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Saint-Evremond to Ninon
de l’Enclos:
The very last letter
I receive from Mademoiselle de l’Enclos always seems to me to be
better than the preceding ones. It is not because the sentiment
of present pleasure dims the memory of the past, but the true reason
is, your mind is becoming stronger and more fortified every day.
If it were the same with
the body as with the mind, I should badly sustain this stomach combat
of which you speak. I wanted to make a trial of mine against
that of Madame Sandwich, at a banquet given by Lord Jersey.
I was not the vanquished.
Everybody knows the spirit
of Madame Sandwich; I see her good taste in the extraordinary esteem
she has for you. I was not overcome by the praises she showered
upon you, any more than I was by my appetite. You belong to
every nation, esteemed alike in London as in Paris. You belong
to every age of the world, and when I say that you are an honor
to mine, youth will immediately name you to give luster to theirs.
There you are, mistress of the present and of the past. May
you have your share of the right to be so considered in the future!
I have not reputation in view, for that is assured to all time;
the one thing I regard as the most essential is life, of which eight
days are worth more than centuries of post mortem glory.
If any one had formerly
proposed to you to live as you are now living, you would have hanged
yourself! (The expression pleases me.) However, you are satisfied
with ease and comfort after having enjoyed the liveliest emotions.
L’esprit vous satisfait,
ou du moins vous console:
Mais on préférerait
de vivre jeune et folle,
Et laisser aux vieillards
exempts de passions
La triste gravité de
leurs reflexions.
(Mental joys satisfy
you, at least they console,
But a young jolly life
we prefer on the whole,
And to old chaps, exempt
from passion’s sharp stings,
Leave the sad recollections
of former good things.)
Nobody can make more
of youth than I, and as I am holding to it by memory, I am following
your example, and fit in with the present as well as I know how.
Would to Heaven, Madame
Mazarin had been of your opinion! She would still be living,
but she desired to die the beauty of the world.
Madame Sandwich is leaving
for the country, and departs admired in London as she is in Paris.
Live, Ninon, life is joyous
when it is without sorrow.
I pray you to forward
this note to M. l’Abbé de Hautefeuille, who is with Madame la Duchesse
de Bouillon. I sometimes meet the friends of M. l’Abbé Dubois,
who complain that they are forgotten. Assure him of my humble
regards.
[Translator’s Note –
The above was the last letter Saint-Evremond ever wrote Mademoiselle
de l’Enclos, and with the exception of one more letter to his friend,
Count Magalotti, Councilor of State to His Royal Highness the Grand
Duke of Tuscany, he never wrote any other, dying shortly afterward
at the age of about ninety. His last letter ends with this
peculiar Epicurean thought in poetry
Je vis éloigné de la
France,
Sans besoins et sans
abondance,
Content d’un vulgaire
destin;
J’aime la vertu sans
rudesse,
J’aime le plaisir sans
mollesse,
J’aime la vie, et n’en
crains pas la fin.
(I am living far away
from France,
No wants, indeed, no abundance,
Content to dwell in humble
sphere;
Virtue I love without
roughness,
Pleasures I love without
softness,
Life, too, whose end I
do not fear.)]
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