The Anglo-French Entente In The Seventeenth Century Part 17

It appears that Coste, the press-corrector, would be a frequent visitor at the house in the Heer-Gracht. There he met his friend, the journalist De La Motte. An intimacy naturally grew up between Coste and one of the daughters. Whenever they had to part for a time, he used to write either to her or to her sisters and friends. She answered occasionally. Only one of her letters is extant.

I

MADEMOISELLE,--(He has been ill, has delayed answering. Compliments: the letter received has delighted him.) We must love you well to rejoice in hearing how well you are diverting yourselves at the Hague, while here we drag on our miserable lives without the least pleasure. You seem slow to believe us so unhappy, for you speak of our garden and the study therein as of an earthly paradise. But you are greatly mistaken if you imagine the place, which appeared so charming when you were there, is still so, when you are there no longer. It's quite another thing. Your absence has disturbed everything. Our garden yields no more fruit. Even the weeds no sooner spring but they wither.... Such desolation is not limited to our garden, all Amsterdam feels it. Which reminds me of a conversation that took place over a fortnight ago in a house where I happened to be in good company.... A Fleming who had come from the Hague two days before, told us how charming a place it was.... I know the reason well, said I to myself:

"Which proceeds neither from the magnificent throne Of his British Majesty, Nor from the Amba.s.sadors that are gathered together here To appease the upstirred hearts Of all the princes in Europe.

One speedily sees, unless one be a mole, That two Iris's have caused the vast change And therefore If in our business city Such charms are not to be found As in the large Dutch burgh, It is because those Iris's are not there."

... Ah! had I been able, I should have simply laughed from Leyden to Harlem and leapt for joy from Harlem to Amsterdam. But that would not have been more possible than for Mlle Durand to come into the world before Mlle Rouviere.[293] When I take thought, I reflect that at bottom you do me the favour to send me your love as well as to Mlle Prades and M. de La Motte....--COSTE.[294]

II

[The letter is addressed to "Monsieur Convenent, conseiller d'Orange, pour rendre a Mademoiselle Durand, a la Haye." Written about the same time as the preceding.]

MESDEMOISELLES,--We thought we had to thank you only for the honour you did us to inform us on Sat.u.r.day that you would welcome us with pleasure in your company to Leyden.... (usual old-fas.h.i.+oned complimentary phrases).

You no doubt wish to know what became of us after the fatal moment of our parting from you. We went on board feeling very sad, and now talking, now holding our tongues, lying down, leaning, yawning, dozing and sleeping, we reached Harlem. Those that did not sleep, heard the nightingale and the cuckoo sing.[295] I was of the number as well as Mlle Isabeau who, hearing the cuckoo sing, softly breathed quite a pretty song. She would have sung, but the glory to gain was too little with a cuckoo for a rival. As to the nightingale, she dare not try her strength against his, for fear of failure. There is risk everywhere, yet I believe that, had she had the courage to enter the lists, she would have come out victorious. As to M.

Rouviere, he woke up only when compelled to leave the boat, and cross the town of Harlem. Do you know what he did to sleep so soundly? He made me promise to read him some of Madame Des Houlieres'[296] poetry, paying me for my trouble, of course. He handed me an apple, on condition I should read until he fell asleep, and I won the apple very soon. I had not read six lines before I laid down the book to eat my apple, and there was no further need to take up the book.

Having crossed Harlem, we went on board once more and met in the boat a great talker, just back from England, a brother to M. Va.s.serot; he left us only the liberty to listen and to ask a question now and then, to compel him to change his subject. The talk was all about England....

Though I long to see you, I prefer being deprived of your presence to enjoying it, if your stay at the Hague may help Mlle Durand to recover health, which with all my heart I wish she will do.... I shall be as careful to tell you all that happens here as Mlle Durand must be to note all she feels in order to instruct M. Drelincourt. Talking of that doctor, I have had occasion to write to a famous English physician, named Locke, of whom you have heard me so often speak. Yesterday I received a book with which he was kind enough to present me. I shall thank him at the earliest opportunity. If Mlle Durand thinks it proper, I shall send him an account of her sickness, begging him to point out what remedies he thinks fit....

COSTE.

III

[From England, where Coste is staying, he writes a series of letters, by way of pastime, no doubt, when not engaged in the austerer task of translating the _Essay_, under Locke's immediate supervision.]

_To Mademoiselle Suson and to Mesdemoiselles Isabeau and Jeannette to beg them to prevail upon Mademoiselle Suson to take up a pen._

MADEMOISELLE,--You love me little, in spite of your fine protests; or you know little what true friends.h.i.+p is. 'Tis not punctilious, as you feign to think. You are not witty enough, you say, to answer my letter. 'Tis untrue, an't please you; but even if it was so, must we be witty to write to a friend? Let us only consult our hearts, and utter what they feel. As to terms, a friend never stops to criticise them. Heavens! whoever amused himself with reading a letter from a friend with a dictionary and a grammar in his hand, to find out some obsolete word or sorry turn of phrase?

Friends.h.i.+p is not irksome, and it is one of the finest privileges a friend has when writing to a friend, to say all he chooses to say in the way he chooses without fearing anything. He ventures everything and runs no risk.

That freedom is the best part of friends.h.i.+p; without it I should not care a b.u.t.ton (je ne donnerois pas un clou) for that sweet union so boasted of, so rare, so seldom known.

If this is not enough to induce you to write, I shall have recourse to three or four intercessors that have more power perhaps over your mind than I.

I begin with Mlle Isabeau. The worst soldiers are always placed in front of the army, because, if they run away, all hopes are not lost. I act in the same way. I do not trust Mlle Isabeau very much. According to her temper, she will fight for or against me. Maybe she will be neither for nor against, and should I find her in that fatal frame of mind, it would be idle for me to say: "Now, Mlle Isabeau, a line or two, please. Take pity on a poor lonely man who has scarcely lived since your going away. You can make him spend some sweet moments in writing to him, send him only four lines, or at least beseech Mlle Suson to write." _She does not answer._ "Is it possible, Mlle Isabeau, for you to have forgotten me so? Are the promises"--_She speaks to the wall._ If I become more pressing, I may elicit a crus.h.i.+ng reply. So I turn to Mlle Rouviere who will speak up for me, I am sure, and in such moving terms that Mlle Suson must surrender.

"Who are you talking about?" she will say. "About that Englishman who would like perhaps to be with us here. What does he want? A letter from Mlle Suson. Well, you must write to him to-day, without fail. Give me the letter, I shall get it posted. Now, there's a merchant just stepping into the warehouse, I must go and see what he wants, I shall be back in a moment, excuse me, won't you, business above all." Oh, the fatal motto, the cursed merchant! the troublesome fellow but for whom I had carried my suit.

Mlle Suson said nothing. She was half convinced by Mlle Rouviere's natural eloquence, together with that good grace inseparable from whatever she says and which it is impossible to withstand.

But let us not lose heart! I have still my reserves to bring up. What Mlle Rouviere has only tried, Mlle Durand will accomplish without so much ado.

"The poor fellow," she will say, "he is right. Let us write to him without haggling." And immediately, taking a large sheet of paper, she will write this or something like:

_You are right to blame my sister's carelessness. Since we think of you sometimes, it is just to tell you so. That will please you, you say; I am very glad of it, and--well--you may depend upon it._

No doubt Mlle Suson will follow that example and go on with the letter. I therefore thank Mlle Durand for the four lines and all the others that Mlle Suson will add, since it is through her intercession that I get them.

If you still resist, Mademoiselle, I shall send Mlle Jeannette forward as a sharpshooter that, if he dared, would fight furiously for me. But she will attempt something and say: "Why, certainly, sister, you should write to him!" She would say more but she is afraid you will reply: "Jeannette, mind your own business." If you venture as far as that, I shall tell you that you take an unfair advantage of your birthright and that she is right in advising you to keep your promise.

But we must not come to that pa.s.s. I am sure that Mlle Rouviere, Mlle Durand, and Mlle Isabeau (I write the name down with trembling) will have determined you to fulfil your promise, and that you will listen with pleasure to what Mlle Jeannette says to strengthen you in your resolve.

I had written this when I received Mr. De La Motte's last letter in which he informs me that you have begun a letter to me. So I have no doubt you wish to write to me. You have begun. 'Tis half the work. Take up the pen again and get the work over.... If you have not the leisure to write a long letter, write a short one. I shall always receive it with profit.

I beg of you to a.s.sure Monsieur your father and Mademoiselle your mother of my humblest regards. I have seen their granddaughter, your niece, a very pretty child. Whenever I go to London I shall not fail to see her, as well as Mlle Gigon, whom I ask you to greet from me when you write to her. I am, etc.--COSTE.

IV

[To congratulate Mlle Durand on her marriage.]

TO MADAME DE BRUGUIeRE

MADAME,--I shall not want many words to persuade you that I heard the news of your marriage with much joy (usual florid compliments). You have above all a kind inclination for your husband. Yes! that last is not wanting, I have it from good authority, and it was absolutely necessary. 'Tis that gives relish to marriage, which, without it, would, according to those skilled in the matter, be only a dull, insipid union.... I present my compliments to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Rouviere and wish them a happy New Year. I take part in the joy of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Brun and in that they will soon have of being once more grandparents.

_N.B._ Pardon me, please, Madame, the liberty I take to inclose a letter to Mademoiselle Suson.

TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON

MADEMOISELLE,--Though a marriage has deprived me of the so-long-wished-for pleasure of receiving one of your letters, I am quite ready to write to you before receiving an answer to this letter and to those that I have already written to you to congratulate you on an adventure similar to your sister's.... I received, Mademoiselle, a very courteous letter from your good London friend, and I answered it two days later. There's a hint for you! But I wish to have the merit of perfect resignation, to suffer without complaining. Mlle Gigon mentions Messieurs Malbois and Mace as persons in good health. I do not know whether I shall be able to see them this winter.

M. De La Motte sends me word that you have received my last letter and finds I have pretty truly sketched your characters.

I do not withdraw what I said about Mlle Rouviere's natural eloquence. No one can take it from her, without taking her life too, but I know not whether she has the goodwill I credited her with in my letter. Had Mlle Rouviere spoken in my favour, she would have moved you, and the bride would not have failed to make you take up your pen, had she deigned to set you an example. But I do not see that you were either stirred by Mlle Rouviere's persuasive speech or enticed by Mme de Bruguiere's example.... I thought Mlle R. would speak for me, that Mme de B. would take up a pen to encourage you to write.... As to Mademoiselle Isabeau, she cannot deny it, I have drawn her portrait after nature.... The heat of pa.s.sion at seeing my letter did not last long. Like a heap of straw that blazes up, it cooled down almost as soon as it burst out....

As to Mademoiselle Jeannette, I am sure she did what she could for me. I am much obliged to her for her zeal. Please excuse the blots in my letter. I have not the leisure to copy it out.... Adieu, Mademoiselle, love me always as I love you or almost.--P. COSTE.

V

[Coste writes twice to complain of her silence.]

TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON DE BRUN, AT AMSTERDAM

MADEMOISELLE,--I see that in friends.h.i.+p as in love (the two pa.s.sions are much akin), who loses pays. For the last six months you have been promising to answer my last letter, and, now I am beginning to despair of seeing the wished-for answer, you tell me, "Could you not, Monsieur, write to me sometimes without exacting an answer...." You know too well the price of your letters not to lavish them upon me. You will not have them match my own in number.... I was charmed with your letter, I cannot keep silence about it, I read it over many times and shall read it again....

Your artless compliment upon the New Year, went home. It quite moved me. I am very glad to see that my tastes quite agree with your own. That makes me believe I am reasonable. I have no ambition, and if I had, I should be incapable of satisfying it. I am very little enc.u.mbered with money and in no condition to ama.s.s much, however that may be necessary to the regard of the world. When I dwell on all that, I sometimes fancy it would be as well for me to leave this world quickly, as to linger on in an everlasting circle of toilsome vain occupations, but coming soon after to think that I have a few good friends in this world, I say to myself, that it is worth while living to enjoy so sweet a pleasure.--COSTE.

VI

TO MADEMOISELLE SUSON BRUN

MADEMOISELLE,--For your intention of writing to me, I owe you at least one letter. See how much obliged I should be to you if you deigned to carry out your intention. I do not care to reproach a friend. But I congratulate myself in mildly rebuking you, if I thereby oblige you to write. Lay your hand on your conscience. Have I not a right to complain a little? I have been writing for over a year and you have not once thought of answering me.

I know that friends.h.i.+p does not stand upon ceremony, but can it put up with such carelessness? No, Mademoiselle. You know too well the delicacy of that charming pa.s.sion, which is the keenest pleasure of high-born souls, not to agree with me....--COSTE.