LETTERS ON THE DEATH OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ.

LETTER I. FROM THE COUNTESS DE GRIGNAN TO THE PRESIDENT DE MOULCEAU.

Paris, April 18, 1696.

Your politeness, sir, need not lead you to fear the renewal of my grief,[357] in speaking to me of the afflicting loss I have sustained. This is an object which my mind bears constantly in view, and which is so deeply engraven in my heart that nothing has power to increase or diminish it. I am convinced, sir, that you could not have heard the dreadful misfortune which has happened to me without shedding tears; I can answer for your heart: you lose a friend of incomparable merit and fidelity; nothing is more worthy of your regret; and what, sir, do not I lose? what perfections were not united in her to me, by different characters, most dear and most precious? A loss so complete and so irreparable, leads me to seek for consolation only in the bitterness of tears and groans. I have not strength to raise my eyes to the place whence comfort flows; I can yet only cast them around me, and I no longer see the dear being who has loaded me with blessings, whose attention from day to day has been occupied in adding fresh proofs of her love to the charms of her society. It is too true, sir, that it requires more than human fortitude to bear so cruel a disunion and so much privation. I was far from being prepared for it: the perfect health I saw her enjoy, and a year’s illness, which a hundred times endangered my own life, had taken from me the idea that the order of nature could be fulfilled by her dying first. I flattered myself that I should never have this great evil to endure: it is come upon me, and I feel it in all its severity. I deserve your pity, sir; and some share in the honor of your friendship, if sincere esteem and high veneration for your virtue can deserve it. My sentiments have been the same toward you since I had the pleasure of knowing you; and I believe I have more than once told you that it is impossible for any one to respect you more than I do.

LETTER II. FROM M. DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE.[358]

Paris, May 25, 1696.

Far from taking it unkindly, madam, that you did not write to me with your own hand, I am very much surprised that you even thought of me at a time so cruel and so fatal as the present. I did not doubt your sensibility at the loss we have sustained; and I could easily conceive what it would cost your excellent heart. God of heaven, what a blow is this to us all! For myself, I am lost in the thought that I shall no longer see the dear cousin to whom I have been from infancy so affectionately attached, and who returned this attachment so tenderly and so faithfully. If you could see, madam, all that passes here, you would be still better acquainted with the merit of your grandmother, for never was worth more truly acknowledged than hers; and the public renders her, with pious regret, all the honor which is due to her. Madame de Coulanges is grieved to an excess that it is impossible to describe, and I tremble for its effect upon her own health. From the day that announced to us the fatal illness, which in the end took our friend from us forever, we have lost all peace of mind. The Duchess de Chaulnes is almost dead, and poor Madame de la Troche—.[359] In short, we meet together to weep, and to regret what we have lost; and in the midst of our grief, we are not without anxiety for the health of your mother. Do not write to me; order one of your meanest attendants to inform us how you are: I entreat you to believe that your mother’s health and your own are very precious to me, for more reasons than one; for I think I owe it to the memory of Madame de Sévigné, to be more attached to you and Madame de Grignan than before, from knowing so well the sentiments she entertained for her and for you. I shall not write to your mother for a long time, for fear of increasing her grief by my letters; but omit me not, whenever an opportunity offers; make mention of my name; be assured that of all your servants, relations, friends, no one is more deeply afflicted than I am, no one feels a greater interest in all that concerns you. I shall not show your letter immediately to Madame de Coulanges; but I shall not fail to tell her that you do not forget her. I can assure you that you owe her this justice on account of her love for you. Allow me to pay my sad compliments to M. de Simiane, the Chevalier de Grignan, and M. de la Garde. Heavens, what a scene in this royal château! Poor Mademoiselle de Marsillac too, who has so well discharged all the duties of friendship, how I feel for her!

LETTER III. FROM MADAME DE COULANGES TO MADAME DE SIMIANE.

Paris, May 2, 1696.

I am truly obliged to you, madame, for still thinking of me. I knew all your excellences; but the affection of your heart, and the regard you have felt for a person so worthy of being beloved as she whom you regret, appear to me to be above all praise. Ah! madam, how much reason have you to believe me to be deeply affected! I can think of no other subject; I can talk of nothing else. I am ignorant of the particulars of this fatal illness, and the eagerness with which I seek for them shows that I have little power over myself. I spent the whole of yesterday with the prior of St. Catharine’s. You may guess upon what our conversation turned. I showed him the letter you have done me the honor to write to me. It gave him real pleasure, for persons of his turn of mind are so convinced that this life ought only to serve as a passport to the other, that the dispositions in which we leave the world are to them the only ones that are worthy of attention. But we think of what we have lost, and we lament it. For myself, I have no female friend left. My turn will soon come; it is reasonable to expect it; but to hear a person of your age entertain such serious and melancholy thoughts is rare indeed. Your understanding, madam, makes me forget your youth; and this, added to the natural partiality I feel for you, seems to authorize me to address you as I do.

LETTER IV. FROM THE COUNT DE GRIGNAN TO M. DE COULANGES.

Grignan, May 23, 1696.

You, sir, can understand better than any one the magnitude of the loss we have sustained, and my just grief. Madame de Sévigné’s distinguished merit was perfectly known to you. It is not merely a mother-in-law that I regret; this name does not always command esteem; it is an amiable and excellent friend, and a delightful companion. But it is a circumstance more worthy of our admiration than our regret, that this noble-minded woman contemplated the approach of death, which she expected from the moment of her attack, with astonishing firmness and submission. She, who was so tender and so timid respecting those she loved, displayed the utmost fortitude and piety when she believed that she ought to think only of herself; and we can not but remark how useful and important it is to fill the mind with good things and sacred subjects, for which Madame de Sévigné appears to have had a peculiar taste, not to say a surprising avidity, by the use she made of these excellent provisions in the last moments of her life. I relate these particulars to you, sir, because they accord with your sentiments, and will be gratifying to the friendship you have borne for her whom we lament; and at the same time my mind is so full of them that it is a relief to me to find a man so well disposed as you are to listen to the recital, and take pleasure in hearing it. I hope, sir, that the memory of a friend who highly esteemed you will contribute to preserve to me the regard with which you have long honored me. I prize it too highly, and wish it too much, not to deserve it a little.