Life, letters, and Epicurean philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, the celebrated beauty of the seventeenth centuryLenclos, Ninon de
Philosophy
Life, letters, and Epicurean philosophy of Ninon de L'Enclos, the celebrated beauty of the seventeenth century
Lenclos, Ninon de
Lenclos, Ninon de, 1620-1705
As an evidence of Saint-Evremond's unimpaired faculties at a great
age, the charms of his person attracted the attention of the Duchess
of Sandwich, one of the beauties of the English Court, and she became
so enamored of him, that a liaison was the result, which lasted until
the time of Saint-Evremond's death. They were like two young lovers
just beginning their career, instead of a youth over eighty years of
age, and a maiden who had passed forty. Such attachments were not
uncommon among persons who lived calm, philosophical lives, their very
manner of living inspiring tender regard, as was the case of the great
affection of the Marquis de Sévigné, who although quite young, and his
rank an attraction to the great beauties of the Court, nevertheless
aspired to capture the heart of Mademoiselle de l'Enclos, who was over
sixty years of age. What Ninon thought about the matter, appears in
her letters on the preceding pages.
Correspondence Between Lord Saint-Evremond
and Ninon de L'Enclos
When Over Eighty Years
of Age
I
Saint-Evremond to Ninon de l'Enclos
Lovers and Gamblers have Something in Common
I have been trying for more than a year to obtain news of you from
everybody, but nobody can give me any. M. de la Bastille tells me that
you are in good health, but adds, that if you have no more lovers, you
are satisfied to have a greater number of friends.
The falsity of the latter piece of news casts a doubt upon the verity
of the former, because you are born to love as long as you live.
Lovers and gamblers have something in common: Who has loved will love.
If I had been told that you had become devout, I might have believed
it, for that would be to pass from a human passion to the love of God,
and give occupation to the soul. But not to love, is a species of
void, which can not be consistent with your heart.
Ce repos languissant ne fut jamais un bien;
C'est trouver sans mouvoir l'êtat où l'on n'est rien.
('Twas never a good this languishing rest;
'Tis to find without search a state far from blest.)
I want to know about your health, your occupations, your inclinations,
and let it be in a long enough letter, with moralizing and plenty of
affection for your old friend.
The news here is that the Count de Grammont is dead, and it fills me
with acute sorrow.
If you know Barbin, ask him why he prints so many things that are not
mine, over my name? I have been guilty of enough folly without
assuming the burden of others. They have made me the author of a
diatribe against Père Bouhours, which I never even imagined. There is
no writer whom I hold in higher esteem. Our language owes more to him
than to any other author.
God grant that the rumor of Count de Grammont's death be false, and
that of your health true. The Gazette de Hollande says the Count de
Lauzun is to be married. If this were true he would have been summoned
to Paris, besides, de Lauzun is a Duke, and the name "Count" does not
fit him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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