter, & cujus eruditus luxus à nostro Cornelio celebratur? How ever it be, we never heard of such cates before, and you wanted nothing that day, but Dionysius Lambinus for cook, and Adrian Turnebus for Steward. The piece is throughly ingenious, and much more humane and rationall then the desire of that Barbarous Graecian, who at Alexanders table wished for a Satrapa's head in a dish. This was a resemblance of the haughtiness of Turky, before there were any Turks in the world: and it is an example only fit for Machiavell's imitation, if he had invited Caesar Borgia to dinner. But you are to deal with a man, who hath the palat of Roman Consuls, and not Asian Princes: and you have accordingly treated him after the Roman fashion; for it must be confessed, that the appetite of his mind could not be better represented, by an embleme more spirituall, nor more gallant then that you had devised. When if you make him a second Entertainment I have entreated our friends to give you a present from me, and deliver you some Latine verses, of the last inspiration of my Muses; they are neither the Ragousts of Scipio, nor the delicacies of Mecaenas: yet they are fruits transplanted from the nursery of those happy Ages; and I have inserted my grafts upon their Stocks. You may please to judge of them when you have tasted them: and continue ever to love me a little, since I will never cease to be infinitely,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 3. 1642.

[Page 166]

My Lord,

SInce it is infinitely beyond my power to returne a sutable answer to the favourable Relations I received from Monsieur Chapelain, what can I do but despaire as to my acknowledgments of so many solid effects and sensible obligations as I have received from your goodnesse? You take too much care to preserve that which you cannot lose: my passion is the most unprofitable thing you are Master of; it is withall the most assured. The mischiefe is, that having reserv'd nothing of my self when first I made you the gift, I have nothing now left to offer you; and I very well perceive that at the same time you intend to shew your own power and my disability. I was immediately drained of my complements, but your favours are inexhaustible: and whosoever shall understand that your imprisonment in Germany did not bereave you of the meanes to oblige me there, will not wonder that your Government of Angoumois affords you occasions to do it. During your confinement you entertain'd your solitude with me in your thoughts: In a time of melancholly you conceived me capable to divert you, yea my only name and image have serv'd to do it: and as remote as I was from you, I made such rayes of joy streame into your soul as caus'd an admirable and glorious spring in it. I preserve my Lord, the bundle of those excellent flowers it brought forth with much care: I bedeck my self and flatter my vanity with them. I look upon them as the fairest token of remembrance that Polybius could have wished from his Scipio, and Paulus Jovius from his Marquesse of Pescara. It is not without some designe of Heaven, or some good presage that this Marquesse is come into my mind. Since you are not lesse brave then he, it is just you be not lesse happy. The Victoria Colonna of our age must compleat your felicity, since vertue hath begun it. There are no wishes to be made for you, after these. And though the present I have received from you be something more obliging then the grant of Exemptions and Protections, or then the Majoralty of Angoulesme and that of Saintes which you have conferr'd at my instance; yet I think my self sufficiently gratefull, if I prognosticate with successe the possession of a good which you esteem infinitely higher then all others. It hath [Page 177] hitherto been in vain desired: God hath refused it to the prayers and devotion of men: But without doubt, you are elected in the secret of Providence to be the happy possessour of it. Believe me, my Lord: I have been inspired more then once, and I tell you in the name of Heaven, and in the language of my Oracles, Tua tua erit, et sua te propter esse desinet. Tu certè dignus es quem ipsa Minerva praeferat & virginitati & fibi. I dare not adde any thing to these high words, and cannot better conclude my Letter then with a Prophecie. I am ever passionately,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Apr. 25. 1645.

LETTER IV. To the same.

My Lord,

YOur remembrance is not a bare token of your civility: You remember me in termes that perswade me although they come from a suspected place, and that I know, at Court words are not much used but to disguise intentions. You use them with greater integrity, and more faithfull to the intent of nature. They are the faire interpreters of your soul; and in your Letters, the representation of the thing is no other then the thing it self. You love, my Lord, where ever you have said it; and your word gives me firmer assurance of my good then my possession of it. I repose confidence in that, who have reason to distrust the decrees of Jupiter, and in whom so many Oracles have proved lyars. I am not a little proud to find room in a memory, which usually is stored with Orders from the King, and determinate resolutions of the Councell. But I am much more glorious in being beloved by a man that looks on all Employments, and charges, beneath him who makes serious profession of Probity and honour, whom the Court hath not been able to effeminate, nor War to exasperate. I think I have said all in this. For is it not a little miracle to escape without flying, from the contagion of a corrupted Age; to have more true strength, then custome hath violence; to know how to manage fury, and mixe the Man with the Lyon; to be vertuous, rationall, wise, amidst the tumult of unchained passions? And in this place you must, if it please you, pardon me the liberty I am about to take, and permit me to demand of you, whether [Page 178] you alwayes intend to employ Reason to a use that seems so contrary to her? Will you ever exercise an Art so mortall to the quiet of the World? Shall the wise, my Lord, and vertuous be any longer injurious to the ruine of mankind? It may be, a milder season will succeed this, and heaven may be reconciled to earth; possibly the future reserves some good dayes for us, and all our feastivalls are not extinct: In case it should be so, you will have leisure to let us see you in your government; and that is at least one fruit of the peace which I hope to gather on the banke of our fair Charante. I do not tell you in her behalfe and as her Poet, that the Rhine and Danow make her jealous: I speak of my own head, that I impatiently expect the honour of kissing your hands, and am more then any person in the World,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Jan. 7. 1646.

LETTER V. To Monsieur de Puy, Councellour to the King.

SIR,

SInce your books are your mistresses, and I am the cause of an eighteen months absence (having detained them here so long) I believe you have put up many unprofitable vowes for their return, and they will come to your hands at the instant you are making imprecations against me; so long a stay from their own home, and the opinion which they have at Paris, that all on this side the Loire is Gascon, may have rendred my fidelity suspected to you, and given you some reason to fear that the Romans had much difficulty to themselves from the Barbarians. Yet here they are, Sir, as sound and entire as I received them from Monsieur Girard: and I pr [...]test I have borne such respect to them, that, had it been possible, I would not have touched them but with sattin fingers. Every thing that comes to me from you, and that weares the Livery of Monsieur de Thou, satisfies me immediately of its price and merit: and if I did but see that marke on an Almanack, or on the works of the Count Vi Ma, I should restrain my self from terming them pitifull papers. You may judge by this in what consideration I held your Hubertus Fobietta, and his excellent company? Since the bastards of Vandalls and Goths, if owned by you, should be treated honourably by me; you may believe, [Page 179] Sir, that the same warrant did not permit me to dis-esteem the true and magnanimous Nephews of Remus. Monsieur Menage who knows my resentments in this particular, and the perfect value I set upon your vertue and your brothers, will tell you in more Courtly manner, what I only write you in the style of the village. He will chuse out words, which shall not extenuate as mine do, the greatness of my passion and gratitude. If there be any necessity of it, he shall bind himself by oath to you; he is good, and my friend enough to do it, that I am not less then he,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jul. 15. 1642.

SIR,

HItherto I have sollicited you in favour of my friends, and never for my selfe: At this time I must do it for one that is neerer to me then my self, and I recommend something more then my own cause, since it is that of Monsieur Chapelain. I draw so much advantage from his friendship, and so much profit from his example, that if I have any comfort in solitude, or any goodness in a wicked age, I owe him both. He made me a Philosopher, and he detaines me from being a savage. I cannot be indebted to him higher then that, nor tell you more of him after I have said, he alone is my Socrates, Aristides, and my Phocion. I beg justice of you in the name of those three, concentred together in this one: In the name of vertue injured in his person: in the name of all civill men interested in his cause for the sake of an honesty so pure and exact, nay so rigid and scrupulous, that we may with advantage parallel it with those of the first times. These are high words, I confesse: yet they are not sufficient for my purpose, and my thoughts outgoe them, though my expression be forct to stoppe here. That expression which did not dislike the King of Sweden, and made the Duke of Weymar desire that I should speak of him, doth afford me nothing that contents me, when I should speak of my friend. I find it weake in the testimony I now give of him, and think I render him this office but imperfectly, though it be with the utmost of my affection, and with as much fervency and zeal as I am,

Sir, my deare Cousen,

Your, &c.

Sep. 10. 1640.

Pardon my precipitation: I had in my Letter forgot a fourth Grecian, in whose favour I am bound to sollicite you: with their permission I will adde, Homer to Socrates, Aristides, and Phocion. You will perceive more in the verses I have caused to be copied for you, and which I sent lately to Colummiers, whither Monsieur the Duke of Longueville had carried Monsieur Chapelain to spend some few dayes with him.

[Page 183]

LETTER X. To Monsieur de Morin, Councellour to the King in the Court of the Edict of Guyenne.

SIR,

THere is a certain Spirit of Barretry and a she divell of Lawsuits which fills the world with disorders. The Poets were overseen in not reckoning her among their Harpuies and Furies: they ought to have made her one of their mischeivous deityes, and should have given her terrible Talons, and armed her with Torches and Serpents. You know, Sir, this enemy of humane quiet, hath tormented our friend a long time: but, it may be, you do not know that she will torment him eternally, unlesse you compassionate his miseries, and become his absolute Redeemer. I can neither doubt of your affection to your friends, nor your influence over the minds of the judges: I have had too particular experiences of them, and Suitours have formerly given me thanks for carrying the causes I have recommended to you. That which troubles me a little, is an apprehension lest my Letter should not find you at Bourdeaux, and that we should by your absence lose the advantages your goodnesse makes me hope. Yet on the other side, this apprehension cannot make any deep impression for there is some probability that at least in the middle of February, or the Latter end of winter, your Campagne may be ended. It hath lasted longer then those of any of our Generalls: and unless you meane to passe in the Hall for one that ha's left the Barre, there is no question but you will be by that time return'd to resume your long robe. If it be so, our cause will be better by half: for though we have many contrivances and Engines, yet what use are they of, without an ingineer that understands how to manage them? I conjure you to be the spirit to animate and infuse heat to the rest, and do me the favour to believe that you shall never oblige a Suppliant more of readier gratitude, nor more truly then my self,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Feb. 14 1641.

[Page 184]

LETTER XI. To Monsieur de Monrave, first President of the Parliament of Tholouse.

SIR,

DId not friendship justifie whatsoever is her own action, I should this day be guilty of a strange errour, and it would seem a sort of riddle; that one that was recommended to you by Monsieur Maynard should now recommend Monsieur Maynard to you: for his first complement it would be (if taken literally) a very peremptory piece of extravagance, the History of Tholoze would record my addresse to the Prince of the Senate, but not much to my commendation, and those which treat of the doctrine of Manners would quote it in the Chapter of Good-Carriage as a prodigy newly hapned in the rationall world. This would be the consequence, Sir, were my action measured by the rules of common Morality: But according to the priviledg [...]s which are granted to us by a more sublime Philosophy, conceiving my self dispensed with from the rigour of formalities, and licensed to fall immediately upon the point, I do not see any more remarkable, nor that concernes me more then this we now treated of: And since I find my own interest involved with that of my friend, I most humbly beseech your allowance in this particular, that being mov'd by a naturall principle, and without further deliberation, I may pay what I owe my selfe. I will not prejudice your time of publique audiences with my addresses. You shall be suffer'd to act the God on Earth, losing my selfe in the crowd of affaires which ascend with you into the Tribunall. I shall patiently awaite your descent: and not engage my selfe in the throng of Suppliants, or expose my weakeness to those popular tides and tempests which I so much dread. A man accustom'd to serenity who is tro [...]bled at the least view of any commotion, will sollicite you, if you please somewhat more conveniently. I will choose some propitious and favourable houre: and could I upon some day of rest slip into your gardens under the robes of Monsieur the Bishop of Ʋtica, I do not think you would be strong enough, though you have all the fortitude of Cato and Phocion, to resist what I would procure him to tell you in favour of our cause. This worthy Prelate was formerly my sword and buckler in the Kingdome of Scotus and Albertus Magnus: and if my name is yet remaining in the nature of things after so many conspiracies [Page 185] against it, and so many designes fram'd to surpress it, a great part of the obligation is due to him. From whence I conclude that he seldom speaks but he perswades: for if he have for my sake, tamed the most savadge Doctours of Christendome, the Phalarisses and Dionysiusses of the Schools, it is probable he will not have much difficulty to recommend a person effectually to you who already is in some favour with you, and an intercessour from the Muses to their Apollo. When I call you by that name; I conceive I speak most appositely: you inherit it from Father to Son, and it is not a new title, that you have brought into your house. Oracles have ever been delivered from thence by two different Divinities, and I do not look upon it only as a Veine of Purple, but also as a Nursery of Lawrells. Upon my conscience, Sir, and if I have any skill in Lawrels, those which I saw by Monsieur Maynards meanes are the most lively and verdant, and goodliest to weave into Chaplets, that have this long time been gathered on the Latin hills. But is it possible that Monsieur your Father, that is a Frenchman of this latter Century writ things so pure and Roman? Can it come to pass that a Poet of our Age should be so powerfully possessed with the Genius of Antiquity? Were I not assured that Ʋirgil was not acquainted with Saint Sernin, and Saint Papoul, I should attribute that excellent Poem to him, in which there is no Hemistick but beares the Character of his style; and if he could possibly have lived till this time till some enchanted Castle of an unknown Island, I should believe he had been baptized in the yeare, one thousand sixe hundred and ten: and affirme that Ʋirgil being lately converted to the Christian Religion, had made Hymnes to the Images of Tholouse. But we must not ascribe that glory on a Spectre which is due to a blessed soul, and such as in the place where he now is may preside over all compositions and studies. We may take him for one of our Patrones both in prose & verse, and for one of the tutelar Saints of our Art: if he continue (as it is credible) to love those exercises in the other world, which were dear to him in this; He will Questionly take part with the Oratours and Poets that are now all in confusion; he will side with the interests of our publique society, that implores either your justice or favour. To this most powerfull recommendation, and request made immediately from Heaven, shall I dare to annexe my poor and frivolous labours? they are two discourses, not disapproved at Court, and which you will read [Page 186] perhaps with some delight though such as I entreat you to look upon only as written at the instance of a friend. He will present them to you from me with a comment of his own, and beside relate you the occurrences of the desart where he has been, since your curiosity doth not contemne what passes in it: and when you have seen in what manner you are celebrated there, and in what veneration I hold your vertue, he will not faile to give you his testimony of my zeal and respects, and assure you that I am, and will ever be perfectly all my life,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 7. 1643.

LETTER XII. To Monsieur Huillier, Councellour to the KING, &c.

SIR,

I Wil take some other opportunity to commend your eloquence; but what you write me of the fourteenth of March, is so affectionate and obliging that at this time I can only praise your goodnesse. You draw glory from an adventure which is much more glorious for me then you. The Lady that treated you as my favourite in the walks of Luxembourge has done me an honour in which you have so small a share, that it was humility in you not to have rejected her Complement. I receive it of her, as a favour addressed directly unto me, and which so pleasingly tickles my vanity, that if I were at Paris, I would intreate you to carry me to her to thanke her for it. I cannot be known to the world by a definition that delights me more then this, This is he that is so great a Lover and admirer of Monsieur l'Huillier. What a goodly property is this to distinguish me from an infinite number of writers of scurvy prose, and bad verse, as well as I! Do not mistrust the verity of my words; for were I of worth enough, to recommend men by the passion I have for them, or if I durst give attestations of their vertue as Justus Lipsius us'd to do; after I had treated you with many magnificent superlatives, I would informe all present and all to come, that you are one of my dearest and most violent inclinations; that I am the rivall, but a very zealous one, of those blessed Chaplains, Menages, &c. who possesse you in my absence. That last word enforces a sigh from me. Why should [Page 187] we grow old in a friendship altogether abstracted and seperated from matter? Without any sensible society, & animated by word of mouth? without hope to see one another again untill the resurrection? ever remote above ten dayes journey? For less cause then this, the honestest among the Poets have made imprecations against Fate, and railed at destiny: But we must not adde blasphemy to our bad fortune. I will comfort my self with your Letter, for the happiness I am depriv'd of in the loss of your conversation, and will wish you more such adventures as those in Luxembourge, that from time to time some fair tongue may advertise you that I am more then any person in the World,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Apr. 3. 1644.

LETTER XIII. To Monsieur de Gomberville.

SIR,

THe Holy Scripture calls Death the Kingdome of Silence, and the Land of Oblivion. Let us evidence that we are not yet of that Region. Let us make use of our faculty of speaking, and the convenience of a poste, at least, once in ten years. Let there appear some signe of Life in our friendship: either by a little motion of the heart, or by halfe a word of remembrance in an old Formula, to ease the paines of Rhetorick; or by that ancient and famous Si vales bene est, ego quidem valeo. The only advantage I have of you, is, that I have given you the on-set, for I am sure you wish me well: and God forbid I should ever reckon your good will, or indeed any thing of yours in the number of things corruptible. Length of time hath no rust that can waste the affection of Philosophers: those people go straite to eternity and perfection; and particularly you, Sir, who continually dive into the chiefest and profoundest Ideas; and purge things from all the impurities and defects that attend them. Since you can make finer worlds, and better then that we behold, without doubt you have in your self the principle of that perfection, which you communicate to your matter. There is no probability, that the father of Demy-gods is subject to humane infirmities, or that you want generosity after you have bestowed so much on Polexander, Phelismond, and many more absolutely believe the truth of this Article, [Page 188] that I made no scruple to promise your favour to the Cavalier that delivers you this Letter, upon the assurance I have, that it is a gage which he will find where I left it, and which you have kept securely for me after so many years. Thus they lived in the golden Age, and I beseech you to believe, that with all the franknesse and sincerity of that Age, I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 4. 1643.

SIR,

MEnelaus was contented with the declaration of Greece in his favour; But our friend of Quercey, looks for more. He conceives all the Earth be concerned in the accusation which he charges on his wife; certainly, he is much mistaken, and is not throughly acquainted with mankind. Men jest at misfortunes of this nature, in the person of Socrates and Cato, I meane such men as otherwise love Socrates and Cato very perfectly. They are violences if they be not Tragedies, for they compell people to laugh, unlesse some capitall crime be involv'd in the trick of youth, or there be poyson mingled with the love. In such cases, indeed the business is beyond raillery. The delight of laughter is changed into detestation and abhorrence; and these two things, as Aristotle hath noted, afford no roome for good language. Out of these cases the publique doth not take the injuries of particulars to heart, one half of the world serves for pastime to the other; what Titius calls violating the sanctity of the Lawes, and defiling the purity of Marriage, Seia calls it sport and recreation. Yea she is so confident of the merit of her action that she sayes it was but justice to preferre an honest fellow before a Sott. When women delude their husbands upon the stage, is there any spectatour so severe but applaudes it, and g [...]ves his approbation to that which passes? all the people favour the Malefactresse: there is no body but would save her from the danger she hath fallen into. Yea, even the Fathers Conscript, and Roman Matrons are not of his side that suffers the injury. I can lead you to honest Quintilian, where you shall find in the Chapter De Risu one of these sage Romans, seated on the Tribunall. Ask him what he thinks of a man that is surprized with his neighbours wife: he will give you no other answer but this, that the injur'd person was deficient in point of diligence and labour. You may see by this, that our frined of Quercy's complaints are such as do not move pitty, they are evills no more bemoaned then the Megrime or toothach. Let him therefore conceale that which he can discover only to a jeering and unpittying world; and how just soever his cause be, yet restraine him from getting such a victory, of which the Garland would dishonour him. I wish him the patience of Marcus Aurelius, since he hath not the good fortune of Brutus. [Page 192] You are acquainted with Portia and Faustina, and know, Philosophy is a remedy, that cures all kind of sick persons. I recommend to your care the dispatch to Tholose, the Letter to Monsieur the Count of Clermont, the copy of the Poem which Monsieur de —. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 10. 1630.

LETTER XVIII. To the same.

SIR,

I Have watched these five and twenty years; or to speak more Historically, have slept ill these five and twenty years. I have sought all remedies imaginable, but have been diligent to no effect. Since Physick hath failed me, I am fallen into superstition. I pray to him whom our Predecessours admitted into the List of Deities, and who yet hath Altars in the works of some of our moderne Poets. I address to him in the language of Tibullus,

Huc ades, ô bone Somne, veni dulcissime Semne,
Et mea furtivâ lumina claude manu.
Somne veni, en volucres tibi dulcia carmina dicunt,
Invitat placito te vaga lympha sono;
Te violae, te lilia pulchra, tuumque papaver,
Te (que) vocant plenis Rhetica vina cadis;
Nec tamen ipse venis: quidnam mitissime rerum,
Tam surdum precibus te facit esse meis?
Non Divos violavi ullos scelerisve nefandi
Conscia perpetuus mens mihi tortor adest.
Ille ego sum Phoebi, si nescis, Somne, sacerdos;
Nutriit in tenero me pia Musa sinu;
Et Citharam dedit; Et dulces tibi condere versus
Jam meditor properè jam modo, Somne, veni.
Ni properas lethi sopor ingruit, et mea saevus
Lumina perpetuâ claudere nocte parat.
Ergo, age, Somne, gradum celera, ne fama vagetur
Immeritum culpâ me periisse tuâ,
[Page 193]Nam si nulla meae tangit te cura salutis,
At parcas famae, si sapis, ipse tuae.
And after that, in the language of Petrarch,
O Sonno, ô de la quieta; humida, ombrosa,
Notte placido figlio, ô de mortali
Egri conforto oblio dolce de mali
Si gravi, on d'è la vita aspra è noiosa,
Succori al core homar, che langue, e posa
Non lave, e queste membra stanche e frali
Solleva: à me t' invola, ô Sonno, è l'ali
Tue brune soura me distendi e posa
Ou e'l silentio, che'l di fugge, e 'l lume?
E lievi sogni, che con non secure
Ʋestigia di seguirti han per costume?
Lasso, che noan ti chiamo, e queste oscure
E gelide ombre inean lusingo: ô piume
D' asprezza colme, ô notti acerbe e dure,

In English thus,

Sweet Sleep, thou pleasing Son of quiet night,
The sick mans ease, the joylesse mans delight,
Afford my wearied heart thy timely aide,
And supple limbs thy want hath useless made:
Come with thy powerful Rod, come touch my head,
And thy soft wings o're all my body spread.
Where is sweet silence fled that shuns the day,
And gentle dreams which thy commands obey?
O cruel nights! Deaf sleep, in vain, in vain
I sing, and flatter thee to charme my pain!

You see by the conclusion of this Sonnet, that I invoke, but am not heard: that he who hath been called the gentlest of all the gods, is ever cruell to me, and that he perpetually rejects my prayers and my devotion. He will not be perswaded by my words, nor yet by better then mine: He derides both the Latin and Tuscan I had borrowed from two such rich persons, to endeavour to mollifie him. At all adventures let us make one prayer more to him. Let us try whether Malherbe's language will succeed better with us then that of Tibulius and Petrarch. But I must pray, Sir, in your name, for mine is too odious to him. Oblige the god Somnus, either by an Ode, [Page 194] or a paite of Sonnets, or three Epigrammes to relent of his cruelty, and deal more favourably then he is wont with your poor friend. Get him to allow some good hours in the night, for it would be too much to demand whole nights. Let him pour upon my eye-lids at evenings, one little drop of that precious liquor, in which he plunges my Laquay over-head and eares. If he will do nothing, and continue peremptory in his rigour, then you have liberty to alter your style; and to pass from invocation to blaspheming him. You shall threaten him to degrade him of his Divinity, to beat down his images, and set fire on his temples; to take away the Wife Homer gave him, and to grubbe up the Wood which Statius planted for him; to deprive him of all the pretty names, all the Epithet-Titles, and in generall of all the honours he hath received from the Poeticall Nation, since rhe reigne of Orpheus, to that of Monsieur de Grasse. I begge this comfort of you, that I may be revenged, if I cannot otherwise be satisfied: I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Dec. 81. 1645.

LETTER XIX. To the Chloris of Monsieur Maynard.

Madam,

VVEe are indebted to you for the rarest things in the world. Monsieur Maynard sings them, but it is by meanes of your inspiration: and it must be acknowledg'd that you have either infus'd new spirits into him, or awakened a faculty that lay dormant in him. Since he is your Knight, he is become our Master, and his strength has encreased by half, in the last Stanzaes that he writ. He is raised above the view of France, in the sublimity and lostiness of his strain: He leaves Italy behind him, I mean the witty and eloquent Italy, even in the judgement of the eloquent Cardinal Bentivoglio: and it would be the greatest infelicitie, that ever hapned, if he should not winne you, with such a — as has vanquished a nation victorious over all the rest. Believe my counsell, Madam, I know assuredly that your reputation hath raised jealousie in the Closets, and divers Calistaes and Clorindaes are envious of the praises of Chloris. I lately saw a dispatch from Court which speaks of a Widow in this Country that gives out, she [Page 195] is Chloris, and sweares the amorous stanzaes belong to her. Give the world, Madam, the satisfaction of a truth which is so important to you, & silence the tongue of a presumptuous counterfeit. Secure your glory and praises with speed; and, in a word, take possession of the name of Cloris by a Solemne act which neither Cloris nor Menander can undoe again, if they would. I wish each of you a long and perfect happinesse on condition, that pleasant life be ever fertile of good Verses, and that the Prophet do not grow so drowzy in the armes of the Nymph, that he forget to prophesie. He must utter Oracles according to his custome, and chant his enjoyments as well as his hopes. But to this he must have your yes, so that I want only your consent to have your Epithalamium; & in the behalfe of all France, I begge a Poem of you, that cannot be made without you, and profess my self,

MADAM,

Your, &c.

Aug. 20. 1643.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur Costar.

SIR,

It is not to do a favour to a vertue not common, to esteem it extraordinarily as I do. When I praise Madamoiselle de Dampierre, I am just, but not liberall. The Law of Nations would exact the like duty from me, to the person of a Spanish Lady in the heat of a proclaimed War. So that you must not take her upon my testimony: that is too much beneath her merit. But my suffrage must be added to the other commendations that are due to her, and confess that she is indowed with modesty and all the other qualities that beget pride in her sexe. She made you a strange request, in desiring you to perswade me to forget that I had ever seen her Letters in the hands of a Lady that feasted me with them two hours together. Your way, Sir, to effect this must be by the help of Sorcery: you cannot make me forget two so happy hours, and so dear, to my remembrance with less then making me lose my memory. Have you learned either Magick, or Physick enough to reduce me to that condition? Have you as much as will send me a disease like that of the ancient Oratour, who having known all things forgot them all to his own name? You see what is the demand [Page 196] of Madamoiselle de Dampierre. I am confident neither you nor I, are able to do any thing in it. I shall ever be the same I was, ever steadfast in my judgement and affections, ever an admirer of Madamoiselle de Dampierre, and the excellent things she writes, and ever passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Apr. 25. 1640.

LETTER XXI. To Madam de Villesavin.

Madam,

VVHen I tender you my duty, I have no other design then to tender it in intelligible language, and not to pass for a man of the other World before a person of this. Yet you are so good, you would perswade me that I write you Letters, and that I am eloquent without any intention of mine to be so. You profess to admire, Madam, what I believe you could not endure, but out of grace and indulgence. If so favourable words were not accompanied with more obliging effects, I should conceive some suspition they proceeded from the spirit of the Court, and that in that part of the Kingdome it was their manner of mockerie. But the craftiest way of derision not being the style of truth, and consequently not yours, I beseech yo [...], do not confound me any more by commendations that amaze me. I might be vain enough not to reject them in things I did ever pretend to; but what Colour can there be, to admit them in this, where they are no less beyond my ambition, than out of their proper place? No, Madam, my soul discovers her self to you in the simplicity of her first thoughts, and you may easily perceive she is not naturally a Rhetorician. They are my very thoughts that speak to you, and the Art of fine Lang [...]age has nothing to doe with the passages of my heart. We do not study our passions. I have not learnt to love either by Greek or Latin, from Aristotle or Cicero: and though I could not write with any kind of Ornament, yet I sho [...]ld not cease to protest with a great deale of truth, that I am,

Madam,

Your, &c.

Jan. 4. 1641.

[Page 197]

LETTER XXII. To Madamoiselle de Scudery.

Madam,

COuld I have obtained one moment's dispensation from my indisposition, I had told you long since that I have neither humility enough to reject the praises you bestow on me, nor presumption to assent to them. To believe them with an Historicall faith requires a very strong Imagination; and yet to be offended at so obliging a Fable would speak an ill nature. The mean herein which I intend to choose shall not be to your disadvantage. I will consider your excellent language as purely yours, and not with any reference to my self. Thus they shall still have their true effect, and I shall ever be convinced by them; that is, Madam, of the beauties and perfections of your soul; of the Eloquence that gives those praises, not that to which they are directed. Pardon my distrustfull humour, I cannot believe you are of the same opinion with your Letter, nor that my Relation to Menander is of that strength you speak of. Possibly it may move you because you are compassionate of other mens misfortunes, and your goodness interesses you in all the adventures of innocence. In this respect, indeed, I may deserve your favour, and your worthy brother too might justly take me for one of those objects that need his assistance. He can defend with as much valour as assault, and his bucklers are no lesse impenetrable, then his other armes are piercing. The piece of his which you sent me, me thinks, retaines that fatall solidity. The greatest enemyes of shewes and Wit-feasts, will not hereafter be able to violate them, under such a protection. Pleasure shall by his meanes acquire a good repute, and by h [...]s favour we shall be merry without scruple, in spight of the Sad and the Severe. I could say more to you, if you were desirous to examine me concerning your book, or take an account of my studies. But this is no place for Comment, or Preamble: and the noble assemblies which are not ungratefull will on all sides proclaime so loud the glory of their defender, that it is probable a voice so weak and remote as mine, would not be observed in the great shout of so many acclamations. It shall suffice me, therefore, to tell you without any dresse of words, that I am not voide of gratitude for so compleat an obligation: and that it being impossible the present I received should be richer, Monsieur de Scudery has found out an expedient [Page 198] to make it more acceptable, by entrusting you to send it. With his permission, I thank you with all my heart, and will ever be, if you please to suffer me,

Madam,

Your, &c.

Jul. 25. 1639.

LETTER XXIII. To Monsieur de Villesavin.

SIR,

AS I am not importunate, so I will not be ungratefull. The study of wisdome which teaches to beg nothing, teaches how we ought to owe; and though it ha's taken away my desire of getting, it has not extinguish't my acknowledgment for benefits when I receive them. You are one of those generous persons, who take pleasure in obliging: But how gratefull soever I am in my heart, I might appeare somewhat too reserv'd did I any longer conceale how I am engaged to you: I must at length, Madam, fall to an open publishing of your goodness and that of your memory. The first expected not my entreaties to recommend my interests, to Monsieur the Sur-intendant, and the other minded you amongst the great crowd of the world, that there was a certain Some-Body in the desart, not unworthy your protection. This I know not who hath yet some motions of a rationall life left, enough to distinguish his repose from laziness. He is by some chance or other illuminated still with a bright ray of light, and his retirement is not altogether his buriall. — Vouchsafe me the honour to believe it, and that I am ever passionately,

Madam,

Your, &c.

Dec. 12. 1639.

LETTER XXIIII. To the same.

Madam,

I Do not straine for fine words to compile you a handsome Letter. Hyprocrisie hath so adulterated all that kind of Merchandise, that I am consciencious of charging my self with it, and had rather proclaime my good fortune aloud, then seem to doubt of it by servile complements. Instead of thanking you after a pittifull fashion, or beseeching you timorously, I tell [Page 199] you, Madam, you cannot be indifferently generous; you are resolv'd to take care of a contemplative person that ha's none of himselfe: and you intercede for a bashfull man, that cannot beg; you can perswade pay-Masters to expedition and change their lying To Morrowes into true To dayes. I have said much of you, Madam, in a few words: but what can I say of my self, but this? that instead of all the vertues of the time present which I could not compasse, it shall suffice me with you that I have one of the time past which I brought into the world at my birth, and to be, as I am, with all fidelity,

Madam,

Your, &c.

Feb. 4. 1639.

LETTER XXV. To the Reverend father Pitard, Provinciall of the Jesuits in Guyenne.

Reverend father,

YOu have done me a great civility in granting the request that was address'd to you in my name. But because one favour drawes on another, I am willing to believe you will add this second I now beg, to the first which I have already received, having left the Reverend father du Creux at Angoulesme; for my sake be pleased to suffer me to enjoy the advantages of his neighbourhood and permit him at convenient times to make a little journey hither. It will be an action becomming your charity to take some care of so barren and dry a solitude as mine, and to send your Angells into the desart to comfort such as are weary of themselves there. I beseech this favour once more of you, out of my meere necessity of rationall commerce, or to say better, of Philosophicall conversation, least perhaps the first word give offence to the Coridons of my Parish. Such Equivocall words have heretofore pull'd great quarrells on my head, but I think one may speak securely to you, especially in matters so innocent as these. I am resolved never to meddle any more with such as are dangerous. Do not feare I will discourse to you of the Intrigues of Princes Court, or the warre betwixt the Barberini, against the Farnesi. I will only tell you newes from Parnassus, (for my diurnall takes notice of none elsewhere) that the Tragedy of Mauritius has merited the esteem and applause of all the learned in this province. There is not one of them but sayes, it is pitty so handsome a Composition [Page 200] should dye within the walls of your Colledge; The Authour is persecuted by an infinite number of people to extort Copyes from him, and, as ill luck would have it, you have allowed him no Secretary to transcribe his Originalls: so that the Publication of it, is begged of you by the generall voice; and herein I am but the delegate of the learned nation to your Reverence, &c. I am,

Reverend father.

Your, &c.

Octo. 20. 1642.

LETTER XXVI. To Monsieur de Barreaux.

SIR,

HEre is no discourse since your departure but of you. My father, whom you elevated into Patriarch Laban, and whom you so elegantly thanked for the present he bestowed on the world in begetting me, is in continuall admiration of your Eloquence. He protests, those houres he past with you, are the best part of that age he is now drawing to a period of. Your adopted mother values her fruitfullness at a lower rate then her fortune, and does so often mention her sonne at Court, that she begins to raise jealousie in him of the Country; for the widdow, that holds up so stoutly against Time, and whom you thought not over-wrinckled, she does with much contentation remember the pleasant rapture you delivered your service in. It is true, she did not accept it, but yet she dares not deny, that in the very minute she gave you audience, there came into her mind a thought much lesse severe then she usually harbours, and what ever she sayes, ‘Si non pertasum thalami, tedaeque fuisset, &c.’

I know, these kind of widdowes do not rellish very pleasantly with your palate, and you are no great approover of fidelity to the dead. But yet what say you of your vertuous Cosen, according to whose example my sister conformes her self, and of whom I speak in the Characters of Renowned Ladyes?

Et cineres lachrymis rigat, atque accendit amore,
Et tota in mortem fertur, nec jam ampliùs ullum
Esse diem, vitaeque putat caelestia dona.
Ʋiva tamen superest, ut sanctam diligat umbram
Jgne pio, nudúmque colat post funera nomen,
Aut conjux aterna viro, aut aeterna sacerdos.

[Page 201]

I say nothing of the Evening Walke, the remembrance of which you are oblig'd by oath to consecrate in your verses: Nor do I mention Diana, nor her Companions; nor the Satyres that stole them away, nor the green mountain, nor the Bathes of the Gods, nor the Miroir of the Stars, nor the other pieces of our walke. You are to write me intelligence from your Muses, and acquit your self of your Word: yet to make you remember it the better, I am in the mind to send you some verses, that entreat the performance of it from you. They were made in the same place of the Meadow, where you promised yours at the setting Sunne, and the god of CHARANTE. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Oct. 12. 1641.

LETTER XXVII. To the Reverend Father d'Estrades, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, and Superiour of the Confessours Cloister in Bourdeaux.

Reverend Father,

VVEre I happy enough to be near you, our friendship would be one of the goodliest things in the World. You would render me worthy of it by making me better then I am. I should reape all the advantages, and you would bear all the charge; for a little docilenesse and good disposition which I might possibly contribute to it, you would lay in common a perfect vertue, which is now your own propriety: For this is it I mean when I call you my perfect friend. And speaking of friend, pardon the repetition of what I have formerly express'd, I do not mean a Companion for Commerce or good-fellowship, nor a perpetuall admirer, nor one that punctually payes visits the next morning after he has received them, nor yet one that can write three answers to a single Letter. I mean a witness to the conscience, a Physitian of secret griefes, a governour in prosperity, a comforter in declining fortunes. You are all these and somthing more: but the miserie is, Reverend Father, you being at so great a distance from me deprives me both of the more and the less: it debars me the practice of all the good you have done me. I may perhaps think, when I set forth from hence, to meet you perhaps [Page 202] at Rochel, when some holy necessity has removed you a hundred leagues from thence. If I travell those hundred leagues to see you, you, it may be, will give me the slippe the same day I arrive there; and Monsieur the Archbishop of Bourdeaux may come to take you from thence with his Navy: And yet more, you will go to sanctifie the VVar in AFRICA or ASIA, if either the Churches good or the KINGS service require it of you. So that this corragious piety and magnanimous zeale, which you profess, oppose all my good designes and are the cause that I have no probability to hope for you, but by the Treaty of —, that is, the restitution of all, that War has usurped from us. My impatience is to no purpose, we cannot enjoy you sooner: for you, and peace are two gifts of God, which he will send us together. But when you are sent, I beseech you, let us be they that shall receive you, and not the Gascons, nor the Rochellers. After so many journies, and expeditions it is fit the Crown be the center of your rest, and that its extent circumscribe the Plus Ʋltra of your ambition. You cannot chuse out a retire of a more lucky Omen, that will afford you greater serenity and glorious dayes, or less interrupted silence to your devout meditations. When this comes to pass, you may easily believe, so glorious a neighbourhood will give me much occasion of pride, and that I will indeavour my utmost to improve a friendship so beneficiall as yours. The fresh assurances you are pleased to give me of it by words that speak the zeal of antient Christianity, are new chaines that bind me yet closer to you, and force me, Reverend Father, but with the delight of those that receive liberty, to be, if possible, yet more then I was,

Octo. 8. 1639.

Your, &c,

LETTER XXVIII. To Monsieur de Voiture, Councellour to the KING, &c.

SIR,

I Am not minded to write you a Letter? I am too religious an observer of our old wont, and fear to put your civility to too much trouble; For that, per adventure, might oblige you to another. This scrowle requires no more of you but your [Page 203] marke without writing or an impression of your Seal,

Ʋt nescio quae agrestis Musa tutò adeat nostrum illum
Illustrissimum,
Qui Regum solet adversos componere motus.
Qui Gallum, at (que) Aquilam conciliare potest,
Et Marti dare vincla, & terris pellere diras,
Et Sanctum optatae condere Pacis opus.

If you are nor very confident I love you, honour you, and esteem you infinitely, you are very ill informed of what passes in my heart, and your familiar spirit does not give you a faithfull account of the things that are done a hundred leagues from you.

Esto mihi tu Sol testis; tu, Dia Carenta;
Ʋos Nymphae, Num me Veneres laudare pudicas
Ʋicturi, urbanosque sales, artemque placendi,
Audistis, solidum (que) altis in rebus acumen,
Et bona vera animi, cum, me dicente, vel ips [...]
Costardus siluit, facundior ille nepote
Atlantis licet, et Ʋicturi maxima cura
Costardus, &c.

LETTER XXIX. To Monsieur de Lyonne, Councellour to the KING, and Scretary to my Lord the Cardinall Mazarin.

SIR,

I Am affected by you, without having the honour of being known to be so. I had no designes of requesting any favour from you, and you have taken pleasure to oblige me. I but now understand how much I am bound to you, and you forbid me to testifie my acknowledgements. This is not, Sir, the manner of common goodness, and I confess the rarity of it, ha's surprized me. I Questioned at first whether this action were done at Paris or in the fortunate Islands; the corruption, of the yeare one thousand six hundred forty four, or the purity of the Golden Age. However it be, I must not permit you so [Page 204] much advantage over me. The prohibition you make me is noble and honest, but my obedience to it will not be so. It seems you would be so highly generous as to make me appeare ungratefull, or as if you had a design to purchase glory with the loss of my reputation. This is indeed, too much, and your generosity must be measured by charity and moderation. Accustome your self to magnanimous actions as much as you please; profess a sublime and difficult vertue; but leave me at least the easiest and ordinary duties; the last and meanest member of that society wherein you have thought me fit to be enrolled; I mean, Sir, that of receiving and oweing thankfully, that which binds the poor as well as the rich, and whereof I conceive my self able to discharge my self, since the heart is sufficient to do it. I have one yet good enough to be capable of such a rationall resentment: and if I cannot by my merits warrant the testimony you have given of me to his Eminence; yet I hope by my passion and respects, to maintain the happiness I enjoy in your favour, resolving to be perfectly as long as I live,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 7. 1644.

LETTER XXX. To Monsieur Colletet.

SIR,

I Will neither violate my oath by writing Letters, nor injure our friendship by returning you no answer. Therefore, if you please receive this in the Quality of a Ticket, and so I shall acquit my self of what I owe you, without prejudice to an other obligation. What can I say to that excellent present which you have sent me? Your Muses have alwayes some new favours for me, and your Poems are the daily recreations of my mind. But you over-valew the testimony I have given of them, which expresses my intention as imperfectly, as it does their merit. Believe it, were I the Apollo of the Poets, and were to distribute their Chaplets, you should not receive one of the faintest verdure, or made with the least care. For the Collection you speak of, notwithstanding all the paines I took, I cannot easily give you satisfaction in it. Since our Scevolaes dyed, our Abels have been almost ever sick: and if there can be any other who can purge the Municipall Oratours and Poets of [Page 205] their old and scurvy signification (as I know one that can) who is so grave and serious, that he would hardly be brought to let his mind stoop so low as matters of joy; your Collection may then me made without us, or to use the phrase of your Letter, your body may rove up and down the Country freely, there is none to oppose you. But I beseech you, do not complaine of the smallness of it; the biggest are usually the worst and we have lately seen that a whole Army of Banditti were not worth one Company of a Low-Country Regiment. I proceed further; I shall fall unawares into the inconvenience which I counsell you to avoid; at least, this Billet would be a Giant amongst others of that name, and might hazard to be reckoned in the number of Letters. That must be carefully declined, and therefore to take away all likeness and resemblance, I shall chuse not to end with Sir, and your most humble servant, though there are not many gentlemen whom I esteem more then you, nor any person more your servant then my self,

Jul. 20. 1639.

LETTER XXXI. To Monsieur Conrart, Councellour, and Secretary to the King.

SIR,

THe loveliest solitudes are those about Paris, and you have the happiness to be a Courtier in the morning and a Hermite after dinner. This is the way not to be tired with either kind of life, and prevent nauseating by change: for my part, I am here confined to one of the futhermost corners of the earth, eight long dayes journeyes distant from your polite world, and so consequently reduced to gather a simple satisfaction with my self, which I can almost never do; or if at any time it is only by conversation with the dead, who yet do but repeat me over the same things. The condition of Madam Desloges is little better then mine, and unlesse it be in her own Closet or her family, she sees nothing that can please her. But she is more to be commiserated now then any of the yeares past. Besides the melancholiness of Limosin she apprehends all the dangers of Breda, and according to her account it is on her alone the Spaniards make all their sallies, and shoot into the trenches of the Hollanders. I lately left her in a fit of these fits of discontent that made her tremble at the opening of every [Page 206] Letter she received, for feare she should find a sonne or a nephew dead in it. Yet in this deplorable estate, she remembred you with comfort, and you were the subject of one of our longest conferences. You were read over and over a dozen times. I shewed her the description of your retreate; and she requited me with the sight of other fine things of your making; and this was our result for you, that there is good sense in Paris as well as at Athens and Rome, and that it is possible to invent happily and expresse those fancies with successe, without the help of Greek or Latine. If I use both of them more then ordinary, I do not think this forraine abundance any great credit to me; but rather a reproach of my own sterility. It is, in effect, because I am forced to borrow from others, having exhausted what was my own; and wanting strength, I have need to leane on something to support me. However it be, it is no small matter to please you, whether as an Originall or a Copy; and since you assure me that my writings are your most pleasing divertisements, I fully resolve to be a Scribe still, though there were no other Reader in the world but your self. So that I intend to fall to work again this winter, and keep & maintain the authentick Priviledge you have obtained for me, who am alwayes most perfectly,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 18. 1637.

LETTER XXXII. To Monsieur de Souchote.

SIR,

THough I had lost the use of my hands, and had not wherewithall to maintaine a Scribe; and though I had made a second oath, with intention to observe it better then the first, yet I should not cease to love those persons to whom I did not write. Your goodness has made you one of that number, and to justifie this you may please but to consult your own memory. Do you remember the day when I made over my affection to you by a solemne act? it was in the presence of the God of the Seine, and the Sunne of the meadowes aux Cleres was witnesse to it: you assured me you were contented with that forme of gift, and that you would not desire I should send you any new titles to it by the Carrier or the Post. This is the reason of my long and obstinate silence, you may terme it laziness as [Page 207] long as you please, but you will injure me if you give it any worse name; you would derogate from my friendship, if you imagine that it is enclosed in my Letters, and you mistake one thing for another, if you lay inconstancy to the charge of a man that is stedfast even to obstinacy. I love and esteem you, do not question it; and had I as much good fortune as good wishes you should see I am as zealous in essentialls, as I am cold in ceremonies. For the two Lists you speak of, your absent friend is authour of both one and the other, and consequently, the complaint you make to him upon occasion of them is more gallant then reasonable. I had no hand in the distribution of the Copies; and I believe Monsieur de Campaignole, who was the chiefe manager of that little affaire, did not think of all my friends. But, I beseech you, what matters it, that an Almanack out of date, and some scribled sheetes of paper were not presented to you? The authour himself in body and soul, his whole Library, all his Learning, Eloquence and Hyperbolies are yours, that is, I am absolutely,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Nov. 15. 1644.

LETTER XXXIII. To Monsieur de Bois-Robert Abbot of Chastillon.

SIR,

YOu are very well informed of what happened here as my Lady Dutchesse of — travelled through this province. What ever judgment may be given of it in the place where you are, and whatsoever interpretation they may lay on a casuall action, I can assure you on my knowledge, that in all that businesse there was nothing lesse then interest of State. It is a pure Hypothesis of that Chapter of Aristotles Rhetoricks where the generosity of the young people is opposed to the circumspection of the old, and honour to reason. Cavaliers will ever be obsequious to the beauteous sexe, and not deliberate of safety or danger when the question is of serving them. They talk so frequently of the Empire and Soveraignty of Ladyes, and have their heads so full of Romanzaes and strange adventures that they believe they can atchieve whatsoever was done in the reigne of Amadis: they think they are obliged to follow the mode of Gallantry though contrary to all the reasons of policy, and that they may at least tell a suppliant Princesse.

[Page 208]

Etenim ipsi Dii negare cui nil potuerunt

Hominem me denegare quis posset pati?

You will do me a pleasure to send me word of the consequences of this businesse, and believe me ever, I beseech you,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Sep. 15. 1640.

LETTER XXXIIII. To the same.

SIR,

I Know very well, you are cured of that sickness which you have walkt through so many provinces, and which has bred me so many disquiets. But my friendship is not satisfied with that; I would understand that you are confirmed in health, and that you have recovered your pristine strength. For this purpose I have entreated Monsieur de — to survey you curiously when he delivers you this Letter, and send me word whether your eyes are cleare, or your face well complexioned; But especially, I have desired him not to require any answer from you, for I would not my curosity should prejudice you nor have you discerned any secret interest in my passion: reserve all your fine words for discourse at the fine Court, that takes delight to give you audience Quaeque te imprimis habet inter instrumenta honestae et eruditae voluptatis. But now concerning Learning, my sister just now sends me word that you have a Kinswoman writes books, and that she has received one of her making. According to this rate, every one of your race is learned as well the females as the males: So that I must no more valew you severally: Nor yet arrest my esteem upon your dear brother that heroicke Madcappe, that Cittizen of I know not how many Kingdomes and Common-wealths, that Quartermaster Generall to Alexander, Caesar, and the rest of the Conquerours, as honest Monsieur de Malherbe us'd to call him;

Et merito; namque ipse Deus qui ferre per auras
Jussa Jovis suevit, minus orbem novit utrumque,
Nec Sol plura videt Nerei spacia alta, suisque
Terrarum quicquid Nereus complectitur ulnis,
[Page 209]Ille tuus capit et frater, Populòsque, Ducèsque,
Totamque augusto rerum sub pectore molem,
Invidiâ vel teste, atque aequo gestat Ibero.

These last words are a granted truth: for a Spaniard speaking to me concerning him, told me he was so well acq [...]ainted in Persia that he could tell the signe of every Inne in it, and that he knew every bush in the Country of the great Mogul. I have repeated them often since, and am never weary of speaking of you, and of what—. But I was induc'd to be pleasant a little, in the description of that Illustrious Debosht that you might partake of my mirth. You see I represent him in the style of Marus Ʋarro who mingled prose and verse, and Greek and Latin together in this manner. He was one of the joviallest fellows of his time, however our friend —accuse him for the greatest Pedant that ever lived. But our friend is too delicate that he cannot endure the miscellany of Idiomes; no not in the Kyrie & Christe eleeson: though otherwise he be a very good Catholick. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Nov. 1. 1640.

LETTER XXXV. To Monsieur the Abbot of Beau-regard.

SIR,

I Am glad you are so happily deceived, and that the defluxion into your eyes hath not done you so much mischief as it threatned. You were afraid of an eternall night, and it has been but an Eclipse of four and twenty hours; You had bid adieu for ever to that light which was next day to returne to you though Homer heretofore was blind, and Cupid be so still, yet it is not necessary you should resemble them in this, for without loss of your goodly Eyes you can make goodly verses, and strike love into either sexe. I am one of those, I protest, whom you have wounded deepest, and you set me in a fire from the very first minute of our conversation. The World is full of false Friends. Towns, and Common-Wealths are made up of these honest kind of Cheaters, and into what place soever your Geography can lead me, I am sure I shall not find what [Page 210] you have brought me hither; I mean affection without interest, a fidelity without stain, with all the goodness and freedome of the Golden Age. And, to represent me a more lively picture of that happy Age, instead of Rivers of milke and hony whereof your Ancestors talked, you have taken a course to send me mountains of Sugar, and Sweet-meats, and to feed me with Viands which I valew little less then Ambrosia. Indeed I am something fearfull of the carriage of them, by reason of their delicacie, and the rough hands of the Carrier's servant who never heard any one speak of the Golden Age, nor its delicacies. But were they all spoyled by the way, I am already extreamly obliged to you for your liberal intention. To remember me before you came to Orleans, and in a place where you had so agreeable occasions of distraction, was to have plac'd me in your soul among the choisest objects of your thoughts, and given me timely notice that I am unworthy and ungratefull, if I am not all my life,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jun. 10. 1642.

LETTER XXXVI. To Madam de la Chetardue.

Madam, my dear Cosen,

I VVill not eat your favours without a testimony of my gratitude. You have feasted me these four dayes, and either there are no pleasures in taste, or I find them in your Cheeses, They are not only Cream, well-Housewifed, but a quintessence hitherto unknown: they are some I know not what miraculous things that with a tartness which bites the tongue, afford a sweetness that fills the mouth. It must needs be that God loves you who has bestowed such a Land on you as flowes with Milke and Honey. He did not heretofore treat the Jewes his favourites better, and these were the Riches of the Golden Age. But in places where such Riches are to be had, good Cheere should be confin'd to them, without seeking after any other kind of abundance. You ought long since to have put down hunting, and purified your Kitchin; For what a shame is it to live with Murder and Cruelty, amidst such innocent sustenance? I cannot set too high a rate on them, nor too much thank you for your Present [...] and what ever you please to say, [Page 211] I cannot think they were the labour of any of your Country Mopses. Such counterfeit hands know not how to labour in things of that delicacie. Questionless the Nymphs of Ʋienna had a hand in them, and it is an invention of theirs: which you have sent me for a rarity. If this conceite seem Poeticall to you, so is the subject of it too: It might make a piece of a very good Eclogue, or be drawn into a corner of a Pastorall. But I have never learnt to rime. It is fitter for me to quit this language of Fables, to assure you in true and serious Prose, I honour your vertue so highly, that though you had given me nothing, I should have thought my self nevertheless indebted to you much: And were you not my benefactress, I should not be less, then I am,

Dear Cosen,

Your, &c.

Sep. 14. 1639.

LETTER XXXVII. To Monsieur Senné, a Divine of the Church of Saintes.

SIR,

I Had need only of two earthen basons, and I have received a whole Closet of rarities. I desired but enough to supply necessity and simplicity, and you have added Ornament and superfluity. This profusion is not to be allowed in a man that every day preaches against luxury: They are exorbitances which would deserve reformation in any Common-Wealth more severe then ours. I speak this without any manner of aggravation, for you know I have utterly renounced Hyperbolyes. Neither the Buckler of ACHILLES described by HOMER, nor the other rich descriptions of the rest of the great Poets, neither the Thesis which the Father D'orleans formerly dedicated to Monsieur the Cardinal de la Ʋallette, not all that ever I saw of greatest variety and History in the world, is so much as what you have done me the favour to send me. And yet you are pleas'd to say notwithstanding, to extenuate the merit of your present, It is but clay. You who know Tertullian calls clay Sororem nobis materiam, and that Kings and Emperours are moulded out of it: It is not only in Vessels of the like stuff, as you write to my Niece, that Antiquity offered incense to their gods; but the gods themselves were made of it, and you remember that verse which sayes, ‘[Page 212]Fictilibus crevêre deis haec aurea Templa.’

I could, if I please, alledge Prometheus in Lucians Dialogues to you, and Agathocles in Ansonius Epigrammes. I have also two passages in Pliny on the same subject, and three in Pausanias: But let this text of scripture suffice, if you please, and I will only tell you that by your favour, Thesauros habemus in vasis fictilibus. Is it not true Sir, that I have altered my custome strangely, and am not I become a terrible Rapsodist? It is a disease our dear friend the great Doctour of the short robe has infected me with. He is the cause that for these sixe months I have not spoken in the vulgar tongue, and he hath beaten so this gibberish into my brain, that I do not thinke Petrus Ʋalens is more of the University then I. The importance is, the ancient innocence is preserved there still, and the dissimulation of the Court has no admittance. Do not doubt therefore, I beseech you, but that I am in earnest when I have a better conceit of my self for your liberality, and when I profess my self,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Aug. 10. 1638.

LETTER XXXVIII. To Monsieur de Morin, Councellour to the KING in the Court of the Edict of Guyenne.

SIR,

AS I would not be accounted ungratefull, so neither would I proclaime my debaucherie? What shall I do therefore in this strait? I dare not openly name the present that I have received from you, and let any one know, I have a Load of Muscadine in my house without hazarding the good reputation of my former life: I cannot commend your liberality, but I must at the same time accuse my own intemperance. Some expedient either of Rhetorique or Poetry, which you please, must be found out to free me of this intricacy. Without mention [...]ng that scandalous name of Muscadin, I will say with your leave, it is a present fit for the Duke of Saxony; it is the Soveraign Remedy of sadness and ill thoughts; the true Nepenthe Homer sung of; an admirable wash for pale complexions, [Page 213] a device to make a man valiant in an instant, utter Oracles immediately, speak unknown languages even to Monsieur Salmasius: In a Word, Sir, I will say it is a load of Enthusiasm and inspiration which you did me the favour to send me. But on the otherside, what will our severe and peevish friend say, if he discover my excesses through these high and magnificent words? What opinion will your brave and learned ones have of me when they hear I draw up bottles in Battalia, and they are told my Library is stored with them? It will be to much purpose, to alleadge the honest Passerat for doing the same thing: his authority is not owned out of the Colledge, nor indeed in it by the deba [...]ched Students. It is better for me, after my ancient wont, to have recourse to my old Rome, that never failed me at a pinch: and I confess I should be ruined in my honour were it not for the example of old Cato, whom I oppose against all our sober Modernes. You know how dry and stiff his vertue was, yet he sometimes moystned that drought, and soaked that stiffness. Nay, who knows whether that iron vertue were not pregnable by so gentle a force? I would not sweare it, for peradventure had Caesar during his abode in Gallia Narbonensis thought of sending him as good Frontiniack as this which I have received, this surly honest man might have been sweetned by that excellent wicked one. But to change our subject; I have at length found out the three pieces I promised you on Ale; which were strayed among my papers. Do not you thinke this desertion of my subject pretty sport? I do, in earnest, intend to be the founder of a new Proverb: and if I may be believed it shall be said Ale for Frontiniacke, as well as Copper for Gold. The pieces you see are short, and consequently I have much more time to drinke then you to read. Quem vero nostrum tuo judicio beatiorem credat Ilotta? Ʋtrumque, praestantissime Morine, nam et Philosophari, sed paucis, ut Neoptolemus apud Ennium, et multum bibere amat, ut olim Pater Eunius.

Francisci Gujeti In Cerevisiam.Triticei latices, mensis Berealibus apta
Munera, sed Cellis tetra venena meis,
Quae vos sacra tulit tellus, quae numinis irae
Aemula lethaeis pocula finxit aqvis?
Qui vos odit, amat musas, Bacchum (que) Cyprinque;
Et superos odit, si quis amare potest.
[Page 214]
Ʋos vitiata Ceres temeratis devovet undis,
Nais, et adversis Cynthius horret equis.
Cui sapitis, nihil ille sapit, dignusque suillo
Jure sit, et socios glandis habere sues,
Qui bibit, irato tentabit Apolline carmen,
Arcadicos (que) dabit rusticus ore sonos.
Hinc Batavi, fumis Cerealibus ebria turba,
Carmina tot Musis inficianda vomunt;
Et miseri placuêre sibi, gaudentque prosanas
Frondibus aeternis implicuisse comas.
At deus è Pindo crassae deliria gentis
Ridet, et has poenas impietatis habet;
Ducite damnatos, gens Barbara, ducite succos,
Nectareus nobis proluet ora liquor.

Hugonis Gratii pro Cerevisia.Humor dulcis aquae, sed igne coctae,
Quam succo Ceres imbuit salubri,
Qui corpus vegetas nec impotente
Commotam furias vapore mentem,
Quo potu fruitur Batava tellus,
Neptuni domus horreumque mundi,
Et quotquot populos mares ab alto
Caeli culmine conspicatur Arctos,
Ipsae te sitiunt novem Sorores,
Nec Permesside proluuntur undâ,
Ex quo Graecia Barbaro sub hoste est,
Nec Bacchi cyathos amant puellae,
Sed Rheni vahalisque temperatos
Almis pastibus hauriunt liquores.
Durae mentis, iners, merumque rus est,
Si quem Basia non movent Secundi,
Et quos Dousa canit parente major
Coelo sidereos rotante cursus,
Et quae spicula Baudio vibrante
Non unum sibi destinant Lycamben,
Et quos dat numeros nihil vetustis
Cedens vatibus Heinsii Thalia.
At me (senti [...]) larga cum sequatur
Ʋini copia, frigidique fontes,
Heu Mufae fugiunt, Ʋenite quo [...]dam
[Page 215]
Dilecti latices: Nec esse crudum,
Nec contrà decet, ebrium Poetam.

Erycii Puteani De Cerevisia.

Posuissentque effera Turcae Corda,

Jubente Deo.

But you have done better, not to hazard your self upon such an occasion, and to be contented with the view of the frontitiers of a Country, wherein you would not have found many Libraryes. I am of opinion, there are but very few Turkes Rhetoricians or Philosophers: you would hardly have met with any solution of your doubts amongst a people that hold forth ignorance the fundamentall Article of their Religion. They take the most vulgar operations of the Mathematicks, for Magick, [Page 219] and believe Printing, and Clocks, inventions of the Devell. So that I extreamly approve your stay in Italy, and the desire you had to understand and observe the deportment of the most rationall People of the world. But why do not you speak of Rome as well as Ʋenice? Do you only esteem the Nephewes of Antenor, and make no account of the sons of Aeneas? I should think father Strada might merit as much your curiosity, as father Fulgentio; and you ought not to have slighted the Legitimate heir, or rather the very soul of Tacitus, to runne after the shadow and reliques of father Paul. You make no mention of the Court of the Princes Barbarini, though it is most certaine that all manner of vertue is wellcome to that Court, though it come from Hamborough or beyond the Elbe. The Muses are lodged in that Palace, and he whom you Gallants call Jupiter Capitolinus may justly adde to his titles of Most good and Most great, those of Most learned and Most generous. He speakes the Language of Oracles even when he do's not speak ex Tripode, and makes himselfe familiar with men. And it is possible, had you written that Elegy ad Romam, which you have written ad Venetias, the good Pope that understand, the making of verses might have return'd you an answer which is beyond the skill of the Duke —. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Oct. 1. 1640.

LETTER IIII. To Monsieur Rigault Councellour and Master of the Library to his Majesty.

SIR,

I Confesse my sinne but do not repent of it: I am the most vaine of all men Living; but how is it possible to be humble with all the glory that you give me. After such rich tokens of your amity and esteem? commendations bestowed by you, are in effect, something more glorious then Statues erected by a publique decree and carved by Phidias. When I consider with my self, it is the deare and last confident of the great President de Thou, who is also my intimate and perfect friend, you can not believe what advantage I draw from the meere imagination of so illustrious a society. As often as I think that it is a Patriot of old Rome, and a Christian of the Primitive Church which whom I converse, I fancy my selfe immediately transported [Page 220] back into former ages, and am sometimes become companion to the Sulpitii or Scevolaes, and at other times to the Tertullians and Cyprians. That which you have sent me to confirme my opinion of one of those good fathers, is most worthy both of you and him. And should he returne from the other world himselfe to give an account of his thoughts, he could not justifie them better. But because they may seeme somewhat harsh and strange, (at least to the nicety of women and ignorance of children) and appearing in French cast a generall fright on all unlatin'd people, I could wish you had taken the paines to transfuse them out of the vulgar tongue into the learned, and adde this new benefit to all the old favours which Tertullian ha's received from you. I could desire too, Sir, (but in the same manner as Brutus did) that you would give me the Christian which you once promised me. I meane that Christian of the Heroick times of Christianity, one of those gluttons of Fasts and Martyrdomes, as your African would have called them. I should be infinitely obliged to you, if you would please to dispatch this present to me, and if at the opening of a packet from Monsieur l'Huillier, I found but three leaves written with your hand, in the style and vigour of your Prefaces, with this inscription on the front, Rigaltii Christianus ad Balzacium. Permit that admirable Monsieur l'Huillier to importune you for it in my absence, and me to burden him with the solicitation of a businesse, that lies neerer my heart then you can imagine. Besides his own strength and power in perswasion, he shall be assisted, if it be necessary with the last part of my Apologies, to Menander, a volume of my Discourses, two volumes of Letters ad Atticum, and some other such Records (that is the only word of Barretry I am Master of) that shall all combine to demand the like debt from you. When you have payed it, we will talk more civilly. It shall then be a benefit or a favour, and I shall be glad to be yet more firmely then I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Nov. 27. 1644.

[Page 221]

LETTER V. To Monsieur the Abbot of Guyet.

SIR,

YOu entreat me a great benefit to my self when you desire my company. I understand what advantage a man that has but good ears may gain by it, and I should have a soul too stubborn and flinty, if it would not be mollified by the remonstrances you use to me. Though I am one of the most rigid Anchorites that live in the Desart, I must confess, you have shook the firmness of my vow, and the society of one of your merit is a violent temptation to encline me to Apostacy. A solitary life has indeed its charmes and delights: But who can chuse but grow lean, when he is brought to that pass as he has no aliment but his own juyce? And how commendable soever the commerce with books be, yet every thing considered, is it not an unburying of the dead, and oftentimes a descending into their Sepulchres by deep and melancholy meditation? A man had almost as good work in the mines. He runs the same fortune, and hazard, and brings back no better a countenance, nor eyes less sunck in his head. They are living books that illuminate the mind, without prejudice to the sight, and you are Sir, one of those excellent and agreeable books. What delight then is in such volumes as can answer and reply! they save the labour of scrutiny and choice, by presenting things pure and simple: they have something of more power and life then reading can possibly be capable of. And though your three great favourites, Terence, Horace, and Ʋirgil, be my ancient inclinations too, yet I confess I never accounted them such honest fellows as when I heard them speak out of your mouth. But what shall I say of the incomparable things I have heard from your self? What Oracles have you deliver'd in my presence: or to speak more plainly, what admirable verses have I seen you make and recite? By your favour I once had them among my papers, and should have kept them still, if some curious hand had not pilladg'd my Cabinet. Be pleas'd to make me a second present of them, if you desire to have me believe my own not displeasing to you. Let Monsieur Menage prevaile with you; and I shall know you esteem me in earnest if you send me your Gold for my Copper. After so many famous Wits, once in my life I ma [...]e use of the fable of Glancus and [Page 222] Diomedes; but besides this, I do not offer you any thing fabulous. My protestations are not Poeticall, and I profess a sincere truth, when I assure you, that I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Oct. 28. 1644.

SIR,

I Found a strange alteration of ease and recovery upon the receite of your Packet, and I cannot contain from proclaiming the miracle in the beginning of my Letter. Your Cinna restores health to the sick: He causes the Paralytick to clap his hands, and gives speech to the Dumb, much more to a Rheumatick. I had indeed lost my speech with my voice, and being repossess'd of both, by the vertue of what you sent me, it is just that I employ them to your glory, and publishing the soverainty of the remedy. Yet you fear you are one of those, that are over charged with the Majesty of the subjects, whereof they treat, and you are not satisfi'd that you have brought strength enough for the support of the Roman Grandeur. This modesty does more please then perswade me, and I am bound to oppose it on the behalfe of truth. You are too nice an examiner of a composition that has been called excellent by the publick voyce; and though it were true, that you had discover'd a little disparity of weakness in some part of it, yet this ought to be a secret between your Muses and your self, since I am confident it would be for ever imperceptible by any other. The weakness should be rather charged on our expression and [Page 224] the incapacity of our language, then your conceit, and the defect imputed to the inconcinnity of the instruments, not to want of skill in the Artist. You have shewn us as much of Rome as is possible to be seen at Paris without any prejudice by the removall. It is not a Rome of Cassiodorus, forlorne and —as it was in the age of the Theodorus. 'Tis a Rome of Titus Livius, and as magnificent and pompous as it was in the time of the first Caesars. You have even found that which she had lost in the ruines of the Common-wealth, her noble and magnanimous fierceness. We meet with some tolerable translators of her language and expressions, but you are the true and faithfull Interpreter of her spirit and courage. I proceed yet higher, Sir, and tell you, that I know you are many times her Tutour, and admonish her of decorum when she has forgotten it. You are the reformer of Antiquity, where it wants either Ornament or support. In those places where Rome was but of brick, you rebuild her with Marble; wherever you find a void interstice, you fill it up with a Master-piece; and I have observ'd that what you supply to the History, of your own, is ever transcendent to that which you borrow from it. The wife of Horatius and the Mistress of Cinna, which are two daughters of yours and purely creatures of your brain, what are they less then the principall Ornaments of your two Poems? Is there any thing of the production of good antiquity in the weaker sexe, that is comparably vigorous and strong to these late Heroesses, which you have brought into the World; to these Roman Dames of your begetting? After a fornights time, I am not satisfied with surveying the perfections of her that came hither last. I have astonish'd all the Wits of our Province with the sight of her. Our Oratours and our Poets speak wonders of her. But a Doctour of my Neighbourhood, who is ordinarily upon the high strain, speaks of her indeed after a strange manner. The first day he was contented to say that your Aemilia was the Rival of Cat [...] and Brutus in their zeal of Liberty, But now he goes far higher. Sometimes he swears she is possess'd with the Genius of the Common-wealth, and at other times calls her the faire, reasonable, holy, and adorable Fury. These are strange words indeed, concerning your Roman Virago, but yet they are not destitute of reason, and foundation. She do's in effect inspire the whole Conspiracy, and diffuses heat to the party by the Fire which she [Page 225] raises in the breast of their Generall. She endeavours to interest all the World in her revenge? and would make a sacrifice to her Father, which were too great for Jupiter himself. She is in my opinion a person so excellent, that I think I speak not too much to her advantage, when I say that you are more happy in your issue then Pompey was in his, and that your daughter Aemilia, is without comparison of greater worth then his Grand-Child Cinna. If he had more vertue then Seneca could imagine, it is because he fell into your hands and had the benefit of your care. He is oblig'd to You for his merit, as to Augustus for his dignity. The Emperour made him Consul and you have rendred him an honest man. This you have effected by the Rules of an Art that adornes and refines truth; that allows favour in imitation, and that sometimes proposes to it self the apparent and sometimes the true good. I shall say too much if I adde any more. I will not begin a Dissertation but end a Letter, and conclude with the usuall protestations but most sincere and true, that I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 17. 1643.

LETTER X. To Monsieur Costar.

SIR,

YOu write me strange news concerning the Doctour that is fallen into disgrace for having spoken too liberally of Grace. Certainly your Theologues are men of no ordinary temper, since they speak of the affaires of heaven as if they were Councellours of state in that Kingdome, and declare the secrets of Jesus Christ as freely, as if they were his Confidents.

They conceive their news as certain, and deliver it as affirmatively, as if they had not only slept in his bosome with St. JOHN. But even as if they had watch't in his heart and soul, and there were none of his intentions hid from their knowledges. Do you not think there is laughing enough at their brawls and contests; and that the Church Triumphant is offended at them. For my part, I conceive the modesty and discretion of our ignorance would be more pleasing to God then the presumption and insolence of our Doctrine; and that he better approves of a peaceable silence, and contentedness, [Page 226] then of a warre of bitter words in which it is very difficult to save our charity. You remember that Ode of Ronsard, which Galandius once esteem'd worth the Dutchy of Milan, the beginning of which is,

Errant par les Champs de la Grace

Qui penit mes Ʋers de ses Couleurs.

A person, which you know, tells me, that unlesse Monsieur the Coadjutour redouble his prohibitions, it is to be fear'd there will be store of these Errants, and that Grace will make Bedlams of more then one of these subtill disputers, who examine the question with too much curiosity. I approve your not declaring your self on either part, and the Neutrality which you resolve to hold to, notwithstanding, the person you know, cryes as farre as he can see you, that media via nulla via est, quae neque amicos parit neque inimicos tollit. But yet I must tell you, that this Neutrality which I consent to, must not be altogether dumbe, and that I consent not to it, saving upon condition, that you give an account of it to the Publick, and justifie it by a large and eloquent Manifesto. The Cavalier, which your Letter mentions thought to have been the bearer of mine, and to have had time enough, to keep his Court with you at Paris before the beginning of the Campagne. But here arriv'd a Messenger to tell him that his Brigade was commanded to — and so he is necessitated to depart hence directly thither. He would have been glad to have entertain'd you with some newes of me, and not unwilling to have seen the faire St. Germans. Neverthelesse in this last unhappinesse, his comfort is that he goes to serve under a Prince, that performes things of greater admiration and excellency, &c. — I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

March. 2. 1645.

LETTER XI. To the same.

SIR,

THe book which you have sent me from Monsieur Scarron, is a present very acceptable to me, and which I have reason to prize at no meane rate. At the first perusall it served me for Physick and reliev'd me from a fit of the spleen, which had quite overcome me, if that had not come timely to my succour. [Page 227] I hope it will effect much more upon frequent application. Possibly it may cure me of my seriou [...] pensivenesse and my melancholy Philosophy; and I shall learne to turne Chancery Bills and Processes into rime, and become buxome by contagion. He is indeed an admirable Infirme. He enjoyes something that is better then health, I meane dull and materiall health, for you know the Arabians describe joy to be the flower and spirit of a quick and active health. Since you are desirous to know the severall thoughts which I have had of this infirme, and require a particular Chapter of them, I tell you, Sir, that he is a man either the g eatest dissembler, or most patient and constant in the world. I look upon him as one that beares witnesse against the tenderness of mankind, or else paine treats him with more courtesie then she does other mortalls: It may seem the Tormentour ha's conspir'd to flatter the patient. When I see him laugh in the middle of his paines and tortures, I cannot but think the disease do's rather tickle then pierce and pinch him. In a word, I affirme, that the Prometheus, the Hercules, and the Philoctetes of Poetry, not to mention the Job of Truth, did utter high expressions in the violence of their torments, but never jocund and pleasant. And that in severall places of Antiquity I have met with constant, modest, yea and wise griefes too, but never any that were merry and blithe but this; nor was there ever before heard of a soul that could dance the Saraband and the Matachines in a Paralyticall body. Such an eminent prodigy deserves the consideration of inquisitive Philosophers. History must not forget it, and if I had a fancy to be an Historian, as I am an Historiographer, I would record it for none of the least miracles of our times, which have not been unfruitfull in the production of great ones. 'Tis not my designe to diminish the glory of the dead, with whom I have had some friendship too. But there are different degrees of glory; and though the quality of Apostle be a Title not a little considerable in a Christian family, yet it must be acknowledged, that the Marty [...]dome of the Son has somewhat more rare in it then the Apostleship of the father. What thoughts would your Seneca have had concerning him, who sometimes took so much pleasure in treating of the like subjects, and so often sought occasions to do it. Is it not true, that that rough and haughty vertue, which he ha's so much commended, & which vaunted it could be at ease in the Bull of Phalaris, and say all was well, was, but the bare shadow [Page 228] of this vertue, so sweet and humble, that can put in practice the Paradoxes of the other, and yet boast of nothing at all. Let us conclude therefore in honour of the Queen's infirme that there is either Extasie or Possession in his Malady, and that the soul do's her affaires apart, without being concern'd in the matter. Or else that he ha's an extraordinary courage and vigour, and that the soul wrastles with the body with all the advantages the greatest strength can have over the greatest debility.

Aut caleste aliquid, Costarde, Astrísque propinquum
Morbus hic est, superóque trahit de lumine lucem;
Aut servant immota suum Bona vera serenum,
Státque super varias virtus iliaesa ruinas.
Post tot saecla igitur tandem, gens Stoica, Regem
Cerne tuum: Fasces tenero submittite vati
Sublimes tragicíque Sophi, Zenonia proles;
Nec pudeat decreta humili postponere socco
Grandia, & ampullas verborum, & nomen Honesti
Magnificum, ac veras audire in carmine voces.
Scarro aeger, Scarro infando data praeda dolori,
Non Fatum crudele, Jovem non clamat iniquum;
Jratis parcit superis, sortique malignae,
Et patitur saevos invictâ mente labores,
Jucundúmque effert dira inter spicula vultum.
Nec simulata gerit, personam indutus honestam,
Ʋel mistâ ridet, veluti Mezentius, irâ;
Sed purum, & sine fraude & laxis ridet habenis.
Dicam iterum, neque sat semel est dixisse triumphos,
Qui laeta, ingeniosa, aegro de pectore promit;
Qui ludit Caeum, Enceladum, vastumque Typhoea,
Terrigenásque alios, festivo carmine fratres:
Qui sedeat licét aeternùm, mirabile dictu,
Perpetuas agitat Pindi per amaena choreas;
Proximus ille Polo, Fortunâque altior omni,
Scarro meus, mihi namque tuum, Costarde, dedisti,
Magnus erit Rex ille sui, quem prisca coronet
Porticus, & rigidi vox imperiosa Cleanthae,
Ni seclo invideat nostro rigidúsque Cleanthes,
Priscaque Dijs Divûmque Patri se porticus aequans.

I know not whether the miscellany of this Chapter will [Page 229] Please you. But I will take care at least, that it do not offend you with its length. Therefore I give you the Good-night, and rest unfainedly,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 1. 1645.

LETTER XII. To Monsieur Grandillaud, President in the Presidiall Court of Angoulesme.

Sir, My deare Cousen,

EIther I have no judgment in handsome things, or those which you shewed me are such in perfection. But the bare sight of beauty is not satisfactory; I must obtain the enjoyment. Therefore be pleased to remember your engagement and give me the possession at my ease and with a true and full pleasure of that, which in passing before my eyes hath only inflamed my desires and disturbed my quiet. It is great pitty, and I am infinitely sensible of the losse, that an Eloquence I dare terme soveraigne and which would do honour to Paris, should be bounded in the precincts of an inferiour Court, and have no larger Sphere then a little corner of this great Kingdome. One of the Antients would have termed this the putting of a Pilot into a Cock boate; and another would have said, it was to shew a treasure in a place where it could not be seen. As for me, I only confirme what I have already said, and remaine in expectance of the effect of your promise,

Sir, My deare Cousen.

Your, &c.

Jan. 3. 1645.

LETTER XIIII. To Monsieur d'Argenson, Counsellour to the King and Intendant of Justice in Saintonge.

SIR,

I Am determin'd to forbeare my importunate caresses, and will no more offend you with stroking and embraces. Since your vertue is so delicate as not to endure the perfumes and flowers which it merits, it is necessary to comply with the strangenesse of your humour, and you must be obeyd though it be with injustice. So that you shall neither receive incense or Chaplets from my hand; notwithstanding I cannot passe it, [Page 230] without protesting against the violence which you do me. I will complaine of the losse of my liberty, and informe the world, that 'tis no fault of mine that I am not just. I am perfectly so, Sir, as farre as the will and endeavours. Your jurisdiction do's not extend to the secrets of my heart, and you cannot hinder the devotion of my soul, although you do with so much severity prohibite me the ceremonies and outward worship. I question not but you will find my expressions very high, when you are the subject, which yet do not seem such to me. My words, I conceive, may be drawn from holy things without offending Religion; and your verses being related to it, I look on it as a piece of divine service to read them. Since the Muses which supply you with such excellent inventions are not false Deities, the honour which is given them goes directly to Heaven; and we adore the inspirer of Prophets and Sybills, when we admire a Poet so chast and pure as you. Be pleas'd to admit this truth, which is compatible with their modesty, and represents you some shadow of my intention. If you would allow me to display it, what should I not say of the early atchievements which I have seen, and of that prudent and grave youth, which reproaches my gray haires? But the orders which I have receiv'd from you are of too strict a tenour, and you will be so punctually obey'd, that I cannot so much as publish your Elogium in Epitome. All I can do in a person so commendable, and that is offended with the effects of his vertue, is, to esteem him perfectly in my heart, and to be, as I am with all my soul,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Jan. 5. 1646.

LETTER XIIII. To Monsieur Colletet.

SIR,

I Am at a losse, what language I should use to please you in commendation of your self and your works. Great titles have been profan'd by being conferr'd on undeserving persons, which they have obtain'd and still weare out of a frollick of fortune. Excellent, Admirable, and Incomparable, are termes of every day; and if I should treat you with the Epithet of Divine, I should only give you the relicks of Rossett [...] and Mailles, [Page 231] who have been saluted in that manner by poorer Poets then themselves. I have determin'd at length to seek out no new termes at all to expresse you my ancient passion, and the esteem I have ever had of your person and productions. I will content my self to read them so often, as to be able to give you account of every verse; and to tell you, that this tickled me with delight, and the acuteness of that touch'd me to the quick, I was wholly transported by another, and such a whole scene charm'd me. You may perceive I have no need of Bellerose to enflame me, and they receive applauses at a hundred leagues distance from the Theater. Yet I do not deny but the voice and good action have life in them. You know what the rivall of Demosthenes said in that particular, and if I had been present at the representation of the piece which I have read, there is no question, but I should have made my selfe hoarse with the violence of exclaiming, Euge, Bellé, &c. My admiration is more calme upon my paper, though not lesse true; and I am as really, Sir, though without much noise of complements,

Your, &c.

Jan. 5. 1641.

LETTER XV.

SIR,

I Have a great designe of making you a magnificent acknowlegdment; and such as might be answerable to the civilities of your Letter, and according to the degree you have plac'd me in amongst the Latine Poets, with that too favourable,

— Tibi carmine ab omni
Cedetur jurique tuo Natura relinquet
Quis vatum esse velis.

But what hopes is there in contesting with you in point of generosity and gallantry who are then at Roane, when you are no longer at Paris, that is, who change one Court for another, and never go out of the great world? So that I shall only tell you, that without pretensions to the glory of which your Letter ha's pretended me, I receive very much honour from the four termes of warre which you bestow on me; and from the first as well as the other three. Although the style of Statius be not that, to which I would frame mine, yet his straine is none of those whose imitation I account vitious. I am not so [Page 232] delicate as those Gallants on the other side the mountaines, and I have alwayes blam'd the Capricio of that Ʋenetian Gentleman, who to ingratiate with Virgil, burn'd the woods which he had compos'd in his youth, because they were sprung from the Nursery of Statius. He would not have Posterity ignorant of his bad humour, and ha's therefore preserv'd the memory of it, in an Epigram which begins thus,

Has, vulcane, dicat Sylvas tibi villicus Aymon
Tu sacris illas ignibus ure, Pater.
Crescebant ducta è Statî propagine Sylvis,
Jamque erat ipsa bonis frugibus umbra nocens.

Perhaps that which was an effect of cruelty in this Gentleman of Ʋenice would be in me an act of justice, if I condemn'd my verses to the fame fate that he did his. And indeed I am so doubtfull of their goodness, that unless our Master, Monsieur Menage sweare to me that my apprehension is ill grounded, and after that confirme his Oath by the testimony of our other Masters, Monsieur Bourbon, Monsieur the Ambassadour of Sweden, I shall have a beliefe that you and he do only abuse me with your applauses. I shall imagine that you have a designe to make your selfe sport with the gibberish of a Country versifier.

Qui linguam violare Remi temerarius audet,
Somniat & Thuscum Tiberim & Saturnia Regna,
Accola Santonici Oceani; viridisque Carentae
Potator, procul à doctis, vetus exul, amicis.

However it be, there is no sort of pastime but may be allow'd in the Common-wealth of good Letters, to two persons which have deserv'd so well of it, as you and Monsieur Menage. And as to matter of raillery, it is no great hurt to suffer somewhat from the Historian of Mamurra and the father of the stage. I would signifie by this last word, that you may be Aristophanes when you please, as you are already Sophocles, but I should never be offended with your mirth. The warre which you make upon me, instead of hurting me shall afford me divertisement. You cannot be otherwise to me then a gentle and agreeable Persecutour; nor my self, though ill treated by you, any other then,

SIR,

Your, &c,

[Page 233]

LETTER XVI. To Monsieur le Prieur Pacquet.

SIR,

YOu have given life to me, as well by the great care you have taken of Monsieur Costar, as the good newes you have signified to me of his recovery. I beseech God it may have a long and faire continuance and that the losse, which we were in feare of, do not happen but to our Nephews.

May I ne're know Thyrsis ha's ceas'd to be:

Heaven keep that day for our Posterity!

But you must contribute your part to the favour of the Stars. Preserve us I entreat you our treasure, and be not weary of a fervice which I envy you. It is so noble and so glorious that the Muses and the Graces themselves would not disdaine your office. Without question they would alwayes write, if Monsieur Costar would alwayes dictate to them. I recommend him to you once more and remaine,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Feb. 1. 1642.

LETTER XVII. To my Lord Sequier, Chancellour of France.

My Lord,

I Have heard you would not permit the publication of a book, newly made against me, though the harme I had thence received had been small. My obligements to you for the favour cannot but be great; it being a very particular care you have for the quiet of my life, not to suffer the least noise to disturbe it. I know not, my Lord, whether you may not seem to have treated with too much delicacy, one who makes profession of Philosophy. It is enough the publique authority shelters me from the tempest without defending me from the wind and dust; and that it protects my hermitage from the violence of salvage beasts without beating off the flyes, and other importunate Insects from me. But, my Lord, the goodness you have for me goes beyond the limits of ordinary justice: you would not only I should enjoy a calme repose, amidst the agitations of all Europe, but were farther willing the world should have some respect for my retiredness, and that being eloigned from [Page 234] the society of men I should be placed without the reach of detraction. And yet it pursued St. Jerome even to the Grott [...] of Bethelem, and to the foot of our Saviours cradle, it even there found him out, though, as himself tells us, he endeavour'd to lye hid; if that insolent had no consideration for so admirable a sanctity, nor for a place guarded by Angells, no wonder a vulgar innocence, retired into a village ill fortified, should not find a very favourable entertainment. But to passe from the purity of manners to the high qualities and endowments of the soul, if from time to time there have been bold revolts against the heads of Arts and disciplines, and if within the memory of our fathers, it hath publiquely been said at Paris, that Aristotle was a bad Sophister, I think my self civilly used in that place that they content themselves to call me a bad writer, that grand Blasphemer of the name of Aristotle, as well by his penne as by his tongue, was (as you know) Peter Ramus, who though of our Religion, pass'd for an Hugue not in the Massacre, and dyed the death of the Rebells and the Factious: in effect some have thought, God permitted it by a just judgment and that the tutela [...]y Angell of Learning took the colour of the cause of faith to revenge the injury by him done to reason. There is this day living in Germany a tyrant Grammarian, an enemy of universall truths, an accuser of Cicero, who not long since hath printed his Animadversions, wherein he is so impudent as to arraigne his judge, and to dispute the praecedence of the Prince of Latine Antiquity: insomuch, My Lord, that the consent of all Mankind, confirmed by a possession of eighteen ages, is not Title sound enough to secure the reputation of that Roman against the Pedantry of this Barbarian. If then it availes not vertue that she hath been consecrated by time, and crowned by the people to preserve her inviolate from the attempts of particular persons there is no shew of likelihood, I should move their compassion, amongst so many injured Hero's, or that I should have respect showne me, when Aristotle and Cicero are not in safety. An ordinary man ought not in justice to complaine, if he undergoeth the same destiny with extraordinary persons, neither would it be handsome in me to petition, you would reforme the world for my only interest. I know not, My Lord, but that this petty disorder may be of some use to the Common wealth; and it were to be wish'd that malice would alwayes amuse it self in things of so small concerne, to the end it might never intermeddle with affaires of greater moment. [Page 235] Those who have employed their talent, in perverting the sense of my words, and falsifying my works, had otherwise perhaps been busied in forging wills, and coyning money. And he who now only desires an Imprimatur from you for his book, had I not been, might have sued to you for a Reprieve, or Act of grace. 'Tis much better, injustice should spert it self with my books, then that it should have ought to do in civill society; 'tis much the lesser inconvenience, that injurious persons should transpose words, and alter periods, then that they should remove the Land-marks, and ruinate the houses of their Neighbours, it is, to say the truth, the most innocent imployment vice can have; and I do not think the Common-wealth a little beholden to me, that I have for these ten yeares set a-work a number of retchlesse idle fellowes who apparantly would have proved dangerous Citizens, if they had not chosen to be ridiculous Censurers: 'tis very well if the heat of their souls exhales this way; if their intemperance finds this vent; and that, to avoid their rage, their folly may be licensed, leave them then (my Lord) this exercise; they know not what to do with their time, and will employ it worse if you will not permit them to use it thus: suffer their turbulent youth to spend its fury upon an insensible subject, and to combat dead words which are neither capable of griefe nor joy, so long as they present themselves before you in no other quality then as Gladiators of the Penne, be not sparing of the Kings grace, and remit somewhat of your severity. If the thing were new to me, 'tis likely I should not find my self aggrieved that the first Pamphlet that libell'd me should be stopt in the presse, but now that there is already a faire Library of them got together, I am well content they should encrease and multiply and take pleasure to behold a goodly heap of stones which envy hath thrown without hurting me. The reproach of some persons is not resented by me as shamefull, because I esteem not their praise for honest. I do not trouble my self to go begging of voices or making Cabals, that I may be approved by all sorts of people. I have what I desire (my Lord) if I have your approbation; as that which proceeds from an un-erring principle, & an understanding perfectly cleare. God had indued you with a soveraigne judgment before the King had bequeathed his soveraigne justice into your hands, and you were all po [...]rfull in reason before you were so in authority. I will have no recourse to this latter, because I know the former is not altogether my [Page 236] enemy, and am more proud to have pleased you, then I should be satisfied should you have prescribed all my adversaries the advantagious discourses you have held with me upon diverse occasions, your Picture which you were pleased to give me last yeare as the gage of your affection, those rich works of yours which you have formerly made me partaker of, I meane those writings animated with the soul of State and full of the grandeur of your Master, which appear'd to me so transcendently above the force of the present age, and so worthy the Romane Majesty; in a word (my Lord) every moment of that happy afternoon I had the honour to passe with you in your Cabinet, are Priviledges for which I have dearer considerations, then for what you have denied to the Ape or Fantasme of Philarchus. I dare not mention what other obligements I have to you: in that particular you have injoyned me silence, with a beliefe your favours would go lesse, and receive alloy in their purity, should my acknowledgments waite upon them; 'tis not fit however, you should oblige me from having the intentions of an honest man, nor deprive me the liberty of gratefull thoughts. You have forbid the publication of my thanks, but have not impeach'd me from acquitting my selfe in the secret part of my devoire, or, at least from being in my soul alwayes,

My Lord,

Your, &c.

Oct. 30. 1636.

LETTER XVIII. To Monsieur Menage.

SIR,

I Have at length retriv'd the Letter, which was lost in the confusion of my Papers. I entreat you do me the favour to shew it to our father Bourbon, and tell him it was written by a Father much more ancient then he. Tell him moreover that this Father understood neither Greek nor Latin; but the late King Henry the Great had a good esteem of his French, his capacity and honesty. He even desir'd to have him neere him, and had he not been ty'd by affection to the service of a meaner Master, whom he would not quit for a greater, it is possible your friend might have been son to a Secretary of State.

Diis aliter visum, atque illi meliora dedêre,
Silvesque irriguosque hortos camposque patentes
Atque Aulae contemptum & nullis otia jussis

[Page 237]

You see that my Verses do confirme, what you told me in Prose of the tranquillity of my life and the beauties of my habitation. But although I could adde all the delights of the Golden Age to this quiet of the village; though I should dote, or, to speak more nobly, though I should meditate in an enchanted palace, which Ariosto had built with his own hands; in a word Sir, though my desart were as faire as your Language, it were not possible for me to be happy, if I were there without you. There is no felicity for me in the absence of two or three persons, whom I see no more; and I mark those dayes with black, which would otherwise be most pleasing and agreeable, were not my heart in another place. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

SIR,

MOnsieur Chaplain ha's inform'd me of your zealous goodnesse, and the heat which you testified in my little affaires. They are obl [...]gations of which I am infinitely sensible, and I consider them much more then all they can produce of [Page 241] profitable and advantagious to me. I have need of my pension [...] but I cannot l [...]ve without your friendship; and having assur'd me of the continuation of it in your last Letter, you have given me much more then I shall receive from the Exchequer. Yet I shall not make you a studied thanks for it, nor put my self to the trouble of providing Rhetorick to send th [...]ther whence it comes to us. You perceive the very bottome of my soul; and know that I preserve you in it with what is most precious and deare to me; with my Heroes and my Heroesses; my Masters and Mistresses, (if I have any.) It is a cleare fountaine, you need not doubt it, and is not at all soil'd with particular interest. Therefore, Sir, you may draw out the acknowledgment that is due to you: But withall, expect something from it wh [...]ch you have newly inspir'd me with, and I owe to the reading of your last work. The faire Ideas of our excell [...]nt reasonings which remaine still in my soul, have left a se [...]d and principle of beauty in it which hath already germinated some thing, that possibly w [...]ll not be displeasing to his Eminence. I do not designe to passe with him for a maker of Pan gyricks: But I can make it appeare to him in time and place, and in matters of historicall certainty that an honest man, of a good perswasion, can relate truth with no bad grace. And of this your self are an undeniable instance,

Tu, Silo, sacro Sophie quem Nectare pavit,
Qui pleno rerum pectore verba facis;
Qui cautas Regnandi artes, dubia omnia  [...]octus,
Terrarum dominos optima sola doces:
Nec falsum nec inane sonas, velut Aulica turba,
turba etiam ducibus plaudere sueta malis.
Hic quanquam haud aequo tua per vestigia passu,
Scilicet Ʋ  [...]be procul, sorte nec arte parem,
Me tamen & Rectum & Ʋeri secreta latentis,
Secura invidiae quaerere mente juvat.
Ʋeri diva potens Sophie, mihi Numinis instar,
Tu, Silo, auctores, vos sequor, este mei.

I did not think to conclude with Verses, but the first begat the rest, as chance made the first. I will not complaine of that chance, but rather call it my good fortune, if it ha's given me the meanes of expressing my meaning to you better, and represented me in a more noble manner, as I am perfectly,

SIR,

Your, &c.

19 Feb. 1644.

[Page 242]

SIR,

I Am devoted to your glory, that it does not trouble me to be poore, provided you have wherewith to exercise your liberality. Monsieur Chaplain gives me notice of half a shop that you are sending to me, and that there is need of a wagon for the conveyance. Certainly it will be enough to make me a great Doctour, if I be not wanting in capacity. I hope to make some profit of the long communication, that I shall have by your favour with Monsieur the Embassadour of Sweden, ‘Quem mea non totum Bibliotheca capit.’

I am much taken with his Hendecasyllables; wherein I have found the just straine that I sought for in that kind of Verse, which is they must be somewhat inferiour to the strength of the Heroick, and yet have nothing of effeminate, as some judge they ought, who enervate their sweetness even to softnesse. But, to tell you the free truth, the Elegiacks of our friend are quite another thing, and carry him from —. Otherwise, he is not the first that dislik'd the taste of Ale, and bestow'd Poeticall maledictions upon it. This false Bacchus ha's been curs'd long since, and disown'd for the true son of Jupiter. Do not you remember the Epigram of Julian the Emperour.

 [...].
 [...],
 [...].
 [...]
 [...].
 [...],
 [...].

IF I should tell you that your Laquay found me sick and your Letter cured me, I should be neither guilty of poeticall invention, nor oratoriall exaggeration, I should be a faithfull Historian, and render you a true account of what pass'd in my Chamber: You are not ignorant of the great opinion I have of the accomplishments and perfections of your soul; but perhaps you are to be informed that though you had no merit at all to compell me, yet I could not possibly forbear to love you. This affection of mine without question comes from above and the stars have some influence on it. I am sensible of a secret violence that constraines me, and it is most true that I never see or think of you, but I feel a kind of soft delight that tickles my soul. So that the favour you do me in rendring me happy is but justice, to my strong and constant affection. Since I find there is a necessity of loving, I am glad of my good fortune that I have a correlative in the knot which is a happiness I have sometimes wanted. I shall say no more concerning my self, who am proud of being your favourite, and come to speak somewhat of my papers, which receive no less glory from your esteem then I do from your goodness. It is no small matter to have pleas'd a person, who having none but sound passions, can relish no other but true pleasures. The Testimony of one that is cleer sighted ought to be prefer'd above the guesses and hear-sayes of the whole people of Blind men. Since you have wit and judgment in perfection there is none that can justly dispute the title of a Judge to you in the works of the mind, and that far before such Doctours as are remarkably [Page 251] defective in both, who employ knowledge against Reason, and accuse Aristotle of all their bad opinions. Yet your sentences are much to my advantage, and you are very liberall in your praises of my papers. And what boldnesse would it be to contradict a Gallant and a Philosopher together; it would certainly be rather rashness then modesty, and therefore I am with docility and respect,

SIR,

Your, &c

Aug. 24. 1646.

But, be pleas'd to remember, Sir, that there is another consideration, never to be violated, and that you have promis'd me to oppose the combination of the Grammarians against the Poets. Since I am an admirer of Monsieur Chaplain, I think Monsieur — would do well to be so too, and yet do himself no prejudice; and he will alwaies find more safety in believing us, you and me, then in relying on his own sense.

LETTER XXXI. To Monsieur Moricet, an Advocat in the Parliament.

SIR,

YOu are guilty of a great injury against your selfe in distasting the fruits of your labour, of which you ought in justice to be extreamly satisfi'd. They are rare and exquisite, and if you continue to feast me with them, I know not whether I shall not envy you the benefit you do me, and I be your friend enough, not to become jealous.

Non tamen invideo, miror magis, & tibi pulchram,
Haud aliena mihi est cum sit tua, gratulor artem,
Qua Seium Seiamque & me tuearis, Amice,
Si quis adhuc surgat Philarki ex ossibus hostis.

The Post of Friday brought me newes of our Monsieur de Peirarede, whose name is become so great that it ha's fill'd all Paris, and the Celtes begin to admire the Aquitanes. Or if you please to have it in another fashion, and in the phrase of a Poet, the God of the Seine is astonish'd to heare the singing of the Muses of Dordonne. For my part, I am wholly ravish'd with their last composition; and if blessed souls could be recall'd with the charmes of excellent verse, I do not question but that of the Duke of Brezê would descend from Heaven at the hearing of these,

[Page 252]Tu Nube serena
Stellato fulgens apice, & radianto coronâ,
Ad tua Sacra veni, quae multo Regia luctu
Concelebrat, sacríque Chori, sanctúsque Senatus, &c.
Aspice ut ipsa gemens, ingenti adfixa feretro,
Horridaque & laceris luget victoria pennis,
Quae quondam tua castra, tuas comitata triremes,
Hesperio toties mutas dum sanguine Pontum,
Deseruit tua signa semel: Nunc caedis acerbae
Invidiam lenire velit, fatisque malignis
Imputat, infandaeque excusat crimina cladis, &c.

Have you ever seen any thing more noble and more pathetick then this poore victory afflicted with the death of that brave Duke? What a sight it is to behold her with her robes torne, and her wings broken, doing pennance for the fault whereof she conceives her selfe guilty; to see her hanging and as it were nailed to that great Herse, which she bathes with her teares! she cannot be comforted for the misfortune arriv'd at Orbitello, and would readily lay the blame upon bad destiny, she, &c. But I containe my self, and you shall not know the rest unlesse you come to learne it here. I expect you some day of the following week, and am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Dec. 4. 1646.

LETTER XXXII. To Monsieur Girard Secretary to the late Duke of Espernon.

SIR,

I Send you the Stanza which sham'd my memory in our last conversation, and whereof I could repeat no more then the four first verses.

Che giova posseder cittadi & regni,
Et palagi habitar d'alto lavoro,
Et servi-intorno haver d'imperio degni,
Et l'archi gravi di molto tesoro;
Esser cantate da sublimi ingegni,
Di porpora vestir, mangiar in oro,
Et di bellezza pareigiar il sole,
Giacendo poi nel letto tutto fredde & sole?

YOur Letter of the sixth of the past month, gives me no new knowledge; it confirms me onely in my old opinions. You are alwaies the father of courtesies, and the common good of the whole world. But you are principally necessary to the learned world, and the Common wealth of good Letters. Were it not for you, the Oratours would be perpetually exclaiming in their Orations, against the Times and Manners; and the Poets would do nothing in their Verses, but curse Apollo and the Muses. The good offices which you do them with his Eminence, temper their bad humour, and give them thoughts less violent. So that, to consider things from their Originall, there is no Ode nor Panegyrick at this day, whereof you are not the first Authour; and Posterity will be oblig'd to you for all the Latin and French of our Age. But beside the Panegyrick and Ode—; &c. I beseech you in the meane time [Page 259] to secure the affaire; and since you know that times consumes things as it ripens them, continue me your care and diligence both for the one and for the other assignation. I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

LETTER XXXVIII. To the same.

SIR,

I Am astonish'd at the designe of Madam de Motteville concerning me. I did not imagine my name was known to so excellent a Person, and there was so muth goodness at Court as would oblige without importunity. As it is a favour above the common Standard; so my resentments must not be in an ordinary measure. But do not you counsell to depute that office to your most reverend Lordship? Since you know better how to set it off then I, and that she has been excit [...]d to a good action only by the inducement of her vertue, she will not refuse to continue that goodness at your intreaties, which are attended with the force of so much eloquence. Your last Verses seemed to me very excellent and naturall; but I have known long agoe, that you are none of those violents that take our Goddesses by force, quique in Parnassum irrumpunt diis hominibusque invitis. Were it not for you, the comparison of Cleopatra would be no longer in the world; which now cannot perish, being she finds her preservation in your memorie. The care you have taken of her is an evidence of her predestination, or if you would have me speak less Theologically, there is no appearance, that I should neglect that which is now more yours then mine, and which you judg'd worthy to be kept a long time in the Cabinet of excellent things, so I call your memory, Sir, &c. I am alwayes pe [...]fectly,

Decem. 26. 1644.

Your, &c.

LETTER XXXIX. To Monsieur Conrart, Councellour and Secretary to the King.

SIR,

MY melancholy corrupts the greatest pleasures of my life. I am unsatisfied with the sweetness of light, and nothing [Page 260] in the world would content me, if I had not two or three persons in it, that are to me instead of all. You are a part of this little world, which I esteem so dear; I have chosen you with the refusall of the Sun and the Court; and in the most gloomy and sad nights, only your Idea fram'd in my imagination gives me sensible comforts. Therefore what will not your Letters do, which are so sincere and amorous; and infinitely more your presence, which your Letters promise me? But there is no longer a Madam Desloges to invite you to the Village; and to hope such a visite but from the like attractive, is beyond the belief I have of my desert. Nevertheless, it is perhaps a designe of your goodness, and you have resolv'd to make me happy. If there needs no more but the good interval you speak of to bring me that felicity, I shall presently betake my self to my vows to the goddess of Health for it. I will compose her a Hymne, to obtain a months release from your Gout. And to speak my conscience, she will not more oblige me in restoring me the vigour of my first years, in giving me a second youth, yea in giving her self to me, then in granting me those thirty dayes of so dear a society. They would be dayes of which I should make benefit every moment, and would requite me for all the time I have lost amongst pretenders and false friends. My spirit which is corrupted by the neighbourhood of bad examples would be restored to purity by your excellent communication. You would purge me from all the errors of the people, and the defects of the Country. You would make me live in earnest. The life of the fortunate Islands or that of the Elysian fields; those which the Poets spin of Gold and Silke would be but low resemblances of it—. But I must repress my course. Poor men are never more sensible of, and more afflicted with their poverty, then when they have dream't of riches. I am to the utmost of my power, and without reserve,

SIR,

Your, &c,

Apr. 25. 1647.

FINIS.

[Page]

FAMILIAR LETTERS, OF M. de BALZAC, To M. CHAPELAIN.

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 August 1636.

[Page 9]

LETTER XII.

SIR,

THe discourse of this Country hath been no other for this month, but of the spirituall works of Monsieur Godeau. I can scarce believe that he has wholly forgotten me, and I think that fai [...]e present will at length be sent me. However it be, he hath too great an opinion of my patience, and will not treate me in manner of a person of a keene appetite. I am much more forward and diligent then he; for I send you this morning, that which I understood but last midnight you desir'd to see. You may know by Monsieur de la Hoguette that this Madam d'Anguitar is no ordinary person. She is extreamely admired by those that see her; and though she be but seldome visible, and allowes the greater part of her houres to none but her selfe; yet her rare merit justifies her from any ones exceptions at her solitary humour. She is a light that shunns the eyes of men and seekes obscurity. People speak not of her but by conjecture and divination. She meditates, she studyes, and enjoyes her selfe in her Cabinet; yet she cannot alwayes so well shut her doore, but fame finds an entry, and reportes us the tidings. That rambling goddesse repeates to us continually some pleasant things which she hath gathered from the mouth of this Sedentary divinity. Whereupon we make our benefit; and Monsieur De la Thibaudiere keeps the register. In a short time you shall see the Collection with his Commentaries. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30 August 1636.

LETTER XIII.

SIR,

YOur Letters are my sweetest consolations, and I receive none, from which I do not find good, eight dayes after. In your paquet I met with one of our banish'd friends, it had been unript and seal'd again before it came to your hands. It seemes if it had carried any matter of danger, and which smelt of the bad aire of Brussells from whence it came, they would not have been contented, to have onely open'd and reclos'd it. These curiosities are not at all commendable. But I desire no further light in this businesse, and you would disoblige me if my complaint come to any other eares. My proceedings have been misreported to you, nor have I stript me to my shirt, according [Page 10] to your information. Indeed I have changed the nature of that fortune that fell to me in partage, and received mony in lieu of land; but my revenue is not at all streightned thereby. The house which my father built, and would passe for magnificent at Paris, deserves to be r [...]tain'd; my brother is more capable of the care that it requires, then I; so he shall have the propriety, and I will partake of the accommodation with him. I am ravished with the esteem you make of the Letter, to Madam d'Anguitar, she hath caused copies of it to flie throughout all Guienne; and I am not able to make it any longer a secret. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 8 Septemb. 1636.

LETTER XIV.

SIR,

VVIll you never cease to be thus credulous to my prejudice? this is the second time that your easinesse has done me injury: I am wholly a stranger to that great and intimate friend you tell me of, and my memory does not afford me any representation or shadow of him; if I have ever seen him, I took no regard of him, it was either in a dream, or in a croud; or perhaps it was one day, that my sight was not well clear'd, and I brought no attention to the objects that passed before me. So it is, that whether I have forgotten this great and intimate friend, or never knew him, that his name never came into my memory, or immediately vanisht thence, I utterly renounce his friendship. You may please to know once for all, that the passion I have for you, is in no common measure, nor such as will permit me to be in neutrality. I am none of those sages, that love with so much reservednesse and circumspection. I approve sometimes of breaches, open declarations, and Ligues offensive and defensive. And if this person were not an incognito, but my own brother, that had attempted your mischief, I should never be induc'd to pardon him, unlesse it were onely at your intercession. I am,

SIR

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 Septemb. 1636.

[Page 11]

LETTER XV.

SIR,

YOu must indulge my humour, that I cannot at present be serious with you. The pleasant newes of your Letter hath transported me into such an excesse of jollity, that it is not in my power to refrain smiling. You tell me, you are received by favour, into the Academy of good wits, and I would fain understand, who received the good wits, that received you? upon what grnund is their authority established, and whence have they the approbation to be currant? What are those great personages, that have done this especiall grace to Monsieur Chapelain? from what new discovered Countries, are these extraordinary men arriv'd? who, that they may confer honour on Monsieur Chapelain, must needs be of somewhat more worth, then Monsieur the Cardinall of Perron, and than Monsieur the President de Thou? Tell me yet further, I beseech you, what is that you call, Director? and that which ******? What ever wonders you may relate me thereof, you will scarce perswade me, and I shall find a great deal of reluctancy, to adore the rising Sun you speak of. Some have given me intelligence of it, as of a fatall Comet, that threatens us, and a terrible thing, and of more dread, then the holy Inquisition. They write, that it is a tyranny, which must be establish't over all wits, and to which it is required, that all makers of Books should yield a blind obedience. If it be so, I am both a Rebell and a Heretick, and intend to list my self on the side of the Barbarians. This is a great word, but most true. You are the only person I can allow, to be soveraigne of my liberty. And if there be no means to live independent in the world, I entreat you, let me not be enforced to acknowledge, either in Verse or Prose, any other jurisdiction but yours. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 22 Septemb. 1636.

LETTER XVI.

SIR,

I Crave your pardon, for my over great credulity; forgive me, I beseech you, my fears and my alarms. I am in dread of all sort of yoaks, and Tyranny casts me into fear, even in the histories of Athens and Syracuse. I was ill informed of the nature of your Academy; without question, the picture that [Page 12] was sent me of it, was not drawn after the life. You have done me the kindnesse to undeceive me; and I well see, this new Society will be none of the least glories of the Kingdom of France; it will raise jealousie, and perhaps envy, in Italy. And if I have any skill in drawing a Horoscope, it will in a short space become the Oracle, of all civiliz'd Europe. I am glad that Monsieur the Keeper of the Seales, and Monsieur Servien, are admitted of it. But I should be also contented, that some others, which have been named to me, were not; or, at least, that they had no deliberative voice. It would be well, if they satisfied themselves with placing the chaires, and to open and shut the door. They might be of the Academy, but in the quality of Beadles or lay-Fryers: It were necessary, that they made up a part of your body, as the Ushers are part of the Parliament. But it may be, I am mistaken in my latter newes, and they which were mentioned to me, have not received the honour that is reported; it is probable, you know better how to choose. By all means I desire, that there may be two Orders of Academicians, and that you remember at your first sitting, to separate the Patricians from the People. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30 Septemb. 1636.

LETTER XVII.

SIR,

I Have received your Letter of the twentieth of this Month, and bestowed the same caresles on it, that I us'd to the former; I kiss'd it, as I read it, which is not a ceremony without example; the Cardinal Barronius performed that reverence to all those he received from the Cardinal of Perron. Having perus'd it, and done my devotions to it, I treasur'd it up in my Cabinet. Concerning that other, which I [...]rit to that poor Gentleman that is slain, 'tis glory to me, that the Prince does not dislike it. But all the glory in the world has not charmes enough, to cause me to forget the losse I suffer of that person so dear unto me. When he forsook Paris to run unto Death, which awaited him before Mastricht; he came to take his horse at my lodging, where we parted with tears and sorrow: Between us there was a sworn friendship, of the heroicall ages; and we intended to out-do Orestes and Pylades. That which I have written of him, and you so highly prize, must be no more, then the preface of our History. What would [Page 13] you then have said, of entire Volumes, and I know not how many Decades I had design'd him, if his courage, which was his ruine, had allowed me leasure to compose them? Thus we propose mighty enterprises upon Earth, and are great undertakers:

Mais dans le Ciel on se moque de nous,

Preschoit, un jour, reverend Pere Arnoux.

But, as of old the reverend Arnauld taught,

Heaven scorns our plots, and brings our hopes to naught.

I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 Octob. 1636.

LETTER XVIII.

SIR,

I Am extreamly satisfied with your Letter, and as much astonished at the request which was made me, by our friend of Languedoc; not but that I do very readily accord it to him, but for that I am of the opinion of that honest man of old, who said, He had rather have an outrage done him, then an injury offered to his reason. I never heard of so pleasant a scruple; and if I did believe him the Author of it, I should suffer my self to abate somewhat, of the esteem I have of him. But I understand, by what head these pretty difficulties are brought forth, and therefore shall discover no further to you. Though the word of illustrious Stripling, or of illustrious young man, or illustrious youth, may afford matter of railery; you know, 'tis a condition of mirth, not to be apprehended as offensive; as for instance: The appellation of Salapusium disertum, did not put the Oratour Calvus into choler; and lepidissimus homuncio, was not displeasing to the Poet Horace: So that if our friend is jealous, lest the name of illustrious Youth should stick upon him, he fears what he should rather desire, and which a Roman would have received as a great piece of honour. Perhaps he never heard of those grandes praetextati, the Scholars of Cicero: They were of greater age then he, they commanded Armies, and were Consuls at the same time; and after all this, did not account it an affront, to be treated as young men. But what will he say, when he shall see in the divine Jerusalem, that Rinaldo is in divers places called Youth, [Page 14] and even without the additions of brave, valiant, or illustrious. Such men as are illustrious, owe a great part of their glory to time; but illustrious youths are indebted, for neere all theirs. By consequence, those two sorts of glories, are much different, and one is fairer then the other; The glory of youth is a light, as it were, proper and naturall to it, and which it seems rather to produce, then receive; the glory of riper age, is a light fetcht from abroad, either gotten or borrowed, which arises more out of exploits and actions, then from the person; and hath greater advantage by the length of life, then the noblenesse of the subject. But without further Philosophizing glory, it is necessary to comply with the fancies of Languedoc, and to deal with the world according to its humour. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 14 Octob, 1636.

LETTER XIX.

SIR,

MY words are not so dear to me, but that I freely bestow them on you, to deal with them as you please; and my Stationer is not so ignorant of my affection, but that he might have obeyed you, without expecting my answer; you have therefore us'd your power over me, with too much moderation. There was no necessity, to cause the dispatch of an Order six score leagues, for an affair, which you might have determined upon the place, and whereto I should have readily yielded my allowance. Since you have not done it, but spared to exercise your right, I now send you my consent, together with a declaration to you, that my will shall ever be conformable to yours, although it may happen, there may be some contrariety in our opinions. Neverthelesse, I cannot perswade my self, that the scruple you propound me, is your own, or Monsieur Chapelain's, since you are both wise with sobriety, according to the precept of the Apostle. It must needs be issued from some head of those Refiners, whose faculty lies in the destruction of things, already finish'd, and are good onely to raise difficulties, after resolutions are concluded. If it were otherwise, and you the author of this subtlety, I believe, I should have known your intention two months since, and you received satisfaction. But there is no ground of likelyhood for this, nor to accuse you, as the enemy of your Spring, and its Roses. I do not imagine, that you pretend to old age, and that [Page 15] your actions being infinitely fair, you would defalk the moity of their beauty, and your glory, which has appeared to great advantage, for that you perform'd them in the earlinesse of your youth. The number of illustrious men is far greater, then that of illustrious youths; and Caesar wept, because he was not illustrious till his manhood. Valerius Corvinus was called Adolescens, after he had been Consul; and Scipio and Pompey, after they had triumph'd. Yet none of them misliked the raillery of the people of Rome, or complained, of being treated as young men. Virgil did not think he should offend the victorious Augustus, when he tearm'd him, as I you:

Hunc saltem everso Juvenem succurrere sêclo,

Nè prohibete —

SIR,

THe Letter I sent you in favour of Roscius, is not compos'd of a style sutable to the gust of our severe friend. But I considered in what manner Cicero us'd to deal with the Roscius of his time. I remember, I have seen this treated by Monsieur the Cardinall de la Valette, and other great Lords of the Court, as a person of honour. Can it be desired, that Philosophy should be more stately, and disdainfull then Greatness? One action of civilitie which draws not to a consequence, is different from a prostitution every day, to which I am not inclin'd to abandon my selfe. Onely for the future, it is requisite that my Complements be somewhat more rare. The greatest part of my correspondents write me Letters to no other purpose, but to shew the answers; and so I am made the Martyr of their vanitie, and that troublesome reputation which you and my other good friends have bestowed upon me. Let us seek out a remedy for this evill, and take leave of the World once for all. At least let us make a Truce withall the Wits for twenty yeares, [Page 23] and repose our selves during that space. O happy rest! in what part of the world dwellest thou? and when shall I finde thee? I desire not but this onely thing, though I have need of very many other. I wish neither applause, nor praise, nor glory, nor fortunes, nor dignities. Quid concupiscam quaeris ergo? Dormire. I am,

SIR,

SIR,

ALl the glory of this Province is departed with the Marquess of Montaufier. He had begun to civilize our Barbarie, and to bring Angoulesme into repute. But it is not for us to expect that happinesse, which the Court cannot enjoy, but by the way, when his honour calls him otherwhere abroad. Being born, as he is, for military action, he has no inclination to be detain'd in Closets, when his service is necessary in the Campagne. He is, in truth, a Cavelier whom I esteem infinitely; yet if by mishap, I have not sufficiently perswaded him of the height of that esteem; I beseech you to confirm the truth of it by the power of your eloquence, and give him better information then I could imagine. There came lately to my hand, a Letter from our friend, who was heretofore onely an Abbot by his name. He certifies me, that, at length, the event hath succeeded the Prognostick, and he is become as reall and essentiall an Abbot, as the Abbot of St. Denys, or as he of St. Gall, of whom the Gazetts make so frequent mention. It is sit we express to him our joy of that news by the next convenience. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac. 7 March, 1637.

[Page 29]

LET. VIII.

SIR,

IF some affairs had not diverted me, you should, eight dayes ago, have received, what this Courtier delivers you. There are about five and twenty Letters in all, whereof the ten last please me better, then the other; not, for that they have any preheminence of goodnesse, but because the matter more neerly touches my heart; and I have great impatiency, that the world should know, in what degree I esteem your friendship, and reverence your vertue. You have absolute power over the whole collection, and may at your discretion, retrench entire Lines and Periods. But, I reserve, with your favour, this small parcell to my self, which if your modesty should induce you to diminish in the least, I immediately forbid the impression, and declare to honest Camusat, that I have nothing to do with him. Sans plus is an Italian idiotism, without question; but it is also French, and very frequently us'd by the Cardinall of Perron. Besides, having no harshnesse to offend delicate ears, I may think I have name enough, to introduce the usage of it my self. Trop plus, and Trop mieux, which are often in the same Cardinal's writings, are tearms which I leave to himself, without ever being liquorish after them, they seem to be of so bad a relish. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 17 March, 1637.

LET. IX.

SIR,

I Cannot but admire the industry, you are pleased to bestow on a work, that deserves it so little. This piece is nothing, but the Van-currier, to the Grosse of my other compositions. And I am in fear, this paper of Satin, and the Characters, dropt down from Heaven, will not be suitably employed to their worth. 'Tis yet to engage you to a further obligation. But howsoever, though I performed nothing more, then to give the world a promise, of your Maid of Orleans, and that my Book serv'd onely, to give the world notice of your Poem; I think, it would finde no bad entertainment; and the good tidings it brought, would render it agreeable to the curiosity of the ingenious. I am loth to tell you, what you must of necessity know, that having turn'd over a huge mountain of Papers, [Page 30] and made exact search in all my Magazines, it is impossible to find that Piece I promised you: Without dispute, it has either been pillaged from me, by some curious hand, or s [...]me despightfull devill conceales it. I cannot make you sensible, how much I apprehend the losse of that thing I intended should be yours. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 25 May, 1637.

LET. X.

SIR,

I Perceive idlenesse is a better Catholick then diligence. I solemnise holy Festivalls with more devotion than you; and you are not likely to receive Letters from me, dared upon Whitsunday, as I have one of yours. I acknowledge, modesty is the most amiable thing in the world; and because it is peculiarly the vertue of Virgins, you will not suffer the defect of it in yours of Orleans. Yet there is a magnanimous pride, of which Philosophy does not disapprove, and Aristotle relates wonders in his Ethicks. If I have promised high matters of you, your performance will yet transcend my engagements. I do not fear being questioned by the Publick, and reproached for false information. To be surety for Croesus is not lesse hazardous, then to be responsible for Monsieur Chapelain. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 April, 1637.

LET. XI.

SIR,

IT is rrue, that being at Paris, I sent a copy of my last Book to Sedan: And this, without other designe, then in pursuance of a customary civility, and to avoid the complaints of a person, that perhaps expected it. He returned me for it the complement, that I shewed you, whereunto I thought my self obliged to answer. But I fear, our friend has made him too particular a discovery, and contrary to my intention: For, though I had seen the last year, that passage of his Latin Libell, for which I am not extreamly beholding to him; yet I dissembled my knowledge, and forbore to vaunt of my disgrace; I would not let him understand my resentments of it, lest I should put him to the pains of giving me satisfaction. I am not ignorant, that satisfactions are oft-times the seeds of [Page 31] second quarells; and that a vain man, yea one of much modesty, is not easily induced to unsay, what he hath spoken, but with reluctancy. But what would you say of Monsieur **** who hath written me a tedious long Letter, accompanyed with a Sermon, that would hold a whole Lent?

Hostibus eveniant talia dona meis.

I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 April 1637.

LETTER XII.

SIR,

I Am glad you are well pleased with the Treatise of Monsieur des Cartes, and shall no longer question the solidity of his doctrine, since it has receiv'd your approbation. I send you with this, his judgment on my first Letters, stylo, ut aiebat, Petroniano. My Latin will suddenly follow, all glorious, with the Elogies bestowed on it at Paris; with which appointments, it will not fear to appear before the Manutii, having been so highly valued by the Bourbons. You are extolled there, according to your merit; and you may believe, that if I understood as many Languages, as one of our friends professes knowledge of, and they report Scaliger had skill in, I should not content my selfe to commend you in Latin and French. The accuser of Cicero, since you desire to know him, is the redoubtable Schioppius. He hath caused a Book to be printed at Milan, wherein he accuses Cicero of incongruity and barbarism. There is but one copy in all France, and the Sieurs Dupens did me the favour to lend it me, when I was at Paris. This injustice offered to Cicero, would be a comfort to Scaliger, if he should return into the world in these daies. But I expect the same Schioppius should shortly write another Volume, and therein undertake to prove, that Cato was a wicked man, and Julius Cesar a craven souldier. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 22 April 1637.

LETTER XIII.

SIR,

I Did not understand the extraordinary merit of Monsieur the Counsellor de — and you are the first that rated him to me at so high a value. The late Monsieur de Malherbe, was one of his particular friends, and made sometimes [Page 32] mention of him, but onely as a person extreamly curious, much affecting relations and stories, a great searcher of Medalls and Manuscripts, a great professor of knowledge in strange Countries, a great admirer of all the Doctors of the University of Leyden, &c. All this in my opinion is too little, to make up a grand personage. I do not question, but he was also respectfull and faithfull to his friend. But there is a difference between the heroicall vertues, and those of the meaner sort; betwixt glory, and a good repute; and by consequence, between Monsieur the President de Thou, and Monsieur the Counsellor de — Your Letter concludes in the style of an Oracle, and sets my wit upon the rack. These are your affronts of old, and you take pleasure in provoking the impatiency of them, that love you. And why, I beseech you, so many guises, so many veiles and folds, to hide a little secret from me? You might at first have discovered the truth in its native clearnesse. But you designe to make me languish, and had rather I should a long time attend the revelation of the mystery by the post, or seek it out at adventure, by suspicions and conjectures. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 May 1637.

LETTER XIV.

SIR,

YOu know well how to exercise mens patience, or, to speak more properly, to enrage it. I have had time and leisure sufficient, to study out your Riddle; five Posts are return'd, since the first proposall you made me of it, and none of them afforded me any light to it, not so much as one word of your newes, or concerning the honest Camusat. This begins to put me in disquiet, and to beget some of those vain fears in my mind, whereof true friendships are not unfertile. Your indisposition of Rheume, is it become of more forwardnesse and diligence, then ordinary, and has it mistaken July for December? Can there any other accident betide you? Has Monsieur the Duke of Longueville obliged you to follow him into Germany?

Dii meliora piis —

I know Philosophy is valiant, and that your predecessor Socrates, was eminent in the atchievements of War. Yet I would not have your fancy encline you, to that way of getting honour, for I account all the Spaniards, both of this and the [Page 33] New world, scarce worth the trouble, of putting you onely into a bad humour. I expect your resolutions of peace, and entreat you of all love, to avoid the garb of Buffe. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 8 Iuly 1637.

LETTER XV.

SIR,

YOur Letter of the twenty sixt of the last Month, has restored my spirit to its former repose, by the explication of your mystery; although I had divin'd it before, as Monsieur the Commissary can bear me witnesse. I would not be understood, as to usurp upon you, who are immediately inspired by the god Apollo; or to endeavour to gain the repute of a Prophet, for fear, lest that new quality should draw with it upon me, a new persecution. I cannot have admiration enough, at their depraved gust, that dislike my speaking of my self, in an affair that concern'd no body else, and where I could not mention any other, without digressing from my subject. Would they have me talk of the grand Signior, or the King of Persia? or dilate my self upon the pedigree of Messieurs de —? I am not fit to commend these great Lords, in so mean a manner, and Monsieur de — would discharge that office better. But I must acknowledge, that all the obloquies of the inconsiderable rout, do not so much move me, as that word which was whispered in your ear, by Monsieur the Keeper of the Library. From whence I gather, that to please, and displease, in this honest age, are the meer effects of fortune and hazard; wisdome and sufficiency have no share therein. And according as the physick of my Lord — hath had good or bad operation, and that he slept well, or otherwise, he passes a favourable or hard censure, upon whatever is presented him. This breeds in me sometimes a resolution, to hate all mankind. And if you were not the onely good and just person, amidst this universall degeneracie, I should make a second vow, yet more solemn and religious, than the first. In my own opinion, I never writ any thing more modest or commendable, then the Piece now in question; and yet because it is no, declamation of the Palace, or preachment to the Vulgar, it is sleightly esteemed: Those that afford it praise, do it with a great deal of indifferency and reserve, because they know not how to blame it, without rendring themselves ridiculous: [Page 34] Yet I suspect some ill offices from the Anti-chamber, and forbear yet to condemn them of the Cabinet. Nevertheless [...]. He will-believe, for the honour of the Master, that, that undeserved speech never fell from his mouth. For if it were so, after all the respect I have given him, I should have reason in the same place, where I speak excessively of my selfe, t'write him though never so great and powerful, Barbaro, discortese, &c. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 16 July 1637.

LETTER XVI.

SIR,

THe friendship of the Court is never without an allay of envy; and if it be true as you tell me, that I have taught the greatest part of our acquaintance the faculty of writing, and the use of that knowledge; it is likewise a certainty, that, the Schollars have wanted gratitude to acknowledge their Master; and I have made as many unthankfull persons, as my instruction rendred composers of Books. These Gentlemen never return me any good office, wherin there is not a season [...]ng of concealed poison. I have no inclination to that manner of carriage, and my sinc [...]rity is farre different from such proceedings. I often commend them for those qualities to which they are strangers, and thank them for favours they never did me; And there comes not so mean Rimes, or dry P [...]ose, out of their Paquet, b [...]t I assure them that the Verses are Oracles of Poetry, and the Prose a Masterpiece of Eloquence. The result is, my goodness finds too bad requitall, and knowing to love with so much integrity, I merited greater happiness in friendship. I have ever made it my endeavour to oblige and please, but yet fail'd to meet with sutable retaliation. And taking my History a little higher, during the violence of the most unjust persecution that ever malice rais'd against an Innocent, since the memory of man; my disgraces afforded pleasure to some, others made semblance of compassion, but none offer'd the least assistance or succour. I alwaies except him from that number whom duty binds me, and my reproaches do not extend thither, where I shall never adress any thing, but returns of thanks and acknowledgment. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 22 July, 1637.

[Page 35]

LETTER XVII.

SIR,

IF the Collection of Camusat had been publish'd, the declaration of my vow exhibited there in great Characters, had priviledg'd me from the task of this day. But it is necessary that I suffer by the negligence of Printers, and be constrain'd to write to Rome, since it is not yet known in this Country, that I canno [...] write any longer with a safe conscience. I am fully determin'd to set my selfe at liberty, and not to answer our Holy Father the Pope, although I should receive a brief subscribed Ciampoli; you will therefore oblige me (if the publication of my vow be not sufficient) to assure some, that I am sick of the fiftieth disease that hath surpris'd me. Others, that I am at the baths of the Pyrenean Mountains; and the more intelligent, that the Importunate drive me out of the world, and compell me to discontinue the commerce I held with honest persons. I must likewise give you further advertisement, That the Seigneur Totila is near his Marriage, and this is another reason that ratifies the resolution I have taken: for, being destitute of hands, it ought not to appear strange that I gave over writing. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30 July, 1637.

LETTER XVIII.

SIR,

I Crave your remembrance, that I am already departed for the Baths of the Pyrenees, where I shall continue the intire space of two years, although during that time, I will not cease to write to you after my custome, from Balzac But, under pardon, I cannot but esteem you rather severe, then equitable, to give the appellation of sloath to that necessary resolution, which I was enforc'd to take up, that I might at length begin to live, after forty yeares being in the world. Were it not a misery to be the perpetuall Butt of all the idle Complements of France, and to hold up against all the makers of flourishing Letters? A truce must of necessity be made with honest men, to avoid the complaints of them that are not such: And I am constrain'd to discontinue the commerce that was both pleasing and advantageous to me, since I cannot use it, without often falling into the hands of Pyrates, and incountring a [Page 36] thousand mischiefs. You are the onely person with whom I shall admit correspondence, and because you desire it, I will commu [...]icate to you my remarks on Seneca. By your order, I have again run him over these last three weeks, and that both as a Grammarian, and a Philosopher. As he takes Epicurus for his Text, I shall take him for mine, and my Commentary shall be neither too naked, nor with overmuch ornament. Philosophy may be decently drest without prejudice to her gravity. Liniments and fucus do not become her countenance; but yet there is a necessity of preserving her genuine colour and cleanliness. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 August 1637.

LETTER XIX.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20. Septemb. 1637.

LET. XXV.

SIR,

I Presume you understand the designe of our Semicapro, to put me into the Prelacy, which he imagines to accomplish, by the credit and recommendation of certain people, whose names and existence I never yet heard of. I send you the two wonderfull Letters they writ me, to that effect, which I think you can scarce read with a sober countenance; you will there see the management of all bad policy, and the whole Machiavel of the Village, to draw two Letters from me, in their own commendation. But I am determin'd, and that I assure my self, with your allowance, to equall their artifice wtth cruelty, and to suffer their vanity to expire, for want of succour. If these Gentlemen were not comprised in my generall vow, I should make a particular one for their sakes. They have as little knowledge of me, as I have sufficient of them: And their attempt is contriv'd upon me by such means, as I am hardest to be taken. It is not in my skill, either to canvasse for voices, or beg any man's approbation. I have forsaken those that were able to give and enrich, and shall not now begin to court such, as can onely promise and abuse. You know, Sir, I have no ambition to raise a fortune; if I had, I should endeavour it all other waies before. The kindnesse that our good Semicapro has for me, and his readinesse to ingratiate me with my Lord — perhaps as sincerely as many others, have restrain'd him from discovering such a number of subtle devices, as you may observe in the Letters I speak of. For these friendly advices, and all the propositions of advancement, have in reality no other aime, but two answers. But I here solemnly protest, they shall never be Masters of their designe. And if it be requisite, I will add to my former Oath, all those Execrations of the Antients, which you have read in Aulus [Page 41] Gellius. You see the bad construction I make of other mens good-will. But I have told you a thousand times, that I am infinitely apprehensive of all injuries, that abuse my reason. I most humbly kisse your hands, and remain.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 28 Septemb. 1637.

LETTER XXVI.

SIR,

YOur Letter represents the little Father, as so jolly a person, that my displeasure would be more vehement, if he had been an experter Mountebank, and endeavoured to beguile me with greater subtlety. 'Tis your happinesse, to apprehend things alwaies on the right side; and to proceed directly to truth. This is no groundlesse asseveration. We have friends of lesse exact judgment, and you know, the Writer of Politick Books, is liable to be over-matcht by the little Father, as well as he that prints them. I am redevable to this latter, for his good-will; yet I would wish him, to acquiesce absolutely in your advice. He must not permit the mediocrity of his reason, to strain forwards, having learn'd from you or me, the compasse it should move in. I do not doubt but you are surprised, even at the title of the litle Father's Letter, and that Balzac l'Orateur does not extreamly please you. Although he cannot confer that quality on me, without displacing Monsieur de Colomby, who is Oratour to the King, and usurping upon the Jacobins and Cordeliers, who are your most humble Oratours. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 Octob. 1637.

LETTER XXVII.

SIR,

THough I have no very commendable eyes, yet I perceive, the workmanship of Mellan is far gallanter, and of better conceit, then that of the other engraver. The good Camusa [...] adds much honour to my writings, by the ornament of so fair and ingenuous figures. What do you conceive in particular, of that pensive and melancholly Pallas? May she not seem to be plac'd at the entry of the Book with her wand, onely on purpose [Page 42] to defend it from the fingers of the Sophister Gorgias and Palemon the Grammatian. That which I have sent you, is of the style which the Romanes termed Attique, and has not yet fallen into the observation of our people. Nevertheless it was of great renown, during the times that Eloquence and Orators flourish'd in the world, and maintain'd its credit against Cicero, even in his own dayes. If I were minded, I could send you somewhat more considerable, for which I am confident of your thanks; But that must be intreated for. I do not intend to powre out all my favours at once, having, besides, great reason to complain of your parsimonie. You have no commiseration of the indigence of my solitude, or the barrenness of this Desert. For how many ages are fled, since I receiv'd any thing immediately from you? I know no more of the affairs of your Muses, then if I were the most prophane of all the Barbarians, Yet this great neglect cannot overcome my patience, or shake that unalterable resolution I have to honour you with passion. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 Octob. 1637.

LETTER XXVIII.

SIR,

I Am resolved to free my selfe from the dominion of all troublesome passions, as well for the safety of my soul, as for the quiet of my life, and interest of my health. I have been long since of opinion, that it is better to suffer injustice, then to commit it; and of late have made particular reflection upon that passage, Qui dixerit patri suo, Raca, &c. Upon which consideration, I will for the future repay evill for good, and begin to practise with Monsieur Bourbon, to whom I make the first overture, without holding me to the point of honour, or remembring forepast actions. I had intreated a Lady of our friends, to relate him this message, before I knew of the Academies interceding in the matter, or had learnt by your Letter what forward progression he had made, both of his own inclination, and by order of the Company; As to my selfe, I yet once more assure you, That what I doe, is with no other aime then the satisfaction of my conscience, and submission to the commands of God. I seek neither Oratour nor Poet; 'Tis my Neighbour, with whom I would renew my charity, and Petrus Valens might have found the same readiness [Page 43] to reconcliation, if there had been the like allowableness in the cause of our discord. I am.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 21 Octob. 1637.

LETTER XXIX.

SIR,

SIR,

IN obedience to your order, I have writ a letter to Monsieur the Abbot of St. Nicholas; but I much fear, it will seem after the nature of the Orations of Gascoigne, short and bad. There is no question, the third Part of the History of Flanders, he did me the favour to send me, is of lesse excellence then the two first. But to discover my thoughts to you, I begin to have a a greater aversion from war. A History, that relates onely of Sieges, Camps, and Battells, cannot alwaies please a man, that has but little fancy to the military vertues. 'Tis pitty, that rare Wit did not chuse France for his Theatre, rather then the Low-Countries, where the frequent alteration of the Scene, would have rendred his work more various and delightfull. He m [...]ght sometimes have retired from the Field, to the Cabinet, and we should have seen the Foxes of the Court, amongst the Lions of Armies. This perpetuall roaring of Lions, is a Musick, with which, I confesse, I am not much ravish'd; Apes, Reynards, and other Animals, of more subtlety then fiercenesse, would yield me better pastime, with their frisks and gambals. Puppets have their use in the Commonwealth, you know it well; but likewise you are not ignorant, that while the Ape dances on the Rope, that time is taken to cut the purses, of the more attentive spectators. Be pleased to sound out this Riddle, since you have employed me, in the explication of so many of yours. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Feb. 1638.

[Page 52]

LET. VI.

SIR,

I Desire you to understand, that such a Gentleman is distasted with me, or rather I with him. I invited him hither upon the word of my Stationer; but by ill fortune, he appear'd not so well purifi'd, as the Letter of recommendation endeavoured to perswade me. There are certain vapours, which proceed from the ruines of his nose, of that noysomnesse, that they are insupportable, to the most civill and yielding conversation. Besides, to tell you freely, he is the most savage of all Mortalls, and lesse capable of discipline, then Bats and Swallowes; which, if Plini's History may be credited, can never be reclaim'd: Yet, I did not fail to treat him courteously at parting, and to retrench something from my poverty, to advantage his; but with a solemn promise to our Ladies, never to bring to their sight again, an Animal of so unpleasing an aspect, or a Pedant of that humour and smell. Such people, in proper speech, are the plagues of the Commonwealth. Cataline, Cethegus, and others, though tearmed so by Cicero, were not plagues, but in figure and metaphor. Miserable are they that come neer them, without being fortifi'd with antidotes and preservatives. Their infirmity is dreadfull, and they have this advantage from their defects, that though they be not guilty at all of valour, yet they cause all the world to fly from them. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Angoulesm, 16. March, 1638.

LET. VII.

SIR,

IF prudence her self should write Letters, they could not be more absolute and judicious then yours. The last I received, is to my infinite contentment, of this number; and I have read it above a dozen times without tediousnesse. You might have been an admirable author of politick discourses, and 'tis a great losse, that your subject has so much of fiction. Our entire History would not have cost you more pains, than this small parcell of it, which you endeavour to adorn with falsities. And you might have instructed posterity, instead of being uncertain, whether you shall happily have time to divert them. I will hope for satisfaction to my desires, both the one and the [Page 53] other, from your Pen. And I require of you at least, some conspiracy of Cataline, some Jugurthine war, or any other considerable member, if it be impossible to obtain the whole body. The Packet fo [...] Rome is not yet dispatcht. Perhaps a fecond Abbot de Rets, will appear, to do us the like favour. I beseech you to attend it with patience, and not to believe in the mean time, that my affection makes me sick. You understand my intention in this. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 16 March, 1638.

LET. VIII.

SIR,

THe Doctor that acted Hercules furens, in your presence, and the pipe you advis'd him to moderate his violence with, in the dispute, are very fine devices, and which I have a desire to rob you of, for one of the Chapters of my Burbon. But is it possible, that the dear **** should become an impeacher of crimes, and a preyer upon confiscations, and that he will live by the death of others. Certainly, after this, Honey must lose its sweetnesse, for the taste of Gall; Sheep must turn Woolvs, and the whole frame of Nature be everted. His onely justification will be, to alledge that,

— Quid non mortalia pect [...]ra cogis,

Dira fames, durisque urgens in rebus egestas?

I cannot approve those foul and unhandsom courses, to sustain life; this is not to want Philosophy, as you say, 'tis to have no humanity. But there is no redresse for habituall and confirmed maladies. Such wretches have made a solemn vow to basenesse, at the Court, and are not any longer capable of vertue, honour, or liberty. Therefore I entreat you, let the dear *** know, that I have no appetite to serve him in this affair, and that I receiv'd the proposition with honour, which Monsieur the Commissary made me in his behalfe. It were better to betake himself to eat Cheese and Chesnuts, in the Mountains of Avergne, then to enterprise such practises, to subsist at Court. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 29 May, 1637.

[Page 54]

LETTER IX.

SIR,

THe Letter of Seigneur Jean Jacques, has afforded me extraordinary pleasure, and I am oblig'd to your goodness for furnishing me with such agreeable divertis [...]ments. His manner of begging often brings to memory that of Paulus Jovius, who yet us'd to demand with more confidence and carelesness then he. I have read certain Letters of his, of that nature, indeed admirable in their kind. In some of them he protests, that, if the Cardinal of Lorrain do not cause his pension to be pa [...]d him, he will affirm, that he is not of the race of Godfry, who bestow'd the Arch bishop-wrick of Tyre upon a Schoolmaster. In others, he desires two Horses of the Marquiss of Pescara, and for that effect, prayes him to strike the earth with a little more force then Neptune did. In another, to a Lady his friend, he beseeches her to send him some Preserves of Naples, for that he began to be cl [...]y'd with his dayly food of new laid Egges, &c. Although our friend have not the gift of begging with so much variety, yet it must be granted, he will receive a sufficient Dole, if he to whom he writes procure him a Canonship of Verdun. But I beseech you, make me understand the reason of Most Illustrious, which he gives him. Is it because he has a suit to him; and the Italian Policy has taught him in such cases, trattalo di mester Domine Dio, &c. The Poet Martial, who was at least as poor as the Oratour Jean-Jacques, terms a Roman Lady his Queen, because she gave him good New-years gifts once a year, and almost every day a Dinner. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 April, 1638.

LETTER X.

SIR,

I was surpris'd at the discourse of the French Gentlemen, and I assure you, I could not own it, till I had with much study recall'd the memory of things long since past. If I had comitted sacriledge, or a greater crime, if such can be, I should not conceal it from you, and therefore am not at all scrupulous to confesse that, which is more pardonable, and of less consequence. It is true, I am the Author of that discourse, which does not enough fear the Thunders of Rome, and treats the [Page 55] holy Inquisition with too little respect. But it is likew [...]se true, that I compos'd it in Holland, without design of coming to the eyes of the publique by printing, and in an age that might be excus'd for greater failings. Therefore having pass'd the space of five and twenty years, it may well claim prescription against all sorts of accusers. Since that time, the whole face of Christendom has been often changed, and all the Earth renew'd. The world then was not the world it is at this day: And in truth, the great Heinsius cannot hope for much glory▪ in fleshing himselfe so unmercifully upon Balzac in his Infancy, and triumphing with his gray hairs over a youth of seventeen years old; and who, as then, had no beard. His cruelty has beene decry'd by both parties; and though that continuation of Antitheses, I lately observ'd in the discourse of the French Gentlemen, may be tolerable in the composition of such a schollar as I was at that time, and the babies I then play'd withall, ought not to disparage the Arms I have since manag'd; yet I will not put my selfe to that trouble, as to defend the cause of my Child-hood. I committed a folly when I was young, and the good man H [...]insius has told the world five and twenty years after that I did it. Let that judge which of us two is more culpable. I endeavour'd to extinguish and suppress the fault, and he would renew it, and make it perpetuall if possible. O violator of the sepulchre of an Infant half born, or at least unperfect for the birth! O unworthy, that dis [...]nters the dead! I am

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15. Octob. 1638.

LETTER XI.

SIR,

LEt us never mention the — 'tis the shame and ignominy of the French name. 'Tis a day the Romans would have termed Scelerata, & we must call it cursed. It is fit Posterity detest it, or rather never hear of it, and that we raze it, if it be possible from amongst the rest, of the year one thousand—

By Jove's command, out of old Time's Record,
Let the three Sisters raze it, nor afford
Its name a place amongst things past and done.

HAving depriv'd the imaginative Poet of judgment, I have left h m nothing now, b [...]t an instrument to commit faults with. You know, when the Cyclops was blind, his great strength incumbered him, and serv'd onely, to advance the danger of his fall. Our opinions therefore appear to be the same, though they differ'd in the expression; and I conceive, that the fancy alone, in what degree of perfection it can possibly be, is uncapable of being a Parent of any thing, but Monster [...], or of treading in the right way, but by accident and fortune. Victorius is not so debonnair and agreeable, as some persons I could name; but he has a certain Roman simplicity in his carriage, that pleases me infinitely; and even his negligence has something in it, of grace and comelinesse. He is otherwise a man of good blood, and has ennobled Pedantry He has employ'd his whole life, in the instruction of youth, and read publickly every day in the Schools of Florence; some volumes of his observations upon Aristotle, Cicero, Demetrius, Phalerius, &c. are come forth into the world, with commendation of his judgment. Monsieur della Cas [...], acknowledged him for his Master; Annibal Caro consulted him, as the Oracle of his Country; and on this side the Mountains, the proud Scaliger styles him frequently, Clarissimus Senex, and, Doctissimus Victorius. To conclude, he received visits from the Princes de Medices, and Hen [...]y the third writ him a Letter, to desire his friendship. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 29 June 1638.

[Page 63]

LETTER XXI.

SIR,

SIR,

THe father Narni is an Orator, whom I admired in the Chair, but do not so upon the Paper; in the little that I have read of his book, I have observed very many poeticall expressions, and cold allusions, together with certain fables intermixed; which, as they do not please me in any place, so I absolutely condemn them in Christian eloquence. Besides all which, I know not who can allow him, to alledge before the Pope, and the sacred Colledge of Cardinalls, Alexander ab Alexandro, Caelius Rhodiginus, Pierius Valerianus, and other like Authors, so little deserving of the honour he doth them, and so remote from his argument; in a word, who have nothing to do with the grandeur of Jesus Christ, and the Majesty of the holy Gospel. I perceive hence, that the father Narni was well born, but badly enough instructed; and that his defects proceeded from his Masters and his Books, but that he owes his eloquence almost wholly to himself; he speaks sometimes in a high and noble strain, and even in the Book, in which there are so many cold allusions, and poeticall expressions, and where Pierius Valerianus is quoted, there are some incomparable passages. I must have a copy of it, at what rate soever; and I will not want one, tho [...]gh I be enforced to request it of Pope Ʋrban, who heretofore did me the honour to caresse me. It ought not to seem strange, that I have such inclination, for an Oratour of my acquaintance. But there is yet something more particular, that justifies my passion: and who would now conclude, but there were some domesticall interests between us? Neverthelesse, it is a reall truth, that I am going to tell you; this good man does so neerly resemble my father, that the first time I saw him, I believ'd my father had disguis'd himself, in the habite of a Capuchine. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Octob. 1638.

[Page 69]

LET. XXVIII.

SIR,

I Earnestly beseech you, to have so much pitty of me, as to deliver me from the torment of this importunate person; he assaults me with Paraphrases and Sermons, and will not suffer me to enjoy the benefit, of being a hundred leagues distant from him. If you have no skill in Exorcism, to chase him from haunting me, I will turn shamelesse, and give him some remarkable disgust. At least, his qualities of Preacher and Paraphrast, or even those of Psalmist and Prophet, shall not hinder me, from signifying to him in plain tearms, that I much value his friendship, but yet have greater love to my own repose. As for Monsieur the Count, I am not so unjust, as to honour him in a lesse degree then I did, because I have no reason to commend Monsieur his brother: They are two persons, not onely distinct and separate, but even opposite and contrary in all things: One of them is the most courteous and civill, of all men living; and the other has not his equall, in crossnesse and morosity; so that if the vertue of their mother were not indubitable, no man would ever believe them brothers. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30. Octob. 1638.

LET. XXIX.

SIR,

I Am redevable unto you, for the exact justice you have rendred, in your last Letter, to our friends of antiquity; I have drawn particular instruction from it, as from all the precedent; and my expectation was not greater then my satisfaction. But, I cannot deny, The demand you make me, concerning Monsieur de — has something surprised me; he understands more of my affairs, then my self; and it is fit he be both most-great, and most-good, since he beatifies me in my life-time, and by his own private authority. I am all matter, earth, and body, and yet they sell me about at Paris, for a man made up of quintessence. 'Tis a favour done me by my News-Merchant, and a vertue he is pleased to endue me with: Neverthelesse I believe, he does not report, that I let my beard grow at length, or curtail the collar of my jerkin. I have ever so much disapproved singularity of this nature, that although I reverence the younger Cato, yet the uncleanlinesse of his hands, [Page 70] with his torn and dirty Gown, and his locks horrid and incompt, are very far from commending him to my esteem. The action of Monsieur the President, is an heroicall exploit, which must not be drawn into example, and infinitely transcends my capacity and endeavours. I have not wing enough for so high a flight; nor know I how to take ayme at things, beyond my view and comprehension. But as I am short of those perfect ones, who have no other object of their thoughts, but the felicities of Heaven, so I beseech you to believe, that I am more remote from the number of those hypocrites, who drive a trade upon earth with dejectednesse and soure faces; I have not falshood enough for such carriage. I never affected to appear better then I am, because I alwaies lov'd my reputation lesse then truth. Had I been capable of the cheat of devotion, I had certainly found fortune more favourable, then she has been, and the Seigneur Jean Jacques should have treated me at this day, with the title of my Lord. But in reality, I prefer liberty before command, and prise my quiet, more then the dignities of others. You should see a clear proof of what I say, if they at Court would take me into consideration, and confer on my silence, what the Doctors canvasse for every day, by their Sermons; the world should then know, that I am no vaunter of Philosophy, & you receive the pleasure of having a friend, that did in earnest refuse Bishopricks. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 Novemb. 1638.

LET. XXX.

SIR,

I Will not undertake to cure you, it is enough that I assure you, I suffer with you, and have as quick a sense of your sorrowes, as of my owne. The person for whom you lament, dyed like a Hero, and with the glorious consolation of that antient Verse;

He conquering fell, and ere of life bereav'd,

Paid back his foe the death himself receiv'd.

But this is that, which, in my opinion, obliges you to a double grief; that which augments the glory he obtain'd, renders more deplorable the losse which you undergo; and a meaner valour had given you a lesse measure of affliction. Yet in this [Page 71] case, as in others, attention must be given to the counsels of reason; and it ought to be remembered, that in the ruine of the world, which is dissolved piece by piece, it is not requisite to bewail a small portion, that has hapned to perish a little sooner then the rest. Coloredo was ever speeding on to the end of his daies, without the furtherance of Monsieur de la Trousse; and also Monsieur de la Trousse, although he had never met Coloredo. Death is a necessary consequence of birth, and 'tis our beginning should be lamented, as being the first step to our end and dissolution. But what presumption is this, to preach befere the father Narni? Neverthelesse, the father Narni preach'd before the Pope; that is, before him that has all the Canon Law and Divinity in his breast. I could curse those Poltrons, that forsook their Principall at his fall, and me-thinks there ought to have been four French Cavaliers to have covered him, with the bodies of four Cavaliers of Germany. The brown Nymph, in my opinion, does not render him good justice, nor sing his high valour in a sutable strain. I am troubled for our Monsieur de Chaudebonne, whom you call the sick-Sage. But wisdom is no more priviledged then valour; it is necessary that even the Saints die, before they be Canoniz'd. I am,

I Am not at all dismaid at the digression, which you are pleased to call terrible. The Tickets of other men seem tedious unto me, but should you write me whole Volumes, I should account them short. And I have no reason to complain, that you dispense your favours so liberally, and by handfulls. All that you write is considerable, and over-payes the Reader's patience. The greatest part of posthumous pieces, are either spurious, or very unworthy of the name of their fathers, to whom those injurious offices are ordinarily performed, if not against their order, at least, besides their intention. Yet this does not excuse the feeblenesse and flagging style of Victorius; for his Orations, which were not written without meditation, are more weak and dead, if possible, then his Letters, on which it is evident, he employed no study or diligence at all. The funerall Oration of Cosmo, deserv'd the height and excellence of Oratory. But I cannot judge it tolerable, and without doubt, he has done injury to the reputation of that great Prince, not to say, that he has scandaliz'd his memory. In truth, he did deserve to have been told, at his descending from the Chair, O indignum fatum principis tui, bis mortuus est; semel per morbum, iterum per te. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 Feb. 1639.

LET. V.

SIR,

YOu write me the most pleasant things in the world, concerning the greater and lesser deities; and the array as Varro places them in St. Augustine, is nothing comparable to yours; I esteem it, but without any benefit or advantage. And since all the calamities those little gods can send us, are onely metaphoricall, I continue in the tearms of my last Letter, and am resolved to be irreligious, rather then adore all sorts of Divinities. There is, Sir, in my opinion, a mean between impiety and devotion; and a man may abstain from blasphemies, though he do not undertake to compose hymns. Besides, silence is sometimes interpreted, an owning of Religion; and they us'd to cry of old, Favete linguis, in the middle of their sacrifices. I have chosen this piece of false religion, and desire to hold my [Page 77] self to it; most of all, for the commerce with the Academy, and that I have with you, which I should have kept secret, lest the — should think to measure themselves, by the value I make of Monsieur Chapelain. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Feb. 1639.

LETTER VI.

SIR,

TO judge exactly, and like a Master, of the Comedy which you have done me the favour to send me, it is not necessary to be deeply learn'd, or to have more knowledge, then I have of Aristotle's secrets and yours. I call that new doctrine so, which you disclose to your favourits, and whereof our Poets understand no more, then it pleases you to teach them. Neverthelesse I shall not forbear to declare my opinion, in expectance of your determination, and to tell you, that the Supposez, as I conceive, are far from doing prejudice to the reputation of Orlando, their elder brother. If I can judge any thing, there cannot be a more ingenuous, handsome, or better contriv'd story, then this; and France never yet saw any piece of this nature, that deserv'd to be compar'd with it. It is almost impossible, to bend the gravity of our Verse, and suit it to the familiarnesse of ordinary conversation. Neither do I much approve of Prose upon the Theatre; and Verse without rhyme, in the opinion of our friend de la Tournelle, have little of life or pleasure. Unlesse you oblige the Stage with a Comedy, We are like to have no Ariosto amongst us. But I confesse, I never perused this, but in the bulk, and without designe of strict examination. You may please to resolve me, if my first view has deceived me, and whether my judgment be not erroneous. However it be, the concernment is not so great to me, as to require my care: Good or bad, true or false, 'tis almost the same thing now adaies, and all the world undertakes to judge, though in truth, there is nothi [...]g so rare and hard to be found, as solid and unbiass'd judgment. Perhaps we spend a whole day, in the elaborating of one Period, and when we have distill'd our brains, in the framing of a discourse, which may possible be a Master-piece of Art, they will believe they highly favour us, in saying, there are truly some pretty things in it, & the language is not bad. A man had better [Page 78] devote himself to sleep, than to tire himself in such unprofitable elucubrations. And I freely pardon that brave person, the resentment which he testified against the Muses, upon the like occasion:

Ite leves nugae steriles (que) valete Camaenae,

Ite, sat est, primos vobiscum assumpsimus annos.

I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 March, 1639.

LET. VII.

SIR,

THis paper serves onely, to accuse the slow pace of your Letter, of the eighth of this month, and to assure you, that I subscribe universally to all that you write. I look upon my self as much honoured, by the late conference which you had with the Marquesse de Montausier; he casts too many obligations upon me, and the fresh proofs of his goodnesse, seem too disproportionate to my merit. One day, perhaps, I may have opportunity to signifie unto him, how gratefully I resent his civilities, and I hope he will have no cause to repent, of having honoured a person with his friendship, who has so reverent esteem of his vertue. I must further add to this Ticket, the report which one lately acquainted me withall, that there passes a Libel at Paris, whereof some conjecture me the Author; if it arrive at your ears, you may confidently swear, without fear of perjury, that I intermeddle not with things of so foul a nature: You know how well I love my quiet, and how generally backward I am from all manner of writing; I am so far from supererogating, that I oftentimes fall short of my duty. I use not to lend my words, or my choler, in the behalf of any man. And he that passes over injuries done to himself, is not like to revenge those of another. The relation which I have made you of it, is, I think, to little purpose, but ad majorem cautelam, and I thought my self obliged to give it you. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 17 Novemb. 1639.

[Page 79]

LETTER VIII.

SIR,

THe affair of Ariosto is, it seems, in the mouth of all people, and has occasion'd factions and parties. For my particular, I have gone in that way my reason suggested for the best, without imagining that I concurr'd with you, and I merit not your thanks, for following my own opinion. I had no other object but truth, which, it was said of old, ought to be chosen, with the desertion of Socrates and Plato, and in whose cause we should not scruple, to oppose, not onely the apprehensions of our friends, but even our own inclinations. Upon this consideration, I have some hopes of the conversion of our dear, Monsieur de Voiture, who knowes, that Saint Augustine hath written his retractations, and that there are some Lawes that are abrogated by others; as also that none hath the gift of infallibility, besides our holy father the Pope, when he speaks ex cathedrâ. It is fit to ascribe glory to God, who alone has the possession of truth, and is not capable either of errors or repentance. Since the Stars and Cedars fall, who is he that can assure hims [...]lf of his stability? And is there any person so perfect, that he has not sometimes a sense of human weaknesse? This ingenuous confession is almost as honourable as the victory. In all regards, an accommodation is better then a duell; and I had rather be reconciled with Ariosto, then be engaged in a combat against his Knight. This Astolpho is a dangerous man, and wo be to them that incur his displeasure. As to my self, I account his friendship as a piece of good fortune, and am very proud of the new testimony he has rendred me of it. But that sister of his, that writes so elegantly, and such good sense, is verily worthy of that relation, and, in my fancy, a most accomplish'd and excellent person. Do me the favour, Sir, to lend me a dozen of your words, to make her the complement I am obliged to offer; and assure her further, if you please, that if I were the lawfull disposer of that immortality, whereof you speak, she should not fail to have a portion. At present, my desire is, that she, and Monsieur her brother, may have the sight of the first part of my discourse, upon Menander. It will not likewise be unfitting, to communicate it to the learned, Monsieur de la Motte, to the intent I may know of him, whether all our French eloquence be [Page 80] any thing more, then the disposition of words, and harmony of periods. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 April, 1639.

LETTER IX.

SIR,

YOur difference with Monsieur de Voiture, might be the argument of no unpleasant discourse; & we would entitle it, with your permission, The Tryall of Ariosto. Our friends Letter of defiance, would be inserted in it, which is a piece of no ordinary invention; but then, you must be entreated to do me the necessary favor, of keeping mine in your hands, & denying every body both the sight and copy of it. You are indeed unmeasurable in your diligence, and your goodnesse overpresses me with civilities and obligations. What prodigious inclination is this, to receive a Letter at nine a clock at night, and to answer it at the same time, with so much discretion and exactnesse! I confess you have all sorts of advantages over me, and I am not capable of so great performances. I will suddenly return you your admirable Italian, and onely in the mean time assure you, that I am ravish'd with his Translation of the Aeneids. I conceive, we may judge principally from it, of the wit of Hannibal Caro, and of the excellence of his Tongue. When I consider it, in this Book, I cannot but pitty ours, and have very low esteem of it, Nisi, quod ei deest de ingenio, ut ille ait, adderemus. I have very many things to say upon this subject, but it will be better to reserve them for a Chapter of our Entertainments: And besides, I am not in a condition to be pleasant, being weary and shatter'd with one of the most cruell nights that I have pass'd a long time. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 29 April, 1639.

LETTER X.

SIR,

IF I happen to see that gallant person againe, of whom your Letter makes mention, and who is so dexterous in swallowing Benefices of five hundred Crowns revenue, I shall contain my selfe from esteeming him either Phocion or Aristides. The judgement of Monsieur de—pace tanti viri dixerim, is sometimes right, and not alwaies so. The understanding of [Page 81] Monsieur de—has very narrow limits, and as the first does ordinarily attribute too much to himself, so does the second set too high a value on the first; whether it be, that he owe him some small summe, for which he payes him consideration in this manner, or any other less materiall interest that induces him to such conceits. They are both of them strangers in that Country, whereof I esteem my self a Denizen, and the little acquaintance they have with the Ancients, is the cause that they deal with so much equivocation and ambiguity in matters which concern the Moderns. If they had onely taken the pains to read the Apology of Apuleius, or that of Saint Jerome against Rufinus, they would have learnt, that all subjects are not capable of the same strength or ornament; and have observ'd other manner of inequalities there, then in my Discourse. I will speak nothing of those knowing Ladies, which they have drawn to their opinion, but onely this, that I conceive my selfe subtile enough, to be able to deceive them at the first reading at least, as well as some bad Poets of the stage have done. I confess, it never entred into my thoughts to choose them for my Judges, and hence it is that they pronounced so speedy a sentence upon a man that did not yet begin to plead. 'Tis you, Sir, who are the rule of Truth, and it is not possible for me to doubt the certainty of your resolutions, so long as I have your voyce in my favour; I shall not be sollicitous, to repair a businesse wherein the curious ignorance of some — does rather make then finde defects. This person does me a kindness beyond my desires; and I could not believe, that there was so much freedom in the Country of dissimulation. I also wonder how the most observant of all Mortalls, came to quit his obsequiousnesse for my concernment, and did not rather in compliance with his friend, pronounce the second moiety of equall merit with the first. However it be, I shall not much lay this unhappinesse to heart. The world is become so delicate, and I may say, fastidious too, that it often disrelishes more commendable things then mine, I cannot dilate further upon this subject, by reason of Totila's absence, whom some affairs have taken from me. I am so infirm and helplesse, that wanting his hands, my own will onely serve me to assure you, that, I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 12 May, 1639.

[Page 82]

LET. XI.

SIR,

YOu may most assuredly believe, that my minde is in equall sufferance with yours; and that I swallow a part of that dust whereof you speak. But besides this, I am not without my peculiar unhappinesses, though I have likewise some good news to impart to you. In requitall of the story of your breaking up house, you shall receive that of the death of three of my Horses, and the sicknesse of the fourth. It must needs be, that either the Goddess Hippona is strangely incens'd against me, or some other pernitious Demon is grown envious of my Promenades, and has design'd to force me to go a foot, and so deprive me of the onely remaining pleasure of my life. This inconvenience is more grievous to me then my last, which though it would be perhaps not inconsiderable to a man that had both a grand and little Escuyrie; yet I resent no more of it, then the present disturbance, and the trouble I shall have to move, till my poor equipage be repair'd. The want of a Caroach is a misery insupportable, to the condition wherein I am; and though Philosophy may place it in the number of things superfluous, yet my infirmity makes me account it amongst the necessary. Having affirm'd thus much, I will presume to tell you further, that I apprehend more contentment, in being extoll'd in that manner, then by all the Elogies of the Academy. And of those two desires of Ʋirgil,

—quâ me quo (que) possim

Tollere humo, victor (que) virûm volitare per ora.

I expound the fi [...]st, concerning a Caroach, which you see he places before a great reputation. Neverthelesse, Sir, I would not be misconceived, as offended thereat; and that my disgust of the last weeks actions, drawes these speeches from me. Whatsoever I have written to you, I beseech you to believe, that I know with what submission and docility, I ought to receive every thing, that is tender'd me by my friends. Onely I think, the freedome of friendship should not exclude discretion; and that faithfull counsell is not us'd to be given in publick. Therefore Monsieur — might have forborn raising himself, to be Monsieur the Judge; and rather thought, he had been lesse attentive in reading the second [Page 83] part, then said of it, that it was of lesse strength then the first, which is onely a civill accusation of its weakness. He has receiv'd the displeasure of being contradicted by you, and Monsieur de Conrart, who have observ'd no inequality in it; and therefore by necessary consequence, it can have none. But although we should agree in the acknowledgment of his objection, yet being, as I am, continually afflicted and in misery, I desir [...] rather consolation then counsell. Provided there be neither heresie nor incongruity in my writings, I esteem all the rest, as undeserving the trouble of reformation. I prefer indeed a businesse accomplish'd, before that which is to be done, and is yet onely in designe.

Praetulerimque parùm fortis doctusque videri,
Dum mea delectant mala me, vel denique fallent,
Quàm sapere & ringi —

I have seen the daies, wherein I had different inclinations; but age and infirmities have wrought this, amongst other alterations in me. I perceive my selfe become obstinate and hardned, against the greatest and most provoking injuries, which may possibly be rather an effect of them, than of Philosophy. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 24 May, 1639.

LET. XII.

SIR,

IT is not unquestionable, but Scaliger may have fail'd in the quadrature of the Circle. Yet Casaubon has written excellent observations in his Exercitations, against the Cardinal Baronius. Heinsius also will perhaps afford us some remarkable discoveries, upon the New Testament, although he be no Doctor of the Sorbonne. Good judgment, with understanding of Languages, and skill in Antiquities, are the onely necessary provision for his enterprise; and if he employ them with integrity, and faithfully, our side will draw more advantage from them, then his own. The handling of the Mathematicall Sciences, is a far different businesse, in my opinion, since they have no community with the precepts of Morality; and their mystery depends not, either of the Greek or Hebrew: They require a very abstracted speculation, and must be attended with that [Page 84] subtlety of apprehension, that I conceive it not difficult to mistake the way, in a path so obscure and narrow. Yet I think, a knowing and judicious person, that has read all the antient Fathers, and is skill'd in all the tongues of the East, may, with successe, publish what he has gone so far to seek, and taken up at severall Ports and Countries. As to the ridiculous — he has something too much toleration; it is not fit he be suffer'd to rule so absolutely, but must be frequently put in mind of la Berne, and perhaps that may make him for the future more wise. Monsieur — would do well, to extend his charity so far, and try, if the fear of punishment may happily divert the effect. But what prodigy is that you tell me? Is it possible, that a person, that is indu'd with one grain of common sense, can prefer the Spanish Poets, above those of Italy, and conceive the visions of one Lopez de Vega, to be rationall compositions. This is it that perswades me, there are sometimes false judgments made, in the cabinets of the wisest, and that there is hazard in the issues of the brain, as well as in the affairs of the world. I appeal from this injustice to our excellent Marquis, who will never mistake apparences for truth. But can it be true, that this brave Marquis should not be treated answerably to his worth, and that he was design'd to encounter, with all the fury and hardships of the North, without allowance of necessary support. I am fearfull of the successe of th [...]s great courage, if he fail of the assistance of men and mony. He apprehends the enemy, to be the least considerable danger he can meet with. Famine, and want of provisions, are far more dreadfull, and such as no valour is able to resist. I would to God, all the Spaniards were at the Indies, and all the Imperialists with the Antipodes: our friends indeed would hereby have lesse matter for triumph and glory; but we should be freed from those fears, we apprehend for their safety. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 8 June, 1639

LETTER XIII.

SIR,

I Repent me, that I made you any discovery of my losses, since you resent them so deeply. But I receive great contentment, from those evident testimonies you give me of your affection; and that my interests could make any impression [Page 85] upon your soul, which is all Adamant in your own. Such tenderness is not unbecomming the strength of Hero's; and, if they have sometimes lamented the losse of a Dog they lov'd, you may certainly be allowed to condole with a friend, for the death of four Horses, that were of necessary use unto him. In those daies, they would have deserved four Epitaphs; but they are now too well treated, in that they are sorrow'd for by you; and the unfained tears you speak of, are more glorious to them, then a Bucephalia, and all the Grecian vanity could invent, to consecrate dead things to perpetuall remembrance. I hope, in a short time, to fill their places with others, because I cannot live, and be without them; and that my weaknesse is of more reality then your tears. When I relate you my afflictions, I borrow no Rhetorick, to represent them in a larger proportion; I am an Historian, and make you a faithfull narration. I cannot consent to you, that the use of the Caroch is but a shadow of exercise; there is not indeed such violent agitation, as in other sorts, yet there is a continuall motion, that contributes enough to the advancement of digestion. Besides, I receceive the aire on all sides, and my eyes a [...]e refreshed with the beauties of the field, as often as I discharge them from the employment of reading. My infirmity makes me wish some other carriage, of more gentlenesse and ease; and the Gestatio of the old Romans, is exactly such, as I stand in need of. Were it not to provoke the tongues of people, I would provide me a Pulpet, and cause my self to be carried by men, instead of being drawn by horses. The person of whom I told you, and whose character you have so sutably delineated, is departed from this Province, with the curses of the whole world. If the Tax be continued, all this Country will be turn'd into an Hospital. For my own concernment, I have great reason to commend his civility, for that he had a more mercifull regard, to all such as I recommended to him. But I fear, in a little while, it will be necessary to recommend my self, and that Orators and Poets will not be esteem'd as priviledged persons. You well remember the field that was taken away from poor Virgil, and the complaints that he makes thereupon in his Eclogues. If one that I know, had foreseen this imposition six years ago, his Letters should have been dated from beyond sea, and he would have provided for the security of his Peculium. However things go, I exhort all the world to patience; but I find every man in the depth of dispair, and cannot imagine any remedy, [Page 86] to our present sufferings, unlesse Heaven appear by miracles for our succour, to accomplish the good intentions of the King. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 June, 1639.

LET. XIV.

SIR,

I Am not minded to enter the Lists, in the quarrell of the Rabbins, especially when I must encounter with you for my adversary. They are peeple, with whom I have no acquaintance, and such as, if you please, I shall believe more fools, then your Letters represent them. But, Sir, if I remember, it was not upon this empty and trifling reading, that I chiefly grounded the learning of Monsieur Heinsius. Besides the Orientall Languages, which they report him skill'd in, he is of great naturall endowments, and has exact knowledge in solid Antiquity, and the Philosophies of old; and yet further, such sagacity in matters of Criticism, that his conjectures seem sometimes to approach near divination: Notwithstanding, it is possible he may decline in his old daies. And 'tis a common word amongst his Orientalls, that Vinegar is the son of Wine, and that Time begins to prey upon things, as soon as it has brought them to their perfection. But let us relinquish those Gentlemen, the Rabbins, and give me leave to desire some knowledge, of the affairs of our friends. Be pleased to make me understand, how Monsieur d'Ablancourt is at this present employ'd, and if he intend not a Panegyrick, in honour of his eminency, having caused others to display all their eloquence upon that subject. He is a person of sufficiency, for whatever he will undertake, on whom I have bestow'd my heart, and my esteem, and who must not be forgotten in my Entertainments. Let me also know, if Monsieur— has finished his Treatise, of Counsells for War, whereof you gave me notice. There being at this day a Prince of Orange, and a Duke of Weymar in the world, does he not fear the misadventure of that Doctor, that discours'd of the same matter in the presence of Hannibal, and employ'd all his Rhetorick, to make himself ridiculous? These Princes are indeed more polite, then that Barbarian was, and our friend more expert then the Sophister; and therefore I [Page 87] consent to the continuation of his work. I most humbly kisse your hands, and am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 July, 1639.

LETTER XV.

SIR,

IT is infinite pleasure unto me, to see you Philosophize upon the argument of friendship; all your subtleties are not less solid, then delicate and agreeable. You have discovered the most secret recesses of your soul, and it must necessarily be, that you have throughly studied your inclinations, since you are so perfect in the knowledge of your selfe. Certainly you know an excellent person. And what unhappinesse have I, to be separated from you by so many Towns and Champians: Is it the will of Destiny, to keep us alwaies apart?

Nec d [...]bitur veras audire & reddere voces?

These violent desires do frequently transport me, and I should undoubtedly content them, if it were possible to see Paris without approaching the Court. But I acknowledge my weaknesse the obstacle. The great light blinds me, and I lose my breath in the croud of the World. I forbear to describe you the desolation of our Village, which has lately been almost devoured by the Regiment of the Lord —. Monsieur the Abbot of Bois-Robert, will perhaps give you some relation of it. I shall onely tell you that this injury committed against the Muses, might well deserve an Eclogue in the strain of our friend Colletet. If you please to offer him the subject, I do not question but he will manage it answerably, and readily lend me his resentments. He has oblig'd me in many other matters, and I conceive there is nothing which I may not expect from his friendship. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 4 August, 1639.

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LETTER XVI.

SIR,

SInce the return of the last Post, I have receiv'd that which you were pleas'd to deliver to the Messenger, and shall account it to the number of my former engagements. I cannot sufficiently admire your Jesuite, his daring wit, and the magnificence of his expression; What Enthusiasm has possest him? Without dispute, he is one of your great friends, or at least one that has propounded you for his pattern; and I am confident, your Ode for Monsieur the Cardinall, was his first inspiration. I shall say nothing where I have met with most strength or weakness in his Poem, but forbear at this time to exercise my skill in Censure. Onely I assure you, I never yet saw a more happy imitation; and yet further (which I would have pass for Oraculous) that if Monsieur Chapelain be the instructor of the Father le Moine, the Father le Moine will prove one of the great Personages of these later Ages. I mention'd to you, a few days since, the Letter which I writ to Monsieur the Abbot of Bois-Robert, concerning Monsieur de —I send you a Copy of it inclos'd, because I deem it expedient, that you should know the whole History of Balzac, wherein I do not doubt, but your affection has made you somewhat concern'd. I am, likewise, more perfectly then any person in the world,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 18 August, 1639.

In closing of my Letter, I am told, that Monsieur — did prohibit his Troops to quarter at Balzac. But either his commands had not Authority enough, or his Captains were unmindfull of his orders. For our Village was wholly sack'd before ever the Party approach't it. But this injury must be forgotten as well as many more, and we must rest satisfied with the little subsistence they have left us to be so.

LETTER XVII.

SIR,

I Have read with very great consolation, the two Letters of our dear and incomparable friends. I should have said, with very great joy, if in the condition wherein I am, I could be sensible of that delightfull motion of the soul. But I find such [Page 89] drooping and languour upon my spirit, and my body so infeebled with the restlesse nights I have lately pass'd, that there is no news of goodnesse enough to awaken and divert my melancholly. You may well perceive, that if this were not the obstacle, I should dispense with my vow for this time, and not borrow your words, though more eloquent then mine, to testifie to those worthy friends, that I esteem their Amity amongst the dearest blessings of my life. The prudence and matter of that of Monsieur Hobier, is admirable, as well as his style pure and uniform. I think, Sir, the definition of vir bonus, dicendi peritus, was made expresly for him, and that all his words are mark'd with the character of vertue. I have proceeded no further yet, then his Preface, which deserves an attentive perusal; and, wherein I have stay'd with pleasure. We will speak therefore another time of the life of Agricola, and at present, to pass from a part of Tacitus, to Tacitus entire; be pleas'd to let Monsieur d'Ablancourt know, that I have so high an opinion of his French Version, that I am ready to maintain against the Doctor Heinsius, and the Jesuit Strada, that it farre excells the Latine, whereof they have so closely affected the imitation. Had I a Neighbour of his sufficiency, we should surely accomplish considerable designs, and in our learned walks imploy our Criticism to great advantage. But it is not meet for a poor Anchoret to conceive such high thoughts, and my maladies raise fear in all the world. They are indeed excessively violent, and I assure you, you are impos'd upon by all such as give you any information of my health. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30 Aug. 1639.

LETTER XVIII.

SIR,

YOu reproach my pusillanimity with a very good grace, and your French seems to tell me thus in Latine.

Sydera quis mundum (que) velit spectare cadentem,
Expers ipse metûs? Quis cum ruat arduus aether,
Terra labet misto cöeuntis pondere caeli,
Complosas tenuisse manus? solusne remotus,
Otia s [...]as ages? —

[Page 90]

To which I answer, that knowing my selfe one of the most impotent and unprofitable members of the Common-wealth, I cannot yet discern wherein I may be serviceable to the present necessity. And neverthelesse, If I heard that you were in danger at the end of the world, I should immediately fly thither, either to your assistance, or at least to be your companion in the common ruine. Therefore, if my advice be of weight with you, you shall accept the command of a company of Cavalry, unlesse you rather affect the charge of Lieutenant Colonell, in the Regiment of our excellent Marquiss, I am ready to to list under your Ensign; and if you forbid me, I will play the valiant in the same Tongue wherewith you upbraided my cowardise, and tell you,

Ʋtrumne justi persequemur otium, Horat. Epod. 1.
Non dulce, ni tecum simul?
An hunc laborem mente laturi, decet,
Qua ferre non molles viros.
Feremus? & te vel per Alpium juga,
Inhospitalem & Caucasum,
Vel occidentis us (que) ad ultimum sinum,
Forti sequemur pectore?
Roges tuum labore quid juvem meo,
Imbellis ac firmus parùm?
Comes minore sum futurus in metu,
Qui major absentes habet.

You observe, how I borrow the Enthusiasme of an other, and make my selfe a Poet with Verses that belong not to me. The cause is, for that they better explain my intention, then I can do my selfe, and represent my thoughts to you in their nakednesse and sincerity. I have nothing more to adjoyn to this, but onely that you are pleas'd to make your selfe merry with saying, that you have drawn much Constancy from my Writings; you that have more in your breast, then Seneca, Boetius, Lipsius, or the Keeper of the Seals, du Vaire, have publish'd in all their Volumes. A friend of such worth, is able to uphold me with comfort against all the injuries of bad times. I have added this Epithete to time but of late, and if Monsieur — had not taken assay of me, I might have still been intire, and able to have told you,

[Page 91]

D'ogni oltraggio e scorno,

La mia famiglia, e la mia greggia il [...]ese.

Semper qui fur, ne strepito di marte

Ancor turbò questa rémota parte.

But I am now enforced to change my ditty; and were my resentments as quick and delicate, as formerly, (though some, as I have told you, would perswade me they are) I should endeavour to repay the rudenesse with such a revenge, as should acquit my courage, and afford our Province some mirth, in the midst of their distresses. But we must comfort our selfe with the multitude of sufferers, in the same cause, and admire the Heroes of other Ages, who took care of men of learning, and protected them in the generall desolation. Possibly another time, there will be found some, that will judge us worthy of this honour, and make us objects of their heroicall generosity. You see what course I take to palliate our miseries, and so, ‘Dum careo veris, gaudia falsa juvant.’ I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 29 April, 1639.

LETTER XIX.

SIR,

I Have this day received a Letter of Monsieur de— whereof I send you a copy; I could have wish'd lesse commendations from his Rhetorick, and more favour from his Captains: But since his commands were ineffectuall, and Monsieur the [...]uke de la Rochefaucaut, was partaker in the common saccage, it is meet our Province should abate their vanity; and I forbear to trouble you any further, with the lamentable story of our grievances. Having already given you so exact narration of my misfortunes, it is but equitable to inform you, of the good requitall I received by this last Post; 'tis a Letter from Monsieur Conrart, which makes me the proudest man upon earth; and if there be remaining any shadow of humility in me, yet I triumph at least within doors, and keep holy-day in my Closet. To tell you the truth sincerely, I never yet saw a Letter, more ingenuous, rich, and noble: and for that you speak of it, as if it had never been in your hands, I thought [Page 92] my self obliged to send you a copy of it, to the end it may become the common subject of our admiration and applause. Does not this Gentleman make you recall to memory, the first Nephewes of Remus, who were wealthy, without having pillaged the Gold of Asia; and learned, before they understood the Language of the Greeks: They were, I say, rich, with their own possessions, and learned with such knowledge, as was peculiarly their own, and unborrowed. It must not be suffer'd, that posterity be ignorant of this wonder of our age. And if my writings have that strength of constitution, to survive the ashes of their parent, (as he is pleased to imagine in my favour) he may be assur'd, it shall never be, without making them bear some eminent testimonies, of the esteem I have of his great worth, and the friendship wherewith he has done me honour. The father Palavicino gives me no satisfaction, concerning the Comedies of Ariosto; and the grande Positivo, whereunto he requires our belief, is more then one degree above my apprehension. I cannot discover more excellency in the great Poem, considered in its kind, then the Comedies have in theirs; and as to the point of regularity, you know there is no comparison. It may be therefore, that Palavicino is a great Scholar, but this part of learning lies out of his road. To be a native of Italy, is not a sufficient qualification, to create a man Dictator in the Commonwealth of Literature; witnesse the Poet of Luca, for whom Camusat lately printed a volume of Verses, which, in my opinion, are far short in value, of the paper of the Impression. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 24 Septemb. 1639.

LET. XX. From Monsieur Conrart, to Monsieur de Balzac.

SIR,

I Advertise you before-hand, that I intend no excuses in this, for my not writing to you; it is rather a protestation to assure you, that I shall give you no further trouble in that kind, but leave you in repose, to employ your onely care, in advanceing the immortality of your own glory, and that of your friends. Neverthelesse I have imagined, that after a silence of above a years durance, I might happily oblige you to the [Page 93] reading of a few lines, provided I did at the same time oblige you, to return me no answer. This is now a favour which I request of you, with as much passion, as I us'd heretofore to obtain your Letters; the esteem I bear them, is in as high a degree as ever; but I content my desires with those, which you write to Monsieur Chapelain, as well as if they were addressed to my selfe, and I have found the device to imagine them such, and that I make you all the answers, which you receive from him. So that, without losse of time to you, in regard of me, or of my prayers and importunities, we enjoy a mutuall commerce, which puts you to no trouble, and affords me a great measure of delight and contentment. I have had a sight of the remarkable judgment you pass'd, upon the Supposez of Ariosto, wherein I am much taken, both with your equity, and your addresse, and have equall admiration of the profoundnesse of your capacity, and the politenesse of your wit. Never was seen a Judge so well accomplish'd, and so little prepossest; nor a sentence more just and better grounded. There needs no rigid and severe decrees, to constrain it to execution, every one acquiesces in it without resistance; and even those that accounted it their glory, to have never yielded, have thought themselves obliged to a ready approbation, of what you ordain. I have read, with no lesse contentment, that handsome Apology, which is in the keeping of Monsieur Chapelain; it has been the subject of divers Academicall conferences; and all that saw it, after they had survey'd all the perfections of it with wonder, could find no other fault in it, but its brevity. I assure you, there was scarce one lecture of it, but drew these expressions from the Auditory. When will it be our happinesse, to see compleat Volumes of such excellency, as this Discourse? And why cannot we prolong the life of this incomparable person, the Author of it, with the like facility, as he renders all those immortall, whose names deserve a place in his Writings? I had intended to finish my Letter here, but this last word induces me, to make a request to you, for a speedy sight of your rich Miscellanies, wherein we shall unquestionably behold, all the beauties of Art and Nature, in the height of their glory and lustre, and the pomp of ornament, so delightfully accommodated, with the genuine and simple comlinesse, that the contexture, though of nothing but naturall and supernaturall, will appear most gracefull, without either disorder or contradiction. Eloquence will have there, so dextrously contriv'd all [Page 94] its force and artifice, yet without making shew of any, it will notwithstanding animate the whole body, with such motion and action, as will ravish all the world. Suffer us not to languish any longer, in expectation of our happinesse; and be pleased to believe, that amongst all those that desire the accomplishment of it, there is not any more perfectly then my self.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 Sep. 1639.

LET. XXI.

SIR,

YOu shall be no better obey'd, then Virgil was of old, when he sentenc'd his Aeneids to the fire. I cannot be won to burn your Letter, although you should ordain me to do it, by an especiall clause of your Testament. Notwithstanding, your desire may prevail with me, for secrecy, and the wise person be suffer'd in the guilt of his folly, without knowing our opinions of the action. Your perspicatious reason, has discovered the true cause of his prodigious inequality, and the article which you write me concerning it, deserves to be inserted in a convenient place. This may be effected without difficulty, Suppresso authorum & paraphrastarum nomine; and you may intrust Monsieur— upon my interest. I will not descend from a Thesis to an Hypothesis. I knew, long since, that man is an Animal, compos'd of contrarieties, and that such a person is reasonable to day, who has no assurance of being so to morrow. Some man may have great dexterity and conduct, in his affairs, as for instance, the Marshal— and yet be void of all sense in his writings; and another, as the Lord Madelenet, may compose Odes in Latin, in competition with those of Horace, and French Verse, after the rate of Du Monin. Your — affords an authentick demonstration of this truth, and as far as I can judge, there is a greater difference between him and himself, then there is between him and another person; I speak onely of his Poetry, having yet seen but one sort of his Prose, concerning which, I must tell you, that if he choose me for his example, I am as unhappy as he, of whom it was said, Multas fecerat simias, nullos filios. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 4 Octob. 1639.

[Page 95]

LET. XXII.

SIR,

I Have very tender resentments of your losse, although your gain could not have promoted the conclusion of the War. Since Brisac has wrought no advantage to it, I am no longer of belief, that peace is in the power of men; Heaven must of necessity become engaged in the affair, and it must be the work of God, and not ours. Yet let us not, in the mean time, abandon our selves to grief, nor dispair of the Common-wealth, although after a Battle of Cannae. At the worst, we may save our selves in the Sanctuary, that Philosophy has built for us, against the misfortunes of the world; I mean, the Philosophy of Plato, for I know you affect not that of Chrysippus; and I accord with you, in dislike of that step-dame of the passions; (as one tearms it) which in order to the designe, of making a true wise man, that is, living and sprightly, represents him no other, then a dead and insensible image. This kind of Statues are more sutable, for the ornament of the Porch, then for the uses of life; and, as I conceive, there is between hardnesse and softnesse a middle temperament, which is called Firmnesse. The Piece that this Post will deliver you, contains something perhaps not impertinent to this argument. I have some weak apprehensions of its beauty, by the persuasion of some here that think it fair; but Monsieur Chapelain having not yet pronounced upon it, I am wholly unresolved in what quality to esteem it. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Octob. 1639.

LET. XXIII.

SIR,

LEt us leave the dead, to the company of those in the same condition, and suffer me to congratulate with you, for your new acquaintance. I never yet saw the face, of Monsieur the Embassadour of Sueden, though I have long since had a particular esteem of his endowments; and had not he turn'd the Institutes into Verse, and publish'd some other pieces of the like nature, I should have yet had a greater veneration of his worth. As for his humour, of affecting the behaviour of a stranger, I am not much displeas'd with it; we are all Barbarians to one another, and there is a sort of civility at Paris, [Page 96] which I more disgust then all the rudenesse of the North. The Poet of Luca, of whom you have no knowledge, is a— that has made an infinite company of Verses, at the rate of a hundred for a penny, as your Marin us'd to speak; and all de communi, in the term of the University. I have not discover'd one grain of salt in two or three great Poems, which I had the patience to read. Whereupon I have bidden him Adieu for eever. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 4 Novemb. 1639.

SIR,

I Am but ill affected with the deportment of the Italian Paricide; and the Muses Balzacides doe no lesse distaste it, then the Putean's. The pious offices which he renders to the memory of his friend, gave me infinite contentment, and I have testified as much. But I cannot endure that he should drive a Trade with them. It must needs be, that he has little knowledge of our Court, since he addresses himselfe to Schollars to be his Soliciters, and to gaine him kindnesse from a man they never see. He is yet more strangely mistaken in the choise of his subject. For you may believe, that if he escape being derided for his Panglossie, he will at least receive but little thanks for this. Monsieur the Cardinall may willingly bear with his Panegyricks, and pay him for some of them; but he is not concerned in a Funerall Oration, for people that he never heard of. It seems, the famous T [...]pler is come back to drink at Paris, and that he could not be long absent from the center of his Luxury, I beseech you, Sir, let me know from him, where Monsieur Maynard is, for whom my curiosity is uncessant. If you also happen into the company of Monsieur de la Pigeonnier, you will infinitely oblige me by desiring of him, the Manuscript Works of the late du Vivier, which are in his hands. I think he will not refuse you; and if you will do me the pleasure to send them hither, I shall return them with speed, and before he can imagine they are gone so long a journey. This du Vivier had a pretty way of raillerie, and because it may be thought I had some share in his death, I believe my selfe obliged to perform some duty to his memory. He writ me word by the Messenger from Blois to Paris, that he had lost his Father, and that himselfe should infallibly follow, unlesse I comforted him for that affliction. I was negligent, after my custome, and rendred him not the office he required at the time appointed. As for him, he made good his word, and the following Messenger, by whom I intended my answer, told me the person to whom I addressed it, was no longer of this World. Behold a fatall sloathfulnesse, and which may give warning to all people that write to me in that [Page 100] manner, for I know at length I shall become incorrigible. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15. Decemb. 1639.

LETTER XXIX.

SIR,

YOu may be assur'd by my former Letters, that I have received yours, and that the Elogium of your Marchionesse is not lost; if it were she, that sent you so many Notes, they might be tolerated with patience. But the persecution of the other is insupportable, and I swear unto you, I would never have said a good word of her, if I had known she did so perpetually assassinate you with her Writings. I should have begun long since to deplore your fortune. The — would needs heretofore play with me at that sport, but I was more valiant then you, and acquitted my selfe of her couragiously. She made a thousand false thrusts, and I received a whole Bushell of Tickets, but without losing one jot of my dumbe gravity. This is the way to treat Ladies of that kind, whether they be Muses or Fairies; or, which you love better, Sybils. You see my old practice, I am ready to do worse in case of necessity: 'Tis not because I am full of imployment, but for that I am so discontented, and weary with the continued torture of my maladies, that I know not on which side to turn my self. I am in great fear for Piedmont, that is, for you, and a little Nephew I have there, who may possibly be troden down in the croud. Our friends are of great worth, but the Princes of Savoy must not be neglected; and there being brave spirits on both sides, I apprehend a terrible slaughter, unlesse Heaven avert it. I am proud of the good opinion that Monsieur Spanheim has of me; for he is a person whom I infinitely esteem. If there be any thing of his abroad, besides the two Books which I have already seen, I beseech you inform my Stationer of it, and let him send them. Otherwise, I never make any uncivill request, nor desire to see that which is kept secret. Hence it is, that I mortifie my curiosity with my discretion, and am contented to know, that Monsieur le Maistre can make nothing but what is rare and excellent. You are wholly silent concerning my affections, I meane, Monsieur [Page 101] Conrart, and Monsieur Menage. Be ple [...]s'd to let t [...]em know, I have still the same passion for them, and be confid [...]ntly assur'd, that I am more perfectly then any other in the world, I am,

SIR,

YOu have made a happy alteration, in the Tomb of the Duke de Weymar, 'tis worth an Aegyptian Pyramid, and the Eagle ready to fall under his blowes, is not a change of small importance. I have sent me the Translation of the Parasite, which is barricado'd with such a company of bad Verses, that I was in a mind to have arrested my curiosity there, without passing farther. He is certainly a rare fellow, to elect and pick out himself, for the Guardian of the French Honour, and the abaser of the pride of Italy.

En Cor Zenodoti! en jecur Cratetis!

I am sufficiently perswaded of the merit of Monsieur de Petrese; but I spoke to you of his reputation, and you know well, that there is a certain donum famae, that all learned men do not possesse, and which renders those who enjoy it, not onely considerable to the Nobility and Gentry, but to the common People and Artizans. I have not reviewed the book you sent me, but neither do I think the first judgment I made of it, was precipitated; at the least, I have a kindnesse for the Author, and conceive he is not enough regarded; he hath, I know not what, of grave and noble in him, which extreamly pleases me; I speak of his person, and not of his first writings, in [Page 107] which, I acknowledge, he hath too much played the Captain: But who is he that hath not his failings, and his tricks of youth? There is not that thing in the world we can praise, without exception, and all men generally have need of grace. Shall I see nothing of our dear Monsieur de Silhor's, to quicken my appetite? and shall I never hear the good newes, that fortune at length hath some remorse, for ill treating his vertue? I expect the relation of this with some impatience, as I shall the occasions of letting you know, I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 16 Feb. 1640.

LET. V.

SIR,

SIR,

I Think the modesty of Madam de Liancourt, which you praise so much, was not greater then your humility. You speak almost in the strain of young novices. This would be good in a general Confession, at the feet of a Father of the Oratory; but to write to me, that you have no merit, and that 'tis I that set a value upon you, cannot be receiv'd without an incivility to the publique, in flattering a particular person. I pray God pardon you, my dear Sir; yet a superfluity in your Complement may be suffer'd for this time, although in the judgement of Monsieur de —, it be not any where allowable but at Table, where I agree with him, that Entertainments are of the essence of good cheere, I confesse the conversation of this Gentleman [Page 113] pleases me wondrously, being mixed of the world and books. He brings in such a proportion of serious and jest, as serves exactly to keep the mind, betwixt loosnesse and study, in the agreeable mean that partakes of both. If I had known, his Letter would have been troublesome to you, I should have hindred him from writing; but I conceiv'd, that twelve lines of your style every day, would not put you to much pains. Besides, to tell you true, the sending of Spanish gloves to Monsieur de Voiture, pleas'd me so well, that I was desirous to see a Ticket more of the same aire. Monsieur de Thou has sent Monsieur Girard the relation, of the death of Monsieur the Cardinall de la Valette; he desir'd to be interred at Tholouse, in a Church, where the bodies of three Apostles, and many Saints, are repos'd. I observe in it also divers other evidences, of a true piety; and this I confesse it is, wherein I find some consolation. At least it is the onely comfort I will admit of, in so great a losse. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

LET. XII.

SIR,

THe last Post made me rich, and you have been liberall, as well of your own presents, as of those of another. The Letter of Monsieur Silhon, to Monsieur the Cardinall Bentivoglio, is very full of admirable conceits; it afforded me not onely divertisement, but instruction, and his judicious reflections, upon the most eminent places of the Italian Book, are Master pieces of an absolute workman. You would proceed from liberality to magnificence, if you could often make me the like presents; and they should be better received here, then the platform of the building of Monsieur de —. What a strange sight is this, and what is the meaning of this republican, to raise his vanity from the structure of his house, knowing it was a crime in one of old, to have built his a story higher, then that of his neighbours? Madam Desloges had informed me before, of this important newes, and told me more, that this Builder was of great note in his Country, and very powerfull with his Master. We shall see what he desires of me, for there must needs be a Letter with the Pacquet; and he protests to Madam Desloges, that he has writ me divers others, which notwithstanding never came to my hands. You surprise [Page 114] me strangely, in telling me, that the old Doctor, whom we have alwaies so much lov'd, is but a refined cheat; he preaches nothing else, but fidelity, freedom, and sincerity; I know, that oftentimes deceits are practis'd that way, and some people commend truth, to the end they may lie with lesse suspicion. I know there will be alwaies Pharisees in the world, alwaies Salusts and Seneca's, who will hide corrupt manners under fair speeches.

O vita fallax, abditos sensus geris!

Or if you will, with Cicero, Frons, & oculi persaepe mentiuntur, oratio verò saepissime. We must observe the carriage of this gallant man for the future; and beware, that his finesses take not advantage of our simplicity. Be pleased to send me your opinion of an Italian Author, called Davila, who has writ the History of the Civill Wars of France: Is he comparable to the Antients, as I have been told? is his language pure, and his mind dissinteressed? are his Politicks solid and judicious, &c? All this, Sir, in the familiarity of your ordinary style, and without any meditation. I have received newes of our good Monsieur Maynard, who will be here in few daies, if he be a man of his word. In the mean time, oblige me with the delivery of a Letter to him, from Monsieur the Commissary. Of many Verses wherewith he has feasted us, I send you ten, which are not indeed of the lofty strain, but such, whose style seems to me very sweet and naturall.

To Phillis afflicted.THink not (fair mourner) I can e're be tir'd,
To see that sorrow which so sweet appears.
What Artemisia could be more admir'd,
Or wash a Tomb with such becomming tears?
May curses that Philosophy pursue,
Which with tame precepts shall your grief subdue.
All your regrets and sighs so gracefull are,
And force my heart by their victorious charms.
Those clouds of sorrow are both bright and fair,
And love from them takes more triumphant arms.

[Page 115]

I most humbly kisse your hands, and am with all my soul,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 15 May, 1640.

LETTER XIII.

SIR,

THe Post has faithfully acquit himself, of all that you entrusted him with in my favour, for which I confesse a new engagement to you; but more eminently, for the two most prudent, most exact, and, according to your custome, most obliging Letters. The gift of Urbanity, which you congratulate to Monsieur de la Thebaudier, will be undoubtedly pleasing to him. I have sent him your Letter, but I had neer forgotten to thank you for it on my own part: And surely, Sir, it is fit I do, since I am as much interessed in it, as he; and you therein amplifie my small merit, with your accustomed exaggerations. I am very sensible of these testimonies of esteem, because they are also evidences of love, and the heat where with your words are animated, is too naturall to come other whence, then from your heart. But, Sir, what are the intentions of our dear Monsieur Esprit? his civilities fill me with confusion; he either mocks me, or is good and generous even to excesse, as well as Monsieur his elder brother, who is not contented to excuse the poverty of the Village, but also mis-imployes his good language, in commendations of the bad cheer, wherewith he was received. I treated him onely in the fashion, of the good man in the Georgicks: ‘Qui dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis.’ and made him no other complement, then that in the same Author; ‘Aude hospes contemnere opes & te quo (que) dignum, &c.’ Notwithstanding, he would have the whole family charg'd with all these favours, which are so empty and leight, and whereunto onely his acknowledgment gives a a body. How easie is it to oblige persons, that act by noble principles! 'Tis I, Sir, that am infinitely accountable to them, for their generous affection; and since I am destitute of all means to declare [Page 116] my gratitude, by my actions. I conjure you to assure the two brothers, which are at Paris, that I love, esteem, and honour them all three perfectly. I return you the catalogue of Italian books, wherein I see not any thing of value. Is this the rich Library of the curious book-merchant? I much pity the hard hap of his widow, if she be such as she is represented to me; and if I were one of those Grandees, that lov'd the husband so well, I would not suffer her to perish for want of relief. But they are of that sort of people, who think, they give all, when they give shadowes and appearances; and had rather go to the obsequies of the dead, then assist, to the upholding of his ruinous family. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 22 May, 1640.

LET. XIV.

SIR,

I Have a perfect esteem of the merit of Monsieur— but I confesse, his book lesse pleased me at the second, then it did at the first reading. You shall know the reasons of my sentence, if we happen to meet once more in our lives; and it shall be on the side of that fair bed, wrought with Tulips, where we will treat of this matter, and severall others, if Heaven hear my prayers.

Et me fata unum patiantur degere mensem,

Anspiciis, Capelane, tuis.

I am confident, the Bulls you speak of, will not be the cause of this voyage, although he that makes the Briefs at this day, has said these twenty years, that I was not unworthy of the favours of the King, sed haec fuere; and he obliges me too much, to leave me to my repose and liberty, which I prefer above all, that greatnesse is able to give me. I find that true every day, which you write me of Davila, and the frequent concurrence of my judgment with yours, gives me great cause of glory. I onely adjoyne to it, that it is a great shame to our Nation, to be instructed of their own affairs from a stranger, and that France has not yet been the mother of a French Historian. I have seen a second Lapidary on the Duke of Weymar, which I cannot commend, though it be ascribed to a person whom we love. That which you tell me of the other is most true, his eloquence [Page 117] is wholly founded upon common places, and has nothing at all of Cicero. I am,

SIR,

Yours, &c.

Balzac, 1 June, 1640.

LET. XV.

SIR,

I Should not think my selfe in my wits, if I did not extraordinarily esteem those Messieurs that bear that name by way of excellency. But further also, considering my obligations to them, if I lov'd them not, (permit me to tell you in Latine) Mihi robur & aes triplex, circa pectus esset. The strength that Philosophy confers on us, being not contrary to the tendernesse into which humanity softens us, I make it my glory to be one of those tender and sensible ones, that have alwaies their hearts wounded, and their souls captiv'd to incomparable vertue. When I have discover'd it in any place, no ceremony or complement is able to restrain me, The possessors of it cannot quit themselves of me at their pleasure, and there is a necessity of loving, that joyns me inseparably to the thing, that I account amiable. Our Monsieur Esprit de Verseüil, and yours of Paris, shall not doubt of this truth, and they shall one day see, that I do not content my selfe with a secret resentment, but make profession of my gratitude. It seems you have shown all our friends the Letter of Monsieur de— He would be very much mistaken, if he thought, I would raise me a Trophie of the praises that he gives me, and be still greedy of those Viands, whereof I surfeited long ago. You need not fear lest his profusion make me slight my vow, and bring me new desires to write Letters. It was with much Religion, that I said vae literis, and pronounced a curse upon my ancient Trade. And in case you doubt of it, I confirm all the maledictions in this place, that I have so often and solemnly bequeath'd unto it. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 June, 1640.

LETTER XVI

SIR,

ALl that I receiv'd of yours, and the Roman Frenchman's, has satisfi'd me above measure. Although his mind be famished with Benefices, and sick of Ambition; yet he has otherwise [Page 118] amiable and deserving qualities. Let us not exact more of poor mortalls, then the proportion of their fortunes will allow. It is not a crime to be no Philosopher: All of that profession have not equally abandon'd matters of interest. There have been some that have made as importunate supplications as this, that have receiv'd denials and affronts, and insinuated into the favour of the Pages of the Syracusan Tyrants. I took delight in all the Papers which he sent me, and should have taken much more, it they had not oblig'd me to the return of answers. We have to do with an urgent man, and who understands not what it is to give. He lends onely upon usury, and trafficks in Prose and Verse, in the one and the other Tongue. He is so rigorous in the observation of punctualities, that he will never be woo'd to pardon my omistions. Yet I must beseech a little expectation from him, and some of his mercy in consideration of my infirmities. He that told you the other day, that he had not aes triplex circa pectus, may notwithstanding have it circa frontem. For, indeed I see no other remedy to defend my selfe from these favours that are done me, which I esteem cruell, and should be happier in the neglect and oblivion of all the world. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

LETTER XVII.

SIR,

YOur last Letter has taught me nothing new, it onely confirm'd me in the high opinion I had of the strong constitution of your soul. Neverthelesse I discover through it a very excellent and commendable infirmity; I mean that tenderness whereof you tell me, which renders you sensible onely of the losses which you suffer of your friends. These are such, Sir, as in these dayes are accounted none; and how many people are there on every side of you, that had rather have lost eight hundred friends, then eight hundred crowns; they value them no more, then they do men in Turky, that are to be sold; and I know some, that would easily forego their most dear and faithfull intimates, at fifty crownes a-piece.

O curvae in terris animae & coelestium inanes!

[Page 119]

In stead of requiring consolation, you ought rather to rejoyce in the possession of the vertue, which is contrary to that ignoble vice, and congratulate your health in the time of a Pestilence. I am fully satisfied, that the ruines, upon which the antient Sages held themselves immovable, would not be more dreadfull to you, then them, and that you could behold with a countenance, no lesse serene and unfrighted, all the Shipwracks and burnings, and other hostilities, wherewith fortune enterprises upon Philosophy. I would gladly continue this Discourse, and acquit my self of what I promis'd you by the last Post; but my attendance on a great company with me, will not afford me leasure. I am confident, you will allow the excellent wit and language of Monsieur the Duke de la Rochefoucaut, as also that of Monsieur the Prince of Marsillac his son, to be sufficient and lawfull causes, of referring you to another time. Yet I must not end here, without telling you, that I received about three hours since, a rich present from Monsieur de la Menardiere. All that I could do since that time, was, to read the discourse at the entry of the book, wherein I confesse, betwixt the strength of his reasoning, and the solidity of his doctrine, I perceiv'd so quick and glorious appearances, and in so great number, that I yet remain dazled with them. Did I yet practise the writing of Letters, I would not fail to testifie to him, the resentments I have of so dear a favour. But it is possible, I shall one day render him some more considerable act of my gratitude; and I hope, that after I have studied his book, it will furnish me wherewith to alledge it. Par verò mumus ne à nobis unquam expectes, praestantissime Capellane, sed si per egestatem nostram referre gratiam non licet, ingenui saltem animi erit profiteri per quem profecerimus. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 22 June, 1640.

LET. XVIII.

SIR,

I Have solemnly renounc'd Hyperbole; 'tis a rock, which I look [...] upon without trembling, and fear more then Scylla and Ch [...]dis. Yet you think, I take pleasure to fall upon it, and that I am more then ever the hyperbolicall Doctor. I perceive well, Sir, where the occasion lies. I shall be in combat all my life, with your perpetuall humility, and there is need of a processe to make you receive your due; I will not [Page 120] cease to tender it to you, in the best coine I am able, and shall not scruple to perform that justice, to the most faithfull of my friends, which I rendred to my most enraged adversaries. Monsieur Costard will without doubt be transported with joy, for the receit of the excellent present you sent him, and you shall not fail of his thanks; which notwithstanding I shall know sooner from you, then from him, because there is no commerce from hence to Niort, and the fifteen leagues that separate us, are lesse favourable to our entertainments, then the distance of a hundred 'twixt Angoulesm and Paris. All your fears give me not lesse disquiet, then they do you. But I hope, the God of Hosts will be on our side, to the end of this Campagne. It may be, the excellent Hymns will prevail with him, and then I doubt not, but the Prince of Monsieur Chapelain will obtain greater favours from him, then he of Monsieur Faret. Battels are not alwaies fought at the times of appointment, and I have observ'd in the Histories of all ages, that the great events which determine the fate of great affairs, do happen lesse frequently, according to designe, then by accident and occasion. Our enterprises here below, are derided from above; and we are but the engines and actours of pieces, that are composed in heaven; Homo histrio, Deus verò poeta est: He is, Sir, a soverain Poet, and you cannot refuse the part, which he appoints you to bear in the Scene. It is meet we comply to his orders concerning us, and submit our selves to the direction of his providence. Neverthelesse I dare promise you this time, that you shall have no need of your supream vertues; and my genius prompts me, that your Muses shall yet a long time sing the triumphs of Monsieur de Longueville: These are the vowes which are made for him and you, by,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 July, 1640.

LET. XIX.

SIR,

YOu are the last of the good and magnanimous, and if there be yet any generosity upon earth, we ma [...] say boldly, it is lodged in your breast, and discovers it se [...] [...]n your words. Those which you have written to Monsieur Costard, in answer to his Letter, have so wholly satisfied me on every side, that I know not which most to esteem, either the prudence and freedom that have dictated them, or the wit and [Page 121] courage that breathe in them. They would even reclaim Tigers to civility, and to inchant Dragons. Quid fiet de homine, ut Romani loquebantur, humanissimo, cui est consuetudo cum mansuetioribus musis?

Non obtusa adeò Costardus pectora gestat.

I doubt not, but for the future, he will be one of your great admirers, and knowing you, as he does, bestow his heart upon you, which is one of the most noble and constant, that I know. I account myself happy, in having contributed something to this incomparable friendship. Being both of you of such eminent worth, it was requisite to the glory of either, that you should be no longer indifferent. I have yet seen no more, then the Epistle of our friend, wherein I was ravished, to see the Verses which he cites from you. This is term'd,

Praesenti tibi maturos largitur honores,

Ornandasque tuum per nomen suscipit artes.

Do me the reason of a most humble acknowledgment, for the other, wherewith he begins his discourse, with that excesse of gratitude, pro ingratissimâ mihi olim gratiâ. If one had given him the Consulship, what would he not have said? For one Panegyrick that Ausonius made, he would have made a dozen; and if Domitian had offer'd him the honour of a dinner, he would have flouted the feasts of Jupiter; he would have said, He scorn'd his Nectar, and had no need of his Ambrosia. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 July, 1640.

LET. XX.

SIR,

SInce the Letters which you write me, are benefits which I receive, and those I return you, are the acknowledgments which I render; you may well perceive, that it concerns me not to leave you one onely moment in doubt, of the gratitude of my soul. The happinesse is, you are neither a hard friend, nor a proud benefactor. Although I should fail, your indulgence would seek reasons, to justifie my offence, and you would accuse, not onely the Post, Totila, and Rocolet, but also fortune, the stars, and destiny, rather then believe [Page 222] me culpable. You need not doubt, but I am much interessed in the great newes of Germany, and intend to make a bonefire for my own particular, as soon as your Prince shall have deserved those of the publick; I pray Heaven he may become the Liberatour of Christendome, and that I be his Prophet, and you his Historian. But indeed, if a man may be a Prophet and a Poet, at the price you speak of, they are charges of a very cheap rate, and the places of the Sages did not cost more, in the time of Cleobulus and Bias, when there needed no more to have one, then to have said, [...], or some such like quodlibet. If Monsieur Menage does me the honour of a visit, I will receive him with open arms, and my hermitage shall be ever esteemed glorious, for the receit of such a guest. I have no knowledge of the Abbot of Aubignac, nor ever heard of his Question of a dozen hours long, neither can I tell who are those Candidati tam infeliciter ambitiosi; you will oblige me, by giving me a little light herein. If any one have done you injustice, I will declare it to just posterity; and the Judges that shall condemn my friend, shall not be lesse execrable, then those which acquitted the enemies of Cicero; Cum nempe violatae Religionis reus, Religioni & Legibus illusit. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 June, 1640.

LET. XXI.

SIR,

VVHat is the designe of your Rheum, to set upon you in the month of July, and not to be contented to make war against you, in the midst of winter, which is the true time of its Campagne, ut optimè & ingeniosissimè scribis? You may with reason reckon it, with the other prodigies, which we have lately seen, and those that are still in beeing. And since your flegme has such an extraordinary inundation, you may be suffered to accuse the starrs, and complain of the dispensations of Nature. As for me, let Rivers forsake their Channels, and overswel their banks as long as they please; let the Dog-star die with cold, if he will, and let it freez and snow upon our harvest; I know, the worst evill is already past, and the succeeding disorders will ever be more supportable to me, then the first. But, Sir, you are good company for a sick person, and it must be confess'd, that the clouds of your [Page 123] rheum, do nothing at all disturb the serenity of your minde. Could any man speak better of the affairs of Germany, and the peregrinations of your Theseus? or with more humanity accuse the miscariage of our new brother of the Academy? Is it possible for earnest and jeast, to be more agreeably tempered upon the farewel of Monsieur de Colomby to them, or upon the curses that he bestowes on the present age, and the small understanding there was, between him and Tacitus, even at the time of their greatest familiarity? You become what person soever you please to act, and there is an equall mixtu e of prudence in all your performances. I have seen within a few daies, a man whom you much prized to me, in two very different postures: And at the conclusion of his Poetry, which pleas'd me extreamly, I fell by misfortune upon these Verses, which made me sick at heart, and wherewith I am somewhat conscientious to sully white paper.

Cum spueret vestrum alteruter gravis exquecrearet,
Plurimus & raucâ conspergeret omnia tussi;
Nulla horrescentis vultu asper signa dedissem,
Cuncta ferens, vos aetatis nam (que) ante tulistis
Plura immunda meae, cum cultûs nescius infans,
Foedarem toties in canis humida strata.

As I would not have a Poet bear too much upon the wing, and be alwaies soaring above the clouds, so neither would I have him suffer himself to fall into the dirt, and much lesse into some other matter more unclean. Fracastori [...]s descends and abases his course, when he pleases; but this man creeps and wallowes in these six verses, as if he took pleasure in ordure. I do not know Monsieur Hedelin any more, then I knew Monsieur the Abbot of Auhignac; but I shall be forward to begin our acquaintance, by the way which you have mark'd me out. You must therefore do me the favour, to send me the pro and con, and believe me alwaies,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 August, 1640.

LET. XXII.

SIR,

I am happy in being beloved of you, and I would not change this good fortune, for that of all the favourites in the world. [Page 124] This is indeed a magnificent speech, but the loftiness of my words is neither without reason nor example. Your Horace goes beyond them, when instead of the favour of Kings, he appropriates even Royalty to himselfe, and sayes, he is more happy then the King of Persia, by a lesse enjoyment then mine. With how great goodnesse have you receiv'd the trouble which I put upon you? How many souls receive light from your fire? And what is it that you do not for a man, that can only requite you with vowes and wishes? You cover me, Sir, with shame and confusion, and I know not how to answer your last Letter, but with bowing my head, and laying my hand upon my mouth. This religious posture must serve me instead of the thanks I owe you, and of those I should tender you for the savour of those excellent persons which you have ingag'd to undertake our affaires. I am not more yours then I was before, quid enim perfecto addi potest? But I am, as I conceive, more then any person in the world.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 12 Aug. 1640.

LETTER XXIII.

SIR,

I Send you here with the Letter of a gallant man of my acquaintance, which he desired might be communicated to you; and I must tell you, he is perswaded upon my words, that he is a Master Artist at writing of Letters. It is therefore a just judgement of God, that I am now persecuted with the impertinences which I formerly commended, and that my flattery reaps the thornes which it selfe had sown. He seeks occasions to write to me, and when he cannot devise any, he purveys for them abroad in all the world. He also injoyns me to return him an answer, upon I know not what penalty; and requires, besides all this, gratiam celeritatis, as if it were a businesse of expedition. He shall have neither one nor other, neither answer nor diligence. I will preserve the liberty wherof he would bereave me; and if he proceed to molest me, make another oath more solemn then the first. What an imprudence is it, to exact golden Letters of his friends, to demand of me Rhetorical flourishes, and cosi va discorrendo, to the intent he may read me in assemblies, and make a Proclamation of our secrets? You can testifie for me, that I am farre from ingaging in the Trade of a Declamer, which I shall ever studiously [Page 125] avoid. I beseech you let me know, who that person is which takes himselfe for Scipio Africanus, and treats his friend with the name of Laelius. His presumption certainly deserves severe punishment, and I doubt not but one of these dayes, the fancy will be in his head to prophane the names of Agrippa, Mecaenas, and Hephestion, in bestowing them upon some miserable scoundrel, to whom himselfe will be Augustus and Alexander. That Vida, whom we esteem so much, and in whose favour Scaliger the Son hath written, Qui de Hieronymo Vida aliter sentit quàm de summo ac perfectissimo Poeta nugas agit. This Vida, I say, is the true Author of the villany you have seen. It is in the Poem which he addresses, Gelelmi Vidae & Leonae Oscasalae Manibus. But we must leave all other matters, & give you a recital of the Heroical enterprise of a gallant man, which pass'd through this Country, and is going in quest of Truth, and good Wine, by Sea and Land. To this effect, he designs a Pilgrimage to Monsieur Des Cartes, in imitation of that of Apollonius to Hiarchas: Nevertheless he will put off truth, and Monsieur des Cartes to the next year, and not pass the Sea this Campagne. But his other design deserves the knowledge of the whole world. He departed from Paris on purpose to come and see the Sun rise and set at Balzac, and so forwards, to eat all the Melons and Figs of Gasconie; and from thence to take the way of Languedoc, and keep the Vintage of Frotignac. Alexander had never so rare a thought: The Conquest of the Indies is nothing in comparison to this expedition, and you must be more sparing hereafter in relating to me the voyages of your Theseus. You must further know, that his first speech to me, was concerning you, in such manner as I would have all the world speak; and this introduction has so well pleas'd me, that although he had drawn after him, Maenades, Sileni, Asses and Panthers, I could not have shut my Gate upon this extraordinary train. As I had finish'd my Letter, he that is the subject of it, came hither upon the Gallop, and gave me a second visit, matutinam, siccam & sobriam. But yet I must tell you, that this sobriety is not without some consideration of interest; and that he did not forbear his breakfast, but for fear it might be prejudiciall to a great dinner which attended him at Angoulesme. So that even his abstinence has intemperance for its object, and is nothing at all agreeable to that of the ancient Fathers in the Desert. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 14 Aug. 1640.

[Page 126]

LETTER XXIV.

SIR,

THe great importance is to know, that I am your Favourite; for it is most certain you are a King; and if you will not believe me, hear the Oracle that tells you.

Rex est qui posuit metus,
Et airi mala pectoris;
Quem non ambitio impotens,
Et nunquam stabilis favor
Vulgi praecipitis, movet;
Qui tuto positus loco,
Infra se videt omnia.

If you desire any more, behold, Sir, a second Oracle, or the confirmation of the first.

Mens regnum bona possidet
Nil ullis opus est equis,
Nil armis & inertibus
Telis quae procul ingerit
Parthus, cum simulat fugas:
Rex est qui metuit nihil.

There is nothing herein which is not proper to you, and you are the Soveraign next Monsieur de Longueville. But it is true, this Noble affection gives you some disquiets, and you feare all the blowes for so dear a person, which you would contemn if they were directed against your selfe. The Sonnet of the Italian President, and the Letter of the Cavalier of twenty years old, are very agreeable to my palate, and you have obliged me with a feast of two so rare presents. But how many lustres are gone? I had almost said, Ages, wherein we have seen nothing of your Muses. I know well, that ‘Carmina proveniunt animo deducta sereno.’ And there is scarce any thing but Vowes made in a Tempest. But yet you might have put those vowes in rime, and told us in Musick, that singing could not be exspected from you in your present estate. As for me, nothing disturbs me from my Trade. [Page 127] Neither pain of body, nor affliction of mind, hinder me, from sending you almost by every Post, something of my workmanship. My Enthusiasm being past, and my last Latine-Letter sent, some have assur'd me, that it was an incomparable piece. Behold, a great word for a Courtier, not very familiar with your Apollo, and a Doctor in the vulgar tongue. I have not so much faith, as to believe my self presently a Roman Citizen, because a Provinciall told me so; 'tis you, Sir, who must clear me up this truth, and if you please to associate Monsieur the Abbot of St. Nicholas, in the judgment of this important affair; I send you a new copy to be delivered to him. He is, without doubt, rerum nostrarum acerrimus & integerrimus judex, possidetque in supremo gradu, ut Magistri loquuntur, facultatem judicatricem. Do me the favour, to observe and mark all the faults, to the end I may correct them; for it is a dangerous thing to speak a dead language. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 4 Septemb. 1640.

LET. XXV.

SIR,

I Have much exclaim'd against the delayes of messengers, and truly not without cause, since they depriv'd me of an extraordinary contentment, and hinder'd me from the enjoyment of Monsieur Menage; his Book would have made Justus Lipsius jealous, and put Lambin in dispair. It astonishes me, and I am confident, satisfies you, though you expresse nothing thereon, to leave me the entire liberty of my judgment. It is true, I have a great inclination for this grandis praetxtatus. But if I were his profest enemy, I should confesse, that his subtleties are very solid, and his doctrines exquisite; he drawes out of fountains, remote from the common roads, and which the people have not yet soyled. But who would think, that in criticall questions, and those upon the Heautontimorumenos of Terence, there were any room for courtesie and offices of friendship? and that I should see my self amongst so many Authors and Scholiasts? It seems he did not reprehend me in t [...]e beginning, but with a foresight of rendring his commendations of me lesse suspected in the conclusion, nor correct me, for taking the conception of Hercules for his birth, but to the end he might say, that the faults which I commitate common to me, with the infallible Heinsius. You are too good, Sir, and know [Page 128] the way of gratitude too well, to leave me in areer in this particular, and there are no words but yours, that can sufficiently expresse my resentments. Be pleased to grant me them, in this occasion, and preserve me that precious friend, in the same manner as you bestow'd him on me. But must I not hear, that you are returned into the way of the Hostel, of Monsieur the Ambassadour of Sueden, and that you are a better Courtier in Summer, then in Winter? Visit that excellent person, and become his Confident. You may possibly see that incomparable History, which he keeps prisoner so many years, for there are neer thirty past, since the Author of Infanticida writ to him, in these remarkable words: Ita munus molestissimum sustinuisti hactenus, ut quaecunque in Republicâ jam restant, aliud agendo sustinere possis; & quod fidem superat, tanquam in otio absolutam patriae Historiam occupatissimus scripsisti. Quam qui olim legent, obstupescent, salvo Taciti splendore & augustâ Majestate dici aliquid floridius potuisse. I have read his Book, de jure Belli & Pacis, which is of very great learning; and a long time since his Mare Liberum, and lately two Tragedies, and some other sacred Poems; but I have lost the volume of his Verses, printed at Leyden, which I would gladly regain: He has also compos'd divers other pieces, whereof I beseech you to give my Stationer a catalogue, to the end, I may want none of the works of this great personage: I have a particular esteem of all that comes from him, and besides the solidity of his learning, the strength of his reasoning, and the graces of language, I observe therein a certain character of honesty, which perswades me, that excepting our Religion, from which he is unhappily a stranger, he may be confided in, for all other things. You do very much honour to my extravagance, in calling it Enthusiasm, and I did not take my self to be of so jolly an humour. 'Tis onely in your presence, that my melancholly leaves me in repose; and had not I been to write to Monsieur Chapelain, I should not have so much as remembered the voyage of the new Bacchus. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Septemb. 1640.

[Page 129]

LETTER XXVI.

SIR,

I Pardon our friend his pedantry, if he be assur'd of the Prelacy, and has City-security for it. He, neer whom he would be placed, has sometimes the outside and appearance of an honest man, but the bottom of him is a certain cheat. 'Tis a folly to depend upon any thing from him, though after protestations, both by word and writing. My indefagitable Scribe has laboured for you this week, and will by all means have you see my last Latine, because it seems to him well writ. I do not oppose his will, since it costs me nothing but consent, nor complain of the pains he puts himself to. Let him kill you therefore with this so often recocted crambe, provided you do not cease to be otherwise in health, and that it cause not the return of your rheume. Never did any businesse finde more protection, then that which I recommended to you, and we are principally indebted to you for the good successe. You have obliged Monsieur de Voiture, to contract his gravity in my favour, that Monsieur de Voiture, that never speaks without perswading. You may perhaps think, that I am providing him an accurate complement hereupon; I had indeed once resolved it, but I lately read in my Stoick Philosophy, that a wise man ought to have a friend, to the end, he may not want one to sacrifice his life for, if need be. So that upon this ground, it is apparent, that neither you nor he are yet fully discharged towards me. You have not yet been solicited to Marty [...]dom, and since you owe me your life and your blood, can you account to me a visit in a coach, and a dozen words? I presume, you did not expect this anti-complement, and will confesse, that I do not take things after the common biasse. This it is to be one of Zeno's disciples, and to have commerce with those lofty soules of Antiquity, whose very extravagances are noble. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30. Septemb. 1640.

[Page 130]

LETTER XXVII.

SIR,

I Cannot tell, if I should at present admire the Oration of my Lord della Casa; but it is true, that I did formerly admire it, and had a design of publishing it with Notes of my own making. This desire is not yet pass'd, and I beseech you to procure a very correct Copy of it, to the end, that when I send you mine, you may, by comparing them, judge which of the Manuscripts is the better. In my opinion, this Florentine was perfectly judicious. He had seen the Idea of the highest Eloquence: and I cannot agree to the sentence of Monsieur Guyet, who wholly condemns his Latine. Onely I think, the advantage is on the side of the Tuscan, which is more free and naturall. I have review'd my second Apology, and shall send you them both to be presented from me, to Madam the Marchioness de Sable. I think it will be convenient, to make the Dedication of them to her: And though there are many points of Learning treated therein, above the ordinary capacities of Women; yet my address cannot be reproved, being made to one that transcends the generality of that sex. Besides, I have a great example to justifie the action; and you may possibly have observ'd, that Diogenes Laertius, directs his speech to a Lady of his time, in the Lives which he has written of the Philosophe [...]s. Notwithstanding, he speaks not onely of their actions, and manners, but also of their sects and opinions. Our other incomparable Marchioness shall likewise find a ready obedience from me. I will publish the vertue and atchievements of her Fathers, and her brave Romans; and I hope she will be satisfi'd with something more then my forward compliance to her commands. If I were capable of joy, I should have received it very sensibly from your last approbation. You are in effect almost the onely man whom I desire to please, and I am ready to say, that omnes cogitationes meae ad te referuntur, & in te consumuntur. Therefore I conjure you to love me, if you would have my sad life sustain'd yet longer by any comfort, and believe not that I labour either for Fortune or Glory. You are the onely end of all my pains. But there is yet one thing which I would obtain of you, that when I send you either my Latine or my French, you would not advertise me of my faults. Not for that I think my selfe infall [...]ble, or you incapable to c [...]rrect me. But because I am not solicitous about my [Page 131] errors, and do not take things so much to heart as I have done formerly. If a solecism escape f [...]om me, I think I should now let it runne as farre as it pleases, without putting my selfe to the trouble of overtaking it. 'Tis a favour therefore of chance, if I make any thing considerable at t [...]e first attempt. I am.

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac 8 Octob. 1640.

LET. XXVIII.

SIR,

I Have obtain'd at length, what I desired so passionately, I mean an authenticall Declaration of my favour with you. I possess'd the thing formerly, but I wanted the Title. Now I am provided of a necessary Piece to justifie my possession, and let any one hereafter adventure to dispute it with me. But do not think, Sir, that I account it in the number of Goods honest and unprofitable. I find in your friendship, pensions, benefices, offices, dignities, and generally all the advantages that favour can expect from Royalty; since I find in it wherewith to slight all those graces, and having made me a present of your selfe, what did ever Hephestion receive from the King his Master, that was comparable to what you have bestow'd on me? You must either confess that you know not your selfe, or agree with me in this truth, and that there is no rationally ambitious man, that is not of my opinion. But since we are upon the Chapter of excellent friendship, is that of Monsieur Silhon, in as high a degree of heat towards me, as I left it at Paris. If it be so, as I cannot doubt it, I am doubly happy, and I beseech you to assure him, that he has not a more faithfull servant then my selfe. As for you, dear Sir, I have no more to say to you, only do me the honour to believe, that in receiving you, I give my selfe to you, and could wish I were of some value, that you might not be wholly a loser in the change. I am,

SIR,

Your &c.

Balzac, 19 Octob. 1640.

[Page 132]

LETTER XXIX.

SIR,

I Have receiv'd so great contentment from the Letter which your friend writ you, as was incapable of addition by a second complement. I did formerly apprehend the inconvenience of this excess, like that of two dinners on a day; and you know, that there is satiety even of the best things. He is indeed a very gallant person, and agrees with your description. Oftentimes what he speaks, deserves to be alleadged. But is there no means of obtaining of the Ingenious answers which he recited to you? it is indifferent to me, whether they come from deliberation, or are delivered upon the place; whether they be born in the company, or brought from home, provided they be ingenious. It is not of true jeasts, that the Poet said,

Turpe est difficiles habere nugas,

Et stultus labor est ineptiarum.

'Tis of those Equivocations you know of, and other studied fooleries, which bad Buffoons fetch as farre as the end of the World. I am an enemy to sowre faces, and affected gravity; and therefore I leave you to consider, if my thoughts agree with yours concerning the Ambassadour. Fruatur, per me, superbiâ Titulorum.

Ad populum phaleras; ego te intus, & in cute, novi.

What are his intentions, with his Arminian Divinity, and Schism upon Schism? I could wish he were cur'd of this malady, quem sacrum jure nomines; and that some good Angell would reduce him into the right way. The Chancellour of Sueden, who does not trouble himselfe with controversie, ought to perform this good office, and injoyn him upon penalty, of being ill pay'd by his States, to discover the Treasure which he hides; I mean the History which he keeps secret. Be pleas'd, Sir, to know of him, what is his judgement concerning that of Father Strada, and let me know yours, upon all the Spanish Comedies; for those which I have seen, have much displeas'd me. I render you a thousand thanks for your excellent Verses, which are besides, prudent; and speak you not onely a Poet, but a Polititian. You have found out the delicacy of a Sonnet and this is a perfect body, whose parts are all admirable. I envie [Page 133] you that meditation de l'Empire, and facin de regner. Had not you regard to the sacra fames auri of Virgil, and an other passage in Aristotle, which he alledges of one Jason, Qui nisi regnaret, sibi esurir [...] videbatur. I never yet saw any thing of so happy conceit, nor so happily express'd; I congratulate with you for it, and am more then ever,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 Novemb. 1640.

LET. XXX.

SIR,

I Am very ill satisfied with the proceedings of the shee-Pedant, as our friend Thibaud terms her; if she did not give order to her Gentleman to lye, he has ly'd of his own head. I have been long since distasted with the husband and the wife, and think, I should lose the words which I should spend upon them; therefore I am glad of the right I have, to blot them out, and imitate the revenge of Virgil, who punished those of Nola in this manner, and put Ora jugo where there was Nola jugo. Sed de his hactenus, Masculo & Faeminâ, marito & conjuge, paedagogis. You are very injurious, to desire Monsieur— to write to me; he would do me no pleasure, in being perswaded by you: For though his Letters are admirable, yet it will be necessary, that I give answers to his admirable Letters. Monsieur — has shown me four long sheets of his. If she should treat me in that manner, would you condemn me to do the like? Truly, you are a strange person! I bestow'd my self upon you, and my soul is joyn'd to yours; and would not you have me keep my fidelity, and do not you consider, that all other communication would be reproach'd to me? Beasti me with your judgment, upon my Lord della Casa, and the approbation wherewith you authorise my designe. I will undertake the work with all speed, and will not forget what I owe to the incomparable Marchionesses. If you see Monsieur Menage, I entreat you tell him, that the German Gentleman, recens Papinii Commentator, pass'd by this way yesterday, to see me; and spoke of him and his works so advantageously, that it is beyond the power of my rhetorick, to add any thing to his Elogy. I am,

SIR,

Yours, &c.

Balzac, 15 Novemb. 1640.

[Page 134]

LET. XXXI.

SIR,

I Remain your favourit, during your good pleasure, and I hope, I shall never do any thing to forfeit that title. But, if you please, do not take me for a follower of Chrysippus, for if you do, you will have cause one of these daies, to accuse me of lightnesse, and to brand him with apostacy, whom you once termed novice. You will see in my second apology, how I have quitted the Cassock I had taken, and in what manner I had been rebellious against the old Stoicall fathers. Yet I conceive, if I remember well the words of my Letter, I spoke plainly of that proud Philosophy, without much declaration for any side. I am indeed of a Sect more gentle, or, to speak truer, I am of all Sects, & nequid tibi dissimulem, sine lare & familiâ in Philosophiâ vagamur, & cum nostro Flacco,

Nulliùs addictus jurare in verba Magistri,

Quo me cunque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.

Our friend's Latin seems to me very handsome, but his flattery is insupportable; and as that honest man of antiquity, exclaim'd against Homer's Jupiter, because he favour'd the Barbarians, so this new Author displeases me, because he sooths up such people, as are not worth his pains. The Letter I writ to Monsieur Heinsius, was neither long nor short, and therefore there must be something more in that, that was told you. For the German whom I mentioned to you the other day, called Joannes Fredericus Gronovius, had the like discourse with me; and I know not, if some officious unknown person, has been disposed to make himself pleasant with him and me. Mascardi is dead, and we shall all die as well as he. But was he so eloquent as you speak of? I have seen nothing of his making, except some Academicall Orations, which were shown me some fourteen or fifteen years since, and I confesse, that I found his Italian Prose as poeticall, as that of Ciampoli. A thousand services to Monsieur de Voiture, and all our other friends. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 24 Novemb. 1640.

[Page 135]

LETTER XXXII.

SIR,

I Should be more sick then you, if informing me of bad newes, you did not likewise give me hopes of better for the future: But you are in the mean time in your bed, and the Physitians give your rheume the appellation of a Rhumatism. For the love of God, dear Sir, have a care of your health, whereof I have more need for my life, then of my own, and consider me in your person. Would not that superstitious course of diet do prejudice, to the noblenesse and gallantry of nature? and do you think, the humours would not revolt against an abstinence, that endeavours to bring them into absolute subjection? I do not approve such rules of living, except for such decayed bodies as mine, which are incapable of all action, and overwhelm'd with the least burden. Since you are not in the like condition, you ought to take an honest liberty, and indulge your self sometimes a more geniall fare; I conceive, your blood would by that means become more pure and clear, and that all the seditions in the Microcosm, would be appeas'd and temper'd thereby. But, Sir, you speak very pleasingly of your malady, your rheumatism is eloquent, and every thing flourishes in your hands. This gallantry which is mingled with your pains, is an infallible signe to me, of your approaching recovery, although you had not otherwise given me assurance of it; and it cannot be said, there are any sick people of so jolly an humour. Monsieur the Duke of Rochefoucaut, did me lately the honour of a visit, and intermitted for some hours the great fishing he had, in our fair Rivers, that washes five or six of his Teritorries, which contain twelve large leagues of our Country. You were mentioned in our conference, with all the elogies and admiration, due to a supream vertue. He brought with him a Lady of his kindred, whom I had a little before complemented, for a present which she sent me. I imagin'd, you wo [...]ld not be unwilling to see the Letter which I writ to her, and that the soft and delicate style, will not be lesse pleasing to you, then the sublime. But the main is, to know, if a Rustick is able to distinguish of delicatenesse, and without mistaking one for another: It is your part to clear this doubt: [Page 136] In the mean time, I expect with impatience the newes of your health, and am with all my soul,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 10 Decemb. 1640.

LET. XXXIII.

SIR,

I Have been ravish'd with joy, at the evidences of your recovery; but you ought not to have attempted so much already, and should have managed better this first favour of Nature. Four lines would have been enough, to have quieted my minde, and given me the information I desired. But you know not how to keep measure, when there is occasion to oblige; and you account your favours defective, unlesse they exceed. How few friends are there like yours! and yet fewer Philosophers, that are able to retain contentment of minde, in the afflictions of the body, and losse of estate! I know such a Monsieur — that would have murmured against St. — for lesse then a rhumatism; and the dammage of eight hundred crownes, upon the calling in of mony, hath rather inconvenienc'd, then troubled you, which would have put Seneca into a fret, though inconsiderable to his fortune. You may enquire concerning this of Dion, and he will assure you, that there is a great difference between the flourishes of Theory, and the decretory weapons of Experience; between a Sage upon the paper, and a Sage upon occasions. But yet, Sir, I conceive, this ought not to render you disaffected towards others, nor your force hinder you, from having pitty on the feeble and infirm. You must suffer men to hope, and desire still at this day, as they have hop'd and desir'd ever since the beginning of the world. And though covetousnesse be not of so great antiquity, yet you must remember, that you live not in the heroicall times, but in the dregs of the year, sixteen hundred and forty; and that heretofore, one of your predecessors was commended, for shewing that favour to the world, which he would not allow to himself. Monsieur — pretends to the Prelacy: What is there you find so strange and criminall, in his pretensions? are they not the same, with those of the greatest part of the Preachers at Paris, who do not much attend to the Greek Ecclesiasticall History; nor the example of St. Isidore of Pelusium. The worst I see in it, is, that he has discovered himself to [Page 137] a mocker, and declar'd his designe with more freedome, then the hypocrisie of the Court permits. But is he not in the bottom of such stuffe, as Patriarchs and high Priests are made of? and do not you remember, that in the place where he is, there is not so poor a Surplice-wearer, but has an eye upon the Papacy, and p [...]ayes to God for the triple Crown. Has he not at least as handsome a name, as the Signieur de Simeonibus, whereof he makes mention in his Letter, and which I dannot remember without laughter? Does not he well deserve a title, in partibus infidelium, since he is so desirous of a Diocesse, that any would be welcome to him? This ambition does not prejudice civill society, and may be suffered in a mean vertue. He may have it, without hating his Prince, without violating friendship, and without being either a bad Frenchman, or a bad Roman. And therefore, Sir, though you handsomely reproach my indulgence, I shall crave the liberty to continue it, I know not how to declaim against so many imperfections, purely human, seeing such a world of monstrous and grosse crimes I should have to combat, if I would undertake to be a Reformer. Quod ad Eminentissimum Bentivolum attinet. You have all the reason in the world to blame me, and I confesse, I am the most rustick Provinciall betwixt this and Paris. Neverthelesse, since you have already performed the complement, to which I was oblig'd, I shall rest there. I am not able to add any thing to the perfection of what you do, and will onely tell you, that they are happy faults whereof you are the amender. I wish to heaven, you would as liberally acquit me of the rest of my debts, It would be a charity worthy of your riches; and I leave you to imagine, if my creditors would have cause to complain of their payment. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Decemb. 1640.

[Page 138]

LETTER XXXIV.

SIR,

ALl was very agreeable in your Letter, till the conclusion; but that bad tail has stung me, and I have much fear of that newes, which would afflict you to the utmost, if true; be it the will of heaven it prove false, and that your friend be rather victorious, or at least that he be living. Life is a recruit, whereby Marius regain'd the power which he had lost, and our admirall the Armies which were defeated. Having that left, there is something remaining to requite all losses; the unfortunate of this year, may be the happy men of the next: Et durare ac semet rebus servare secundis, is the most sure maxime, and greatest policy I know, in the instability of human affairs. You see how I preach at a venture, and answer to what you have not told me, or at least in such manner, as to understand it; I must expect the explication by the next Post. You might as well have specified the misfortune which you apprehend, since there are many sorts of them; but in stead of making me partaker of your fear, you have put me into all fears imaginable. Eight daies will either cure or confirm my trouble. In the mean time, it is fit we enjoy our good fortunes, as well as we can possibly, and get some Poet, to make a Soterion of thanks to Heaven, for the recovery of your health. You cannot doubt, but it is very dear to me, and that I vehemently desire the preservation of a life, by which my own is principally supported. If I had lost you, I should not have known what to do longer in the world, I should have been in worse estate, then widowes and orphans, and gone to eat my heart in the deserts of the Thebaïs.

Ipse meum cor edens, hominum vestigia vitans.

But let us leave these bad presages, and meddle wi [...]h nothing that is grievous, though in detestation of it, upon such a holy day as this. We are now in the declining of a year, during which, your vertue has been exercised with a thousand assaults of fortune, and yet remain'd impregnable. May it please [Page 139] God to make the succeeding more favourable to you, and that I have fewer occasions to admire the greatnesse of your courage. Be you absolutely happy in your self, and I shall be so by reflection; for I never separate my interests from yours. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

The End of the Fifth Book.

[Page]

FAMILIAR LETTERS, OF M. de BALZAC, To M. CHAPELAIN. The Sixth Book.

LETTER I.

SIR,

I Suffer with the tenderness of women, and your actions speak the strength of Philosophy. I acknowledge my weaknesse in extreamitie; but I thought you had known it long since, & that this vicious virtue of my soul could not be hid from him, that ought to have seen the bottom of it. Neverthelesse you improve it admirably, and make excellent discourses upon the divinity [Page 141] of your late sickness. I pray Heaven, Sir, that you be no more a Prophet at that rate, and that the inspirations from above, may possess you by wayes more sweet and easie. The agitation that torments the Sybille of Virgil, and the pains she takes to deliver her selfe from the violence of the spirit that seizes her, gives me very unquiet thoughts; & it were better to remain in a state less rais'd & lofty, that were also more gentle and serene. The person that you know better then I, gave himselfe the trouble to come bid me adieu, before he left Paris, and made me solemn protestations of his friendship. I have observ'd in him by experience, whatsoever you had written of him to me before, and find in him a deep judgment, and a great appearance of vertue; so that I am throughly perswaded of his worth and honesty, and that he receiv'd injustice in the character that was formerly given of him. It is possible you may have changed him, and that he was converted by your good example. I know you have made many metamorphoses of the like nature, & quos probos non inveneras, probos fecisti. I cannot tell, if the dispatches you have done me the favour to send over the Mountains, will have a happy voyage: If they have not, I am already comforted, and the disorders that appear on all sides, will cause greater mischiefs then this. I dare not speak any more to you of the continuance of my maladies, and the emptiness of my purse, though I still grapple with my pains.

God grant that the first moneth of the year, be the beginning of a better age. But I fear I shall never again see health or good times; and did not your incomparable friendship, give me some comfort in this world, I would rather go out of it this day, then to morrow, if it were the will of Him, to whom all creatures owe submission. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Angoulesm, 4 Jan. 1641.

[Page 142]

LETTER II.

SIR,

I Am asham'd to tell you, that my indisposition hindred me from writing to you by the last Post, for methinks I scarce ever speak of any thing else. There being onely this cause that could make me fail in my duty? you must allow me to use it in my justification. I should be sick at this present for any other cause, but I am bound to free you from those inquietudes, my silence would raise in you, if the Post should make two returns, without bringing you any newes of me. You may therefore be pleas'd to understand, that I have receiv'd your dispatch, with the Letter of Monsieur Conrart, which could not but be welcome to me in the afflicted condition wherein I languish. There came also a third in company, whereof I knew almost all the contents before, and yet did not conceive my knowledge very great. Sed nihil hoc ad Andromachen, and our friend has not understood me. I did not desire any news of those Antipodes in manners, as Seneca calls them, that turn day into night, and night into day, as was the custome of Queen Margaret in our times. I would onely have learnt something of certain stranger Princes, who, as I am told, made use of Torches as well by day as night, out of an humorous and mysterious ceremony. The fire that was carried before the Roman Emperours, as a mark of Soveraignty, whereof as I remember, there are extant but three Testimonies in all Antiquity, namely two in the History of Herodian, and the third in the Poem of Corippus, has a neer resemblance with this of my present enquiry. But likeness and identity are different things; and it is disputable, whether it were a Torch, or a chafer of coals, or a lamp, that was so carried in state. If there be any such proud fools, that would be treated as Gods or Idols, let us leave them to burn day-light as long as they please, and make no further search into the repertories of Paris, which afford us nothing new. Our Monsieur Conrart is alwaies an admirable person, I know not if it be possible, to find so many excellencies any other where, as I see in every thing of his. Since he is pleas'd to serve me in my Complement to Holland, I accept his offer, and promise him, that I will not often abuse his courtesie upon the like occasions, you can [Page 143] testifie for me, that semper invitissimus scribo. I am

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Jan. 1641.

LET. III.

SIR,

LEt us suspend our judgements for a time, and not condemn the Parricide upon the disposition of a Pedant. Possibly this man may have visions, and has not read what he believes he did. Nor is it improbable, that he has ill understood his Brother's meaning, or put the innocent words upon the rack, to make them signifie what he pleases. 'Tis the ordinary vice of Grammarians, such as he is, quorum proprium est malè interpretari, & à mente Auctorum saepius aberrare. As for my self, Sir, who have known long since, and think I have express't as much somewhere, that there is no Saint in Heaven, but has been asperss'd with unjust calumny upon earth; I do not receive all sorts of testimonies indifferently; and before I can believe the evill that is cast upon a person I love, I must see it clearly, and search it with my fingers. Yet I am not ignorant of the corruption of mankind, nor do I desire to answer, for the honesty of all the Doctors. But to imagine that all our Societies are full of — and — is beyond my skill; and I could not do it, though I should be accus'd of more then rustick simplicity, and call'd the ignorant amongst the great wits of the Academy. Your Jesuite of Thoulouse, is a person of rare merit, and I esteem his dozen of Verses you have favour'd me with, above all that I have seen of — this ten years. Here is strength, wit, and clearnesse; 'Tis an absolute Poem, and has all the requisites of Art and Rule. He delivers all that could be express'd in vulgar Prose, but in such a manner, that the Muses themselves could not have spoken better, if they had made use of the mouth of Horace and Virgil. You have much obliged me in copying out that passage in the Life of Monsieur de Peiresk, that concerns your selfe and me. The Historian has done me right, in regard of my affection, to place me near you. This is to make two favours of one. I could wish he had touch'd one word of our friendship, & erat huic locus, and that in the succession [Page 144] of Malherbe, he had not forgotten your Lyrick Poetry. I know he understands the mystery of writing, and his Latine is of the best age, so that he will do great honour to the memory of his friend. I beseech God comfort you with some good news from Germany. I tremble at the onely reading of what you write me thence, and unlesse fata viam invenient, I cannot tell how your Heroe can save himselfe. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 30 Jan. 1641.

LET. IV.

SIR,

YOur discourses are according to your custome, prudent and Philosophicall; and there is scarce a small word escapes from me in writing to you, but returns me many periods of excellent instruction. You treat the stupid and obdurate sect of Stoicks, as they deserve, and yet do not bend the tendernesse of other more mild Philosophy, so low, as to lament the death of Lampreys, Hens, and Parrots, ut olim Crassus, Honorius, alii (que) non pauci ridiculae memoriae mortales. We do not say with Virgil, ‘Nec doluit miserans —’ Refute him by himselfe, and say, ‘Sunt lachrymae rerum, & mentem mortalia tangunt.’ I am not exempt from such apprehensions as afflict you, concerning the uncertain condition of the affaires of War. Be pl [...]as'd therefore to let me know what newes you have received, and suffer me not to be consumed in my own feares. Oblige me also, by recommending me to Monsieur the Bishop of Grasse, and assure him, he has not a more faithful servant then me, nor better perswaded of his incomparable worth. If there be any of his new Poetry abroad, I beseech your goodnesse to intercede for it in my favour, who am most passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 6 Feb. 1641.

[Page 145]

LETTER V.

SIR,

THough the Greeks have a proverb, that offends the sons of the gods, yet I do not believe, that the Counts of Dunois of former times, were more honourable persons, then the Duke of Longueville, of the present. The last miracle, whereof your Letter gives me relation, made me tremble in the reading; my imagination is still unsetled, and I fear for them that are escaped, as if I saw them yet in hazard, and amidst the difficulties of the passage. Without question, Sir, Heaven has some extraordinary designe for your Prince. Men are not lesse frequently deceived in their fears, then in their hopes; and I have observed in the Histories of all Ages, that great forces have almost ever performed but little, and such as were inconsiderable, very much.

Nil desperandum Teucro duce & auspice Teucro,

— Cràs ingens iterabimus aequor.

But you must remember, that Teucer made this Oration amongst his cups; and likewise observe, that 'tis from the banks of Bacchara, (which the Latinists of Germany derive by Etymologie from Bacchi ara) that the Nectar Rhenanum is gather'd, which may perhaps have fill'd your Army with Enthusiasm. But, Sir, you return me the title of Philosopher, with too great humility, I cannot accept an honour, whereof I am so undeserving, nor suffer you to call me your Book, who are to me both a Library and an University. If you provoke me further, I will term you my Tripod and my Oracle, and treat you as Apollo, or at least as a Prophet, and a man inspired by some deity. But, out of raillery, you know the high esteem I have of your great capacity, and the reverence I bear to all that you pronounce, ex cathedra; I use this word, because you many times send me the advices of others, for your own. And though I very much prize the wit and eloquence of our acquaintance, yet I do not acknowledge them for Judges and Soveraigns. Since you are curious to know, who the father Teron is, whom I believed, you had known better then my self, I shall tell you, that he is a Poet of seventy five years old: Soon after [Page 146] the birth of the King, he compos'd two Poems of little Verses, which they call Glyconiques; and the late King, upon the favourable applause that was given them, commanded Molin to translate them; they are entitled, Les Couronnes, and Les Dauphins, and were printed at Paris, the Latin on one side, and the French è regione. These two works are indeed very commendable, and I am assured they will find your approbation. I have seen other things of his, wherein I observ'd an excellent genius; but I know, that he is otherwise enclin'd to idlenesse, and a workman, that of all the world, loves his own trade least. I had good store of other newes to requite you with, and but for this diversion, you had not been discharged at so cheap a rate. Monsieur de Thou, who turned out of his way, to do me the honour of a visit, had the patience to relate them four and twenty hours together, which were so pleasing and agreeable, that they seem'd to me scarce four and twenty minutes. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 25 Feb. 1641.

LETTER VI.

SIR,

YOur diligence depends not upon that of the Poste, nor upon considerations of the season. Whatever his speed be, and the Sun approach or be more remote from you, I alwaies find my reckoning, and receive tidings from you at the end of the week; for which, Sir, I return you a thousand remerciments, and for an infinite number of other goodnesses, whereof I perceive manifest testimonies in all your Letters. You had formerly declar'd your resentments of my losses; but indeed they were such, as were not much apprehended by me; and unlesse you had recall'd them to my remembrance, by ma [...]ing your self a sufferer in them, they had been utterly defac'd out of my memory. I have, I thank God, but little temptations to covetousnesse; and 'tis almost without trouble or study, that I contemn that, which the greatest part of men adore. So that my vertue has nothing of merit, and being not engag'd in combat, cannot in reason expect the reward of Crowns and triumphs. I bestow a thousand curses every [Page 147] day, upon that person, that molests you, and extreamly bemoan your poor Muses, that are scar'd and inquieted, with litigious wranglings atd chicanry. Sunt hae quidem litterae, sed litterae illitteratissimae, as our Pliny terms them. I understand so little in those matters, that I could never recommend a processe, without committing a thousand incongruities, and mistaking one thing for another. As for you, Sir, you will not be in hazard of such inconveniences, whose skill and capacity is universall. But I wish you a more honest employment, and more worthy of the noblenesse of your wit. I know not, if the discourse that I send you, will be happy enough for that purpose; but I hope, you will neither disapprove the sense, nor the words and contrivance, and that you will not take it ill, that I endeavour to oblige a man, that relates wonders of you in all places where he comes; he may peradventure be one of those, that we shall make good by our kindnesse and benefits. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 24 Feb. 1641.

LETTER VII.

SIR,

I Know not what it is in my writings, that deserves your applause and esteem; but I know, that all that I write pleases you, and that you read my words with eyes, capable of all the illusions of friendship. She is the fair and innocent inchantresse, that gives me this power over you; 'tis her Magick, that renders me the onely person in the world, that can over-rule your judgment. And hence it is, that that person, that is able to observe blacknesse in the Milky way, and imparity even in the body of light, will take no notice of my spots and blemishes. Since it is your pleasure to make me happy, it is not fitting I be too curious, in examining the causes of my good fortune, or seek to enlarge the meannesse of my worth, which would upbraid you, with the bad foundation of your love. Rationem faelicitatis nemo reddit. But what appearance is there, that without any designe or intention, I should have uttered a line, which were worthy of your Heroe. He deserves such commendations, as are carefully chosen, and not to be spoken of without study. You must be as solicitous of his glory, as well as of [Page 148] that of his fathers; and your Trumpet would better befit him, then our Reeds. Absit itaque ut tam illustrem materiam familiari dicendi genere & extemporaneitate nostrâ violemus. The danger you tell me, our perfect friend has been in, makes me tremble, and my imagination is hurt with all the instruments of Chirurgery, and the cruell remedies you speak of, I wish him an absolute recovery; and the Senate and people of Parnassus, who have so great obligations to him, must wean for him, as well as for Princes, the lives of gold and silk, whereof I have heard so frequent mention, and pray, as for their true benefactor; ‘De nostris annis tibi Jupiter augeat annos.’ I should be glad to see the six verses of the Poet, Perewig'd with Icicles; and the Duell of the Horatii and Curiatii, or any thing else that passes through your Territories. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 March, 1641.

LET. VIII.

SIR,

YOur processe continues too long, and your Muses are injuried, with the delaies of the Palais. Such a suit would have made me hate the world; and though I am a man of peace, yet I should not dread a military expedition so much, as the trouble of your cause. Neverthelesse, your Philosophy will secure you; and having both to combat with your interiour resentments, and defend your self against a visible adversary. Zeno will crown your moderation at the same time, and Justinian adjudge you the victory. The Verses of the Poet with the ratling beard, are such as you judge them, and accord with your opinion. The conclusion of the Ode, to Monsieur de Bullion, is better then the beginning, but the Amphitrite is quite contrary, and falling from its first height, is onely supported upon two bad leggs; for it would be too severe to call it monstruous, and to say of it, as of other divinities of the Sea, that, ‘Definit in piscem mulier formosa supernè.’ [Page 149] The Wood is handsome, but not of perfect beauty, in my judgment; and I see something beyond, whether the strength of the Poet did not reach. The communicating of all these rarities, would deserve a formall acknowledgment; but you have long ago commanded me, to say no more of your favours, then that I receiv'd them. The first discourse that I sent you of eloquence, shall be suddainly follow'd with a second, wherein I speak of the critick Longinus, and of his Treatis [...] [...], whereof the severall parts deserve consideration. 'Tis a subject wherewith I am much affected, and have great inclination to it in my fancy, though I dare not pretend to the enjoyment of that high Queen of souls.

SIR,

I Am of late become deaf to the bruit of applause, and insensible of all the allurements of glory. Yet I have very quick resentments of friendship, and it is that which makes somethings pretious to me, which otherwise in themselves I should look upon as indifferent. Therefore the praises of strangers do no longer please me as formerly. I call them of strangers, with distinction from yours, whereof I am never glutted, tam gratum est à te laudari. All the relish that I finde in the elogies of others, proceeds from the seasoning that you give them. 'Tis not Monsieur de Thou that describes Florent Chrestien so graphically, but one of his friends. Scevola nempe Sammarthanus in aureolo Elogiorum libello, digno, me judice, omnium Bemborum & sadoletorum invidiâ. But are you serious, when you speak of Ronsard, and give him the title of Grand? or is it onely out of modesty, and to oppose his greatnesse to your tenuity? As for me, I esteem him not great, except in the sense of the old proverb, Magnus liber, magnum malum; and I have declared as much in one of my latin Letters, which you suffered to passe, without making any opposition. Since the thing is done, there is no place left for denial; and Monsieur de Malberbe, Monsieur de Grasse, and your self, must come into the number of small Poets, if he be allow'd to passe for great. I dare not presume to give so much trouble to Monsieur the Abbot of Bois Robert, who could not bear it, without notable prejudice to his health. Oblige me therefore to tell him, when you see him, that provided he recover, and God preserve me so dear a friend, I will no more lament my particular unhappinesses, or those of the times. If he should hereupon offer to make me a complement of two lines, I conjure you to restrain him from it by violence, and do not suffer, that I become the occasion of a second malady, which would add nothing to the assurance I have already of his affection. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 1 July, 1641.

[Page 158]

LETTER XVIII.

SIR,

SIR,

I Am much obliged to you for those things, for which, according to your custome, you make excuses. After an entertainment, that might befit Anthony and Cleopatra, you are ashamed of your good cheer. As for me, it gave infinite contentment; and could I do it honestly, and without incivility, I would conjure you, to persecute and annoy me alwaies in that manner. The royalty of reason could not be more stoutly maintained, against the usurpation of authority. And notwithstanding your endeavour, to hide and represse the power and vigour of your eloquence, yet there breaks from you such rayes and evidences of it, as did of courage and manhood from Achilles, when disguis'd in the habit of a virgin. Thus we repay the censures, which the vulgar passe upon us; and neither the respect of number, nor the continued series of Ages, nor the good fortune of Sects and Schooles, are able to misguide us in our sentence. That which you say of the soveraignty of Reason, and the seat of her [Page 166] Empire, of her dresses and attendants, and the Grotto whither she retires, &c. What is all this, Sir, but to proclaim a truth magnificently, and to attire your Queen with purple and cloth of gold. But to passe from the Throne of this Queen, to her Chariot of Triumph; that is, from your Prose to your Verse, wherein your Virgin transcends the splendour and glory, of all conquerours of the other sex, and is no lesse beholding to your Pen, than her own Sword. In requitall of your French, I have sent you some Latin numbers, which your Letter told me you desired; but instead of six Verses, which I formerly mentioned, you may perceive them multiplyed to thirty. Perhaps they will please such as know the Court of Rome, as you do, and have seen the ambitious poverty of its Courtiers, where there is choice of Cavaliers of five or six sorts for attendants, at the rate of a Julio a piece by the day; with which miserable pittance, they quiet their eager appetites. But, as I conjecture, that which will least displease you, is my Bacchus Laborans, who does no longer remember that he was once a conquerour, and the three goddesses that accompany him. One, half-learn'd, and that never heard but of Priapus, or at most of Vertumnus, will haply wonder to see Venus in the place, that he thinks belongs to them; but not you, Sir, who have shown me, Hortos olim tutelae Ʋeneris assignatos, Plauto & Plinio testibus: & meministi etiam illud Naevii.

Coquus edit Neptunum & Venerem & Cererem.

Pisces nempe, olera, & panem. I forbear to speak any thing of Neptune, because we are more then twenty leagues distant from the Sea. The tongue of du Moustier has already discharg'd all its venome against me, and he has nothing now to do, but to enjoy the fruits of his old malice. But you remember, Sir, the place that designes him; for me-thinks I speak innocently, that the pourtrait of Phylarque was drawn, by the Painter of Heroes and Heroesses, since he styles himself amongst other titles, the Painter of the King and Queen. If these words are injurious, I have no understanding in quarrells or injuries. And I would ask of Socrates himself, what is calmesse and moderation, if this be not wholly such. He that term'd him heretofore an Artificer, [Page 167] and his Closet a Shop, us'd him more rudely. But as he made himself pleasant in appearance, with his resentments of that reproach, so shall I do really with his despair. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Octob. 1641.

LETTER XXVII.

SIR,

YOu see, I do not promise true Diamonds, with designe of putting fals upon you; and that I need not fear the threats of that sentence, so often thundred out by Petrus Ʋalens, in the Chair of Boncour;

Qualem commendes etiam atque etiam aspice, ne mox

Incutiant aliena tibi peccata pudorem.

Neverthelesse, Sir, I must assure you, that the glory of my judgment is not so dear to me, as that of my friend; and that I affect Monsieur Girard more then you believe, upon his own peculiar merit, rather then the recommendation of others. He is a person of extraordinary value, and you will understand him further, in the progresse of your commerce. But I am glad of the happy meeting of Monsieur l'Huilier, in that first conference, whose name rejoyces me, in what place soever of your Letters I meet it. As for the fat person, I will believe, that he spoke to you in earnest, and without fiction; and therefore you may please to tell him, that he shal be more then once in the Volume, that I am purposely composing for Monsieur Menage; He shall likewise have a room in my Latin, and in my Discourses: And if he loves me onely for putting him in print, I think this will be enough to satisfie his vanity, and by consequence to redouble his affection. I could wish also, that you would do me the favour to certifie Messieurs de Maire, with the help of some kinde of Trunk, (for I dare not request this trouble so frequently) that I honour and esteem them infinitely. They are persons that have given me high testimonies of their friendship, and from whom I have received a thousand civilities. [Page 168] And you know, that the Muses, are the daughters of Jupiter, &c. and that,

A brave and generous vertue makes them hate,

Above all other faults, to be ingrate.

He, of the two brothers that is styled the Cavalier, is a Poet, and understands Latin, in the subtlety and delicacy of it. I remember the ingenious observations he made, upon many passages in the Poets, which I had never consider'd. I importune you, Sir, to love, not a little, as mild natures do, but violently, and with all your power,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 20 Octob. 1641.

LET. XXVIII.

SIR,

BY the last Post, I received the discourse and the Verses, you were pleased to send me; I have a great obligation to you for them, but yet a greater, for four lines I read in your Letter, then for all besides in the Packet. You were scrupulous, of letting it come into my hands, and there was a great combat hereupon, between your inclination, and your engagement. These words, Sir, are infinitely obliging, although they should not be true; but being most certainly so, they affect me very sensibly, and I declare unto you, that I am sufficiently comforted for all my afflictions, by the preference that you give me above all the world, in the honour of your friendship. That which the famous Drinker told you, hath freed me from my jealousie and unquiet; for as affection is ingenious to presage ill, and ever concludes to the worst, I did already apprehend something more fatall, then a rheume. I was in fear, that our friend was gone a longer voyage then he promised; or, if you please, that I speak lesse vulgarly, I misdoubted, that Menander, the maker of Epigrams, was gone to finde Menander the writer of Comedies; I mean onely of his death, for God forbid that I should assigne him the same place of residence in the other [Page 169] life. The ninteenth of this month is past, and four daie would have brought him from his own house to Balzac This is a cause of new trouble, unlesse he come speedily, or make me understand the reason of his delay. The inclemency of the season is an excuse too allowable to detain him. And though I passionately desire to see him, yet I know not, if I ought to wish a person so dear to me, expos'd unto all the injuries of an intemperate aire, and that at the age of neer sixty yeers: he should sleight the menaces of the god Perewig'd with Icycles, & Winter with his ratling beard, which another Poet calls, The god of old age. My Stationer lately sent me a Treatise of Monsieur de Priesac, wherein I have observed a great number of rarities. Whatever he delivers of his own invention, is alwaies good; and he appropriates so handsomely, that which he borrowes from antiquity, that it is hard to distinguish the forrain from the native. His style is otherwise noble, and he has nothing of the barbarity of our Provinces. But besides all this, it must be confess'd, that he improves his art to admiration, and that as often as he has occasion to use the Civill Law, he does it in such manner, that the most dry and thorny pieces, become flourishing and glorious in his hands, and that even they read him with delight; qui voluptatis tantum causâ legunt, and have gust for nothing but Romances. As soon as you meet him, I beseech you assure him of my humble service; and moreover, if you please, that my esteem and my affection are two separate things; and 'tis not for love of him, that I commend the Book of his that was sent me. I should be glad to see the oratoriall Prose, of Monsieur de St. Blancet; he has both wit and confidence, and si peccat, imitatione tantum peccat. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 29 Novemb. 1641.

[Page 170]

LETTER XXIX.

SIR,

YOu never make any excursions, but you perform the most graceful & exact courses in the world; or, to speak better in your own figure, you never preach, without the extream edification of your auditors. Non apta tantum ad persuadendum dicis, verum omnino persuades, neque usquam à te nisi melior & doctior, &c. If Totila were here, I would proceed further, and after my fashion, examine your reason, and all the anti-reasons that counterfeit and act it. But with fortune for you and your reason, I employ my own bad hand, which is soon weary of my service. You are, Sir, to me, not onely in the place of Augustus and Mecaenas, but also of Agrippa, Asinius Pollio, Messala Corvinus, and all the rest of that gallant and learned Court. Therefore if you approve my compositions, that approbation alone does Crown me; and I shall say to you, as to one of those great ones, Quod fi me Latiis vatibus inseres, Sublimi feriam sydera vertice. Quam verò, ut de Latiis taceam, inepti sunt populares nostri? And how groundlesse are the suspicions of — when he is jealous of your enterprises, and imagines himself worthy of your envy. I have no remembrance of the Letter, out of which he takes occasion of such regret. But this is an affair of great importance, both in respect of himself, and his Antagonist. There are more opinionated fools, in the little houses, besides these discoverers of plots and designes. Neverthelesse, since we are obliged to give every one as much satisfaction, as we are able; if, I say, the people talk so, or the report runs, instead of speaking affirmatively, you may believe it a sufficient qualifying, to satisfie the suspitious. For, as you know, the greatest part of reports are not free from falshood, and many things are told me every day, that are not true. I am,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 24 Novemb. 1641.

[Page 171]

LETTER XXX.

SIR,

MY friendship is ever inconsiderable, and although it were not troublesome, yet it is so barren and unprofitable, that it cannot be esteemed of any value, but by one that is wholly dis-interessed from it. But as for yours, how infinitely precious is it! I dare not engage my self into a matter, so vast and spatious; and it suffices me to tell you; as I am wont, that it is the onely joy of my life, and all the delight of my soul. So that although I move not out of my own jurisdiction, and am forc'd to deliberate concerning the journey of a league, I shall become man enough, to creep as far as Paris, for the onely desire I have to see you; where I will appear on a suddain in your chamber; and break out of the cloud with these words, Coram quem diligis adsum, with a designe too of continuing some time with you; but absolutely incognito, and without discovering my self to any other whatsoever. Then it shall be, that we will survey all the graces and beauties of the Virgin, to our wish; and I wil give him cause that shal write your life, to inform posterity, that a poor Paralytick went from the River of Charenta, on purpose to hear the melody of the Swan of Seine. Is it not true, Sir, that the History of the Man of Calis, is not very excellent? And do not you believe, that I have more esteem and passion for you, then he had for Livy. He that I term'd the vertuous man, appear'd such to me, the day that I gave him that title; but another time, I shall possibly call him by another name, because he may appear in another shape, or I look upon him with other eyes. So it is, that I will not warrant my courtesies, or undertake to make good any thing, except what I say of you. Non enim hic prolixus laudator, sed juratus testis Balzacius est. The divers employments that Monsieur Girard has for his Master, are without doubt nothing, but the jealous and treacherous persons, of whom you complain, and who have detain'd him from giving you a second visit. His brother, to whom, with your consent, I shew all your Letters, has not fail'd to represent him your discontentments, and the diffidence which you have taken as unjustly against your selfe, as you expresse it agreeably and with applause. The rigour of the weather hinders me [Page 172] from saying more to you at this time; for this winter kills me, and I am ready to choose my habitation in the fire. I call it not onely rough and troublesome, but cruell, unmercifull, Scythian, Swedish, and Norwegian: If it continues thus, I shall be constrained to take my leave of you, till the mid spring of the next year. I am passionately,

SIR,

Your, &c.

Balzac, 28 Decemb. 1641.

The End of the Sixth Book.

FINIS.

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Balzac's remaines, or, His last letters· Written to severall grand and eminent persons in France. Whereunto are annexed the familiar letters of Monsieur de Balzac to his friend Monsieur Chapelain. Never before in English. — Correspondence. English. Selections

Author: Balzac, Jean-Louis Guez, seigneur de, 1597-1654.1658

Law-Books.

Romances.

Histories.

Divinity.

Books of the affaires of State, of Choise Letters, and of Poetry.

THE FIRST BOOK.

LETTER I. To Monsieur de St Chartres, Counsellour to the King in the grand Councill.

LETTER II. To Monsieur de Bois-Robert Metel, Abbot of Chastillon.

LETTER III. To Monsieur Du Pui, Counsellour and Library-Keeper to his Ma­jesty.

LETTER IV. To Monsieur d'Argenson Controller of the Revenue in Poictou, &c.

LETTER V. To Monsieur the Abbot de Talan.

LETTER VI. To Monsieur de la Nauve, Ensigne to the Queenes Guard.

LETTER VII. To Monsieur de Gombervile.

LETTER VIII. To Monsieur de Bellejoy.

LETTER IX. To Monsieur de Clairville.

LETTER X. To Monsieur de Bois Robert Metell, Abbot of Chastillon.

LETTER XI. To the same.

LETTER XII. To Monsieur de Bonair.

LETTER XIII. To the same.

To Monsieur Charlot, Farmer Generall of the Taxes.

LETTER XIIII. To my Lord Bouthilier, Lord Treasurer.

LETTER XV. To the same.

LETTER XVI. To Madam de Villesavin.

LETTER XVII. To the same.

LETTER XVIII. To Madam de Bourdet.

LETTER XIX. To Monsieur de Preizac, of the Kings Privy Councill.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur de —

LETTER XXI. To my Lord Bishop of Angoulesme, Almoner to the Queen of great Brittaine.

LETTER XXII. To Monsieur de Lorme, Counsellour and Physitian to the King.

LETTER XXIII. To Monsieur de Zuylichem, Councellour and Secretary of State to his Highnesse the Prince of Orange.

LETTER XXIIII. To Monsieur the President de Pontae.

LETTER XXV. To the same.

LETTER XXVI. To Monsieur the Mayor of Angoulesme.

LETTER XXVII. To Monsieur de Villemontée, of the Kings Councell, and Con­troller of the Revenue, in Poitou, Saintonge, Aunix, &c.

LETTER XXVIII. To Monsieur de la Thibaudiere.

THE SECOND BOOK. To Monsieur de —

LETTER I.

LETTER II. To Monsieur L' Huillier, of the kings Councell, &c.

LETTER III. To Monsieur de Bayers.

LETTER IV. To Monsieur de Villemontee of the Kings Councell, Controller of the Revenew in Poitou, Saintonge, Aunix, &c.

LETTER V. To Monsieur de Lymerac de Mayat, Captaine in the Regiment of Conty.

LETTER VI. To Monsieur de Prizac, of the Kings Privy Councell.

LETTER VII. To Monsieur de Couvrelles.

LETTER VIII. To Monsieur l'Huillier of the King Councell, &c.

LETTER IX. To Madam des Loges.

LETTER X. To the same.

LETTER XI. To Monsieur de Borstel.

LETTER XII. To Monsieur Menage.

LETTER XIII. To the same.

LETTER XIIII. To Monsieur Fermin, Councellour to the King, Controller of the Kings revenew in the Generality of Limoges, &c.

LETTER XV. To Monsieur the Marquesse of Montausier, Governour and Lieu­tenant Generall for the King in Alsatia, &c.

LETTER XVI. To my Lord the Arch-bishop of Corinth Coadintour of the Arch­bishoprick of Paris.

LETTER XVII. To Monsieur the President Maynard, Counsellour to the King.

LETTER XVIII. To Monsieur Menage.

LETTER XIX. To my Lord, the Bishop of Lisieux.

LETTER XX. To Monsieur the Earle of la Motte Fenelon.

LETTER XXI. To Monsieur de Plassac Maire.

LETTER XXII. To Monsieur Conrart, Councellour and Secretary to the King.

LETTER XXIII. To the Reverend Father Hercules, Provincial of the fathers of the Christian Doctrine.

LETTER XXIIII. To Monsieur the Chevalier de Mere.

LETTER XXV. To Monsieur de St. Chartres, of the Kings high Councell.

LETTER XXVI. To the Reverend Father de Marin, a Divine of the Society of Jesus.

LETTER XXVII. To the Reverend father Destrades a Divine of the Society of Je­sus, Superiour of the Cloister in Bourdeaux.

LETTER XXVIII. To Madam, The Marchionesse of Rambouillet.

LETTER XXIX. To Monsieur Costar.

LETTER XXX. To the same.

THE THIRD BOOK.

LETTER I. To Monsieur Menage.

LETTER II. To Monsieur de —.

LETTER III. To Monsieur Gombauld, a Chanter in the Church of Sainctes.

LETTER X. To the Reverend Father Dalmé, a Divine of the society of Je­sus, Professour of Rhetorick.

LETTER V. To the reverend Father, du Creux, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Rhetorick-Professour.

LETTER VI. To the Reverend father, Stephen of Bourges, a Preaching Capu­chin.

LETTER VII. To Monsieur de Meré, Knight.

LETTER VIII To Monsieur Colardeau, the Kings Attourney in Fontenay.

LETTER IX. To the Reverend father Tesseron, of the society of Jesus, Pro­fessour of Rhetorick.

LETTER X. To Monsieur Perrot of Ablancourt.

LETTER XI. To the Reverend Father Adam, a Preacher of the society of Jesus.

LETTER III. To Monsieur Du Pui, Counsellour and Library-Keeper to his Majesty.

LETTER XXVII. To Monsieur de Villemontée, of the Kings Councell, and Controller of the Revenue, in Poitou, Saintonge, Aunix, &c.

LETTER XV. To Monsieur the Marquesse of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Alsatia, &c.

LETTER XVI. To my Lord the Arch-bishop of Corinth Coadintour of the Archbishoprick of Paris.

LETTER XXVII. To the Reverend father Destrades a Divine of the Society of Jesus, Superiour of the Cloister in Bourdeaux.

LETTER X. To the Reverend Father Dalmé, a Divine of the society of Jesus, Professour of Rhetorick.

LETTER VI. To the Reverend father, Stephen of Bourges, a Preaching Capuchin.

LETTER IX. To the Reverend father Tesseron, of the society of Jesus, Professour of Rhetorick.

LETTER XXII. To the Reverend Father d'Estrades, a Divine of the Society of Jesus, Superiour of the confessours Cloister in Bourdeaux.

LETTER XXIIII. To Madam de Nesmond, Superiour of the Ursulines in Angoulesme.

LETTER XXX. To Monsieur Colardeau, the Kings Attourney in Fontenay.

LETTER II. To Monsieur Girard, Secretary to the late Lord Duke of Espernon.

LETTER XII. To my Lord the Marquesse of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall for the King in Saintonge, Angoumoise.

LETTER XVI. To Monsieur the Count of Jonzac, the Kings Lieutetenant in Saintonge and Angoumois.

LETTER XXI. To Monsieur de Montrevil, Captaine in the Regiment de la Meilleraye.

LETTER XXVII. To my Lord the Marquesse of Montausier, Governour and Lieutenant Generall to the King in Saintonge, Angoumois, &c.

LETTER XXXVIII. To Monsieur Girard, Officiall and Prebend of Angoulesme.