You told me long ago that I should die of reflections.  I try not to make any more, and to forget on the morrow the things I live through today.  Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of at one time than at another.  Be that as it may, had I been proposed such a life I should have hanged myself.  We hold on to an ugly body, however, as something agreeable; we love to feel comfort and ease.  Appetite is something I still enjoy.  Would to Heaven I could try my stomach with yours, and talk of the old friends we have known, the memory of whom gives me more pleasure than the presence of many people I now meet.  There is something good in all that, but to tell you the truth, there is no comparison.

M. de Clerambault often asks me if he resembles his father in mental attainments.  “No,” I always answer him, but I hope from his presumption that he believes this “no” to be of advantage to him, and perhaps there are some who would have so considered it.  What a comparison between the present epoch and that through which we have passed!

You are going to write Madame Sandwich, but I believe she has gone to the country.  She knows all about your sentiment for her.  She will tell you more news about this country than I, having gauged and comprehended everything.  She knows all my haunts and has found means of making herself perfectly at home.

XVIII

Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l’Enclos

Life Is Joyous When It Is Without Sorrow

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.