Thus I have given all trading o’er.
And wisely left off sporting;
Resolv’d to practise it no more,
After my reign of courting.
As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of St. Germains and Versailles, when they come to discover the mystery of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too much; therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do not believe the character I give of myself, consult [40] Calprinede, who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as Apelles in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that Julia languishes with desire to see you.
The Princess of Conti’s Answer to Julia.
I Did not expect to be honoured with a letter from so famous a princess as Julia: This makes my joy so much the greater. I do sincerely declare, that I take all you say to me so reasonable, that I can do no less than applaud it: And I further assure you, that I never search’d for your character in those disobliging authors who magnify the lest false step, and make an elephant of a mouse. I am satisfy’d to know you, as I find you in Calprinede; and the complaisance he pretends you had for Ovid, does not hinder me from having a great affection for your amiable qualities; and believing as advantageously of your modesty as you can desire. I am not so severe as to imagine a little indulgence can be a greater crime; but think those who will, for a little natural civility, ruin the reputation of courteous ladies, to be malicious people, only envying those gallantries which are addressed to others. But, madam, you have strangely surprized me with what you tell me of Livia; for I always believed, that when old ambition was her only blind side; but am astonished to hear she was amorous. This discovery confirms the received opinion, that old age has a wanton inclination, as well as youth, tho’ not so much ability; and since the wife of Cæsar lov’d the language of the muses, I am not astonished that our saints of St. Cyril have been charm’d with it. But, dear madam, is it certain that Ovid disciplin’d her like a child; I thought the Roman ladies had not wanted that exercise; and I believe my gallants will never be obliged to come to that extremity with me. I need not use much precaution against the folly of a second marriage; for tho’ I was coupled to a very charming young man, yet I soon found my expectations bilk’d, because the name of husband and wife, and thoughts of duty so lessened the pleasures of our softest embraces, that it made them odious. So that now I only love a spouse for a night, from whom I may be divorced the next morning; and this perhaps, you’ll find more plainly expressed in the following lines, as I doubt not, dearest sister, but you have made the experiment.
Your tender girls, when first their hands,
Are join’d in Hymen’s magick bands.
Fondly believe they shall maintain
A long, uninterrupted reign:
But to their cost, too soon they prove,
That marriage is the bane of love.
That phantom, duty, damps its fire.
And clips the wings of fierce desire.
But lovers in a different strain
Express, as well as ease their pain:
Ever smiling, ever fair,
To please us is their only care,
And as their flame finds no decay,
They only covet we should pay
In the same coin, and that you know,
Is always in our pow’r to do.
And will be always so, illustrious princess, to our great comfort and satisfaction. You have heard, I suppose, what the writing of a few letters has cost me; so that I have laid aside all commerce of that nature at present, and am often oblig’d to trifle my thoughts. Had I not fear’d Mercury’s being searched, I would have opened my heart a little more to you; but if the times ever change, or madam Maintenon, the governess of Versailles, becomes less inquisitive, you may certainly expect to receive an epistle, or rather a volume from me.
I put no confidence in the king my father, and he is so jealous of me, that should he pack up his awls for the other world, I wou’d not trust him. I pity you for being kept so close, and having so bad company. That you may yawn and stretch less, and laugh a little more, entertain yourself with la Fontain’s tales, or the school of Venus, both excellent books in their kind, which I am confident will extreamly divert you; not so much upon the account of their novelty, as by recalling to your mind some past actions of your life.
For my part, I highly esteem them both, and you’ll oblige by telling the author so.