ARMANDUS JOANNES DV PLESIS.  
Cardinalis de Richelieu  

Sic oculis, sic Ille manu▪ sic ore decorous:  
Pallada, in hoc Martem Mercuriumque Vides.   
P. G. De Vauchelles.    

THE LETTERS OF MOUNSIEUR DE BALZAC. Translated into English, according to the last Edition.  
By W. T. Esq.  
Lege, & Collige.  
LONDON, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for Richard Clotterbuck, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Ball in Little-Brittaine. 1634.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM Lord CRAVEN, Baron of Hamsted-Marshall, etc.  
My LORD,  
NOt to know your Lordship, is an ignorance next Barbarisine, but to be known unto you, is an honour my ambition hath always aimed at, but which my want of merit, or evil fortune, never yet attained. In making this tender of my truest service, I offer you the Votes of all (who not poisoned by that Viper Envy) justly extol courage in youth, not forced to action, but by the only spur of glory. The universal world (among the wonders of our age) numbers you: and our world having the happiness to boast herself your mother, cherisheth you, as a man she hath long time laboured to produce. This Present is but a Translation; which yet may (happily) as well for the general benefit, as particular choice, be equal to an original, you can best judge: I have therefore in part, vindicated myself from those who may accuseme of not knowledge, or negligence. I submit all to your censure; and with this small testimony of my devotion to true Nobility, do here sue to have these first fruits of my labours, placed under the protection of so Honourable a Patron; whose virtues, as they are worthy to be admired by all, so shall they, together with this so noble a favour, be ever duly acknowledged by  
My Lord, Your humblest servant, William Tirwhyt.   

To the Lord CARDINAL of Richelieu.  
MY LORD,  
I Here present you Mounsieur Balzac's Letters, which may well be termed new ones, even after the eighth Edition; for though they have long since been in possession of public favour, yet may I justly say, this is the first time their Author hath avouched them. The advantageous judgement you have delivered of him, and the ardour wherewith all France hath followed your approbation, well deserveth his best endeavours toward the perfectionating so excellent things: I have been solicitous to draw him to this labour, to the end the world might know, that if I be not worthy the share I have in his respects, yet that I have at least been wise enough to make right use of my good fortune, and to cause it to become serviceable to the glory of my Country. But truly, were he master of his body, or did his maladies afford him liberty of spirit, he would not suffer any but himself to speak in this cause; and his Pen performing no slight acts, would have consecrated his own labours, and the wonders they have produced. But since evils have no prefixed time of durance, and in that all the good interims which hereafter may befall him, are wholly to be employed in his Book, The Prince; I esteemed it to small purpose to attend his health in this business, and that it was now no longer any time to defer the purging of these curious Letters, from such blemishes as ill impressions had left▪ upon them. They shall therefore now appear in the parity wherein they were conceived, and with all their natural ornaments: Besides, I have added diverse letters of his, not as yet come to light, which may serve as a subject of greater satisfaction to all men, and be as a recompense of the honour wherewith he hath collected the former. And truly (my Lord) had it been possible to place in the Frontispiece of this Book, a more illustrious name then yours, or should Mounsieur de Balzac's incsination▪ and mine have been far from any such intention, yet would not the order of things, or the law of decency have permitted any other reflection, than what I now make: I speak not at this present, of that dazzling greatness whereunto you are elevated, nor of that so rare and necessary virtue, which rightly to recognize, the greatest King on earth hath esteemed himself not to be over able. I will only say, I had reason to submit an eloquence produced in the shade, and form in solitariness, to this other eloquence quickened both with voice and action, causing you to reign in sovereignty at all assemblies. Certainly (my Lord) you are more powerful by this incomparable quality, then by the authority wherein the King hath placed you: The only accent of your voice hath a hidden property, to charm all such as hearken unto you; none can be possessed with any so wilful passions, who will not be appeased by the reasons you propound; and after you have spoken, you will at all times remain master of that part of man, no way subject to the world's order, and which hath not any dependency upon lawful power, or tyrannical usurpation. This is a truth (my Lord) as well known as your name, and which you so solidly confirmed at the last assembly of the Notables; as that in the great diversity of humours and judgements, whereof it was composed, there was peradventure this only point well resolved on, That you are the most eloquent man living. This being true, I can no way doubt, but the perusal of this Book I offer unto you, will extraordinarily content you, and that you will be well pleased to retire thither, sometimes to recreate your spirits after agitation, and to suspend those great thoughts, who have for their object the good of all Europe. It is a Book (my Lord) wherein you shall find no common thing but the Title; (where entertaining some particular person) Mounsieur de Balzac reads Lessons to all men; and where amidst the beauty of Compliments and dexterity of jesting, he often teacheth of the most sublime points of Philosophy: I mean not that wrangling part thereof which rejecteth necessary verities, to seek after unprofitable ones, which cannot exercise the under standing without provoking passions, nor speak of moderation without distemper, and putting the soul into disorder: But of that, whereby Pericles heretofore made himself master of Athens, and wherewith Epaminondas raised himself to the prime place of Greece: which tempereth the manners of particulars, regulateth the obligation of Princes, and necessarily bringeth with it the felicity of all States where they command. This book will make it apparent even to your enemies, that your life hath been at all times equally admirable, though not always alike glorious: How you have conserved the opinion of your virtue, even in the time of your hardest fortunes, and how in the greatest fury of the tempest, and in the most extreme violence of your affairs, the integrity of your actions hath never been reduced to the only testimony of your conscience. To conclude, It is in this Book (my Lord) where I suppose you will be well pleased to read the presages of your present greatness, and what hath been foretold; not by Astrological rules, or the aspect of some Constellation, but by a true discourse founded upon the maxims of reason, and experience of things past; causing him to presume, that God hath not conferred such extraordinary endowments upon you, to be for ever encloistered within yourself: And that he hath loved France better, then to deprive her of the good you ought to procure her. But all these verities shall one day be comprised in that work the King, by your mouth, (my Lord) hath commanded Mounsieur de Balzac to undertake, and which one year of leisure will effect. There shall it be, where he will cause all men to confess, that to have the portrait of a perfect Prince, the reign of so great a Monarch as ours▪ is to be attended; that the Divine Providence never showed itself more apparently, then in the conduct of his designs, and in the event of his enterprises; and how Heaven hath so far declared itself in his favour, that were his state assaulted on all sides, and all ordinary means of defence should fail him; he hath virtue sufficient to save himself, and perform miracles. Now as you are the prime intelligence of his Council, and your cogitations the first causes of the good resolutions therein taken, you are not to doubt (my Lord) but you likewise possess the principal place therein, after His Majesty; and that you participate more than any other of His triumphs. There shall you be revenged of all those wretched writings you have formerly slighted: There the spirits of all men shall be satisfied in the justice of your deportments, and calumny itself will there be so powerfully convinced, that to cry down so legal a government as yours, ill affected Frenchmen, and those stranger's enemies to this Crown, will find no further pretext in affairs, nor credulity among men. And truly, when I (on the one side) consider how fat all it is to those who govern, to be exposed to the envy of great ones, and complaints of meaner persons, and how Public affairs have this fatality, as how pure soever the administration thereof be, they still afford sufficient colour to calumny, to disguise them and cause them to appear injust. And on the other side, when I consider that to guide this State is no less than to manage a body having no one sound part; and how there is no sick person who doth not sometimes murmur against his Physician; I dare be confident (my Lord) that such a man as Mounsieur de Balzac will not prove unuseful unto you, and that the lustre of your actions, and glory of your life shall receive no diminution in his hands. I would say more, did I not fear to disoblige him in commending him, or if I believed him to be so great a self admirer as his enemies figure him unto us. But I who have sufficiently studied him to know him▪ and who am acquainted with his most secret Inclinations, and the most particular conception▪ s he hath in his soul, and of a far different opinion to theirs. I will therefore rest there (my Lord) and not to cause you to lose more time, and to the end you may the sooner enjoy the entertainment, this excellent Book prepareth for you: I will satisfy myself in letting you know, that I esteem not myself so unfortunate as formerly I did, since I have happened upon so fair an occasion, to let you know that I am,  
My Lord, Your thrice humble, and most obedient servant, Silbon.   

THE PREFACE Upon the Letters of Mounsieur de BALZAC: Bianca Mounsieur de la Motte Aigron.  
I Doubt not, but among those who shall see these Works; some there are who will esteem them worthy a more advantageous Title then that of Letters, as well in regard of the greatness of those things therein frequently handled, as in respect of the exactness where-wherewith they seem to have been composed: Butas I willingly excuse those, who with unapt compliments imagine they have composed a good Letter; nor do any more blame such as there in never digress from their particular affairs, ●o must I likewise acknowledge, that such writings as these, havidg not been made with any intention to be put in Print, the World might well have passed without them: And that it is only allowed to the Germans to give account to the age they live in, and to posterity forsooth, concerning the affairs and fortunes of their particular families, and of the silly acts of their Colleagues. Truly it is an error to believe, that grave and solemn subjects are to be banished out of all Letters, or that even eloquence ought but slackly therein to appear; and that the Majesty of both these is only reserved for Pulpits and Panegyric Orations; as though valour never appeared save only in pitched Battles; and that in single Combats it were lawful to run away, or that virtue therein were utterly unuseful, because it hath fewer witnesses, neither is so fully regarded: But besides that, we are no longer in those times wherein the State government was publicly questioned, where the Orators forced the Lieutenant's general of armies to render account of their several charges, and that consequently, there is no more any means remaining to become eloquent in that kind: Yet are there reasons, whereby we may understand the merit of Letters to be of no less regard than that of Orations. Howbeit, if there be any necessity to find some difference between these; this at least can neither be in regard of the dignity of the Subjects, the force of Reasons, the gracefullnesse of Discourses, nor in the sublimity of Conceits. To speak truth, when I consider the Orations yet remaining among the ruins of former ages, some where of were publicly pronounced, others only penned; I am so far from admiring any advantage they have over those Letters now extant among us, both of the same Authors and Ages, as I do not so much as wonder at all, how the first having been armed with discourse and voice, together with the gesture and motion of the body, have produced such prodigious effects as we all know, and have so often, as it were by main force, extorted the consents of all hearers; yet the second, though they had not the like arms and allurements, have notwithstanding not been any way ●●●icient. Those smooth Exordiums whereby they prepare, and put themselves by easy accesses, as it were into possession of the Readers, those straits and passages whereby they conduct the spirits of men from pleasant to painful, and from grievous, to gracious objects, to the end, that having in a manner shaken and cast them out of their former stations, they may afterwards force them to fall on what side they please. Surely all these advantages are so peculiar to Orations, as I ingeniously confess, Letters do not so much as know what they mean. In these, we enter at the first dash upon the matter, nor do we scarce at any time, quit the same; the reasons go altogether alone without assistance, and all the ornament allowed them, is only freedom of conceptions, the fecundity of language, and that they pass not promiscuously. But as concerning the Subjects, they are common to both kinds of writings, and it is an error to imagine, there are some so particular to the one, that the other cannot touch upon the same without injury thereunto. Upon the matter, Panegyric discourses, Apologies, Confultations, judgements upon moral actions, whether good or bad opinions and censures upon occurrents, of those which please, and those we ought to detest, yea even indifferent accidents▪ briefly whatsoever may fall into discourse, and under reason, are the objects of Letters: So we see, the greatest and most important mysteries of our religion have been left unto us in Letters. All the wisdom of the Pagan● contained in those of Seneca, and we owe to those Cicero wrote to his friends, the knowledge of the secrets, and certain inducements which caused the greatest revolutions the world hath ever known, to wit the shaking and subversion of the Roman Reipublike, we are therefore to confess oratorical Treatises to have no other subject than Letters; and that if there be any difference, it is none other than what is observed between our ancient Seas, and those not discovered unto us till in our father's times. The latter are no less deep than the other, they are capable of the like shipping; their ebbs, and floods are neither more just, nor less uncertain; and all the difference discovered between them is only this, that the winds toss not those in like fort as it doth ours, and in that they are seldom or never subject either to storms, or tempests. In like manner it being within the power and capacity of Letters to treat of the same things, how much more emenent and excellent soever one may conceive them to be then any other kind of writings, yet do they not indeed receive those extraordinary motions which appear in Orations, since neither the like high of excess, nor the same Enthusiasms or Raptures are herein found; In a word, it is a more middle beauty, and a more calm eloquence. And surely, if the subject we make use of be as illustrious as the person before whom we are to handle it, were it not as much as to abuse both the one and the other, to come short in our expressions: Since the action ought neither to be public, nor general, if you intent to perform it negligently, and not to allow it all the ornaments whereof it is capable. And who can doubt that Cicero being to make an Oration before Caesar, after the change of the Commonwealth, had not a greater apprehension, and prepared not himself with more studious care, then if he had only spoken to that beast with an hundred heads, he had so often led after his own Fantasy, and whereof he was in so full possession so long before, as to cause them to take the part best pleasing unto him. In these last occasions, and in the presence of this man alone, he know with whom he had to do: Now had he been timorous, or fearful to fail before his Master, yet impute not this apprehension of his to proceed either out of consideration he had of his greatness, nor from the reflection upon those things he came to accomplish: But it was in that he considered him as a man no less versed in the art of well-speaking than himself, and who had heretofore contributed to the study of this science, so many rare gifts of spirit, and so many fair endowments of nature, that had he not afterward esteemed it more noble to conquer men by arms, then to convince them by arguments, and if of the two most excellent exercises of this life, his fortune and the famousness of his courage, had not caused him to make choice of the former, he might easily have disputed for the glory of the latter with him. Or were it so that this excellent Orator might at this day return into the world, and were personally, or by his Pen to discourse with those two great Cardinals to whom the most part of these Letters are addressed▪ is it not probable, coming to know them as we do, that he would employ, and contribute a a more exact study and solicitude, then when he was only to please a multitude of ignorant Plebeians, and to speak to all that rabble of ancient Rome. We shall yet again be amazed at the perfection of these Letters, some whereof are written to the King, and appointed to be read (as in truth they were) with admiration in full counsel, and a great part of the rest addressed to the most eminent persons of our age. To speak truth we may justly say, this is the first time any thing of perfection hath appeared in our language; so that if of all our ancient eloquence there be aught worthy of esteem in any equality with this, it may be that with much labour you shall produce some one Letter: For of all such who have hitherto written we may affirm, that the most fortunate among them, when they made choice of subjects able to subsist of themselves, have not been absolutely condemnable, and that amidst their writings, the solidity of learning, and the savageness of language (to wit) the good and evil did equally appear. But when at any time they fell upon subjects where eloquence only swayed the Sceptre, there truly it was where fortune forsook them, and where the feebleness of their proper forces was manifestly perceived, if they were not some way assisted by strange tongues. Some of them (to say the truth) have doubted what way they were to take, and have striven to show it to others, though themselves were not in it. In a word, the greatest glory those gained who have written with most perfection and purity, is only that which nature hath reserved for women, to which sex eminent actions being denied, it seemeth they perform sufficient if they abstain from evil doing. But to say that any hath joined Art to abundance, and mingled mildness with Majesty, or hath raised his style without either losing himself, or straying from his subject, that is it which in truth we could not see till this present. And questionless these brave and generous forms of discourse, and those great and strange conceptions wherewith these Letters are so curiously limed, and so plentifully graced, have been very slenderly known in proceeding ages: This very order, and this number, whereof every tongue is not capable, and wherein ours owes nothing to the Latin, and which appears in all his words, though diversely, and as their gender requires, do right haply appear in this place, though the most part of writers before him have esteemed these perfections of small importance; yet notwithstanding, without the help of these two great secrets, neither ornaments of Art, nor graces of Nature, can be but in part pleasing; nor can all the reasons the World can allege persuade a Very woman resolving to resist: And to speak seriously, they are no less necessary among excellent discourses, and conceits, than discipline amongst Soldiers, without which, courage is of no effect, and valour most commonly proveth unprofitable. As for me who have known the Author from both our infancies, and who better than all others, can depose in what fashion he effecteth his labours; beside, knowing the great advantage he hath over all those who write at this day: I have ever thought, that if any were able to raise our Language to the merit and reputation of such Eloquence, wherewith the Ancients were adorned, it should be to him alone to whom our age oweth this glory. Nor do I doubt, but the comparison coming in question at this present, between these his writings, and those of others; the difference will be easily discovered, assuring myself, that all spirits will dispose themselves to be ranged herein to mine opinion, and voluntarily to give way thereunto. As for myself, who read the Ancients with all respect due unto them, and the Moderns without any prejudicate opinion, do notwithstanding confess, that all I can conceive in others is so far short of the merit of these Letters, that abstracting from the passion I am possessed with, both for them, and their Author, hardly could I dispose myself to frame this Preface for them. And who is there will make any difficulty to give them their due? Since he whose very faults have been esteemed so fair, that they caused a Sect during his life, which yet continues after his death; having (at Meats) seen certain discourses this Author composed in those miserable times, and which stood in need of another age to be gratefully regarded, was astonished at his beginnings, confessing it was with unwillingness, that the only thing he supposed to possess by the general consent of all, was ravished from him by one who as yet had lived but twenty years. But surely, it was in this strain of writing which in that it is not restrained within so strict limits as that of Letters, is capable of all the motions, and ornaments of Art; and of the same sort as was the other discourse he addresseth to the Pope who now is, upon the like subject, as that of Saint Bernard's to Eugenius: And as God never chose among men any so accomplished with all perfections, as this person to command all others, so can I not conceive any thing either more great, or extraordinary, than what appeareth in this work, nor more suitable to the excellency of the subject, and to the Majesty of him to whom he dedicated his discourse: But if (to return to the particulars of these Letters) it were necessary for the delivering an unpartial judgement, to consider those of the Ancients, I should seem more respectful than were requisite, if (putting them all together) I should undertake to make them so much as enter into comparison with these; excepting only those of Seneca, yea even in those (which in truth come not ne'er these) there is so infinite abundance of matter as can hardly be imagined, and since all things therein appear so confusedly, that it seems they were therein couched without choice, and to say truth, as itwere at adventure, some who will yet further tax his style will happily say, they are rather matters then Works. But for my part, if there be any defects therein, I hold they ought well to be borne with, in regard of so many rarities therein concurring; and when we have said all, what appearance is there to underualew any thing we receive from a man who was worth seven Millions of Gold? And who once in his life had the heart, and ambition to aspire to the Empire of the whole world? Let us therefore esteem all we receive from him, and from those times, yet suffer us to commend our own, wherein this science which meddleth with the commanding of spirits, and which was but formerly in its infancy, is now found to be in his full maturity, and as it were of ripe years. If therefore you acknowledge any obligation due (as in truth there is) to these excellent Letters, you shall in short time see so solid, and just a judgement proceed from this Author, that the Parliament itself produceth not any more able; and his solitariness will be so satisfactory unto you, that you will make no more difference than I do, to prefer the fame before the magnificence of Princely Courts, and the Pomp of most statelyest Cities.   

THE TRANSLATOR To the Reader.  
ABout five years since, I chanced to peruse Mounsieur Balzac's Letters (they being then as I suppose) but lately come forth in French▪ and as it should seem without the Authors approbation: For of eight Editions in several places, since published, this only being the last, I was by him avowed. Having therefore seen this Copy, was so far from supposing it unworthy the reading, as (on the contrary) finding his style right eloquent, and altogether unafected, his conceptions high, and the whole Book richly adorned with great variety of learning, appearing almost in every Page: It raised no small desire in me to try how his way of writing would suit with our language: I thought therefore good (as my occasions would permit, now and then for my private recreation) to translate certain of his Letters, without any the least intention to put them all into English, much less to publish them: But having once begun, I found myself so taken with the freeedome of his discourse, together with the facility of his expressions; and so surunded with the torrent of his wit, that though I had small hopes of wading safely through, notwithstanding it seemed even delightful unto me to be drenched in so rich so pleasing, and so plentiful a flood, yet after diverse attempts, I at last arrived on dry land, resolving to rest myself after these labours, and in private to enjoy the content I took in hearing Mounsieur Balzac speak, though but broken English. But I was not long left in peace with this resolution, before certain my noble friends understanding I had travalled on this subject; did importunately solicit me to put these Letters into Print, persuading me I should here in perform no unacceptable service to my Country, especially to such who are unacquainted with the French Language. Their power therefore overruling my bashfulness, though otherwise seconding my willing desire to be useful; I held it less faulty to incur the hazard of public censure, then to be taxed of wilful incivillitie. So as (worthy Reader) I have here exposed them to thy view; If the coarseness of the English habit wherein I have clad them, seem unsuitable to their French attire, or unfashionable in thy sight: Consider I beseech thee, that beautiful creatures are not altogether blemished, though but plainly attired. If therefore you please so far to favour me, as to excuse these my errors, I will hereafter endeavour to become more serviceable. You will happily not here find all Balzac's Letters Englished; yea and diverse clauses left out; the only reason hath been, their subject not altogether suitable to this State, nor very fitting for English ears. The rest are here presented to thy gracious accetpance, not doubting but they will prove both pleasing and profitable to diverse who endeavour to make right use thereof. My desires have aimed at that end; and my greatest ambition is to have them find courteous entertainment, and to afford Public Vtillitie.  
Vale. W. T.   

PErlegi hunc librum cui titulus (Balzac his Letters) una cum praefatione duplici ad Dominum Cardinall de Richelieu, & ad Lectorum, qui quidem liber continet folio 176. (exceptis quae delentur) in quibus nihil reperio sanae doctrinae, aut bonis moribus contrarium, quo minus cum publica utilitate Imprimatur: ita tamen ut si non intra annum proxime sequentem typis mandetur haec licentia sit omnino irrita.  
GULIELMUS HAYWOOD, Capellan: domest. Archiep. Cantuar.   

THE LETTERS OF MOUNSIEUR DE BALZAC.  
THE FIRST BOOK.  

A Letter from the Cardinal of Richelieu, to the Signior of BALZAC▪  
LETTER I.  
SIR:  
THough I have formerly delivered my Opinion to a friend of Yours; concerning some of your letters he showed me; yet can I not satisfy myself before these Lines afford you a more Authentical approbation thereof. It is not any particular affection I bear to your person, which imsiteth me to this allowance, but Truth itself, carrying with it such a Prerogative, that it compelleth (all who have their Eyes, and Spirits rightly placed for the delivering an unpartial opinion) to represent them without Disguise: My censure shall be seconded by many others, and if there be any of a contrary conceit, I dare assure you, time will make them know, that the defects they find in your Letters, proceed rather from their Spirits, then from your Pen; and how nearly they resemble the Icterickes, who having the jaundesse in their Eyes, see nothing which seemeth not unto them to carry the same colour: Heretofore mean Wits admired all things above the pitch of their capacity; but now, their judgements seconding their Sufficiencies, they approve nothing but what is within the compass of their Talon, and blame all whatsoever exceedeth their Studies. I dare (without presumption) say in what concerneth you herein, that I see things as they are, and declare them to be such as I see them: The conceptions of your Letters are strong, and as transcendent above ordinary imaginations, as they are conformable to the common sense of such who are of sound judgement. The Language is pure, and the Words perfectly well chosen, without affectation; the Sense is clear and neat, and the Periods accomplished with all their numbers. This censure of mine, is by so much the more ingenuous, as that approving whatsoever is your own in your Letters: I have not concealed to a certay ne Friend of yours, that I found some rectification to be desired, concerning certain things you insert of other men's: fearing lest the liberty of your Pen should cause many to imagine that it is to often dipped in their humours and manners; and draw such as are more acquainted with you by name, than Conversation, to be otherwise conceited of you, than you willingly could wish. The manner wherewith you have received this my Advice, causeth me that continuing my former freedom, I will conclude, in advertising you, that you shall be answerable before God, if you suffer your Pen to sleep, and that you are obliged to employ it upon more grave and important Subjects; being contented that you shall blame me, if in so doing you receive not the satisfaction, to see that what you perform herein, shall be praised and esteemed, even by those who would willingly pick occasion to control them, which is one of the most sure marks of the perfection of any Worke. You shall receive some in this kind out of my Affection, when I may have the opportunity to assure you, that I am,  
Your well affectionate to serve you, the Cardinal of Richelieu. From Paris the 4. of February. 1621.   

To the Lord Cardinal of Richelieu from BALZAC.  
LETTER. II.  
MY LORD:  
I Am as proud of the Letter you did me the Honour to address unto me, as if there were a thousand Statues erected for me, or if I were assured by infallible authority of my works excellency. Truly, to be commended by that man our Age opposeth to all antiquity, and upon whose Wisdom God might well intrust the whole earth's government, is a favour I could not wish for without presumption, and which I am yet doubtful whether I have really received, or only dreamt somesuch matter. But if it be so that my eyes have not deceived me, and that you are he who hath bestowed that voice upon me, which hath been chosen by all France to present her petitions to the King, and by the King himself to convey his Commands into Cities, and Armies: My Lord, I must humbly then acknowledge you have already paid me before hand, for all the services I can ever possibly perform unto you: and I should show myself very ungrateful, if I should hereafter complain of my fortunes: since upon the matter, the goods and honours of this World are most ordinarily none other then the inheritance of Sots, or rewards of Vice, Estimation and Commendation being only reserved for Virtue. Ought I not then to rest highly satisfied, having received from your Mouth the same Prize which Conquerors expect for their Victories? yea, all that yourself could hope for, in lieu of your great and immortal Actions, if there were another Cardinal of Richelieu to give them their due Commendations? But truly (my Lord) that is a thing which will always be wanting to your Glory; for when by your only Presence you have appeased the spirits of an incensed Multitude; when by your powerful Reasons you have induced Christian Princes to set the Native Country of Jesus Christ at liberty, and to undertake the Holy War, when you have gained whole Nations to the Church, as well by the force of your Example, as by that of your Doctrine, who is of ability to pay you the Reputation which you in all right deserve? and where shall you find so excellent a Witness for all the marvelous Acts of your Life, as I have of my Watchings and Studies? I cannot choose but reiterate this, and my joy is over just to be concealed. Is it possible this great Wit and high spirit, which hath been employed even from his first Youth in persuading Princes, in giving instructions to Ambassadors, and hath been listened unto by old men, who have seen four Reigns? Is it possible I say, this man should value me; on whose Approbation all enemies agree? nor is there among all men a contrary party, or diversity of belief in this point. If I had a purpose to disquiet the repose of this Kingdom, I would seek for the consent of slack spirits; and I should stand in need of the favour of all sorts of men, were I to study for Reputation in a popular State: but truly I never affected confusion, or disorder, and my designs have ever aimed at the pleasing of a few. For since you have declared yourself in favour, as he likewise hath done, for whom France at this day envieth Italy: and since you carry after you the most solid part of the Court, I am content to let the rest run astray with Turks and Infidels, who make the greater number of Mankind. Yet (my Lord) I cannot think, that any hereafter will be so far in love with himself, or so obstinate in his own opinion, as not to be a Convertite by the only reading the Letter you honoured me with, and who in conclusion will not subscribe to your great judgement? And, if it be certain that truth itself could not be strong enough against you, there is no question but that side whereon you two shall agree, oughtto be universally followed. For my part (my Lord) let all men say what they will, I fix myself with closed eyes there; and what enemies soever the reputation you have allowed me procure me: yet knowing your abilities and what you are, I will be no farther solicitus for mine own Interest, or future benefit, since it is become your cause;  
I am My Lord, Your most humble and most obedient servant, BALZAC. The 10. of March, 1624.   

To the Cardinal of Richelieu from BALZAC.  
LETTER III.  
My Lord,  
I Humbly entreat you to be pleased by these presents, to permit me to confirm unto you the assurance of my most humble Service, and that you would allow me to crave some News from you: It is the only thing wherein I am now curious, and which in the very depth of my retiredness, obligeth me to reflect sometimes upon worldly Affairs. But happen what can, I am most assured, you will remain constant even amidst public ruins, and that Fortune cannot bereave you of those advantages she never gave you. Yet could I wish, that your life were somewhat more calm, and less glorious: And that Artemiza's goodness having so great Affinity to what is infinite, and which is of power to procure love even amidst the most savage beasts; doth in right deserve to obtain truce, and repose among reasonable Creatures. It is not in us to be Authors of hereafter, nor do our wishes rule the event of humane Affairs. But surely if there be any Justice in Heaven, (whereof there is no doubt) and if God have an Eye to worldly matters: we must believe the tears of upright persons shall not be shed in vain, or that your Queen shall wax old in her Misfortunes: yet at the least, since our cogitations be still within our own compass, and we being not forbidden to hope well, let us make the best use we may of this small portion of Liberty yet remaining. The virtue she hath hitherto made use of, in resisting her afflictions, will happily oneday serve to moderate her felicities. And if God struck a certain 
* Madam Gabriella.  Woman with sudden death; for that she should have been seated in the place, he destinated to this great Princess; he surely will not suffer that man to live long, who hath so highly injured her. Howsoever (my Lord) it is great Honour unto you, not to have failed her in her afflictions, and to have under-valewed all worldly Prerogatives, to be unfortunate with her. I know that herein you satisfy yourself with the testimony of a clear conscience, and that it is not so much for Opinion of men, you undertake Worthy actions, as for your own private Satisfaction. Nor are you a little to comfort yourself, in that at this present you are praised even by your very enemies; and to see your Resolutions redoubtable to those who have great Armies on foot, and the chief forces of the State under their Command. I would say more, did I not fear you might suppose, I had some private design in my Discourse, or seek hereby to prepare you to receive some kind of importunity from me: But I most humbly beseech your Lordship to be confident, that I being of free Condition, am little acquainted with Flattery; and that I am not so given over to gain, but that notwithstanding you were still in avignon, I would ever as really as at this Hour remain  
My Lord, Your most humble and most affectionate Servant, BALZAC. The 15. of May, 1623.   

To the Cardinal of Richelieu from BALZAC.  
LETTER FOUR  
My Lord,  
Were I not well acquainted with my own insufficiency, I might well be possessed with no small vanity, upon the Letter you did me the Honour to address unto me, and might well imagine myself to be some other thing then if I was the day before I received it. But knowing it is no other than a mere favour you pleased to afford me, I will not flatter my self in my good fortune, nor lessen the Obligation due unto you, in presuming to merit the same. If Virtue required any Recompense out of herself, she would not receive it from other mouth than yours: and your Reputation is at this day so Just and General, as it is become a Verity wherein the Wise agree with the Vulgar. I do therefore account myself very happy, to be reputed of, by a Person who is able to give a value to things of themselves worthless; and I attribute so much to your judgement, that I will no longer hold any mean opinion of myself, lest therein I should contradict you. Truly (my Lord) very difficultly will my parts any way answer your Expectation. The time my Fever affordeth me for rest is so short, I can hardly employ it to other purpose then to complain of its cruelty. I have enough to do to live, and to make that good: I keep myself as carefully as though I were composed of Crystal, or as if I were some necessary matter for the good of all men. Yet (my Lord) you have so great power over me, that I will ftrayne myself to show my Obedience, and to give you an account of my leisure, since you please to think I ought not to deprive the World thereof. It is better to utter glorious Dreams, then to labour in gross Designs, and there are certain Acts of the spirit so excellent, that Princes are too poor, and their power too slender to afford them their full merit. But my Lord, you have often given so great testimonies of me, that if I should not have some presumption, it were fit I lost my memory▪ Wherefore out of the assurance you give me that my Style doth not stray from that perfection which men imagine, but never saw, nor have attained unto; I will enter upon a design which shall amaze our vulgar wits, and cause those who have hitherto supposed they surmount others, to see I have found what they seek for. Whatsoever I do, I will at least have you at all times present to my thoughts, thereby to oblige myself not to come short before so great an example, nor will I forget the place where at this present I am, to the end not to omit any thing worthy the Ancient Rome. It is impossible at once to have so glorious objects, and degenerous thoughts, or not to be transported with all those Triumphs of times past, and with the glory of our Age. But this is not the place where I intent to speak, it being of too small extent to receive so illimitable a Subject: It shall therefore suffice in conclusion of this my Letter to tell you, that since upon your advice all posterity dependeth, and the whole Court expecteth from you what they are, or are not to believe; I cannot choose (my Lord) but to esteem myself right happy even amidst my greatest miseries, if you still continue unto me your equal judgement with the honour of your favours  
BALZAC. From Rome this 10. of April, 1623.   

To the Lord Cardinal of Richelieu, from Mounsieur Balzac.  
LETTER V.  
My LORD;  
MY purpose was at my arrival in France to have presented my Service unto you, in the place of your Residence, that I might have had the honour to see you; but my health having not been such, as to afford me the free disposition of myself: I am forced to defer my contentment, in that kind, and to entreat to hear some News from You, till I be able to go to understand them from your Self. In the interim, the better to cheer my Spirits, I will believe they are as good as I wish them, and will imagine this Colic of yours, whereof I had so great apprehension, shall be drowned in the fountain of Pougues. This truly is so generally desired, and sought for at God's hands, by so many mouths, that I am confident he will not (in this point) leave the felicity He hath prepared for our times unperfect; and that He loveth the World too well, to deprive it of the good you are to Perform. Armies being defeated, new Forces may be set on foot, and a second Fleet may be rigged, after the first perish: But if we should want your Lordship, the World would not last long enough to be able to repair such a loss: And the King might have just cause to bewail the same in the midst of his greatest Triumphs. He hath indeed an inexhaustible Kingdom of men. The Wars do daily afford him Captains. The number of judges is not much inferior to that of Criminals. It is only of wise men, and such as are capable to guide the Stern of States, whereof the scarcity is great; and without flattery to find out your Equal herein, all Nature had need put itself into Action, and that God long promise the same to mankind before he be pleased to produce him. I say nothing, (my Lord) I am not ready to swear in verification of my belief▪ or which I confirm not by the Testimony of your very Enemies. The authority of Kings is not so Sovereign, as that is, you exercise over the Souls of such as hearken unto you. Your Spirit is right powerful, and daily employed in great affairs, and which refresheth itself in agitation of ordinary occurrents: You are destinated to fill the place of that Cardinal, which at this present, maketh one of the beautiful parties of Heaven, & who hath hitherto had no Successor, though he have had Heirs & and Brothers. This being thus, who will doubt that public Prayers are to be offered, for so precious and necessary a health as yours; or that your life ought to be dear unto you, within you are to conserve the glory of our age. As for me (my Lord) who am assaulted on all sides, and to whom nothing is remaining save hope, being the only benefit of those who are deprived of all others: since my misfortune will needs make me that public sacrifice, which is, to be charged with the pains of all the people, and pay for all the World. I could be well content you should send me your Colic, and that it come to accompany the Fever, the Scyatica, and the Stone. Since of so many Diseases, there can but one Death be composed. Nor is it time any longer, to be a good husband of what is already lost. But I will not enter further into this discourse, whereof I shall find no end; and it were to small purpose to tell you, he is the most wretched man in the World, who so much honoureth you, for fear you should reject my affection, as somefatall thing, and lest it avail me not at all to protest that I am my Lord  
Your most hamble and most obedient Servant; BALZAC. September the 4. 1622.   

To the Lord Cardinal of Richelieu.  
LETTER. VI  
MY LORD:  
AFter the sealing of these presents, a messenger passed by this place, by whom I understand that the Pope hath created you a Cardinal; I make no question but you received this News as a matter indifferent unto you: and that your Spirit being raised above the things of this world, you behold them with one and the same Aspect. Yet since herein the public good meeteth with your particular interest, and that for your sake the Church rejoiceth even in all the most irksome Prisons of Europe, it is not reasonable you should deprive yourself of a contentment no less chaste, than those Heaven itself affordeth us? and which proceedeth from the same cause. All good men (my Lord) ought in these times to desire great Dignities, as necessary means to undertake great matters. If they do otherwise; besides that God will demand a strict account from them of those his graces, whereof they have made no good use: the World hath likewise just subject of Complaint, seeing them abandon it as a prey to the wicked, and that their desire of ease causeth them to forsake the public good. This (my Lord) is to let you know, you are to reserve your Humility for those Actions, passing between God and Yourself: But that in other cases you can neither have too much Wealth, nor over great power; since Obedience is due to Wisdom; there being certain virtues not practiseable by the poor. I do therefore infinitely rejoice, to see you at this present raised to that eminent Dignity, wherein you fill the Universe with Splendour, and where your sole Example will (I hope) carry so great weight, as to cause the Church to return to the Purity of its first Jnfancy. Truly, if there be any hope to expect this happiness, and to see rebellious Spirits persuaded, as we behold their Cities forced; you doubtless are the man, from whom we are to expect this felicity; and who is only able to finish the victories of Kings by the subversion of Misbelievers: To this effect doth all Christendom exact these achievements at your hands, as a last instruction, and the general peace of Consciences: and myself who have thus long been in search after the Jdea of Eloquence, without finding among us any which is not either counterfeit or imperfect; am very confident you will bring it to light in the same excellency as it was, when at Rome the Tyrants were condemned, and when it defended the oppressed Provinces. Though Purple be very refulgent, yet will it receive a farther lustre by this your Dignity, carrying command where ever it cometh; and which is particularly so proper for the conduct of Souls, as it is only to that power whereto they will submit themselves. My Lord, if I have any hope to be known in after Ages, or that my Name may pass to Posterity; they shall find this consideration to be the first obligation unto me, of seeking the Honour of your Acquaintance, and that having heard you speak, you did so absolutely purchase both my thoughts and affections, that since then, I have ever reflected upon you, as on an extraordinary person, and have ever passionately remained  
My Lord, Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 16. of December, 1622.   

To the Cardinal of Richelieu from BALZAC.  
LETTER VI.  
My LORD,  
HAd the ways been safe, or if the good order you have taken for public security, had not been subject to the like success as are wholesome Laws, which are seldom well observed, I should not be necessitated to take a longer time than you allotted me when I parted from Fountainebleau, nor had I till now been constrained to spin out the time of my Dispatch. But though your Commandments are all powerful in me, yet you know necessity will firstbe obeyed, nor will you (I hope) be displeased that I have made choice of a Prison whereto I am accustomed, to avoid another not so commodious for me. This hath not happened but to my extreme grief, since I have not been able to be a witness of the most illustrious life of our Age, and have thereby lost half a Year of your Actions which (well nigh) fill up all our History. For though we are not so remote from the World, that no News can come to us, yet they pass so many places, as it is impossible they receive not diverse Impressions, or that they should arrive here in their purity, since they are often altered from the very Loover; yet have junderstood, and Fame hath published even in Deserts, the great Conflicts by you undergone, and achieved for the Honour and Reputation of France, and how you have subdued the subtleties of Strangers, being in truth more to be feared then their Forces. I hear how Italy hath spent all her practices without hurting any, and how those Statesmen who made account to Seignorize in all Assemblies, and to be Masters in all Reasons of State, were unable to defend themselves against you, but with passion, and choler: nor to complain of any other thing, but that you persuaded them to whatsoever they were before▪ hand resolved not to yield. So as (my Lord) those who termed us Barbartans, and by their treaties commonly took revenge of our Victories, have in the end found wisdom on this side the Alps, and have well perceived there is a man who hath abilities to hinder them from deceiving others. They stood amazed to see a Servant who would not suffer there should be any Master greater than his Sovereign. Who was as sensible of the least Evils of his Country, as of his proper sorrows, supposing himself to be wounded upon the least apprehension, when any made show of trenching upon the Dignity of this Crown. But when they found you applied present remedies to all such inconveniences as they objected; that you prevented the difficulties they offered to propose, that you dived into their souls, drawing thence their closest Intentions, and how at the first conference you made answer to what they reserved for a second. Then it was indeed, when their Fleame was turned into Choler, and when you put their humane Wisdoms and politic Maxims to a stand. So as we see it is sufficient only to let Good appear, to cause it to be beloved: and truly if Reason had the like power over the Will, as it hath over the Understanding, all those Italians doubtless, who heard you speak, had returned good Frenchmen, and the safety of Christendom together with the security of her Princes, had been but one day's work. Foreign wars had been ended in your chamber; nor should we now have any more than one business upon us, and the King's Forces had at this present been employed only in suppressing the Rebels of his own Kingdom. My Lord, I hope you are persuaded (though I could not probably expect any slight occurrents from the place where you are) yet that I received these with much emotion and transport, it not being in my power to dissemble my joy, when I understood how their Majesties are not weary of your Service, and how after having tried diverse Counsels, it was in conclusion thought fit to follow yours, and that you precede in the affairs of Europe, by being conductor of the Fortune of France. Truly, of all exterior contentments, there is not any whereof I am so sensible as of that. But on the other side, when I understand that your Health is daily assaulted, or threatened by some accident, that the Tranquillity your Conscience affords you, hinders you not from having ill Nights: And how amidst the happy successes befalling you, life itself is notwithstanding sometimes tedious unto you; then indeed I must confess they touch me in the tenderest part of my Soul. And whilst the Court makes thousands of feigned Protestations unto you; there is an Hermit some hundred Leagues from you, who mourns for your maladies with unfeigned tears. I know not whether or no I may presume to say, I love you: yet is it not probable you will take offence at a Word wherewith, you know God himself is well pleased. My Lord; I do in such manner Love you, as I am either sick upon the Relation of your indisposition; or if the news be current that you are recovered, yet have I still an apprehension of what alteration each hour may bring upon you. Ought it then to be in the Fits of your Fever, and in your inquietude for want of sleep, that you understand these public acclamations, and the due praises you have purchased: Shall the Senses suffer, and the Spirits rejoice, or they continue tortured amidst these Triumphs, or that you (at once) perform two contrary Actions, and at the same time have need, as well of Moderation, as Patience: If Virtue could be miserable, or if that Sect which acknowledgeth no other evil, but pain; nor any greater good than pleasure, had not been generally condemned: the Divine providence had received complaints from all parts of this Kingdom; nor had there been an honest man known, who for your sake had not found something farther to be desired in the conduct of this World. But (my Lord) you understand much better than I do, that it is only touching the felicity of beasts, we are to believe the body, and not concerning ours, residing only in the supreme part of ourselves, and which is as smally sensible of those disorders committed below her, as those in Heaven can be offended by the tempests of the Air, or vapours of the Earth. This being true: God forbid, that by the estate of your present constitution, I should judge of that of your Condition; or that I should not esteem him perfectly happy who is superlatively wise. You may please to consider, that howbeit you have shared with other men the infirmities of humane Nature, yet the advantage resteth solely on your side: since (upon the matter) there is only some small pain remaining with you, instead of an infinity of errors, passions, and faults falling to our lots. Besides▪ I am confident that the term of your sufferings is well nigh expired, and that the hereafter prepares right solid and pure contentments for you, and a youth after its season, as you are become old before your time. The King who hath use of your long living, makes no unprofitable wishes: Heaven bears not the prayers that the Enemies of this State offer. We know no Successor that is able to effect what you have not yet finished: and it being true, that our Forces are but the Arms of your Head, and that your Counsels have been chosen by God to re-establish the Affairs of this Age: we ought not to be apprehensive of a loss which should not happen but to our Successors. It shall then be in your time (my Lord, I hope) that oppressed Nations will come from the World's end to implore the protection of this Crown: that by your means our Allies will repair their losses, and that the Spaniard shall not be the sole Conqueror, but that we shall prove the Infranchesers of the whole Earth. In your time (I trust) the Holy Sea shall have her Opinions free, nor shall the inspirations of the Holy Ghost be oppugned by the artifice of our Enemies, resolutions will be raised worthy the ancient Italy for defence of the common cause. To conclude, it will be through your Prudence (my Lord) that there shall no longer be any Rebellion among us, or Tyranny among men: that all the Cities of this Kingdom shall be seats of assurance for honest men; that novelties shall be no farther in request; save only for colours and fashions of Attire▪ that the People will resign Liberty, Religion, and the Commonwealth, into the hands of Superiors, and that outof lawful government, and loyal obedience, there will arise that felicity Politician's search after, as being the end of Civil life. My hope is (my Lord) that all this will happen under your sage conduct, and that after you have settled our repose, and procured the same for our Allies, you shall enjoy your good deeds in great tranquillity, and see the estate of those things endure, whereof yourself have been a principal Author. All good men are confident these blessed events will happen in your Age, and by your Advice. As for me who am the meanest among those who justly admire your Virtues, I shall not (I hope) prove the slackest in the expression of your Merits: Since therefore they (of right) exact a general acknowledgement; if I should fail in my particular contribution, I were for ever unworthy the Honour I so ambitiously aspire unto; the height whereof is to be esteemed  
Your Lordship's most humble and most obedient servant, BALZAC.   

To the Lord Bishop of Aire.  
LETTER VIII.  
My Lord,  
IF at the first sight, you know not my Letter, and that you desire to be informed who writes unto you: It is one more old▪ like then his Father, and as overworn as a Ship, having made three Voyages to the Indies; and who is no other thing, than the Relics of him, whom you saw at Rome. In those days I sometimes complained without cause, and happily there was then no great difference between the health of others, and my infirmity. Howsoever, be it that my imagination is crazed, or that my present pain doth no longer admit of any comparison. I begin to lament the Fever and Scyatica as lost goods, and as pleasures of my youth now past: See here to what terms I am reduced, and how (as it were) I live, if it may be called living, to be in a continual contestation with Death. True it is, there is not sufficient efficacy in all the words whereof this World makes use, to express the miseries I endure; they leave no place, either for the Physician's skill, or the sick-man's▪ Patience; nor hath Nature ordained any other remedies for the same, save only Poison and precipices. But I much fear lest I suffer myself to be transported with pain, or endure it less Christianly than beseemeth me, being a Witness of your Vertus; and having had the means to profit myself by your Example. My Lord, it is now time (or never) I subdue this wicked spirit, which doth forcibly transport my will; and that the old Adam obey the other. Yet doth it not a little grieve me, to be indebted to my misery for my Souls health, and▪ that I much desire it were some other more noble consideration than necessity, should cause me to become an honest man. But since the means to save us are bestowed upon us▪ and that we choose them not, it is fitting that reason convince our sensiblities, causing us to agree to what is otherwise distasteful unto us. At the worst, we must at all times confess, that we cannot be said to perish, when we are safely cast on shore by some Ship wrack; and it may be, if God did not drive me as he doth out of this Life, I should never dream of a better. I will refer the rest to be related unto you at your return from Italy, with purpose to lay open my naked Soul unto you, together with my Thoughts in the same simplicity they spring in me: you are the only Person from whom I expect Relief; and I hold myself richer in the possession of your good Opinion▪ then if I enjoyed the favours of all earthly Princes, and all the Wealth of their Territories and Kingdoms. Truly this is the first time (since I writ unto you from Lions) I have made use of my hands; and I have received a hundred Letters from my Friends without answering one. Hereby (my Lord) you see, there is no other consideration (your self excepted) of force to cause me to break silence, since for all others I have lost the use of speaking. Yet I beseech you to think (notwithstanding all this) my affection to be neither penurious nor ambitious. The Riches I crave at your noble hands, are purely spiritual, and I am at this present in an estate, wherein I have more need to settle some order for the affairs of my Conscience, then to reflect upon the establishment of my worldly Fortunes. But (my Lord) to change Discourse, and a little to retire myself from my pains, what do you thus long at Rome? Doth the Pope dally with us? and will he leave to his Successor the glory of the best Election can be made? Is he not afraid lest it be given out he hath some intelligence with his Adversaries, and that he taketh not the advice of the Holy Ghost, in what concerneth the Church's Honour: for God's cause bring us with speed this News, provided it be the same the King demands, and all good men desire. I hope it shall not be said, you have spoken Italian all this while to no purpose, or that you can accuse his predictions, as erroneous, who never falsified his word with you, and who is perfectly  
My Lord Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 2. of july, 1622.   

To the Lord Bishop of Air.  
For the true understanding of this Letter: it is necessary to be acquainted with the Gibbrige, the French residing at Rome, use to speak; who frame a new kind of Language to themselves, composed of Italian words, having only French terminations.  
LETTER IX.  
My Lord,  
I Think you will never be weary of going to Cortege, and that you will for ever have an apprehension of the Crepuscule all the days of your life; so it is, that you have long enough caused the curtains of your Corroach to be drawn in presence of those of Cardinals; and that you may well be (ere now) acquainted with the Court of Rome, even from the Papale subjects, to those who desire to be admitted into the first degrees of sacred Orders. For my part, I should soon be weary in seeing daily one and the same thing, and in beginning the day from the first hour of night? What can there be so pleasing in the place where you are, that should deserve to stay you there? In fair weather the Sun is dangerous: half the Year they breathe nothing but smoke, and in the rest, it raineth so frequently, that it seemeth some Sea hangeth over the City of Rome. But it may be you take pleasure in seeing the Pope, a body over-shaken, and trembling with age and infirmities, who hath no other thing than Ice in his veins, and Earth in his Visage I cannot imagine how this object can afford you any great contentment; or that you are much taken with the society and Company of the great multitude of my Lords his Assistants, partaking of the one and the other Signature: Nor can it be Carriofile whom you so often overrule, who should entreat you to stay there for the furtherance of his Affairs. For being (as he is) a Popeline, and of the Family of the Cardinal Ludovisio, who affords him his full share▪ it cannot be but well with him. I conclude therefore (my Lord) that I cannot guess the cause of your stay, if you take not the pains to tell me. For to imagine Mounsieur de Luzon not to be as yet a Cardinal, were no less than to wrong the King's credit, and to judge amiss of public acknowledgement. I am here at the Antipodes, where there is not any thing but Air, the Earth, and a River; One had here need make above ten days journeys to find a man: wherefore having in this place no other communication but with the Dead, I can relate no other News unto you, but of the other World. Is it not true, that he who would have burnt his shirt, had it known his secrets, would hardly have been drawn to make his general confession? and that Alexander the Great would with much difficulty have been induced to purchase Paradise by Humility? What say you of poor Brutus? who killed his Father, thinking to confound a Tyrant, and no less to repent himself at his Death, in having loved Virtue, then if he had followed an unfaithful Mistress. Do you not yet remember the first Consuls, whose words smelled of Garlic and green roasted Meat? think you not they made use of their hands instead of feet, being so rough and dirty as they were, and wore Shoes instead of Gloves? These men were not acquainted either with Sugar, Musk, or Amber-greeze. They had not (as then any gods of Gold, or Goblets of Silver. They were ignorant in all sorts of Sciences, save only to make War, and to have domination over men. I lately read how in Venice (in former times) men of greatest quality, usually married with common women, and that either the good Husbandry, or the mutual correspondency was such among the Citizens, that one Wife served three Brothers. Think you that Francis the first is called Great, for having vanquished the Swisses? or to distinguish him from his Grand▪ child? or by reason of his great Nose? Give me a reason why Selim flew his Father, his Brothers, and Nephews? and after all this died but once? Were it not that I fear to be wearisome unto you, I should never make an end of my News, yea I should be sufficiently stored to entertain you my whole life-time. But it is high time that unprofitable Speeches, give place to Pious Cogitations; and that I leave you among your Myrtles and Orange-Trees, where you are never better accompanied then when you are alone. I will here conclude, rather out of Discretion, then for want of Matter: But this shall not be till after I have said, that of all those who have any share in your Favours, there is not any who is therein more proud of his good Fortune, than myself, or more really than I am  
My Lord, Your most humble and most affectionate Servant, BALZAC. The 25. of September, 1622.   

To the Lord Bishop of Air from BALZAC.  
LETTER X.  
My LORD,  
THese times are fatal, for abating those heads appearing above others, and for changing the face of things: and questionless if this course still continue, the King will either be forced to seek out a new people, or to resolve himself for a solitary Reign: All the Court is black with mournings: there is not a Frenchman who doth not either weep, or is bewailed▪ and War causeth only slight sorrows; yet even among those whose loss we lament, there are always some we willingly leave, and whose Catastrophe may serve us as a consolation for the rest. Without further ambiguity, the man is seized on, who grew lean by the well▪ fare of others, and who was one of those pale and sober persons, borne for the Ruin of States; there is some appearance he died as well of the Purples of M. L. C. D. R. as of his own, and that you sent him his first surfeit from Rome; where he truly considering how there was no longer any favour to follow, nor Favourite to flatter, he would leave to live any longer, as though he had no further affairs in this World. Howsoever it be, we are herein to acknowledge the Finger of God, and to confess, he doth sometimes punish Malefactors, without observing the forms of Justice▪ at lest it cannot be denied, but God loveth the Queen extraordinarily, since he reserveth to himself the revenge of all her injuries, nor will let any thing remay ne in the world which may prove distasteful unto her. If she desired the Sea should be calm in the most stormy days of Winter; or two Autumns to happen each Year: I am confident of Nature's change, in conformity to her will: nor is there any thing she cannot obtain of Heaven, which granteth the very prayers she hath not as yet begun. I am here some hundred and fifty Leagues from these fine things, where I study to solace myself as much as possibly I can; and to this end, I make myself drunk every day: But to free you from any sinister opinion of what I say, I assure you it is only with the water of Pougues, which surely would be Ink, were it black; so that I surfeit without finning against the Rules of Sobriety, and my frolickes are as Austere as the Minims fastings. I have a great desire to enter covenants with my Physicians, whereby it might be granted, that all agreeable things should be wholesome, & that one might speedily recover his Health by the sent of Flowers, instead of their Medicines which are ordinarily second miseries succeeding the former: yet without spending much time, or trouble▪ I have made all impossibilities passable with me, and in the case I am, I would swallow Fire, were it prescribed me for the recovery of my health. It is no small advantage▪ not to be reduced to these terms no more than you are, and not to know what it is to suffer or complain. So is it for the general good of the whole World, that GOD hath given you this vigorous Health, to employ it in the service of Kings, and in your Vigilancy over the conduct of People. As for me, who should not happily make so good use thereof as I ought, and who am far more inclinable to Vice then to Virtue: I hold it convenient I be always crazy, and that GOD take from me the means to offend Him, whereof otherwise I should infallibly make but overmuch use: I write not at this present to M. it is all I can do to finish this Letter in haste, and to tell you what you long since knew, that  
I am my Lord, Your most humble and passionate Servant; BALZAC. October the 15. 1622.   

To the Lord Bishop of Air, from BALZAC.  
LETTER XI.  
My Lord,  
I Am infinitely glad to understand by your Letters, of your safe return into France, and that you have now no further use of Cypbers, for the expression of your mind to my Lord the Cardinal of Richelieu. I shall at your pleasure (I hope) understand the particulars of your Voyage, and what you have seen at Naples and Venice, worthy your content. This is not out of any great curiosity I have for these things, or that I admire dumble Marble, or Pictures being no way so beautiful as the Persons: These trifles are to be left for the Vulgar, with whom the same Objects limit their imagination and sight: and who (of all times) reflect, mearely upon the present, and (of all things▪) only upon the appearance: but for my part I am of a contrary opinion. There are not in the whole world any Palaces so sumptuous, or of so high a structure which are not far under my thoughts, and I conceive in my spirit a poor hermitage, to the foundation whereof many more materials are projected, then were requisite for establishing a Republic. You see here my Lord, how in some sort I play the Prince amidst my poverty, and with what insolency I scorn what the world so much admireth; I am as haughty, as though I were a Minister of State; or as if this last change in the Kingdom had been made for me alone: yet you know well that I call not myself L. M. D. L. V, and how if there had been none but myself to assault my Lord the Comte of Schambergs▪ Virtue, it still had continued in the same place where it hath been reverenced of all men. Each man hath his several censure concerning this great news, but whatsoever they can say, I assure myself there can nothing befall that Lord, whereto he is not at all times prepared, and that he hath lived too long, not to know that Fortune taketh special delight in dallying with the affairs of France, and hath from all Ages made choice of our Court, as the Theatre of her follies. If he had not been provided of the government of this City, and what time the King commanded him to come thence, his fall had been more fearful than it was, but it is God's will that Augolesme should be the fatal retreat of the afflicted, and truly allthings well considered, it is no great down▪ come to light upon a Mountain: Now truly if the e be any thing amiss in the administration of the King's moneys, he cannot be taxed for introducing this error; for he found it there: and beside, the necessity of the times have ever resisted his good intentions, and have hindered the appearance of what he had in his heart, for the reformation of disorders▪ It is now necessary the King undertake so glorious a Design, and set his hand to that part of the State, which hath more need of redress then all the rest. But he is first to begin by the moderation of his Spirit, and he shall after gain their loyalty who serve him. If those Princes our Elders have seen, had considered, that the Coin coming into their Exchecquers, was no less than the blood, and tears of their poor Subjects, whom they have often forced to fly into Forests, and pass the Seas to save themselves from taxes and impositions: they would have been more scrupulous and cautelous how they had touched upon so dreadful undertake: at least they would not have been at once both indigent and unjust, nor have amazed all the Princes of Europe, who could never conceive why they borrowed their own monies of their Treasurers, who receive their revenues, as they purchase their own strong places from their Governors who command therein. Truly, it is very strange the Great Turk can intrust his Wives to the vigilancy of others, and assure themselves their Chastity shall thereby be conserved; yet that Kings know not to whom they may safely encharge their Treasures. But the true reason is, for that an honest man is by so much more difficultly found, than an Eunuch, by how much Miracles are more rare than Monsters. Great Fortitude is requisite for the attaining of Honesty, but the will only sufficeth to become covetous, and the most harmless have hands, and may happen to have temptations. Were it my part to play the reformer, and to preach before the Prelates, I would enlarge myself upon this Subject; but in the condition wherein I stand, it is sufficient I approve not the ill, and have a good Opinion of the present State: provided, the report be current, that there is now no obstacle between the King and the Queen his Mother, likely to hinder them from meeting; and that things are reduced to those terms wherein Nature hath placed them: Then will the face of the State shortly resume the same beauty the late King bestowed thereon, and God will with a full hand pour his Graces upon so just a Government. Though my Lord the Cardinal of Richlieu were only near Public affairs, without touching them, there is no question but he would bring a blessing to all France, and though he intimated nothing to the King, yet that he would at least inspire whatsoever were necessary for the good of his Subjects, and Dignity of his Crown▪ I will reserve to speak as I ought of this rare Virtue, till my great Work come to light▪ Where I will render every man his right, and condemn even those as culpable, whom the Parliaments crouch unto; There shall it be where I will canvas the Court of Rome▪ (which I always separate from the Church) with as much force, and freedom as he used, from whose mouth we have seen lightning to issue, and Thunder to be thrown out. There is not any thing of so fair a semblance whose deformities I unmask not. There is nothing of eminency from one end of the World to the other, I overturn not▪ I will discover the defects of Princes and States. I will expugn Vice wheresoever it is hidden, and with what Protection soever it is palliated. To conclude, I will pass as severe a Judgement as was that of the Areopagites in times past, or of the Inquisition at this present. Yet my Lord, in this my common censure, I will take a particular care of the Queen Mother's reputation, and will let all the World see, that what heretofore others have called Virtue, is the natural habitude of this great Princess. In the place for others apppointed for Afflictions and Calamities, She shall together with the King, receive only Flowers and Crowns; and as her innocency had saved her from the general deluge, had she then lived; so will it cause her to Triumph in my Story amidst the tuines of others▪ I have not the faculty of Flattering, but the Art only to speak the Truth in good terms; and the Actions you see, had need be more eminent than those you have read of, if I equal them not by my Words. This being thus (my Lord, as I hope, you doubt not;) imagine in what terms▪ I will iustific the R. D. L. R, and in what fort I will entreat her enemies▪ if I have a mind to it, I will make it one day appeared that 〈◊〉 hath been as cruel a Monster as those who devourewhole Cities, and denounce War against all Humane and Dinine things. One will imagine by the marks I give him, that R. was a Magician, which daily▪ pricked some Image of Wax with needles, and who disturbed the repose of all Prince's Courts of his time, by the force of his Charms. The truth is, I will do great matters, provided my courage quail not on his part whence I expect it should come, and to whom by a kind of strict Obligation, I am excited to undertake this judgement which will be no less famous than that of Michael Angelo. At our next meeting I will more particularly acquaint you with the whole design of my Work, with its order, ornaments, and artifice; you shall there see whether or no I make good use of those hours I sometimes obtain from the tyranny of my Phisisians and lingering maladies. In the interim do me the Honour to love me still; nor think I speak the Court-language, or that I compliment with you, when I assure you I am more than any man living  
My Lord, Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 28. of December, 1622.   

Another Letter to the Lord Bishop of Air.  
LETTER XII.  
My Lord,  
IT must needs be, your Oath of Fealty doth yet continue, and that the Ceremony you are employed in, be longer than I imagined, since I have no news from you: for I must freely confess unto you, I am not so slightly persuaded of myself, as to have any thought, as that you neglect me. Besides, I am certain that public faith, and what hath ever been sworn upon Altars and the Gospolls, are not more inviolable than your word, and that it will stand good though Heaven and Earth should start; Besides, I can less conjecture, that you are hindered by want of Health, whereof I hope you enjoy so large a treasure, as it is like to continue as long as the World lasteth. It were a wrong to me, should you allege Sickness, and no less than to wrangle with me for a thing in such manner appropriated to myself, as I cannot communicate it to any other. I will therefore imagine whatsoever you will have me to think; you may love me if you please, without taking the pains to tell me so: But for my part, how importunate soever I am herein, yet am I resolute to write unto you, till you cut off my hands, and to publish so long as I have a tongue, that I am  
Sir, Your most humble, and most affectionate servant, BALZAC▪ The 16. of December, 1622.   

To the Lord Bishop of Air from BALZAC.  
LETTER XIII.  
My Lord,  
YOu cannot lose me, how little care soever you take to keep me; The Heavens must necessarily infuse new affections in me, and utterly alter my inclinations, if they intent to inhibit me to be your Servant. Yet doth it not a little grieve me, you do not testify what I know you believe; and that having the power to make me happy by the least of your Letters, I have more trouble to impetrate this favour, than I should find in the obtaining of three Declarations from the King, and as many Briefs from his Holiness. But all this notwithstanding I cannot be persuaded you place me among matters of mere indifferency, or that you no longer remember what you have promised with so large protestations, which I hold to be most authentical. I rather for the satisfaction of my thoughts will be confident you have resolved to love me in secret, thereby to avoid all jealousy; and will believe there is more cunning, than coldness in your Silence; were it otherwise, or had I really lost your Favours, certainly I would not survive so deep a discomfort, since there is not any banishment, shipwreck, or sinister fortune, I could not rather require at God's hands, than such a loss: But these Discourses are as much as to suppose impossibilities, or to invent Dreams: I will therefore leave them, to let you understand some news from me. I can only say, the Air of this Country is not offensive unto me: for to assure you that I am in health were too great a boldness, I confess, I have now and then some pleasing pauses, and I enjoy certain good Hours, which make me remember my former Health: But there is great difference between this imperfect estate of mine and a constitution comparable to that of yours, who have life sufficient to vivify thirty such worn bodies as mine, which needs but one blast to blow it down. Howsoever, my Physicians have promised to make me a new man, and to restore unto me what I have lost. I should be well contented they were men of their words, and that I might at my ease attend all occasions, to testify how passionately I am  
The 6. of january, 1623. Your most humble and most affectionate Servant, BALZAC.   

To the Reverend Bishop of Air, from BALZAC.  
LETTER XIIII.  
My LORD,  
SInce you have as much care of me as of your Diocese, and in that I perceive you would imagine some defect, even in the felicities you expect in Heaven, should you be saved without me; I will use my utmost endeavours to cause that your desire of my Spiritual good prove not unprofitable, and to make myself capable of the good Counsel you gave me by your Letter. True it is, I have been so long habituated in vice, I have almost utterly forgotten my state of Jnnocency, so as a particular Jubilee for myself only, were no more than necessary: On the otherside, the pious motions I have, are so poor and imperfect, that of all the flames the Primative Christians have felt and endured, I should hardly support the mere smoke. Yet my Lord) even in this bad state wherein I now stand, do I expect a Miracle from my Maker, who is only able to raise Children out of the hardest Quarries; nor will I believe his Mercy hath finished what he intendeth to effect for the good of Mortals: For since he hath placed Ports upon the shores of most dangerous Seas, and given some kind of dawning, even to the darkest Nights; it may be there is yet something reserved for me in the secrets of his Providence; and that if hitherto I have ranged out of the right way, he will not any longer suffer me to stray, or tyre myself in the track of vice. And truly, I must here, though much to my shame, acknowledge the truth unto you, with those few drops of corrupt blood (which is all I have left) I am plunged in all those passions, wherewith the foundest body are pressed: yea, Tyrants, who burn whole Cities upon the first motion of rage, and choler, and who allow themselves to act what unlawful thing soever, do nothing more than myself, save only to enjoy those things I desire, and to execute those designs remaining only in my will, I wanting their power to perpetrate the like: Nor can the Fever, the Stone, nor the Scyatica, as yet tame my rebellious spirit, or cause it to become capable of Discipline; and if time had added years to the rest of my infirmities, I verily think I should desire to behold unclean sights with spectacles, such I mean as you utterly avoid, and cause myself to be carried to those lewd places, whither alone I were unable to go: Insomuch that as there are diverse paintings which are necessarily to be clean defaced, to take away the defects; so I much fear nothing but Death can stay the current of my crimes, unless by your means I enter into a second Life, more fruitful than the former. I therefore speak in good sadness, set your whole Clergy to prayer, and command a public Fast in the same strictness, as though you were to impetrate at the hands of God, the conversion of the great Turk, or of the Persian Emperor▪ Propound to yourself Monsters in my will to be mastered, and an infinity of enemies to overcome in my passions, and after all this you will bear me witness, I have not made matters greater than they are, and save only a certain imperfect desire I have to repent, and a kind of small resistance, I sometimes make against the beginnings and buddings of vice, there is not any difference at all between myself and the greatest sinner living: But take not (I beseech you) this I write, as a mark of my Humility, for you never read a truer relation: and what St. Paul spoke in the person of Mankind, accusing himself of other men's offences, is my own simple deposition, which I deliver into the hands of the Divine Justice. I hate myself; yet true it is, I find so great coldness in the performance of pious actions, that my mind seemeth to be imprisoned when at any time my Duty draweth me to Church, and when I am there, I rather seek divertions and temptations, than instruction or edification: Even mental prayer being an Oblation for all hours, and which may be performed without either burnt Jncense, OF bloody Sacrifices, and the finishing whereof is so near the first motion; is to me as laborious, as the Pilgrimage of Mount Serrat, or of our Lady of Loretta, would be to another. I am always sad, but never penitent; I love solitariness, but hate austerity; I side with honest men, but reside with the wicked: if at any time some small rays of Devotion reflect upon my crazy conscience, they are of so short continuance, and so weak, as they neither afford me light nor heat, so as all this being but accident, and mere chance, doth not any way merit the name of good, and it were great wrong to Virtue, to rank it in the number of casual occurrents. You are therefore necessarily to labour for my conversion, which I am unable to effect of myself, and that for my part, I only afford matter whereon to make an honest man. If there be certain Saints whom we owe to the tears and intercession of others, and if some Martyrs have made their very Executioners Companions of their Glory, I may well hope you will be a powerful means to save me with yourself; and that one day (happily) I may be mentioned among the rest of your Miracles▪ Sir, I know your life to be so spotless, as though you were incorporeal, or never loved any other than that Supreme beauty, from whence all others are derived▪ Wherefore there is no question but so rare a Virtue may easily impetrate at God's hands any supplication you shall exhibit, nor is there any doubt he hath (for you allotted) other limits to his bounty, save his only omnipotency. You shall yet at the least find in me Obedience and Docility, if I have not attained any stronger habitudes. You shall have to do with one who amidst the corruption of this Age, wherein well nigh all Spirits revolt from the Faith, cannot be drawn to believe any truth to be greater, than what he hath understood from his Nurse or Mother. If in what concerneth not Religion, I have sometimes had my private Sense and Opinion, I do with my very heart leave the same, to the end, to reconcile myself with the Vulgar; and lest I should appear an Enemy to my Country for a slight word, or matter of small importance. If φφφφ had held himself to this Maxim, he might securely have lived among men, nor had he been prosecuted with all extremity as the most savage of all beasts: But he rather chose to make a Tragical end, then to expect a death wherewith the World was unacquainted, or to execute only ordinary actions. So far as I can learn, or if the report which passeth be current, he had a conceit he might one day prove to be that false Prophet, wherewith the declining age of the Church is threatened: and though he be but of mean extraction, and poor fortunes, he was notwithstanding so presumptuous, as to imagine himself to be the man, who is to come with armed forces to disturb the quiet of Consciences, and for whom the infernal Ministers keep all the Treasures yet hidden in the Earth's entrails. So long as he contented himself in committing only humane faults, writing as yet with an untainted Pen, I often told him, his Verses were not passable; and that he was in the wrong to esteem himself an understanding man. But he perceiving that the rules I propounded to him, for bettering his abilities, to be oversharpe and severe for him▪ and finding small hope of arriving whether I desired to conduct him, he perhaps thought best to seek out some other way to bring himself into credit at Court, hoping of a mean Poet to become a mighty Prophet: So that (as it is generally reported) after he had perverted a number of silly Spirits▪ and long showed himself in the throng of the ignorant multitude; he in conclusion did as one who should cast himself into a bottomless pit, on purpose to gain the reputation of being an admirable jumper. My Lord, you remember (I doubt not) what our joint opinion hath been of such like persons, and the weakness you showed there was in the principles of their wicked Doctrine. Now truly how extravagant soever my Spirit hath been, I have yet ever submitted the same to the authority of GOD'S Church, and to the consent of Nations; and as I have always held, that a single drop of Water, would more easily corrupt, than the whole Ocean: So have I ever assured myself, that particular opinions could never be either so sound or solid, as the general Tenets. A silly man who hath no further knowledge of himself, then by the relations of others, who is at his wit's end, and wholly confounded in the consideration or reflection upon the meanest works of Nature; who after the revolution of so many Ages, is not able to assign the cause of a certain Rivers overflow; nor of the intervals or good days of a Tertian Ague: How dare he presume to speak confidently of that Infinite Majesty, in whose presence the Angels themselves cover their faces with their Wings, and under whom the very Heavens crouch, even to the Earth's lowest concavities. There is no other thing remaining for us, save the only glory of Humility, and Obedience, within the limits whereof, we ought to contain ourselves: And since it is most certain, that Humane reason reacheth not to so high a pitch as to attayve the perfection of Knowledge, we ought instead of disputing or questioning points of Religion, to rest satisfied in the adoration of their Mysteries: for doubtless, if we strive to enter further thereinto, or search for a thing utterly unknown to all Philosophy, and concealed from the Sages of this World, we shall by such profane curiosity gain only the dazzling of our Eyes, and confusion of our Senses: God by the light of his Gospel hath revealed unto us diverse Truths, whereof we were utterly ignorant; but he reserveth for us far greater Mysteries, which we shall never comprehend, but only in that Kingdom which he hath prepared for his chosen Servants, and by the only vision of his Face. In the mean time; to the end, to augment the merit of our Faith, and the more to perfectionate our Piety, his pleasure is, that Christians should become as blind Lovers, and that they have not any other desires or hopes, but for those things above the reach of their understandings, and which they can no way comprehend by Natural reason. So soon as the time you have prefixed me, shall be expired, and the Primroses make the Spring appear, I will not fail to wait upon you, and diligently to address myself to the collection of your grave and important Discourses, and to become an honest man by hearing, since that is the Sense appointed for the apprehension of Christian virtues, and whereby the Son of God was conceived, and his Kingdom established among men. But it is needless to use any artifice, or that you paint the place of your abode in so glorious colours, thereby to invite me to come: For though you preached in the Desert, or were you hidden in such a corner of the World, where the Sun did only shine upon the sterile Sands and steep Rocks: you well know, I should esteem myself happy where you are. Your Company being of power to make either a prison or proscription pleasing unto me; and wherein I find the Loover and the whole Court, will add (to the description you have made of Air) diverse beauties which Geographers have not hitherto observed, as being far greater than others, though more secret. Those Mountains which will not allow France and Spain to be one man's, and under which the Rain and Thunder are framed, will appear to me more huge, than they formerly did, when I first saw them: your waters which heretofore cured diver Diseases, will even raise the Dead, if you once bless them; and doubtlesle this people, always bred up to bear Arms, and who as the Fire and Jron is only destinated for the use of War, hath (ere now) mollified their fierce humour by the moderation of your mild conduct. For my part (Sir) I make account to become a new man under your hands, and to receive a second Birth from you. Truly, it would be a thing right happy to me, and in itself famous; if the like Spiritual health, proceeding from the garments and shadows of the Apostles, might happen unto me by approaching so holy a person; and if being your workmanship, and the Son of your Spirit, I should instantly resemble a Father so happily endowed with all those rare qualities and perfections, which are wholly deficient in me.  
BALZAC.   

To Mounsieur de la Motts Aigron.  
LETTER XV.  
YEsterday was one of those Sunlesse days (as you term them) which resemble that beautiful blind Maid, wherewith Philip the second fell in Love.. Truly, I never took more pleasure in so private a solitariness; and though I walked in a large and open Plain, whereof man could make no other use, but for two Armies to fight in: yet the shade the Heavens cast on all sides, caused me little to regard the shelter of Caves or Forests. There was a general and quiet calm from the highest Region of the Air, even to the Superficies of the Earth: the waters of Rivers seemed as even and smooth as those of Lakes; and surely, if at Sea such a calm should for ever surpriseships, they could never be either safe, or sunk. This I say, on purpose to make you repent the losle of so pleasant a Day, for not coming abroad out of the City, as also to draw you sometimes out of your Angoulesme, where you tread levill with our Towers and Steeples, to come and take part of those pleasures wherein the ancient Princes of the World took delight: who usually refreshed themselves in Fountains, and lived on those fruits which Forests afford. Your Friends here are in a small circle environed with Mountains, and where is yet remaining some few grains of that fair Gold whereof the first Age was composed. In truth when the fire of War is flaming in the four corners of France, and that within a hundred paces hence, the whole Earth is covered with adverse Troops and Armies; they with mutual consent do always spare our Village. The Springtime in other places producing the besiegings of Forts and Cities, with other enterprises of War, and which for this dozen years hath been less looked for, in respect of the change of Seasons, then for any alteration of Affairs, suffers us to see no other thing but Violets and Roses. Our people are not contained in their primative innocency, either by fear of Laws or Study of Sciences▪ They (to live uprightly) do simply follow their natural Bounty, and draw more advantage from their ignorance of Vice, than most of us do out of the knowledge of Virtue: so as in this. Territory of two miles, they know not how to cozen any, save Birds and Beasts, and the pleading Language is as unknown here, as that of America, or of other parts of the World, which have escaped the avarice of Ferdinand▪ and the ambition of Isabel. Those things which hurt the health of man, or offend their eyes, are generally banished hence; Snakes nor Lizards are never seen here, and of creeping creatures we know no other but Melons and Strawberries. I intent not here to draw you the portrait of a Palace, the workmanship whereof hath not been ordered according to the rules of architecture, nor the matter so precious as Marble and Purphire. I will only tell you that at the Gates there is a Grove, wherein at full noon there enters no more day than needs must not to make it night, and to cause all colours not to look black▪ so that between the Sun and the shade, there is a kind of third temper composed, which may well be endured by the weakest eyes, and hide the deformities of painted faces. The Trees here, are green to the very ground, as well with their own leaves, as with juy which invirones them: and as for the fruits wherein they are deficient, their branches are all beset with Turtle-doves and Pheasants, and this at all times in the year. From thence I march into a Meadow, where I tread upon Tulipans and Anemons, having caused them to be mingled among other Flowers, to confirm my opinion I brought from my Travails, that French Flowers are not so fair, as those of Foreign Countries. I (sometimes walk down into that valley, being the secret part of my Desert, and which till now) was not known to any man: It is a Country to be wished for and painted. I have made choice thereof for my most precious occupations, there to pass the most pleasing hours of my life: The Trees and Water never suffer this place to want coulenesse and verdure. The Swans which covered the whole River, are retired to this place of security: living in a Channel, which causeth the greatest talkers to take a nap, so soon as they come near; & on whose Banks I am always happy; be I merry or melancholy: How short a time soever I stay there, I suppose I enter into my first innocency: my desires, my fears and hopes stop in a trice: all the motions of my soul flacken, nor have I any passions remaining, or if I have any, I govern them as tame Beasts. The Sun conveys its light thither, but never its heat. The place is so low, as it can only receive the last points of its beams: being therefore the more beautiful, in that they are less burning, and the light thereof altogether pure. But as it is myself who have discovered this new found Land; so do I possess it without any partner, nor would I share it with my own brother. But in all other quarters under my command, there is not a man who courts not his Mistress without control, nor servant of mine who is not master; each one satisfying himself of what he loves, and spending the time at pleasure. And on the other side, when I see the Grass trodden down; and on the other, the Corn full of Layers: I am well assured, it is neither Wind nor Hail, hath made this work, but only a Shepherd and his sweetheart. At which door soever I go out of my house, or on what side soever I turn mine eyes, in this pleasant Pathmos, I find the river of Charauton well meriting as much fame, as that of Tagus, and wherein, when Beasts go to drink, they see the Heavens as clear as we do, and enjoy the same advantage, which elsewhere men have over them. Besides, this pure water is so in love with this petty Province, that it divides itself into a thousand branches, and makes an infinite of windings and turnings, as loath to leave and deprive itself of so pleasing a lodging; and when at any time it over-floweth, it is only to make the year more fertile, and to afford us means to catch Trout and Pikes, leaving them upon the levill; and which are so great and excellent, as they equal the Sea Monsters; the Crocodiles of Nile, and all the supposed Gold rolling in those feigned Rivers so much spoken of by Poets. The great Duke of Espernon, comes hither sometimes, for change of felicity, and to lay aside that austere virtue and splendour, which dazzleth the eyes of all men, to assume milder qualities, and a more accostable Majesty. This Cardinal likewise, by whom Heaven intends to act so high designs, and of whom you hear me daily speak, after the loss of his brother who was such a one, as if he might have chosen him among all men, he would not have taken any other: after (as I say) having endured that loss, well deserving to draw tears from the Queen, he made choice of this place, here to exercise his patience, and to receive from God's hands who loveth silence, and who is found in solitary retirements, what Philosophy affordeth not, nor is to be practised among the throng of people. I would enlarge myself upon other Examples, to show you how my Village hath at all times been frequented by Heroical Hermits, and how the steps of Princes and great Siegniors, are (as yet) newly trodden in my ordinary paths. But the more to invite you to come hither; I suppose it sufficient to say, that Virgil and myself do here attend you: if therefore you be accompanied in this Voyage with your Muses; and other Manuscripts, we shall not need to entertain the time with Court news, nor with the German troubles: Let me not live, if ever I saw any thing comparable to your Spiritual Meditations, and if the least part of the Work you showed me, be not of more worth, than all Frankford Mart, and all those great Books which come to us from the North, bringing cold weather and frosts along with them. I assure you the Precedent of THOU, who was as worthy a judge of Latin Eloquence, as of the life and fortunes of men; and who had left an exact History behind him, had he pleased to retract some things; made no small esteem of these my Countrymen: But I cannot as yet conceive what caused him to affect certain wits so contrary to his own, and who never were acquainted, nor did so much as dream of that Roman purity, you pursue with so great scrupulosity and exact diligence. You will let these men see I assure myself; yea, and those wise Transalpines themselves likewise, who think all such to be Scythians who are not Jtalians, even in what fashion they spoke in Augustus his age, yea and in a time more clear from the corruption of good customs. In a word, besides the propriety of terms, and chastity of Style, which dareth a lustre to your elaborate Writings, your conceits are so sublime, and so full of courage, that it is very probable the ancient Republic of Rome was adorned with the like, at what time it was victorious over the World, and when the Senate conceived insemblable terms, the Commandments they prescribed to greatest Princes, and the answers it addressed to all Nations on earth: I will speak further, when you appear where I expect you; and where instead of Flowers, Fruits, and Shades, which I prepare for you, I hope to receive from you all the Riches of Art and Nature. In the interim (to use my Lord the Cardinal d'Ossats term) I bid you good night, and let you know, that if you seek excuses not to come, I am no longer  
Your most humble and faithful Servant, BALZAC. The 26. of September, 1622.   

To Mounsieur de bois Robert from BALZAC.  
LETTER XVI.  
SIR,  
I was upon the point not to have written any more unto you, and to have contented myself in sending you single commendations, since I see my Letters procure you enemies: and for that you are in daily contestation for defending them; if therefore you desire continuance of our conference in this kind, live henceforward reposedly, and reconcile yourself to choice Wits, from whom I should be sorry you should separate yourself for my sake; it is far better to conceal a small truth, then to disturb a general peace; and I should hold my Eloquence as pernicious as the perfections of Helena, should it prove any cause of your quarrels. Since there have been found men who have carped at the World's composure, and spied spots in the Sun, it is very likely inferior things cannot be more perfect; and that there is nothing so absolutely approved, against which there hath not been some thing disputed, and certain weak Reasons alleged. I confess I write as men build Temples and Palaces, and that I sometimes fetch my materials a far oft; as we are to make a voyage of two thousand Leagues, to transport the Treasures of America into Spain. But if Pearls be not precious because they grow not in the sands of Seine; or if in what I do, some condemn me, it sufficeth that I am not of their mind; if the worst come, I appeal to my Lord the Cardinal of Richelieu, of whose approbation I esteem more, then of popular favour, or applause of theatres. It is long since I understood from him that I exceeded others; not excepting even those who strive to aspire to a kind of tyranny, and to usurp a more absolute authority over wits, then is either lawful or reasonable. This being so, I should much wrong that Great person, on whose books God hath placed the Truth we seek after, as well as the Eloquence all of us imagine we have attained should I digress from his opinion, to regard what four or five of those composers of Romands of the Rose say, who have no other language but Legends: if I would content myself with my infant conceptions, or determined to write as an honest Woman should speak, they would happily find their own facility in my Works: though truly if I take any pains therein, I assure myself they will sooner ghèsse at, then gain my conceptions. But truly, he who purposeth to himself the Idea of perfection, and who labours for Eternity, ought not to let any thing escape his Pen, till after long and serious consultation with himself. Yet will I tell you, and all the World may easily understand, that my writings smell more of Musk and Amber, then of Oil or sweat; whereas out of that great labouriousnesse they so much frame to themselves, there will infallibly arise obscurity, which none but the Blind can tax me with▪ But as for those fellows, it is always night with them, and they are rather to accuse their mothers of their defects, and not colours or the light: I endeavour (in what I may) to make all my conceptions popular, and to be intelligable among women and children, even when I speak of things beyond their Capacity: but if your friends suppose certain of my conceits to be over-farre fetched, let them throughly observe, whither they transcend my subject, or their conceptions; or whither I goeastray, or they loose sight of me: There are diverse things above reason, which yet are not contrary thereto. An Heroical virtue making use of excesses and height of passions, goeth as far beyond vulgar Virtue, as it surmounteth Vice: we are not therefore to shut up all Wits within the same limits, nor presently to censure that as Exorbitant, which is only extraordinary: Otherwise we should resemble that poor Noruegian, who the first time he saw Roses, durst not touch them for fear of burning his fingers, and was much amazed to see (as he supposed) Trees to bear fire: Surely as Novelty is not of force to make Monsters well featured, so ought it not to hinder our affections to excellent things, though unknown unto us. If for the understanding my language, it were necessary to learn two; or that Anxiety, Decrepitude, and the Irritaments of Despair, were familiar phrases with me; if I made use of Waves instead of Water, and evil Fates for ill fortune; or the Flower-do-luce for France; to the end to play the Poet in Prose; should I immolate myself to public scorn, and sail upon the Ocean in the stormaticall seasons of the year, if I should say, the misericordious Justice of God, and his inst Misericord; or pluck comparisons from Pliny; and could I not commend a King without the help of Alexander the Great, and Plutarckes Worthies; if instead of well-speaking, I should translate Tacicus ill, and if in spite of him I should force him to deliver his Opinion concerning all the affairs of this Age, you then might rightly blame me from bringing follies so far off, & for taking so much pains to make myself ridiculous. But surely I should be the most innocent of all others, had I only offended therein; and I may safely say without vanity, that even the follies of my Jnfancy, were more serious than those sweet Rbetoricall flowers: when all is said, since there is nothing but Religion can force us to believe what she pleaseth, and that Kings themselves have no power over Souls, I am well satisfied with the affection of my Friends, and do willingly leave their judgements free to themselves. One Goodnight is more worth than all our Eloquence, and not to know the miseries of this life▪ is to be more learned than the Sorbonists and lessits. For my part, (despising the world as I do) I cannot much esteem myself, who make up one of the sickliest parts thereof; and I have so poor an opinion of my own sufficiency, as I little esteem the Talents of others: Think not then, I adore the workmanship of my hands, though I take as much pains therein, as did the ancient Carvers, in counterfeiting their gods. Butcontrariwise, it is the reason why I dislike them, and had I been a man of ten thousand Crowns rend, I would have given the half of it to a Secretary, only to hire him not to indite those Letters you have so much admired.  
The 15. February, 1624.    

THE LETTERS OF MOUNSIEUR DE BALZAC.  
To my Lord Cardinal de la Valete; from Mounsieur D'BALZAC.  
THE SECOND BOOK.  

LETTER I.  
My LORD:  
Whilst you employ your hours in gaining hearts and Votes, and happily lay the foundation of some eminent enterprise: I here enjoy a reposedness not unlike that of the dead, and which is never roused but by Clorinda's kisses. If the Duke of Ossona be chosen King of Naples, (as you write the report runneth) I find no strangeness in it. The world is so old, and hath seen so much, it can hardly spy any new matter; nor is there at this day any lawful authority whose Origin (for the most part) hath not been unjust. And on the other side the ill success of revolts are far more frequent than are the change of States: and the same action which hath no less than a Diadem for the aim, hath often an ignominious death for its end. Howsoever this happens, it shall not much trouble me since the issue cannot be other then advantageous to this State. For God herein will either make it appear, that he is the protector of Kings: or it falling out otherwise, yet at least it will weaken the enemies to this Crown. But I hope you will not advise me to beat my brains upon those politic considerations; for should I do so▪ it were no less than to retract the resolution I have taken, to look upon things passing among us and our neighbours, as I do on the History of Japon, or the affairs of another World. I ought to surrender this humour to vulgar spirits, who interest themselves in all the quarrels of States and Princes, and who will always be parties, on purpose to put themselves into choler, and be miserable in the misfortunes of others. Truly we shall never have done if we will needs take all the affairs of the world to heart, and be passionate for the public; whereof we make but a very small part. It may be at this very instant wherein I write, the great Indian Fleet suffereth shipwreck within two Leagues of Land: happily the great Turk hath surprised some Province from the Christians, and taken thence some twenty thousand souls, to convey them to their City of Constantinople: It may be the Sea hath exceeded its limits, and drowned some City in Zealand. If we send for mischiefs so far off, there will not an hour pass wherein some disconsolation or other will not come upon us. If we hold all the men in the world to be of our affinity, let us make account to wear Mournings all our life. As mine experience is not great, so are my years not many: yet since I came into the world, I have seen so many strange accidents, and have understood from my father such store of incredible occurrents, as I suppose there can nothing now happen, able to cause admiration in me. The Emperor Charles the fist his Grandchild, borne to the hopes of so many Kingdoms, was condemned to death, for having oversoone desired them. The natural subjects of the King of Spain do at this day dispute with him for the Empire of the Sea; nor will they rest satisfied with their usurped liberty. Surely we should hardly be drawn to believe these things upon the credit of others, and those in succeeding ages will with much difficulty be persuaded to receive them for truths; yet are these the ordinary recreations of Fortune, taking pleasure in deceiving Mankind, by events far opposite to all appearance; yea, and contrary to their judgements. Hath she not delivered over to the people's fury, the man whom she had formerly raised above the rest, to the end, we should not presume in greatest Prosperities? And hath she not at the same time taken out of the Bastile, a Prisoner, to make him General of a Royal Army, thereby to oblige us not at any time to despair? I do here consider all this with a reposed spirit, and as Fables presented on the Stage; or Pictures in a Gallery. Now since the late Comet had like to have been as fatal unto me, as to the Emperor Rodolphus, in that my curiosity to see it, caused me to rise in my shirt, which gave me a cold all the Winter after. I am hereafter resolved not to meddle with any thing above my reach; but to refer all to GOD and Nature. So as Clorinda suffer me to serve her, and that I understand from her own mouth that she loves me, I will hearken to no other news, nor search a second Fortune. I therefore most humbly beseech your Lordship to excuse me, if upon these occasions lately presented, I cannot afford you my personal attendance, or refuse to follow you whither your resolution leads you; my Mistress having commanded me, to render her an account how I shed my blood, and enjoining me never to go to the Wars, but when Muskets are charged with Cypres-powder; I am rather contented you should accuse me of Cowardice, than she justly to charge me with Disobedience. And after all this tell me whether or no, you think me to be in my right wits, and that I have not lost my reason, together with the respect I owe you. I herein do as a delinquent; who fearing he should not be soon enough punished, puts himself into the hands of Justice, not staying either for the Rack, or examination of judges, for the discovery of a crime whereof he was never accused. I am well assured, that of all passions, you have only those of Honour and Glory, and that your Spirits are so replenished therewith, as there is no place left either for love, hate, or fear. Yet do I withal consider, that it is a part of a wise man's felicity to reflect upon other men's follies: howsoever, if any word hath escaped me which may offend your eyes, take it I beseech you, as a means sent you from God for your farther mortification, in causing you to read things so distasteful unto you. You are necessarily to endure far greater crosses amidst the corruption of this Age: if you cannot live among the wicked, you must seek for another kind of world than this, and for more perfect creatures than Mortals. There will ever be poysnings beyond the Alps, Treasons at Court, and revolts in this Realm. Howsoever (my Lord) there will be love even in spite of you, so long as there are eyes and beauties in the world; yea, the Wise themselves will love, if they find Clorindaes', Diana's, and Cassandra's to be beloved. Fire seizeth sometimes on Churches and Palaces. God hath framed Fools and Philosophers of one and the same matter: And that cruel Sect which seeks to bereave us of the one half of ourselves, in seeking to free us from our passions and affections, instead of making a wise man, have only raised a Statue. I must therefore once again tell you that I love, since Nature will have it so; and that I am of the progeny of our first Parent: but I must withal inform you, that all my affections spring not from the distempers and diseases of my soul; my inclination to serve you, having immortal reason, not momentary pleasure for its foundation, one day happily I shall no more be amorous, but will always remain  
My Lord, Your most humble and most affectionate Servant, BALZAC.   

To the Lord Cardinal of Valete, Son to the Duke of Espernon.  
LETTER II.  
My LORD;  
AT length they have done you right, and you now enjoy what you deserved from the first day of your Nativity: if there could be any thing added to a man who reckoneth Kings among his Predecessors, and whose inclinations happily are overgreat to live under the power of another; I should advise you to rejoice at this news; but being extracted as you are, from one of the most illustrious▪ Origines on earth, and begotten by a Father, whose life is loaden with Miracles; it sufficeth that you pardon Fortune, since it hath so happened that present necessity hath gained of her what she in right owed to your name. I know well that some will tell you, you are created Prince of such an Estate, as is bounded neither by Seas nor Mountains, and how the extent of your jurisdiction is so illimitable, as were there many worlds, they ought all of them to depend thereon as well as this. But I who suffer not mine eyes to be dazzled by any other lustre then that of Virtue, and who do not so much as bestow the looking on, what most men admire; if I should esteem you either more great, or happy than you were, I should not have sufficiently profited under you, in the true understanding of you. Doubtless in the opinion of the Vulgar, it is an extraordinary Honour to be a prime person in a Ceremony, and to wear a Hat of equal esteem to Crowns and Diadems. Yet I presume you will pardon me if I make bold to tell you, it is an honour can never oblige a wise man to envy you. For had you this point only above me, I should still be my own Master: Nor had I for your sake renounced that liberty, which was as dear to me as the Commonwealth of Venice. Upon the matter, to have none other judge on Earth save only your reputation and conscience, and to have a great train of followers, some whereof are employed in the procuring your spiritual pleasures, others in the conduct of your temporal affairs, all this shall be still the same with you, and diverse others whom you slight; but to perform good and virtuous actions, when you are assured they shall never come to the world's eye; to fear nothing but dishonest things; to believe death to be neither good nor bad in itself; but that if the occasion to embrace it be honourable, it is always more valuable than a long life: to have the reputation of integrity in your promises, in a time when the most credulous have enough to do, to confide on public faith: This is it which I admire in you my Lord; and not your Red Hat, and your fifty thousand Crowns Rend; yet I will say, that for the honour of Rome, you ought to esteem of what she sends you. The time hath been when she would have erected Statues for you, and afforded you sufficient subject to have merited Triumphs: but those days being past, and since that Empire is no longer maintained by such means, yet ought you to rest satisfied with the honours of Peace, and accept (as a high favour) a Dignity the King of Spaine's Son hath made suit for. If there were nothing else in it, but that it causeth you to quit your Mourning-robes, to revest yourself with the colour of Roses, you can do no less then rejoice at such a change. Howsoever the nearest objects to your eyes, will not be so doleful as formerly they were, since there will be nothing upon you which shall not be resplendent and glorious. I would willingly dilate this discourse, but the speedy departure of the Post will not suffer me; and beside, I being well assured, that if you esteem any thing in my Letters, it is not the multitude of words; I ought to be contented to end this, after my humble suit vuto you, to love me always, since I am passionately  
My Lord, Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant BALZAC.   

To the Lord Cardinal de Valette▪ from Balzac.  
I here send you two Letters which were delivered me, to be conveyed unto you, the one from the Duke of Bavaria, the other from the Cardinal of Lerma. My Lord, you shall thereby perceive that your proposition hath afforded joy, both to the Victorious, and to the Afflicted; and that the World receiveth a notable interest therein, since it augmenteth the contentment of Triumphs, and sweeteneth the harshness of retirement.  
LETTER. III.  
MY LORD:  
I Suppose you have understood of the Election of the Pope, some two days journeys from Paris; and that you will make no great haste to add your approbation to a thing already dispatched: I had sent a Post on purpose to advertise you thereof; but my Lord Ambassador thought it not fit, but hath encharged his own Messenger to advertise you of all things, in your Voyage this way, and to give you account of all occurrents. This makes me think that the subject of your voyage ceasing, and the time of year being as yet some what troublesome, for the undertaking thereof, you will rather reserve it for a fitter season, when you may perform it with less disorder, and more advantageously for the King's service. My meaning is, that I would have you set forward about the end of Autumn, that you may spend here with us, one of these warm and springing Winters, laden with Roses, wholly reserved for our admirable Italy. And my Lord, though herein the consideration of my private interest may seem to make me speak thus, rather than my affection to your service; yet would I willingly tell you, that all kind of contentments attend you here, and if your great Spirit aspire to glorious things for the keeping it in action, it shall infallibly find them at Rome. In the interim, how short a while soever you stay here, you shall have the contentment to see France change some five or six times. At your return you will hardly find any thing answerable to what you left there; they shall not be the same men you formerly saw, and all things will appear unto you, as the affairs of another Kingdom. But before the matter be grown to that head, it is fitting you reign here in Sovereignty, and become the Supreme judge of three or four Conclaves: And truly it might so happen (my Lord) that I should do you some acceptable service in those great occasions, if I had my health; but to my great grief it is a happiness, for which I envy my Grand mother, and howsoever I have heretofore been little, or much estimable: I confess, that at this present, I am but the half of what I was. It is therefore in vain to expect works of any great value from me, or that you importune me to take pains for the Public; for in Conscience what high defignes can a man have, between the affliction of diseases, and the apprehension of Death? The one whereof doth never forsake me, and the other daily affrights me; or how can you imagine I should conceive eminent matters, who am ready to dye at every instant. True it is, that the necessity to obey you, which I have always before mine Eyes, is an extraordinary strong motive; but (not to dissemble) the impossibility of my performance is yet more forcible; and so long as I continue in the state I now am, I can not promise you so much as the History of the Kingdom of 
* A little Principality in France.  Yuetot; nor that of the Papacy of Campora, though it continued only one half quarter of an hour▪  
From Rome this 27. of February 1622.   

Another Letter unto Cardinal de la Valete from Balzac.  
LETTER FOUR  
My LORD,  
YOur Cashkeeper hath newly brought me the sum you commanded him to deliver unto me. I would willingly show sufficient thankfulness for this high favour: but besides that your benefits are boundless, and that you are so gracious an obliger, that it doth even augment the value of your Bounty, I should seem over presumptuous to think any words of mine valuable to the least of your actions. It shall therefore suffice me to protest unto you, that the bounty wherewith the Letter I received from you, is so stored; (being of force to infuse Love and Fidelity in the hearts of very Barbarians,) shall work no less effect in the spirit of a person who hath learned both by Nature and Philosophy not to be ingrateful. Since I find my interest within my duty, I must necessarily love you (if I hate not myself) and be an honest man by the very Maxim of the wicked. Yet is not this last consideration the cause chiefly obliging me to your service: For though I acknowledge diverse defects in myself, yet may I without vanity affirm, I was never besotted with so base an attraction as that of gain. I therefore reflect upon your favours in their naked purity, and the esteem you make of me, is to me by so much a more strong obligation than all others, in that it regardeth my merit, and not my instant poverty, and proceedeth from your judgement which is far more excellent, than your fortunes are eminent. Herein (my Lord) it is manifest, that all your inclinations are magnificent: for you knowing me neither to be fit to make the Father of a Family, nor to solicit causes at the Counsel-table, nor well to ride post: you make it appear, you are of the right blood of Kings, who are only rich in superfluous things. Truly it were a hard matter to guess what in this world is the true use of Pearls and Diamonds; or why a Picture should cost more than a Palace; but only pleasure: which to satisfy the inventions of Art, are daily employed, and Nature to that end produceth whatsoever is rare, being indeed a thing more noble than necessity, she being contented with small matters, ever preferring profit before pleasure. And I will here stop, lest I speak too much to my own advantage: And if I have already incurred that crime, I beseech you to believe it hath not been with purpose to praise myself, but only to extol your liberality: Yet will I make bold to acquaint you, how I employ your money, and yield you a more particular account of the affairs I dispatch for you here at Rome: First, in this hot Month I seek all possible remedies against the violence of the Sun. I have a Fan which wearieth the hands of four Grooms, and raiseth a wind in my Chamber which would cause shipwreck in the main Sea; I never die but I die Snow in the Wine of Naples, and make it melt under Melons. I spend half my time under water, and the rest on Land: I rise twice a day, and when I step out of my bed, it is only to enter into a Grove of Orange-trees, where I slumber with the pleasant purling of some twelve Fountains: but if occasion be offered to go further once in a Week, I cross not the street but in Caroche, passing still in the shade between Heaven and Earth: I leave the smell of sweetest flowers unto the Vulgar, as having found the invention to eat and drink them. The Spring▪ time never parts with me all the year either in variety of distilled Waters, or in Conserves. I change perfumes according to the diversity of Seasons; some I have sweeter, others stronger: And though the Air be a thing Nature bestows for nothing, and whereof the poorest have plenty, yet that, I breath in my Chamber, is as costly unto me as my house-rent. Besides all this, I in quality of my Lord your Agent, am almost daily feasted: and there whilst others fill themselves with substantial and most ponderous cates; I who have no great appetite, make choice of such Birds as are crammed with Sugar, and nourish myself with the spirit of Fruits, and with a meat called felly. My Lord, these are all the services I yield you in this place, and all the functions of my residence near his holiness; and I hold myself particularly obliged now the second time to thank you for this favour: for by your means I enjoy two things seldom suiting together; a Master and Liberty; and the great rest you allow me, is not the least present you please out of your Nobleness to afford me.  
Your Grace's most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. From Rome the 15. of july, 1621.   

To the Lord Cardinal de Valete from BALZAC.  
LETTER V.  
My Lord,  
Within the Deserts of Arabia, nor in the Seas entrails, was there ever so furious a Monster found, as is the Scyatica: And if Tyrants whose memories are hateful unto us, had beenestored with such instruments for effecting their cruelties; surely I think it had been the Scyatica the Martyrs had endured for Religion, and not the fire, and biting of wild Beasts. At every sting it carries a poor sick person even to the borders of the other World, and causeth him sensible to touch the extremities of life. And surely, to support it long, a greater remedy than Patience is no less than requisite, and other forces then those of man▪ In the end GOD hath sent me some case, after the receit of an infinite of remedies, some whereof sharpened my grief, and the rest assuaged it not. But the violence of my pain being now past, I begin to enjoy such rest, as weariness and weakness affordeth to over-tired bodies. And though I be in a state of health, far less perfect than those who are sound, yet measuring it by the proximity of the misery I have endured, and the comparison of those pains I have suffered: I am right glad of my present Fortune, nor am I so hardy, to dare as yet complain of my great weakness remaining. To speak truth, I have no better legs than will serve to make a show; and should I undertake to walk the length of my Chamber, my trouble would be no less, then if I were to pass the Mountains, and cross all Rivers I encounter. But, to the end to change Discourse, and to let you see things in their fair shape; you are to understand that in this plight wherein I stand, (being sufficient to cause you to pity me four hundred Leagues off:) I am on the one side become so valiant, as not to fly though I were pursued by a whole Army; and on the other▪ so stately, that if the Pope should come to visit me, I would not conduct him so far as the Gates. This is the advantage I draw from my bad legs, and the remedies arising in my bed, wherewith I endeavour to comfort myself without the help of Physic. You will (I fear) say I might well have forborn to entertain you with these impertinencies; nor am I ignorant that perfect felicities, such as yours, desire not to be disquieted either by the complaints of the distressed, or by the consideration of distasteful things: But it is likewise true, that the first loss we endure in pain, falls upon our judgement, and the body hath such a proximity with the soul, that the miseries of the one, do easily slide into the other. But what reason soever I have to defend my evil humour, yet must it necessarily give way to your contentment; and of the two passions wherewith I am assaulted, obey the stronger. I will therefore be no longer sad but for others, and will hold it fit I make you laugh upon the subject of XXXXX▪ to whom you lately addressed your Letters. You may please to remember one of their Names to be A. the other B; yet is it not sufficient only to know so much, but I must likewise inform you somewhat of their shape and stature. The first I speak of, is so gross, as I verily think he will instantly dye of an Apoplexcy; and the other so little, as I would swear that since he came into the world▪ he never grew but at the hair's end: afore any indifferent judges, an Ape would sooner pass for a man then this Pigmy; nor will I believe he was made after the image of God, lest therein I should wrong so excellent a Nature. Besides, it were an easier task to raise the Dead, then to make this man's Teeth white; he hath a Nose at enmity with all others: and against which there is no possible defence but Spanish Gloves. What can I say more, there is no part of his body that is not shameful, or wherein Nature hath not been defective. Yet notwithstanding one of the fairest Princesses of Italy, is by a solemn contract condemned to lodge night by night with this Monster. When you chance to see this man together with the other great bellied beast, who stuffs a whole Caroche, you will presently suppose God never made them to be Princes; and that it is not only as much as to abuse the obedience of free persons, but even to wrong the meanest Grooms, to give them Masters of this stamp. Now though the party you wot of, do in some sort represent the latter person, yet is there still some small difference between his actions and the others. The great V V V. is newly parted from this Court, where he hath not received from his Holiness his expected contentment. His design was to break the Marriage his Brother hath contracted, upon some slight appearance of Sorcery, wherewith he deemed to dazzle the world's eye, and ground the nullity of an action, which was by so much the more free, in that the parties who performed it, sought not the consent of any to approve it. In conclusion after the loss of much time, and many words, he is gone without obtaining any thing, save only the Pope's benediction; and as for me, I remain much satisfied to see justice so exact at Rome, that they will not condemn the Devil himself wrongfully. I have heard how in some places half hour Marriages are made, the conditions whereof are neither digested into writing, nor any memory thereof reserved; but of these secret mysteries, there are no other witnesses, save only the Night and Silence: And though the Court of Rome approveth them not, yet doth she shut her eyes, fearing to see them. I am resolved not to be long in the description of K K K, whom you know much better than myself: Yet thus much I will say, that since Nero's death, there never appeared in Italy a Comedian of more honourable extraction: And surely to make the Company at this present in France complete; this personage were sufficient: He makes Verses, he hath read Aristotle, and understands Music, and in a word he hath all the excellent qualities unnecessary in a Prince. I know here a Germane called S. to whom he giveth a annual pension of a thousand Crowns, assigned unto him upon an Abbey during life; this he hath done, not that he intendeth to use his service in his counsel, or with purpose to employ him in any important negotiation for the good of his affairs: his only ambition is to have him make a book, whereby it might appear how those of M M M, are lineally descended from julius Caesar. I should be glad he would yet aim at some higher, or more eminent race, and that he would purchase a second fable at the like rate he paid for the first. I would willingly give him his choice of the Medes, Persians, greeks, or Troyans', which of these he would have of his Kindred, and without the relying upon the authority of tradition or testimony of Stories: I would draw his descent from Hector, or Achilles, which he best liked. There are certain Princes who are necessarily to be deceived, if you mean to do them acceptable service, being far better pleased to be entertained with a plausible lie, then to be advertised of an important truth. I hold myself right happy you are not of this humour: for whatsoever I say, I suppose it would be very hard for me to be of a fool's mind, though he were a Monarch. jintend not to steal your favours, but to purchase them legally: and having ever believed flattery to be as mischievous a means to gain affection as charms, and sorcery: I cannot speak against my conscience, and were not this true I tell you, I would not assure you that I am  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. From Rome this 10. of December 1622.   

To the Lord Cardinal de Valete, from Balzac.  
LETTER VI.  
My LORD▪  
HOw great soever the subject of my sorrows be, yet do I find in your Letters sufficient to make me happy in my hard fortune. The last I received hath so much obliged me, that, but for the displeasing news coming unto me which tempered my joy, my reason had not been of sufficient force to moderate it. But at this time the death of my poor Brother▪ being incessantly before mine eyes, taketh from me the taste of all good tidings: and the prosperity even of the King's affairs seem displeasing unto me, finding myself to bear upon me the mournings of his Victory. Yet since in this fatal agitation of Europe, it is not I alone who bewail some loss, and since yourself have not been able to preserve all that was dear unto you; I should seem very uncivil, if I presumed to prefer my private interest before yours, or reflect upon my particular affliction, having one common with yours. It is long since I have not measured either the felicities or fatalities of this world, but by your contentments, or discomforts; and that I behold you as the whole workmanship God hath made. Wherefore my Lord, I will lay aside whatsoever concerns myself, to enter into your resentments, and to tell you, since you cannot make unworthy elections, it must needs be that in the death of your Friends you can suffer no small losses. Notwithstanding as you transcend sublimary things, and in that all men draw examples out of the meanest actions of your life: I assure myself they have acknowledged upon this occasion, that there is not any accident to surmount against which you have use of all your virtue. Afflictions are the gifts of God, though they be not of those we desire in our prayers; and supposing you should not approve this proposition, yet have you at all times so little regarded death, as I cannot believe you will bewail any; for being in a condition yourself esteems not miserable. My Lord, it sufficeth you conserve the memory of those you have loved, in consequence of the protestation you pleased to make unto me by your Letter: And truly if the Dead be any thing, (as none can doubt) they cannot grievefor aught in this world, wherein they still enjoy your favours. In the mean time I take this to myself, and am most happy in having conferred my dutiful affections upon a man, who setteth so high a value upon those things he hath lost. For any thing (my Lord) I perceive, there is small difference between good works, and the services we offer you; they having their rewards both in this life, and the other; your goodness being illimitable, as is the desire I have to tell you, I am  
Your most humble and most faithful Servant, BALZAC. From Rome the 29. of December, 1621.   

To the Lord Cardinal of Valete, from BALZAC.  
LETTER. VII.  
MY LORD:  
THough I be not in state either to perform any great exploit upon the person of any man; nor have any great force to defend myself, yet cannot I touch upon the Count Mansfield without taking it to heart, and joining my good affections to the King's forces. If this were the first time the Germans had exceeded their limits, and sent their Armies to be overthr own in France; the novelty of these barbarous faces, and of those great lubberly swat-rutters, might easily have affrighted us: But upon the matter, we have to do with known enemies, and who will suffer us to take so sufficient advantages over them, besides those we naturally enjoy, as without being forced to make use of Arms, we may defeat them only by their own evil conduct. I do not wonder there are men who willingly forsake Frost and Snow, to seek their living under a more pleasing and temperate climate than their own; and who quit bad Countries, as being well assured, the place of their banishment shall be more blissful unto them than that of their birth. Only herein it vexeth me, in the behalf of the King's honour, to see him constrained to finish the remainder of the Emperor's victories, upon a sort of beaten Soldiers, and who rather fly the fury of marquis Spinola, then follow us. These great Bulwarks whose neighbour I am, seeming rather the Fabrics of Giants, than the fortifications of a Garrison-towne, will not ever be looked upon with amazement; one day (I hope) there will appear nothing in their places but Cabins for poor Fishermen; or if it be requisite the works of Rebellion should still remain, and the memory of these troublesome some people endure yet longer, we shall in the upshot see them remove Mountains, and dive into the Earth's foundations to provide themselves a Prison at their own charge. But withal (my Lord) I beseech you, let there be no further speech made of occasions or expeditions, and let a Peace be concluded which may continue till the World's end; let us leave the War to the Turk, and King of Persia, and cause (I beseech you) that we may lose the memory of these miserable times, wherein Fathers succeed their Children, and wherein France is more the Country of Lance-knights and Swisses then ours. Though Peace did not turn the very Deserts into profitable dwellings as it doth, or caused not the quarries or flints to be come fruitful, though it came unaccompanied, without being seconded with security and plenty, yet were it necessary, only to refresh ourforces; thereby to enable us the longer to endure War. As I was ending this last word, I heard a voice which desired my dispatch obliging me to end what I supposed I had but begun. It is with much reluctation (my Lord) I am deprived of the only contentment your absence affordeth me. But since you could not receive this Letter, were it any longer, I am resolved to lose one part of my content, to enjoy the other; and to say sooner than I supposed, that I am ever absolutely  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 16. of September, 1622.   

To the Cardinal de Valette from BALZAC.  
LETTER VIII.  
My LORD,  
YOu should oftener receive Letters from me, could I overmaster my pain; but to say truth it leaveth me not one thought free to reflect upon any thing else; and what desire soever I have to give you content, yet am I not able to do any thing but at the Physicians good pleasure, and at the Fevers leisure; whilst the Court affordeth you all content, and prepareth whatsoever is pleasant for you, reserving distrusts and jealousies for others: I here endure torments, such as wherewith one would make conscience to punish Parricides, and which I would not wish to my worst enemies. If notwithstanding all this (in obedience to the Counsel you give me in the Letter you did me the honour to write unto me) I should make myself merry, I were necessarily to take myself for some other body, and become a deeper dissembler than an honest man ought to be, My Melancholy is merely corporeal, yet doth my spirit give place, though not consent thereto; and of the two parts whereof I am composed, the more worthy is over-borne by the more weighty. Wherefore if the whole world should act Comedies to make me laugh, and though St. Germane Fair were kept in all the streets where I pass, the object of Death ever present before my eyes, bereaving me of sight, would likewise bar me of content, and I should remain disconsolate amidst the public jubilations. Yea, if the stone I▪ so much dread, were a Diamond, or the Philosophers Elixa, I should therein take small comfort, but would rather beseech God to leave me poor, if he please to bestow no better Riches upon me. But when I have said all, be it unto me as he shall please to appoint, since I am well assured, my maladiys will either end, or I shall not for ever hold out: yet should I dye with some discontent, if it happen before I testify my dutiful affection towards you, and the sensibility I have of your noble favours. But howsoever it fare with me, I would willingly make a journey to Rome, there to finish the work I promised you, and which you commanded me to undertake for the honour of this Crown. Certainly if I be not the cause to make you in love with our language, and to prefer it in your estimation before our neighbour Tongues; I am afraid you will be much troubled to revolt from the Roman Empire, and that it will not be for the History of Matthew, or of Hallian, you will change that of Sallust and Livy. I will not deceive you, nor delude myself; yet may I tell you, that my head is full of inventions and designs, and if the Spring (for which I much long) would afford me the least glimpse of health, I would contest with any who should produce the rarest things. I have an infinite of loose flowers, which only want binding up into Nosegays: and I have suffered others to speak any time these six years, on purpose to bethink myself what I have to say. But I well perceive the public shall have only desires and hopes; and truly if I spring not afresh with the trees, in stead of so many books you expect from me, you shall not read any thing of minesave only the end of this Letter, and the protestation I here make unto you, to dye  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 7. of january, 1623.   

To the Lord Cardinal de Valete from BALZAC.  
LETTER IX.  
My Lord,  
THe hope which any time this three Months, I have had of your determination to come into this Country, hath hitherto hindered me from writing unto you, or to make use of the only means remaining for me to be near your person. But since you have supposed the speedy quitting the Court, to be as fatal as to dye a sudden death, and that no less fortitude or time is requisite to resolve to wean ourselves from pleasing things, then to surmount painful ones, I will by your permission resume the commerce the common rumour caused me to surcease, and will not hereafter believe you can with any less difficulty get out of Paris, then can the Arsenac or Loover. Were it not a place all stored with enchantments and chains, and which is of such power to attract and retain men, as it hath been necessary to hazard diverse battles, to drive the Spaniards further off: one might well wonder at the difficulty you find to convey yourself thence. But in truth all the world doth there find both habitations and affairs: and for you my Lord, since in that Country our Kings both enter into their first infancy, and grow old, as being the seat of their Empire; no man can justly blame you for making overlong abode there, without accusing you of over much love to your Master, and for desiring to be near his person. At Rome you shall tread upon stones formerly the gods of Caesar and Pompey, and shall contemplate the Ruins of those rare workmanships, the antiquity whereof is yet amiable, and shall daily walk among Histories and Fables: But these are the pastimes of weak spirits, which are pleased with trifles, and not the employments of a Prince, who delighteth in sailing on rough Seas, and who is not come into the world to let it rest idle: When you have seen the Tiber, on whose banks the Romans have performed the Apprenticeships of their rare Victories, and begun that high design, which they ended not but at the extreme limits of the Earth. When you shall ascend the Capitol, where they supposed God was as well present as in Heaven; and had there enclosed the fatality of the universal Monarchy: After you have crossed that great Circus, dedicated to show pleasures to the people, and where the blood of Martyrs hath been often mingled with that of Malefactors and bruit beasts. I make no doubt but after you have seen these and diverse other things, you will grow weary of the repose and tranquillity of Rome: and will say they are two things more proper for the Night and Churchyards, then for the Court and the World's eye. Yet have I not any purpose to give you the least distaste of a Voyage the King hath commanded you to undertake, and whereof I well hoped to have been the guide, if my crazy body would have seconded the motion of my Will. But truly my Lord, I am deeply engaged in this business, and when I look upon myself single, I sometimes have a desire to make you suspicious of those felicities, I fear, I shall not be able to enjoy with you; yet whatsoever I say, I am not so far in love with myself▪, as to prefer my private content before the general desires of all men, and the Church's necessities. It is requisite for infinite considerations of importance, you should be present at the first Conclave, and that you appear at a War not therefore less considerable, in being composed of disarmed persons, or for that it makes no Widows nor Orphans. I am certain you have elsewhere seen more dangerous encounters, and have often desired more bloody Victories. But how great soever the object of your ambition be, yet can it not conceive any thing of such Eminency, as at once to give a Successor to Consuls, to Emperors, and Apostles; and to make with your breath the man who overtoppeth Kings, and who commandeth over all reasonable Souls: Though my health be so uncertain, as I cannot promise myself three days continuance thereof, yet have I not lost all hope to see you (one day) in this Country, the prescriber of Laws to inferiors, and of examples to Commanders. My Lord it may be, God reserveth me for your sake, that nothing be wanting to your Glory, and to the end there might be yet one man in the World, able to afford you the praises proper to your merits.  
My Lord, Your most humble and most faithful Servant, BALZAC. The 23. of june, 1623.   

To my Lord Cardinal de la Valete.  
LETTER X.  
My LORD,  
IT must necessarily be the greatest Affair at this present in agitation on Earth, that could oblige you to leave Paris; nor had you patted thence upon any slighter condition, then to make a Head for all Christendom. If you arrive there opportunely to have your part in this great Election, and that the Conclave attend your Presence, on purpose to afford a more full Reputation and Authority, to what shall there be resolved upon: I do no way doubt but you will maintain the same advantage over the Italian wits, as you have obtained over ours; or that their policies will not be as impertinent in your Presence, as the Charms of Magicians are frivolous, being confronted with Divine matters. You have sufficient of their patience to put off affairs when occasion is offered: but you have a courage they come short of, to carry matters by strong hand if necessity require. Therefore my Lord, to what part soever your Opinion shall incline, you will carry that with you which gaineth victories, and causeth the greater party to side with the sounder; yea, if matters should pass without contestation, yet should you at least take notice that you are entreated to that action, wherein God permits you to supply his place, and intrusteth to your care the most important matter of all his Works. To speak seriously, his providence is never in so high employment, as when he is to choose the man who hath power to use well, or abuse all the Riches of Heaven, and who is to exercise a power nearest approaching to Divinity. Heretofore God made use of Thunder and tempests, when he purposed to denounce any thing to men, declaring his Will by other then ordinary means. But since he hath caused Oracles to cease, and suffereth the Thunder to work only natural effects: It is only by the voice of Cardinals he causeth his desires to be manifested, and ordaineth concerning the world's Conduct. When you please (my good Lord) I shall have some notice of these inspirations he hath sent you, and of the election you have made: For to force me (so soon) to inform myself thereof in the place where it was performed, this Kingdom had need be over hot for me, and that I were not so well acquainted as I am with the Sun at Rome. That which blacks the Moor's, and burns Lybia, is not so dangerous at this Season; and were you not stored with treasures of Snow, and provided of Halls of Marble, to defend you from the scorching Air, I should as soon choose to be condemned to the fire, as to be forced to reside where you are at this present. But your Grace I know can not be affrighted with all these apprehensions of heat; you are none of those who will find fault with the Air, which all that ancient Republic breathed, or with the Sun, which hath holpen to make so many conquerors, and given light to so many glorious Triumphs. Yet for my part, I who have none of these considerations, and who have wholly put myself into the power of Physic, it is requisite I avoid the very shadow of danger, and live with as great apprehension of fear in this world, as though I were in an Enemy's Country, or in a Forest of wild beasts. It is therefore out of pure necessity I attend your commands in this place, and a more seasonable time, to testify unto you, without running the hazard of my life, that I am with all my soul  
My Lord, Your most humble, and most obedient servant, BALZAC. The 2. of August, 1623.   

To the Lord Cardinal de Valete, from Balzac.  
LETTER XI.  
My LORD;  
I Verily believed I could never have been so unfortunate, as to be forced to search in the Gazettes for what you do, and to hear no other news from you, than what common brute bestoweth in all parts of the World, and which the English and Germans may as well know as I. This punishment is by so much the more wounding, in that I have heretofore been enriched with those benefits, whereof you now seem to bereave me; and in that the time was, when you pleased so far to descend from the rank whence you are derived, as to lay aside all those lustres, which encompass you, to converse freely with me: But (my Lord) since one word of your mouth hath often cured my decayed spirits, and hath many times made me happy without the help of Fortune: I freely confess unto you, I cannot resolve to change condition, as knowing the loss of the least of your favours cannot be liittle; Yet being so innocent that I can no way imagine my offence, and not acknowledging among men, other more assured verity then your word, I have a great reluctation to be diffident of a thing, upon the certainty whereof half the Court is engaged for War, and the besieged would make small difficulty to surrender themselves. My Lord, you have pleased to promise you would love me always; therefore I beseech you not to be offended, if I put you in mind, that as the ancient gods of the Country where now you are▪ submitted themselves to Destinies, after they had once assigned them: So you, though above all other Laws, are yet subject to your word. I am confident it cannot be revoked so long as the order of sublunary things change not, and the Decrees of God's providence remain immoveable: and if you repent any one action in your whole life, you therein do more than your very Enemies, who never as yet called the least of them in question. For my part, I am far from thinking I have totally lost your favours, lest I should wrong your Judgement, which conferred them upon me, and blame the best eyes in the World, for having heretofore been blind. I will rather suppose, if you send me no news, it is because you think I know what will be done some ten years hence, and that I am brimful of the Roman Court, and of the Italian affairs. Truly I know the present Pope, and I have ever belceved, there is not any humane wit more capable to carry so ponderous a felicity, or to let us again behold the Primitive beauty of Religion, and the golden age of God's Church▪ I know how at Rome idleness is day and night in action, and that the compliments and ceremonies there, put you to more trouble than you should find in governing the whole world, if God had left it to your conduct. Me thinks I yet see this great Tyrant with so many Heads, (I mean the Signoury of Venice) together with all those petty Sovereigns, who would hazard more men in hanging one single person, than the King would venture in two battles, or at the taking in of four Cities. But my Lord all this with the rest doth but slightly touch my spirit, and as you are the sole worldly cause, which affordeth me either joy or discomfort, so it is from you only I expect good or ill news: I have made your affection in such soft necessary for my life's contentment, that without it I should find defects even in Felicity itself, and should have an imperfect feeling of the most happy successes could befall me. Restore therefore, if so you please, or continue this your ancient favour towards me, which I cannot possibly forbear. And since you are part of that body to which God hath given infallibility, and since it is forbidden to call the certainty of your wisdom into the least question: condemn not I beseech you, what you have formerly made, as though your Italian favours were some other things than your French ones.  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 10. of December, 1623.   

Balzac, his Letter to Mounsieur du Planty.  
LETTER XII.  
SIR,  
SInce you cannot be here till after the Feast, and for that I presume you have no purpose to oppose the Election of the Pope, being cannonically chosen. I will advise you to stay your journey till the Spring be past, and the Snows melted▪ yet truly you are in such esteem here, as if you come not the sooner, I verily think you will be sent for; and that the Court of Rome will commence suit with the Loover, to have my Lord the Cardinal's presence. It is therefore fitting (if so he please) that he undertake this Voyage, and put off State-business, and the War to others, to live here in the midst of Glory and Triumphs. In the mean time, I may (so near as I can) inform myself both of men and affairs, thereby to give you the better instructions at your coming. Now to the end to afford you a taste of what I know, observe what I say, for I will tell you strange things. There is a certain Great man here, who entertaineth six Astrologers in Pension, to let him understand from time to time who shall be Pope: Another takes large fees on both sides, finding it the only way to bring his Clients to composition: A third hath the most extravagant virtue you ever heard of, he leads a far more pleasant life then the Duke of Ossuna; and having read in Holy Writ, how the Wisdom of the world is folly in God's sight, he imagines he should offend his Conscience, if he were over wise. Here are Princes in this place, who in full peace pardon neither Age nor Sex. There are others who keep their beds, though they be well able to ride post; and who use all Physic possible to look pale, to be feverish, and full of Cathars, and who make use of all the sectets in Physic to have a meager aspect. In conclusion, the highest place in this world, is that, whether the more easily to arrive, it is necessary to be lame, and take short steps; so as a sound Pope is commonly made out of a sickly Cardinal. At our next meeting, I will inform you of the rest, and will in one half hour infuse into you all the experience I have hither to gotten: But if I have not this contentment so soon as I desire, fail not I pray you, to let me here news of your health, and the rest of our good friends. But especially I beseech you to assure Mounsieur de Mauroy, that I am passionately his servant, and that I find here much fubtilty and dissimulation, but not many so pure and true virtues, as his are  
BALZAC. From Rome 10. of February, 1621.   

A Letter to Mounsieur de la Magdelene from BALZAC.  
LETTER. XIII.  
SIR,  
I Am extremely glad you are not of the number of those whom the King hath lost before St. john d' Angely. Conserve yourself therefore so far forth as your Honour and Courage will suffer or permit, and content yourself to have tasted what War is; which if you please to be advised by me, you should do well never more to behold but with Flanders spectacles. You are bound to execute good actions, but you are to perform many, and permanently; and to be a better husband of a worthy man's life, then that of an ordinary Soldier of the Guards. At leastwise so long as you continue at the assembly of the Clergy, you shall be serviceable to the Church at your own ease, and there shall commonly be ten days journey between you and danger. Though I were not any more of this world than those who lived before the late King, or who are to come into the world after the decease of this, yet should I not fear to hazard myself in this sort; and to keep all my blood for the Public, as readily as the most valiant jesuit of France. It is in this sort I have learned to speak in this Court, where honest men are so wedded to their particular interests, and do so little reflect upon the general affairs, as they think there is nothing beyond the tips of their upmost hairs, and suppose the world endeth at their feet. The C. L. dreams of no other thing, but how to fortify himself with Men and Money against the C. B. whom he taketh for the Turk and an Heretic: And say what you will, the fifty Abbeys he hath gotten in one Year, is that portion of the Church which pleaseth him better than all the rest. Behold in what terms we stand at this present: instead of procuring the conversion of Nations, and to seek the means to set the Levant at liberty: a P. thinks he hath worthily acquitted himself of his charge, so long as he provides to make his Nephew a greater man than his Predecessors was. But that I fear lest my zeal should overfar transport me, or that you should become as weary of my Discourse as of a tedious Preacher, I would dilate myself upon this Subject; but I know the affairs in these parts are very indifferent unto you, I will therefore refer the further relation wherewith I intended to acquaint you, to my Lord, the marquis of Caewre. In brief, there are none but himself and the Council, who can cause the Pope to incline to our reasonable demands, and I will tell you without flattering him, that so long as he is here, the King may glory that he reigneth at Rome. As for other things, what beautiful objects soever Rome presenteth to my view, & what pleasure soever each man finds there conformable to his humour and inclination, yet cannot I receive any, being so remote from persons so dear unto me▪ and shall esteem myself unhappy, so long as I am necessitated to write Letters unto you, and only say, what is not as yet in my power to cause to appear, that I am  
Mounsieur, Your most faithful servant BALZAC.   

To Mounsieur de Montigny from BALZAC.  
LETTER XIIII.  
SIR,  
THough you useme ill, and that I have reason to be sensible of your neglects, yet I am resolved to suffer from you with an obstinate patience, and to acquire your favours by force▪ since I cannot obtain them otherwise. But I am assured you are not so uncivil, as not to suffer yourself to be beloved, nor so tied to your own fancies, as that there remaineth no affection in you for whatsoever is separate: Otherwise I should think your humour were as much changed as are the affairs of France, or that you were snddainly become quite another man. I will therefore rest confident in the Opinion most pleasing unto me, and imagine you are sufficiently my friend in your thoughts▪ but that you are over loyal a French man to have any intelligence out of the Kingdom: It may be the Example of the Duke of Byron affrights you, and that you take all such as are in Italy for Don Pedro's, or Countess of Fuentes: in this case intruth you have reason, and it is far better to write no Letters at all, then to be forced to explain them before the Court of Parliament. But if you were of my humour, and that you would refer the whole State, and all the affairs therein to Mounsiour Luynes, me thinks our Amity could not pass for conspiracy, and you might safely let me have news from yourself, and the rest of our friends, without any hazard at all. I desire only to know what you do, and wherein you employ the fairest season of your life. Do you never part from the lips of Opala; whose breath is so sweet, as it seems she feedeth only on Pinks and Perfumes? are you in as high esteem in your Mistress' thoughts as your merits and service deserves, and as your loyalty obligeth her unto? Is Clitophon still in his generous muse? doth he daily take Towns at table? and doth he yet frame foreign designs between his Bed-curtaines? Is there any good inclination in the Court for our great Cardinal? and are they not persuaded that if he were Pope, the Church would soon be as well Mistress in Germany as at Rome? After you have satisfied me in all these points, I am contented to be at truce with you as long as you please; and if need be, will suffer you to wax old upon the bosom of Opala, without ever ask you what you do there.  
Yours, BALZAC.   

BALZAC his Letter to the Duke of Espernon.  
LETTER XV.  
My LORD;  
Were I not borne (as I am) your most humble servant, yet should I show myself a very degenerate Frenchman, if I did not much rejoice in the happiness of your Family, since it is a public Felicity. I have heard the prosperous success of the Voyage you made into Bearn, and of the great beginnings you have given, to what the King desireth there to undertake. And truly, the Election He hath made of you, to serve him in an occasion of such importance, hath been so generally approved, that, if heretofore there hath been any defects pretended in the conduct of our Affairs. we must necessarily avow, that this last Action hath sufficiently justified all the former; it appearing plainly, that it is not only favour which setteth the difference between men. I no way doubt, but right, and power siding together, that the event of things will be suitable to our desires: But, howsoever it happen, you have already the glory of having facilitated the victory, and made it appear how the Enemies of the State have no other force, but what they draw out of our weakness. It is now time (my Lord) you take notice of those advantages God hath given you above the rest of men: You ought, at least to remember, how being tried with Worldly affairs, and retired from Court, public necessity had not sought you out in your private reposednes at home, to put the King's royal Armies into your hands, if you were not the only man from whom all men expect the re-establishment of these affairs. I will not so farrerelie upon my own opinion, as to answer for the future: Yet when I consider the actions of your Life, which are so eminent, that we find difficulty to believe them, even after they have been performed; and those in such number, that Strangers may well imagine you have lived from the very beginning of our Monarchy: I suppose I might boldly affirm, that, if there be yet any great matter remaining to be achieved in the World, there is none but yourself must attempt it. You have possessed the favour of Kings, as Fortunes which might fail you, and have not feared that their passions could outlast your innocency. This Virtue we so much admire, hath succeeded the same authority, our Fathers have adored. You have made no use of your power in State, which you have not ever since coserued by the force of your Courage. You have at all times preserved the liberty of France amidst the miseries of times, and the usurpation upon lawful power. Who is there can say this of himself? where are they that have stood firm between rebellion and servitude? where was there ever known an old age so necessary for the world, or so much good and bad fortune equally glorious? My Lord, you know yourself too well, to suspect me of flattery; and my humour is so alien from any servile actions, as the Court hath not sufficient hopes to cause me to do any thing against my conscience. I then speak as I do now; for the only interest of Virtue; and if that were not on your side, I would seek for it among our enemies to do it right: None will suspect I have any pretensions at Madrill; or that I intent to make a fortune in Holland; yet to hear me speak of the Prince of Orange, and the marquis Spinola, one would say that I did at once expect Abbeys from the Hollanders, and were a pensioner to Spain. In sum, I hold myself obliged to those, who afford me matter and means to reconcile the two rarest things in this world, to wit; Virtue and Eloquence. And as their reputation hath need of my Pen, to make it immortal; so are their lives and actions right useful unto me, when I employ my pains on excellent Subjects. You have ever done me the honour to wish me well, and I have received innumerable favours from my Lord the Cardinal your Son; but howsoever, I humbly beseech you to be confident that my affections are absolutely pure, and that my particular interests have not any alliance therewith. I am so happy as to have served you in a troublesome time, and to have been of the weaker side; as judging it to be the more honest. I have not since been of another mind; and the reasons drawing me to do what I did, being still the same, I am really, as I ever have been,  
My Lord, Your most humble and thrice obedient servant, BALZAC.   

To the Duke of Espernon from Balzac.  
LETTER XVI.  
My LORD,  
THe Letter I lately received from you, maketh me know I am happier than I supposed, since I have the honour to be sometimes in your memory. It is a place so taken up with high thoughts, and which the public good doth in such measure make use of, as I had not the ambition to imagine, there could be any room left for a man of so small importance as myself. But I fee, that as you never had any so potent enemies as to exceed your courage, so have you not any servants of so slight consideration, whom you esteem not worthy your care. Herein my Lord, you make it appear that the meanest matters change their nature into more noble subjects, so soon as they become yours: and how of all men, you have conquered part, and acquired the rest. I am verily persuaded, it were no less than to offend God, to deny obedience to a person so high in his favour as you are, and that his meaning is, this commanding spirit he hath conferred upon you, should be master of all others. The Honour therefore to you appertaining, being little inferior to what we owe to sacred things; and that besides the ordinary providence which governeth the world, there being a particular one in Heaven, designed merely for the conduct of your life, to make it admired in all after Ages: it is necessary as well in contemplation of this common consideration, as for others particularly concerning myself, I should perpetually remain  
My Lord, Your most humble and most faithful Servant, BALZAC. The 5. of April, 1622.   

To the Duke of Espernon from Balzac.  
LETTER XVII.  
My LORD,  
IN this general calm of the State, (wherein the affairs of this Kingdom seem to be asleep, and the World's occurrents to be at a stand) all France expects your presence at Court, to be the Author of the desired News, and to draw from the King's breast the good intentions wherewith it is so richly stored. The reduction of Bearn not stained with any drop of blood: the truth wherein you have instructed all men, concerning the possibility of taking Rochel, and the order you have now lately left in Guiene, where you have reduced the Factions to such a point, as their only power consisteth in their perverse humours; putteth us in hope, that if God should defer the safety of our State till another Age, it could be no man (your self excepted) for whom he hath reserved so glorious an Enterprise. My Lord, it is certain he never showed more miracles in those places himself hath consecrated to his glory and public Piety, and which he hath chosen on purpose there to manifest his power, than he hath done in your person. And when I consider how often he hath protected you, contrary to all humane appearance; and the opposition you have encountered, in arriving to this height by so many rocks and precipices; I cannot but constantly believe you have overpassed the time of dying; and that for the World's general good, it is fitting you endure as long as the Sun or Stars. To stop here, were to praise you imperfectly, and only to make it appear you are able to afford long services. I will therefore say more: on which side soever I turn mine eyes, be it that I convey them beyond the Seas, or make them pass those Mountains which separate us from our neighbours, I find not that person in any place, who can justly dispute for glory with you; or whose life is so illustrious as yours. I have seriously considered all whatsoever might give value or reputation to the Courts of stranger Princes, and there truly I find men who are well seen in Military affairs, and who have gained to themselves no small experience by means of an infinity of rules and maxims: But the difference between those men and yourself, is, that they cannot stir, nor make themselves awful without the Indieses, Armies, and Cannons; whereas you are redoubtable all alone, and unarmed; yea, your very stillness terrifieth the greatest enemies of France. This being absolutely true (as no man can doubt) it is high time the King do really make use of a man whom the necessity of his state requireth of him, and that he no longer employ those improsperous persons, under whose hands opportunities wax old, and his good fortune will fail him. It is sufficient that the Rhine and Alps have formerly been French, and that our Language is spoken in neighbouring Provinces, without suffering a strange kind of people still to remain in the very bowels of our Kingdom, who will not allow of our ancient Laws. There is now no longer means to cover thisskarre which dishonoureth the face of State, or to suffer that Rebellion and loyalty live together. To speak truth, what kind correspondency can be expected between the Mistress of the house, and the Concubine? what a monstrous production would that prove between a Monarchy and a popular government? and what kind of Sovereign should he be, who were dependent on his subjects, and his Council subordinate to the Town-house? Truly, if Catholics should demand Cities of the King, proportionable to their number, as others do, he should be forced henceforward to remain all his life time at Fountain▪ bleau and S. Germain's: nor would there remain unto him any more than the bare title of a King, and the common fields of his Country. But it shall not always be so if predictions prove true: And Reason as well as Nature requireth that things should be reduced to their ancient form. It were no less than to injure him who hath promised to France a longer continuance then to all her diseases, to think that he having given remedies against the Goths and Moors, he will suffer it to dye at this day by the hands of a small pack of Rebels: Provided, that face which I rather call immortal, then ancient, do still assure us of the great source of life you retain in your courageous heart, and that Heaven please to preserve for the world's benefit, the blessing it conferred upon us at your Nativity; we require not a more certain presage of the end of our evils; nor is there any so sick or far strucken in years, who hopeth not to survive these intestine troubles: But we are not to imagine that Victory and Peace are two opposite things, though they be different; for it is the one which assureth the other, and settleth it in state not to be any further either troubled or threatened by any. When all is done, I find it were much to oblige these malcontents, to give a sure repose to their distrustful spirits, and at once to rid them of all their hopes and fears: when they shall no longer need to trouble themselves with making assemblies, and that their lives shallbe free from the fear of punishments. When I say both they and we shall enjoy common security, it is not to be doubted but their condition will be much bettered, it being a much fairer fortune to be cast on shore by a storm in a craised Vessel, then to be still in the power of Winds and Seawrackes. The word of Kings ought not to contradict the functions of Regality, nor can they oblige themselves to leave their Subjects in miserable estate, or to doecontrary to what they ought. And in conscience since the ruin of Rebellion is written in Heaven, in the same sort as is the Day of Judgement, and the World's dissolution; were it not as much as to resist God's will, and to oppugn his providence, should we so soon grow weary of well-doing, or refuse to finish a work, the event whereof is infalliable? There is nothing so easy for a great Prince, as either to find or conceive faults, nor doth any man doubt that dissimulation is just, when it rends to the advantage and avail of the deceived. If a mad man were capable of remedies, were it not lawful to cure him without ask his consent? were it fit a Father should suffer his Son to be drowned, for fear of pulling him out by the hair? Are we to suffer the State to perish, for that we cannot preferue it by ordinary ways? No (my Lord) we ought not▪ there is no consideration can cause that thing to change its nature, which of itself is just; and the Laws of necessity do dispense with us for those of formality. Now to return to my first discourse, and to what particularly regardeth your Lordship; seeing your absence from Court hath at all times threatened more miseries unto us, than the apparition of Comets and other irregularities in Nature, and since to be miserable, it is sufficient to be at odds with you. There is not any of your enemies can escape the Divine justice, nor is there any doubt, but you will generally find all those spirits favourable unto you, whom you have formerly convinced; or that your propositions shall not be received as assured Conquests. The best is, there are now no more any usurpers near the King, who seek to engross his favours to their own advantages, & bereave men of those benefits which ought to be as common to them as the Fire or Air. His Majesty's heart is open to all his Subjects, he receives truth at what hand soever it comes unto him. This being so (my Lord) may we not rest confident you shall not lose one word, and that your Virtue whereof the World is uncapable, shall at length be found the only means the King hath to redress and re-establish his affairs. Neither time, travail, nor cost, ought divert him from this design▪ It is a work will be nothing so costly as to raise a Favourite, and it being a thing all Christendom exacteth of him, as an Hereditary debt the King his Father hath left to be discharged. And truly, it is most certain that the face of States hath been changed, and whole Provinces conquered, with less cost than diverse Pagan Princes have employed in erecting of Idols▪ and causing them to be adored by their people. But to leave this Italian severity you formerly reproved in me, and lest you should accuse me for warring against the dead, I will for your sake pardon their memory; nor will I farther dilate myself upon so odious a Subject. Yet is this but half of what I intended to speak unto you at Coignac; if in that short abode you made there, and the continual press hindering the freedom of my Speech unto you, it had been permitted me to have had a longer Audience. But (my Lord) what I could not perform by word of Mouth, I will continue by my Letters, if you please to do me the honour as to command them; or if my words which you have heretofore made choice of for the conception of your High thoughts, in bewailing present miseries and public ingratitude, be, as pleasing unto you, as I am perfectly  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful servant, BALZAC The 18 of November, 1623.   

The Duke of Espernon his Letter to the French King: penned by BALZAC.  
LETTER XVIII.  
SIR,  
I Understand by the Letter it pleased your Majesty to do me the honour to write unto me, that upon the opinion wherewith some have possessed you concerning the continuance of the Germane Wars, you judge it expedient for the good of your service, I should not (as yet) leave this Frontier. Whereunto Sir, I can give your Majesty no other answer, but that having at all times gathered out of your commands, what my duty obliged me unto, and having never proposed other end to my actions, than the good of your state, I should be careful of straying from that design in an occasion wherein I might imagine your service depended on my obedience. But at this present (Sir) the tranquillity of France groweth to be so general, your affairs so powerfully established, and the Honour of your Amity so precious among all your neighbouring Princes; that as there is nothing in this Kingdom which doth not bend under your Authority; so is there not any Prince abroad, who doth not respect your power, or who conserveth not himself by your justice. And as concerning the troubles of Bohemia; beside, that time hath evaporated the first heat of spirits, and that they begin to retire from those extremities wherein formerly they involved themselves: the imagined danger is so far removed hence, as we cannot conceive the least apprehension, even for those who are not our next neighbours that way. It is certain (Sir) that on this side the Rhine all things seem to be at rest under the shade of your State, and the ancient Allies of this Crown who are nearest any danger, expect the end of War with our fearing it should come any further towards them, or that out of all this noise, there will arise any more than one War. These considerations than do no way oblige me to stay in these parts, where things are in so good estate, as they may well nigh subsist of themselves▪ besides the residence my Son of Valette shall make there in my absence, being sufficient to give order to all occurrents concerning the good of your affairs. I assure myself your Majesty will be so impartial as to be pleased to reflect upon the necessity of my particular occasions, and that suffering me to retire myself to my own house, you will at least permit me to enjoy a favour, usually inflicted on others as a punishment. I doubt not (Sir) but you will condescend to the desire I have to undertake this Voyage, and I presume you will be pleased to consider, that I being engaged in two hundred thousand Crowns for your service; after the sight of your royal bounty in all sorts of hands, it were small reason (I receiving nothing) should still in this place stand as a mere cipher for the honour of France; or that I ruin myself with a rich show, only to continue strangers in the opinion they have of the magnificent greatness of your Crown. Yet (Sir) having never believed I could sustain any great detriment by the loss of a thing I so slightly esteem, as I do worldly substance, I intent not in this place to complain of my poverty: But (to speak truth) since all my words and actions are by many misinterpreted; and that having afforded my dutiful attendance to the service of three great Kings, I yet find much difficulty to defend my so long a loyalty against Calumny: I am with much sorrow constrained to say, that if I stood firm in my duty, even when disobedience was Crowned with rewards; and have maintained your Authority, when by some it was abused, by others contemned: It is no small iujury to me, to imagine I will now begin to fail in my loyalty at this age wherein I am, or suffer myself to be reproached by posterity, whereto I study to annex the last actions of my life. But I see well (Sir) it is long since the hatred of dishonest Frenchmen hath been fatal unto me, and that it hath been borne with me inseparably. From the first hour I appeared in the World, there was never either peace or truce unviolated to my prejudice; and as though I were excepted out of all treaties, though War be ended, yet that made against me endureth. At this present (Sir) it sufficeth not I perform my charge without omitting or forgetting any thing due to your service; or that the innocency of my actions be generally acknowledged; but I am driven to those straits, as to be forced to give account of my very thoughts, there being not any (my self excepted) from whom satisfaction is required for the fault he hath not as yet committed. If we lived in a Country where virtue were avoided, as not concurrent with the times, or adverse to the State, and where a great reputation were more dangerous than an inglorious one, I should not need to make much search for the cause of my misfortunes: but I well know the conduct you use, hath more honourable and honest grounds, and that your Majesty hath no pretention to reign with more assurance than the King your Father did before you. It is from him (Sir) you may learn how you are to distinguish wounded innocency from wicked impudence: and to know it is ordinary to draw honest men into suspicion, thereby to make them unserviceable. In following his example, you shall find out the truth, though never so closely hidden, or what shadow soever they cast over the same to disguise it. And truly (Sir) since this great Prince in bestowing your Origin upon you, hath together therewith conferred his most Royal inclinations, I will never believe, that to follow a stranger passion, you will lose those perfections so proper, and natural unto you; or that for me alone your Majesty hath any other spirit then for the rest of men. Truly, if when you were not yet at your own liberty, such hath been the natural goodness of your gracious disposition, as you have at all times resisted violent counsels, nor have ever permitted your authority should be employed to the ruin of your subjects: there is small appearance, that having now by public and solemn act obliged yourself to reign alone, and your bounty finding not any obstacle to hinder the same, you would disturb the old age of one of your best servants, or deny to his grey hairs that rest Nature requires at your hands, (I ought to hope (at least) for this recompense for my long and faithful services, since your Majesty may bestow it without incommodating your affairs; and beside I having never expected other reward of worthy actions, than the only contentment to have performed them, I shall hold myself sufficiently happy, to receive from my conscience the testimonies which whilst I live it will afford me, that I have been, really am, and ever will to the end remain▪  
SIR, Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful subject and servant, ESPERNON From Mets 7 of january, 1619.   

Another Letter to the French King from the Duke of Espernon, penned by the same Balzac.  
LETTER XIX.  
SIR,  
Having long attended at Mets, the occasions not to be unusefully there, and not finding any thing either in the conduct of my present life, or in the memory of my forepassed time, which might justly cast me into a worse condition than the rest of your subjects: I have presumed that the Laws of this Kingdom, and my Births prerogative might permit me to make use of public liberty, and to partake of that peace you have purchased to the rest of your subjects. Nevertheless (Sir) your Majesty's will doth so regulate mine, that I had not removed, had not the cause of my stay there ceased, and the difficulties of the Bohemian War been utterly removed. But having had perfect intelligence by the relations the Duke of Lorraine hath received from those parts, that the affairs there begin to be well settled, the overture thereof beginning with the suspension of War on both sides; I could not imagine the good of your service did any way oblige me to remain longer in a place out of all danger in time of peace, and which will make good use of the Empire's weakness if the War continue: considering likewise that if there be any part of your State less sound than the rest, and where your Authority had need with more than ordinary care to be conserved, it is questionless in the Province whither I am going, which bordering upon such neighbours as all honest men may justly suspect; and being a people composed of diverse parts, have at all times been either troubled or threatened with changes▪ yea, at this present (Sir) the most common opinion is, that the assembly now holden at Rochel, is no way pleasing unto you, and that if you have been drawn to give any assent thereto, it hath rather been a connivency to the necessity of time, then conformable to your will. Whereupon (Sir) if your Majesty please to reflect upon the miseries of your State, whereout at least you have drawn this advantage, that even in the very spring of your age, you have attained great experience: You shall plainly see that all the miseries which befell your Majesty in your minority, have been begun upon the like occasions. I therefore using my best endeavours, if the intentions of those of Rachel be good; to hinder that the events be not evil; therein I hope I shall no way disobey your Majesty's commands; but do rather explain them according to the true sense, allowing them the best interpretation, since it is most profitable for your service. Truly (Sir) no man is ignorant, that as the conservation of your authority is the principle Law of your State: so likewise that the most express and important part of your commands, is the good of your affairs. This being undoubtedly true, what appearance is there, it being in my power to preserve the affections of a divided Province in due obedience to your Majesty, and to pacify by my presence those affections easily drawn to revolt, if none did confirm them in their loyalty: I should (for the interrupting so necessary a voyage, propound to myself so frivolous considerations, and those so far fetched as the Wars of Bohemia. I live not in an age (Sir) wherein I am permitted to feed myself with variety; but I do not withal suppose your Majesty doth so slightly esteem of my service, as not to make any farther use of me, save only to see the packets from Germany safely conveyed; nor do I find myself so unuseful, as to be forced instead of better employments; only to let you know what news is stirring, and to give you an account of ordinary rumours. I must humbly beseech your Majesty, to suffer me to dye in this opinion I have of myself, and to allow me to make free use of my leisure; if you please not to impose more honourable employments upon me for your service. Howsoever it happen, (Sir) or how badly soever I be entreated, I am determined to continue resolute in well-doing. And your Majesty may be most assured, that neither Time, which affordeth occasions to the most miserable to raise their fortunes, nor Place often favouring their resentments, nor Necessity which causeth their actions to seem just; shall ever transport me from remaining with the same affection I ever have done to be  
Sir, Your most humble, most obedient, and most faithful subject and servant, Espernon. From Pent de Vichij the 7. of February, 1619.   

Another Letter from the Duke of Espernon to the French King, penned by the same Balzac.  
LETTER XX.  
SIR,  
IF your Majesty have misconceived mine intentions before you were charyly informed of them; I am persuaded, I have at this present in such sort justified the same by my proceedings, as there is no further need to defend them by my words. Truly, I may justly say, that the Conduct I have used, hath been such: the Queen your Mother, having done me the honour to make use of my service in a business, she deemed much to import the good of your State; as not making use of the advantages which might arise by causing mischief to continue, or by giving way to such designs, the event whereof would have sufficiently commended the resolution, had they not been disaduantagious unto you▪ I have contented myself to testify to all France, that I had respect to your authority even in the hands of mine enemies: whereby (Sir) I trust I have caused my actions to appear so pure and unspotted before your Majesty, that you remain fully satisfied; nor will you I hope judge I have erred, in following a cause I might probably suppose could not be well separated from yours. Now therefore since it hath pleased your Majesty to supply what seemed deficient in the felicity of your Reign, and to settle peace in your State: All your true subjects (Sir) are by so much the more obliged to rely on your Royal word; in that it is the rock whereon all Christendom rests confident: And the same having been given to the Queen your Mother, besides your obligation thereto by God and Nature, your very reputation confirmeth the same unto her upon this sacred and inviolable assurance, after having dedicated my sensibilities and interests to public peace, and taken your Majesty's memory, as witness, that I have at all times served you faithfully, though it hath not always been by ordinary and common ways; I assure myself you will be pleased to permit me hence forward to pass the rest of my days in peace; and now at length to leave me in the Haven whereinto I have been cast by so many violent Tempests. Sir, I have but a short time to stay in this World, and surely I should suppose my life overlong, could I find myself culpable of one single cogitation repugnant to the Allegiance I owe to your Majesty, I therefore most humbly beseech you (Sir) to be pleased to consider, that I desiting no other thing of you, but either some small repose after my great pains, or an honourable death in your service: I can no way herein allot more moderate limits to my ambition, nor wish a more innocent end to my old age: Howsoever, I shall esteem it right happy, may I end it in this sort; and if in losing it, I conserve the quality I have ever hitherto inviolably kept of  
Your Majesty's most humble, most obedient, and most faithful Subject and Servant, ESPERNON. From Angoulosme the 10. of june, 1619.    

THE LETTERS OF MOUNSIEUR DE BALZAC.  
To my Lord the Duke de la Valete; from Mounsieur D' BALZAC.  
THE THIRD BOOK.  

LETTER I.  
My LORD:  
IN acquittance of my promise when I parted from Mets, I am to let your Lordship know, we are at this instant beyond ten Rivers, and how all things have been propitious to my Lord your Father's Voyage. To be diffident the conclusion will not correspond to these fair beginnings: were either to make doubt of God's providence, or to distrust his Grace; but it hath pleased his Divine Majesty at all times to take so particular care for the conservation of your Family, that he will as soon permit his Altars and Images to be irreverently entreated, as persons who are so high in his favour as all of you are. Howsoever it happen (my Lord) if none but the prosperous can lose by altorations; you will, I hope, confess no such change can any way happen, whereout we shall not draw some advantage; and what interpretations soever they give to my Lord your Father's intentions, yet will all honest men judge favourably thereof, nor will any man apprehend failing after so eminent an example. All France attends his resolution to be rightly informed in the truth of the King's affairs, and all men know he is of such consideration in this State, as his least discontentments are to be reckoned among public miseries. I will persuade myself they will not proceed to any extremity, and that there is not impudence enough in our Enemies to transport them to so dangerous counsels. If the worst come, yet must this voyage necessarily produce the one of two things, equally necessary in a troublesome time, War or Liberty. I am not so clear sighted in future events, as to answer for what shall happen; yet since the order of seasons are framed to facilitate our passage, and that all things have chansed more successfully unto us than we presumed to desire; there is small appearance that Heaven will declare itself in favour of the less supportable cause. But that which doth the rather fortify my confidence, is the vigorous estate wherein I find my Lord your Father, he hath no show of old age, save only experience and authority. The late Ligue, the Rebels, the Sword, nor Poison have not been of power to kill him, nor was there ever man so awful in his adverse fortune. As for you (my Lord) who are the object of his hopes and fears; & who are to perform one of the principal parts in his designed action: remember you have the command of a 
The City of Mets.  place which hath been the dishonour of Charles the fifth, and which affordeth France a revenge for all the affronts he offered thereto. He who defended it against him had no more than two arms as you have, and one single life, nor was he madé of any other matter then other men are. It is true, he fought by the King's succours, but it sufficeth you fight for his service, and that all men know you are resolved not to survive your fortunes. Were you borne to perform ordinary actions, I should hold it fit to speak unto you in another strain, but since you purpose not to exercise any idle dignity in this world, nor are at this present in case to make use of the hands of a great Army, or expect reputation in your bed; speak as high as you please, provided you act accordingly; and that out of your particular forces (since those of the State fail you) you make good unto the King, the last conquest of his Ancestors. One only worthy man hath heretofore been the whole Republic of Rome, and hath resisted the fury of a victorious Army. So though there were no more true Frenchmen, but my Lord your Father, yourself, and my Lords your Brothers, I could no way despair of Public affairs, nor of the fortune of this Kingdom. My Lord, I am so weary, that I am forced to defer the continuation of this discourse till another time, and to rest awhile to make a more ample relation. I will content myself for the present, to pass my promise unto you of that History, the subject whereof I require at your hands, and to assure you it is impossible to be more than I am  
Your most humble, most obedient, and most affectionate Servant, BALZAC. The 9 of February, 1619.   

To the Signior of Plessis, Governor of Tollemount, from BALZAC.  
LETTER. II.  
SIR,  
SInce it appears you have a will to lose every hour what you can in truth spend but once, and that you so slightly esteem your life, as though it were another man's; me thinks the War hath dealt very kindly with you, in being contented to leave you half a face, and that you may well account what is left, as gotten goods. The Duke de maine, and the rest were not quit at so easy a rate: and it hath pleased God to show examples in this kind, to make it appear that he approveth not vanity; nor that he needeth the advice of men for the defence of his own and his Church's cause. Truly, if these men had practised with the enemy, they could not have been more confident; nor have gone more naked to War, had they fought against women: And in truth I am so far from praising their desperate courses, as I do not so much as pardon them their deaths; and if my opinion had passed, I should have thought it fit to have accused them as culpable of their own deaths, and as such who had committed the greatest Parricides. It becomes me ill in this place to prescribe rules to my Master; for should I attempt to tech your courage how far it should extend itself, I might seem to do no less than prescribe laws to what is illimitable. Yet be pleased (I pray you) to be informed, that valour is so tender and delicate a virtue, that if it be not sometimes well shielded and conserved by some others, it becometh more hurtful to him who hath it, then healthful for the State, often endamaged by it, or to the Prince who maketh use thereof. And surely without the assistance of Reason, which ought to be its Governnesse, and Prudence as a guide unto it: there is not any passion more blind, nor which doth less differ from the fury of Beasts, and the brutish ferocity of Barbarians: The latter of these think it cowardice to quit the place, though the breach of a River roll upon them; or not to stand firm though they see a house falling on their heads. But these wretches, and we, have not the same pretensions; for as they propound to themselves, only to kill, and to die, so should we only aim at victory, and neglect the rest; otherwise to what end is the knowledge of Virtue unto us, and of the limits which boundeth it, or to be borne under a more happy Climate, then that of Polonia and Muscovia: if we draw no advantage either from the excellency of our institutions or extractions; I do not at all wonder, why there are men who prefer death before indigence, and who not finding any contentment in their own Countries, are well pleased to pass beyond the Ice of their natural air, as willing to forgo the infelicity of their fortunes. But a man of worth, who at all hours enjoyeth both perfect and pure contents, and who hath a great share of this Age's virtue to lose, is a Traitor to the Public, and a Tyrant to himself, if he forsake all this for a mere fancy, and deprive the world thereof only for a flash of Fame and vain Glory. You know this better than I can tell it you, and if you suppose the Philosophy you have heretofore so highly esteemed, be yet wise enough to instruct you, she will tell you that Life is the groundwork of all other good that can here befall us; since by means thereof one may recover Kingdoms though utterly lost, and remain Victor, after having been defeated in four battles. There is no question but a dead Lion is less worth than a living Dog, or that the most part of those Princes of whom there hath been so much speech, and those valiant Captains with whose Heroic acts so many Histories are stored, would not willingly change their Laurels for our lives. Rejoice therefore (good Sir) together with Nature: in that you are as yet in the number of men; and comfort yourself with Hannibal, and the Father of Alexander the great, for the loss you have received: whatsoever you can say, you have yet sight enough to cause you to turn lovesick, and to contemplate the beauties of Heaven and Earth. But suppose you were wholly blind, yet is it true, that the Night hath its pleasures as well as the Day, yea and such as you best love.  
Yours, BALZAC. The 18 of December, 1622.   

Another Letter to Hidaspe from BALZAC.  
LETTER III.  
MY dear Hidaspe, thou canst not imagine the content I take in thy Letter, and in the good news it brings me, it is the only way to cause me to contradict myself, when I account my estate miserable, since I hear thou art in health, and lovest me. Were I not confident thereof, I should the next day drink poison; or if not valiant enough to attempt so hardy an enterprise, I should dye with sorrow. Thou art (then) as necessary for my living as life itself; so as if thou desirest my estate, thou needest not for that any other means, then to deprive me of thy good opinion: But truly I never had the least apprehension of such a loss, and I assure myself if I were dead, thou shouldest be double as rich as thou desirest to be. I have long since been assured, thy thoughts are not enthralled to the earth, or that thy passions only exceed those of the vulgar. Let me entreat thee to cherish them my dear Hydaspe; and though I be continually sad, and at all times ill affected in my health; yet remember that the very rave of my Fever are sometimes more prizeable than Philosophical meditations; and we see beautiful faces often weep so gracefully, that some have been enamoured of their tears. I have fully acquainted thee with our occurrents here, by my last Letters, nor will I let any opportunity pass without giving myself the content of discoursing with thee in that kind; bind me so much unto thee, as to do the like on thy part: But if thy Letters be so short, as usually they are, I will now betimes tell thee, I will read them so often, as they shall become long enough in spite of thee. I know well how in the place where thou art, thou oughtest not lose any minute of time; since opportunities last no longer; and resolve thyself to take a thousand unprofitable journeys to thy Lord's Chamber, before thou makest one to purpose. Great men use not to keep Registers of the absent, nor remembrancers of them they usually forget: but rather to the contrary; they imagining there is no other thing on earth but themselves, and what concerns them: (provided, they find any who look like men) they never trouble themselves to inquire for others, since with them assiduity often works more than service; yea, and those whom they would not affect for merit, they will love by custom: It is therefore necessary you be still in sight, and always at hand for the entertainment of Fortune: It is a tradition the subtle Gascoynes at their deaths leave to their Children: and truly as choler assumeth Arms out of whatsoever it encounters; so is it true, that occasion taketh hold of all such as present themselves. We ought to contract perfect love with honest men, but yet not to be at odds with others. Poisons themselves are necessary in some cases; and since we are forced to live among savage creatures, we had need have the industry either to familiarise or force them. I advice thee not to look before thee, behind thee, and on every side when thou speakest; or to be in so great fear to be taken at thy word, as thou darest not tell what a Clock it is if one asks thee. Thou shalt gain much by being silent, the dumb shall at all times therein exceed thee: For my part, I never make question of speaking, when I have any thing in my head better than silence. I do not hereby mean that we ought to discover our intentions by our looks, or that our interior conceptions appear outwardly with all their passions, namely, of fear, hatred, or distemper. This were to betray ourselves, and to give ill example to others. But herein you are to make election of place, and persons, and not wilfully to deprive thyself of the most pleasing fruit of man's life, there being not any, in whose breast we may securely deposit either our griefs or joys. Besides, I would not have thee of that Spaniards humour, who took for his device Que fi que no; but consider with thyself that Reason is a sacred thing▪ whereto thou art to yield, where ever it appears. I confess that most things are involved in uncertainties, and that humane Sciences have very slender and uncertain foundations; yet are there some truths so perspicuous, and so absolutely received into the World's approbation, as it were no less than to lack common sense, to call them into question; for he who should say, my Lord the Constable d'Esdiguieres were not valiant, or my Lord the Cardinal of Richelieu, were not a man of able parts: doubtless all men would wonder at him, as at one who sought to introduce some new Sect, or endeavour to overthrow the fundamental Laws of the Kingdom. Nay, I tell you yet more; you are piously to believe diverse sots to be sufficient men, since the World will have it so; and that Kings are not the only men who desire complasency; since if we mean to live among others, we must sometimes necessarily flatter, and frame ourselves to their opinions Let us then follow the judgement of the wise, and the customs of the vulgar; let us keep our thoughts to ourselves, and allow them our actions and outsides. As I have advised thee not to be over silent, so would I not have thee over talkative, nor to weary any one with thy discourse of Mountauban, or the exploits thou hast there seen performed. I assure thee to avoid the company of these boasting companions; I would take post, go to Sea, or fly to the World's end. They seem to me to have gotten a patent for prating, and that it were no less than to take their purse, if one should offer to speak a word in their presence: But above all, it is very death to me, when these fellows come fresh out of Holland, or when they begin to study the Mathematics. From Milan to Sienna I was haunted with one of these Chapmen; whose company I shall so long as I have life, reckon among my greatest misfortunes. He would needs reform all the fortifications of those strong places we passed by; be trodden on no earth at which he carped not, nor travailed over any Mountain, on which he had not some design; he set upon all the Cities in the Dukedom of Florence; he desired only a certain short prefixed time, to take in all the States of Medena, Parma, and Urbin: yea, I had much ado to draw him from casting his designs upon the lands of the Church, and St. Peter's Patrimony. These be diseases the roots whereof are not to be cut up, without taking away the tongue withal: Nay, I fear when all this is done, there will be yet need to pass further into the cure, and to use means to bereave them of voice, for the general good of such as can hear. There is yet another sort of importunate people, whose number doth so multiply in France, it is almost arrived to an infinity: These have not one half hours entertainment for thee, without telling thee the King is raising puissant forces; how such a one is out of credit with his faction; another is a great searcher into, and meddler in State-matters, and how a third diveth into all the intricacies of Court-businesses. If you can have the patience to hear them yet a while longer, you shall straight understand how the Precedent jannin was the man who had the truest intentions of all the ministers of Justice: That it is expedient to show a Masterpiece of State, to give reputation to the present current of affairs: That the King's authority was interessed in this action: and that those who sought to cry down the present government, rather aimed at their particular advantages, than redress of disorders. See here the style wherewith they persecute me even to my poor Village, and which is a cause I loath State, and public affairs. Tyre not therefore my ears at thine arrival, lest you turn mine adversary with intention to assault me with these huge words. If you know not that these follies have not always the same aspect, and that there are as well serious follies, as slight ones, I would admonish thee in this place: Now though a man at twenty can have no great experience of the World, yet have you a sufficient clear judgement to keep yourself from being deluded, by the appearance of good, or by the outward lustre of evil. I had need of more time than the bearer allows me, and of more words then a Letter is capable of, sufficiently to instruct thee what thou oughtest to do, and what to avoid; or to learn thee a Science wherein myself do study in teaching thee. I will therefore only say, since I am hastened to make an end, that before all other things thou art to offer thy whole will to God, if thou be'st not able to give the rest; and to have (at least) good designs, if it be not as yet in thy power to do any good deeds. I well know it is no slender task, to undertake to guard ourselves from evil, where enticements are extraordinary, and the danger extreme, and where (thou wilt tell me) that if God will hinder thee from loving beauty, he had need▪ make thee blind. I having no pleasing answer to make thee hereto my dear Hydaspe, I refer thee to thy Confessor: entreating thee to consider, how if the King in the flower of his age wherein we see him, and in the midst of an infinity of objects offering themselves to give him content, is yet notwithstanding so firm in the resolution to virtue, that he as easily surmounteth all voluptuous irregularities▪ as he doth his most violent rebels, and is not any way acquainted with forbidden pleasures, nor doth glut himself even with lawful ones: If as I say, this truth be generally avowed, I beseech thee tell me why continency may not be placed among things possible? But I much fear, there is no means to gain this for granted at thy hands; since thou believest as others do, that to be chaste, were no less than to usurp upon the possession of married Wives. Yet at the least Hydaspe, if this body of thine, being of sufficient ability to send Colonies into each corner of the World, and to people the most desert places, will needs be employed; I entreat thee to stay there, without being transported with the debauches of the mouth, which have no other limits than the loss of reason, and ruin of health. I should be in utter despair were it told me, that my brother drinks as much as though he were in a continual Fever, and were as great a purveyor for his paunch, as if he were to enter into a besieged City. I confess thy inclination doth of itself sufficiently divert thee from these German virtues, and that thou art not much less sober than myself, who have passed over three years without suppers, and who would willingly feed only upon Fennill and picktoothes, if I thought I could thereby recover health. Yet truly this doth not hinder me from having some apprehension, when I consider how the examples of great ones doth often give authority to vice: and that to keep ourselves upright in the midst of corruption, is not an effect of the ordinary force of men: Consider then once again (Hydaspe) that we are powerfully to resist temptations. Have an eye to the interest thou hast to contayneithy self within the limits of an orderly life; and be well advised, whether thou couldst be contented to be of the proportion of those good fellows, whose spirits are choked in their own grease, and who become such comely creatures, that if their bodies were pierced, there would nothing pass forth of their wounds but▪ Wine and Porridge. Besides, making profession as thou dost, to be a man of thy word, be not offended if I summon thee to observe what thou hast promised me: or that I freely tell thee, that if thou fallest again to the old game, I shall have small subject to assure myself of thy fidelity in other thy former promises. Wert thou the King of the Indies, or thy life endless, I would not forbid thee this exercise; but since we have scarce leisure enough in this world to attain virtue, nor over great possessions to secure us from poverty; believe me Hydaspe, it is very dangerous to suffer shipwreck on shore; and beside, the expense of money, (which we esteem as dear unto us as life) to lose our senses likewise, and our time, the last whereof is irrecoverable, is both shameful and sinful; having here admonished thee well near, though confusedly and scatteredly of those things thou oughtest to fly, it were requisite I should likewise advise thee of what were fit for thee to follow, and to cause if I could, good laws to arise out of evil manners. But it is fit to take time to deliberate upon a matter of such importance, and truly to speak herein to purpose, all the wit I have, joined with that of others, were no more than sufficient.  
Yours, BALZAC. The 1▪ of january 1624.   

To Hydaspe from Balzac.  
LETTER FOUR  
MY dear Hidaspe, if God had conferred a Kingdom upon me, with condition not to have me sleep more than I do: I should prove the most vigilant Prince living, nor should I need either Guards or Sentinels about my person. Surely there is not any (my self excepted) for whom Night was not made, since when the winds are calm, and all Nature quiet, I alone watch with the Stars. But I much fear lest God will not be satisfied herewith, since I foresee so many miseries ready to roll upon me, as I have no small apprehension to become more wretched tomorrow, than I am at this present. The only countenance of Hydaspe would refresh me, and cause my pain to be in some sort pleasing. But since there are now at least a dozen great Cities, and a hundred Leagues of Snow between us, I have much ado to forbear dying, and to support myself upon my weakest part. Yet my meaning is not to have thee return hither; for (were it possible for me) I had much rather come to thee, and continually to gaze on that face whereof I have drawn so many fair purtraicts. It is true, there are few men living, whose love we should prefer before liberty. But assure thyself thy Master is of those; be not therefore more proud than Henry the third, who first obeyed him. For my part, though I be naturally refractory, yet have I ever had a special inclination to his service, yea, when all things went cross with him, and that his best Friends forsook him, I took pleasure in perishing, on purpose to afford him some consolation in his calamities. Many desire a dependency on him out of their particular ends but me thinks we should have more noble designs, since his only virtue deserveth to be followed, and to cause a press wheresoever it passeth. In truth, the service we yield to so great a person, aught to hold the rank of the chief recompenses we are to expect; vet after this, there followeth another seldom failing any of good parts, yea, or those who have but patience. If thou be'st of the one, or other sort of such men, remember this maxim; and do not as those honest persons, who think they do good service to the State, when they betray their Masters. Beasts themselves are capable of acknowledgement; and that Italian had some small show of Reason, who called those Devils, who cured Agues, good Angels. Yet truly it is no less than to be over mannerly to go so far, nor would I thank God's enemies for those gracious favours I indeed receive from him only. But as touching the rest of worldly affairs, there is no question, but we are to reflect upon the nearest occasions Fortune affordeth us; and those who seek after more remote means, shall in conclusion find from one degree to another, that it is to Hugh Capete to whom they are obliged. I was afraid lest I should have left my fingers upon this paper, and have disenabled myself for ever writing more Letters after this, had I any longer continued my discourse. I tell thee no lie Hydaspe, this is the third Winter we have had this year, and the greatest irregularity I ever observed in Nature. For Gods love inquire the cause of Father joseph, and entreat him from me, if yourself be not acquainted with him, that he would be pleased to employ the credit he hath in Heaven, to cause the return of warmer weather.  
BALZAC The 25. of january, 1624.   

To the Seigneur de la Roche from Balzac.  
LETTER V.  
SIR,  
I Cannot conceive your meaning, when you speak of my friendship, as of a favour, or predestination, or in being so prodigal of your compliments and commendations. There was sufficient in the Letter you lately sent, to bereave me of speech, and to make me fly to the Indies, were I forced to frame you a punctual answer. But since you are usually victorious, be pleased, I beseech you, to permit your courtesy to work the same effects, as doth your courage; and suffer me to yield unto you in this occasion, as I would do in those of Rochel, or Mountuban. I only entreat you, henceforward to love me with less ostentation and lustre than you have done hitherto; and since it is not in my power to hinder you from having me in estimation, let me at the least entreat you to carry the matter so, as though you had committed some sin; that is, without calling witness, or confirming the fact: otherwise, doubtless the world will suppose your affection to be injurious to your judgement▪ and I much fear, lest I should be blamed for blinding you, and for being more wicked than the late War, which was contented only to make diverse of our friends, blinkards. Truly that so complete a person, whose acquaintance you commend unto me; not finding me suitable to the pourtraite you showed him, may well say, you are not only satisfied in being singly seduced, but seek to raise Heresies out of your errors, and a contagion out of your crazy constitution. This being so, I see not how I can better make good, either mine own reputation, or your report, then by voluntarily banishing myself from the place where you are, and not by my presence, to overthrow all the Honour you have hither to acquired for me. If therefore you will not appear a deceiver, nor declare yourself my adversary, leave me I pray you, to my retiredness, where I study only to maintain health, and take no other pains then to procure my own repose, nor have any conference, but with myself.  
Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 10. of April, 1623.   

To Mounsieur de Bois Robert from Balzac.  
LETTER VI.  
SInce the dead never return but they affright us: I was persuaded I should do you no small pleasure, nor a little oblige you, in forbearing to appear so much as on Paper before you, suffering you purely to enjoy your accustomed pleasures, without the mixture of any thing that might be distasteful unto you. But since at this present you come to disturb the quiet of Churchyards, and to find out a man, in affecting whose memory you might well be satisfied; I am forced to tell you, that the party you so highly esteem, is wholly remaining beyond the Alps, and how this is only his Ghost lately returned into France. I break all the Looking▪ glasses I meet with, I blunder the water of all Rivers I cross, I avoid the sight of all Painters in any place where I come, lest they show me the pattern of my pale visage. Yet if in the crazy case wherein I am, I were any way capable of consolation, I beseech you to be assured, I should take it as proceeding from the good success of your affairs, nor would I desire of my disease any long respite, than what were requisite to rejoice with you. But truly, it is an enemy who knows not how to admit of conditions of peace or truce, and I am so happy as not to be suffered to quit my pains to resume them. The meat I here eat for sustenance, is to me as pleasing as poison, and I endure life out of penance, whereas you (in the place where you live) spend the remainder of the Golden age, refusing nothing to your senses you lawfully may allow them. Though the Queen's Court be so chaste, as it were easier to drink drunk of a fountain, then to take any dishonest pleasure's thene; and that to gain admittance, it is requisite to be first purified at the Porter's lodge; yet are you allowed even there to have pleasing temptations, and going elsewhere, to seek out more solid contentments. But as for me in the case I am, I make no difference at all between lovely creatures, and well limmed pictures: and the misery I endure, having bereaved me of action, my wretched virtue is as much constrained, as the sobriety of the poor is necessary. In all this I add not one word to the bare truth; and if the Count of Pountgibaut had his pardon to let you know how it is with me, he would tell you that I am more withered then the last years Roses, and how all the Engineers in an Army, were no more than sufficient to remove me. But my discourse will be more pleasing, if I speak of that Head which deserveth to fill a Diadem, then in continuing this wretched complaint. When at the first I saw concurrent in him so much valour, and so great beauty, I neither took him for man nor Woman; but after having recollected myself, I supposed him to be the Amazonian Queen: and doubtlesle in the world's infancy, it was to such faces only, whereto all people yielded willing obedience, none quitting their service, every man's duty being conformable to his inclination; so as the only means then to be rebellious, was to beblinde. When this young Lord came to Rome at his return from the battle of Prague, I can well witness the jealousy he at once afforded both to men and their wives, and of the great Prognostickes all such gave of him, who presumed to have any experience in future occurrents, either by the aspect of Stars, or some more sublime understanding: beside, to consider how at twenty years of age, there is scarce any corner of the known world he hath not traced, to encounter honourable actions▪ nor any sort of combat wherein for the most part he hath not been Conqueror; that he hath borne Arms against Turks and Jnfidels, that he hath appeared both in battles and sieges of Cities; that he hath given life to some enemies, and taken it from others. This (to speak truth) is a thing God suffereth as rarely to be seen as deluges, and other great effects of his power or justice. In a long process of time the merest Cowards may become Masters; were it by no other means, but that by seeing all men dye before them, they may inherit the whole world. divers likewise have performed great exploits, who have begun their actions either with gross errors, or mean adventures. But as there are very few Rivers navigable even from their first fountains, nor Countries where the Sun fendeth forth his full heat from the very dayspring: so are such men (doubtless) very rare and singular, who have not any need either of growth or years; nor are subject either to the order of times, or rules of Nature. But I have no purpose to fold up a book in a Letter: for though my grief do sometimes permit me to spend some small time upon pleasing subjects, yet will it not allow me to make thereon any long stay. I must therefore leave off, during my short good day, lest I fall sick again in your presence, and once more clog you with my complaints, instead of thanking you for your kind remembrance, and assuring you of the great desire I have to remain so long as I live,  
Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 4. August, 1615.   

A Letter from Balzac to Mounsieurde Bois Robert.  
LETTER VII.  
THough I receive no news from you, and howbeit those from Paris are generally naught: yet am I so confident of your excellent constitution, as I cannot imagine it can be endamaged by that contagious air: Surely if it be not in such sort infected, that birds fall down dead, and that the Springs be not corrupted, you have small cause to fear; and I have heretofore seen you of so perfect a composition, and so strong a substance, that an ordinary infection (I suppose) is unable to seize upon you: And rather than I will have any apprehension of your being carried away with the current of those who die of this great mortality; I shall sooner believe that God reserveth you to make the world's Epitaph, and those last Songs appointed for the Catastrophe of all humane joys. Yet ere it come to this point, remember your promise, I pray you, and send me something to rid me of the Megreme I have taken in reading the sotteries of these times. I cannot counterfeit the matter, but must confess I taste Verses as I do Melons; so as if these two sorts of Fruits have not a relish near approaching to perfection, I know not how to commend them though on the King's Table, or in Homer's works. Whatsoever you do, yet at the least permit nothing to your spirit which may wound your reputation; and above all, let me entreat you not to be the man who may justly be taxed of having violated the chastity of our Language, or for instructing the French in foreign vices, utterly unknown to their Predecessors. Poetry which God hath sometimes made choice of, for the uttering of Oracles, and to unfold his secrets to Mankind, aught at the least to be employed in honest uses: Nor is it a less offence to make use thereof in vicious matters then to violate a Virgin. This I speak upon the subject of our Friend, whose end I fear will hardly be natural, if he die not the sooner of his fourth Pox. This is the second time he hath issued out of Paris by a breach, having escaped as furious a flame as that of Troy. For my part, I cannot conceive what should be his design. For to war against Heaven; beside, that he shall be but slackly accompanied in such an expedition, nor hath a hundred hands as it is said of Giants; he ought to understand, it was an action they could never achieve: and how in Cicilia there are Mountains yet smoking with their Massacre. We come not into this world to prescribe Laws, but to submit ourselves to those we find, and to content ourselves with the wisdom of our forefathers, as with their Land and Sun. And truly, since in matters indifferent, novelties are ever reprehensible, and that our Kings quit not their Lilies to quarter Tulipans in their arms: by how much greater right are we obliged to conserve the ancient, and fundamental points of Religion, which are by so much the more pure in that by their antiquity they approach nearer to the Origine of things, and for that between them, and the beginning of all good, there is the less time subject to corruption. To speak plainly, there is small appearance that truth hath from the beginning of the world attended this man, on purpose to discover itself unto him in a Brothel or Tavern; and to be sent forth of a mouth which comes short in sobriety to that of a Suisse. I intent not to intermeddle with the Courts of Parliament, nor to prevent their Decrees by mine opinion: And to think to make this man more culpable than he is, were as much as to cast Ink on an Ethiopians face; I owe so much to to the memory of our forepast acquaintance, as I rather pity him as a diseased person, then pursue him as an enemy. I confess he hath parts in him not absolutely ill, nor do I deny I have much pleased myself with his freedom of speech, so long as he proposed only men for his object, and spared to speak of holy things. But when I heard say, he exceeded the bounds of inferior matters, and banded himself even a 'gainst what is transcendent to Heaven, I instantly quitted all acquaintance with him, and thought the only pleasure I could do him, was to pray to God to restore him to his right senses, and to take pity on him as he did of the Jews, who crucified our Saviour. Hereafter I will be better advised then to weary you with so long a discourse, or to tire myself in troubling you: But truly I thought I could do no less after three years' silence, esteeming this not to be over much for a man who is so slow a paymaster, for so many Letters he oweth you. Yet cannot I conclude, before I inform you of some particulars touching the place where I am at this present, and of my employments here. First there is no day passeth wherein I see not the rising and setting of the Sun, and how during that time, I withdraw my self from all other distractions, to enjoy the purity of that fair light. Behold here in this present state wherein I am, all the Courtship I use, and the only subjection I oblige myself unto. When I desire to take the Air▪ at other hours of the day, I must indeed confess my eyes have no objects so vast as the Sea, or Apennineses, nor do I behold Rome under my feet as formerly I have done: Yet do I on all sides discover so pleasing a prospect, as though it fill not the capacity of my spirit so much as did the other, yet doth it far more content me. Painters come forty days journeys hence, to study in my chamber, and if Nature cause her greatness to appear, even from the bottom of the deepest Abysses, and darkest donwfalls, she hath no less placed her rarest perfections under my windows. Moreover, I am plunged in abundance up to the eyes, but my Riches are tacked to the twigs and branches of Trees; for as Summer hath made me plentiful, so will Winter reduce me to my former pwerty. In the mean time, I make Feasts of Figs and Melons, yea, out of the very Museadine Grapes I eat, there issueth liquor enough to make half a Kingdom drunk; and the thing whereat happily you will wonder, is, that I put all this into a sick man's stomach, to whom well-nigh all good things are forbidden: yet have I found a means to reconcile my surfeits with my physical receipts, and in one and the same day I both enjoy pleasure, and endure pain; for I nourish my Fever with excellent fruits, and purge it with Rhubarb: but howsoever I cannot hazard my health in more innocent debauches, since I perform them without troubling the tranquillity either of Earth or Air, or without bereaving any thing of life. The first men the world produced, attained to extreme age with such pure cates as mine are; for as of all bloody meats they only used Cherries and Mulberries; so was the simplicity of their lives accompanied with a perfect reposedness; Nature as yet being void of all Monsters: There was as then no mention either of Geryon, or Minotaur, nor of φφφφ. The Inquisition and Parliament were only in the Jdea of things; and of the two parts of justice, there was that only known which gave merits their due rewards.  
BALZAC. From BALZAC, 1623.   

Another Letter from Balzac to Mounsieur de Bois Robert.  
LETTER. VIII.  
YOur Letter of the fifteenth of the last Month, came to my hands as I was ready to seal these Presents. You might have just cause to tax me, should I let them go unanswered, or if this dead man appearing in your presence, did not give you thanks for the many excellent words you have used in the adorning his Funeral Oration. I should be but too proud if others were of your opinion, or were infected with the like error you are; but I much fear you will not for the present herein find a party equal to that of the League, and do much doubt if all of a contrary conceit, should be declared Criminals, there would hardly be any acquitted in this Kingdom. Howsoever, I hold myself much obliged unto you, in conferring so liberally that upon me, you so well know I want, and for bestowing all your colours and mercurial mixtures to make me seem beautiful: I will be well advised how I fall out with him who flatters me, and in the love I bear myself, I shall at all times suffer a rival with much satisfaction. Since a certain Gentleman in Germany pleaseth himself in being styled King of jerusalem, and since those who have no real patrimonies, tickle themselves with mere Titles and Arms: by the like reason may I imagine myself to be the man you will needs have me, and receive from your courtesy the qualities my Nativity hath not afforded me. But to disblame both of us, I beseech you hereafter to have more care of my modesty, and not to put me in danger either to lose it, or not to believe you. It is no less than to wrong the Angels, to call other spirits than theirs divine, yea all the Celestial Court is sensible of suffering that name to fall to ground. For my part, I am so far from freeing myself of humane defects, as I do absolutely avow, there is not any more imperfect than I am, no not so much as blinkards and maimed persons. I espy faults enough, on which side soever I see myself, and my wit is so disfurnished of foreign perfections, as I hold no man for learned, if he be not adorned with those abilities whereof I am ignorant, yea even in that whereof you suppose me to have a perfect understanding: I have in truth no more than mere doubts and conjectures, so as if there were a man of perfect Eloquence to befound at the world's end, I would go in pilgrimage on purpose to see one contrary to N N. To speak truly, there is great difference between filling the care with some pleasing sound, and expressing the fancies of Artisans and Clowns according to Grammatical Rules; and in reigning over the spirits of men by force of Reason; and to share the government of the World with Conquerors and lawful Kings▪ I have not the presumption to suppose I am arrived at this point; but I likewise think few have attained thereto, and the Philosopher's Stone were with more ease to be extracted, than the Eloquence I propose to myself. It is as yet a kind of Terraincognita, and which hath not been discovered together with the Indies. The Romans themselves could only recover the bare image, as they did of those Territories, over which they triumphed by a false title: Yea Greece herself how vainly soever she boasted thereof, yet seized she only upon the shadow, not seeing the substance: So as upon the matter diverse have possessed others with that conceit, being first deceived themselves; and are obliged to the restitution of an ill acquired reputation. Many of our friends have fallen into the like errors; I will not name them, fearing to astonish at the first sight, all such to whom you shall show this Letter; or lest I should publish odious truths. It shall suffice I tell you by the way, that if to attain perfect Eloquence, it sufficed only to weary our hands with Writing, none could therein any way compare with our Practitioners and Pen-clarkes. Yet is there not any reason why those who perform poor things, should draw their weakness to their own advantage, or imagine I flatter them. A man is as well damned for one single deadly sin, as for a thousand without repentance; nor is it the strength of their judgement, which hinders them from committing many faults, but the only barrenness of their wits which enables them not to write▪ many books. I might enlarge myself upon this subject, and discover diverse secrets unto you, the world is not yet acquainted with. But I have neither time nor paper left, save only to tell you that I am  
Sir, Your most humble servant, BALZAC.   

Another Letter from Balzac to the same man.  
LETTER IX.  
IVnderstand some have taxed me for saying (in my last Letter unto you) the spirits of Angels; since Angels being all Spirits, it seemed unto them to be two inseparable terms: But to let such men see how ill grounded their Objection is, (and I suppose our judgements will herein agree) it may please them to remember, that we call Angels Spirits, to distinguish them from bodies, being a far different signification from what the word Spirit importeth, when we take it for that part of the soul which understandeth, reasoneth, and imagineth, and which causeth so different effects in the soul of a fool, and that of a discreet person. Questionless (even among Angels themselves) there may be a difference found between the spirits of some, and other some of them, to wit, in the faculty of Ratiotination and Comprehension: Since those of the last order are not illuminated, but by means of them of the precedent ranks, and so of the rest even to the first; which have a far more sublime intelligence than the inferior Orders, which as no man (how smally soever seen in the Metaphisiques) will doubt of) come as far short of the understanding the first Order is endued with, as they do of their degree. We are therefore to admit of this difference, and say, that an Angel is doubtless a Spirit, to wit, he is not a Body: but withal that an Angel hath moreover a spirit, namely, this faculty of knowing, and conceiving either lesser, or more large, according to the privilege of his Order. So as if a Spirit hath no other signification than a simple and incomposed substance, this inequality were not to be found among the Angels, being equally simple, and far from all composition and mixture. When then I say it was a wrong done to Angels to call any other Spirits divine save only theirs: I take the word Spirit in its second signification, and thereby separate it from the Angel, and distinguish the simple substance, and nature angelical from that faculty of the Soul termed the understanding. But that one may not say, the spirit of Angels, because they are all spirit, is a reason very reprovable, and whereto there wanteth nothing but verity to make it no untruth; for that besides the spirit or understanding affording to Angels so eminent a knowledge of divine things, they are likewise endued with will, causing them to love what they know, and with memory daily adding something to their natural intellect. But admitting I should yield to whatsoever these my reprehendors would have, and that I limit the word Spirit within the bounds of its first signification, I should still have the better of it. For in truth our ordinary manner of conception cannot possibly represent Angels without bodies, yea, and the Church itself affordeth them so fair, beautiful, and perfect ones, that from thence the best Poets ordinarily pick their Comparisons to pourtraite the rarest beauties. Besides, if in holy Writ, mention be often made of the Spirit of God, even before he assumed our corporal substance, and in a sense which could not be understood of the third person in Trinity, why may not I as justly speak of the spirits of Angels, being in comparison of God's Spirit, no better than earth, and material; and which approacheth not by many degrees unto the simplicity and purity of this maiesteriall cause, being as the Mother to all the rest. You see here, that (howsoever) it is very dangerous to study by half parts, or to understand some small matter more than those who never were at School; yet is it out of such men as these, that Novellists and superstitious persons are raised; yea, and all the rest, who have reason enough to doubt, but not science sufficiently to determine rightly.  
BALZAC.   

To Mounsieur de Bois Robert from Balzac.  
LETTER X.  
SIR,  
YOu have anticipated what I intended to say, and have not left for me in all Rhetoric, either compliment or commendations to return you. This is to force ingratitude by excess of obligation, and to reduce me to the necessity of being indebted unto you after I be dead. In truth it were necessary I had the power to promise you felicity and Paradise, in requital of the vows and sacrifices you offer unto me, and that I were in case to be your advocate, instead of being thus put to a stand to answer you. It may be you have a mind in such sort to disguise me to myself, as I shall not hereafter know who I am, but be forced to forget my own name, by causing me to imagine I am not the same man I was yesterday. Proceed at your pleasure to deceive me in this sort, for I am resolved not to contest with you in this kind, to the world's end: nor to arm myself against an enemy, who only throws Roses at my head. I should be very glad all my life would pass in such pleasing Dreams, and that I might never awake, for fear of knowing the truth to my prejudice. But for the attaining this happiness, it is necessary I do quite contrary to your advice, and never quit my Countryhouse, where none comes to enter into comparisons, or contest with me, for the advantage I have over bruit beasts, or my Lackeys. I agree with you that it is the Court-voice which either approveth or condemneth all, and that out of its light, things though never so perfect, have no appearance: But I know not whether it were my best, to make that my own case; since I fear lest my presence there, will rather prejudice my reputation and your judgement, then make good your position. Upon the matter, if there be any tolerable parts in me, they appear so little outwardly, as I had need have my breast opened to discover them: And in conclusion you will find it a sufficient obligation for me, to have you think my soul is more eloquent than my discourse, and that the better part of my virtue is concealed: Yet since my promise is past, I must resolve for Paris, though it prove as strange a place unto me, as if I were out of the World, or as though they should chase raw Courtiers thence, as they do corrupt Statesmen. To tell you plainly how the case stands, I am none of those who study the slightest actions of their lives, and who use Art in all they do, or do not. I cannot light upon that accent, wherewith they authorize their follies, nor make of every mean matter a mystery by whispering it in the ear: And less do I know how to palliate my faults; or make show of an honest man, if really I be not so: Now though I could make myself capable of these Arts, yet would it anger me shrewdly, if after having passed nine Ports, and abidden many backe-casts to get thither, to be at last stayed at the Tenth: Nay, should I chance to get admittance; what a hell were it for me to come into a Country where Hats are not made to cover heads, and where all men grow crooked with extreme cringeing. Consider therefore, whether this humour of mine would suit with the place where you are; or if a man whose points and garters seem ponderous unto him, and who finds it a difficult matter to obey God's Commandments, and the King's Edicts, can be drawn to be obliged to new laws, or procure to himself a third servitude. In the state wherein I now am, all the Princes in the World act Comedies to make me sport. I enjoy all the riches of Nature, from the Heavens to river-waters, and I easily obtain of my moderate spirit, what I cannot attain unto by the liberality of Fortune. This being thus, will you persuade me to change those benefits none envy, with your fears, hopes, and suspicions; or not think it fit I value liberty, for which the Hollanders have made War (now this fifty years) against the King of Spain? But since I have passed my word, I am not resolved to revoke it; yet when I must needs bid adieu to my Woods and solitary places, which have taught me so many good things, and quit this enchanted Palace of mine, where all my thoughts are real inspirations; I shall have a great conflict within me, to keep my word with you. I will believe none but yourself, who best know whether or no I have reason to love this prison my Father builded for me, or this little spot of Land, where there is no defect but a Fountain of Gold, and other unnecessary things; there being else sufficient here to satisfy a sober person; I must confess the last great reins have blemished all the beauty abroad: And Winter which by right should be condemned never to depart from Swedland, is already come to cross the content I formerly enjoyed: But howsoever, there are yet pleasing remedies to avoid these present incommodities. The perfumes I burn, and whereof I am as prodigal, as though I exacted tribute from the Countries from whence they come, maketh me the less to miss the sweetness of the Spring: And a great fire resembling the brightest beauty, which I term the Sun of the night, and dark days, watcheth at all hours in my Chamber, and giveth light to my rest, as well as to my Studies. Before this witness (which I never loose sight of) all Nature is the subject of my meditation▪ and I conceive works, which happily may merit a place in your Library, and to be chosen Citizens of that divine Republic. I know not what men do most esteem in books, but I am confident, that in this I compose, justice and Majesty, shall appear so evenly tempered, as none shall therein find any thing either savouring of cowardice or cruelty. I take and make use of the art of Ancients; as they would have done from me, had I been the first man living. But I have no servile dependency upon their conceptions, nor am I borne their vassal, to follow no other laws or examples, save theirs: To the contrary (if I deceive not myself) my invention is far more happy than my imitation; and as there have been in our age diverse new Stars discovered, till this present unperceived; so I in matter of Eloquence, seek out singularities, hitherto unknown to any. It is certain, and you know it as well as myself, you who know good things when you see them, and who are the Author of diverse; that there are none so severe Muses as the French, nor any tongue more hating affectation, and bare appearances of things than ours. All kind of ornaments therefore are not proper for her: and her purity is at such odds with the exorbitant licence of other languages, that a French vice in this kind, is often made a foreign virtue. But (in this case) we are to take advice of the understanding and ear; and for my part, I have for my pattern herein, the Idea of the great Cardinal of Richelieu, as though he were present and privy to my conceptions, or as if he at all times received or rejected them, as they happen to be either good or otherwise: But to tell you the truth, I know not well which way I pass by this tedious and untrodden path, or what use I intent to make of these so many impertinent speeches. But I am as often out of my way, in the allies of my hermitage, and I have many times much use of a man, to let me know whether it be day or night, and to order my times and actions; yet would I have you know, I do not usually fall into such errors, but only before such as I love and honour, as I do you; at all other times, be it in my visits, or in my Letters; I will be well advised, how I suffer the end to come far short of the Exordium; and from the first word, I make all the haste I may to come to  
Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 11. of February, 1624.   

To Mounsieur Girard, Secretary to the Duke of Espernon.  
LETTER XI:  
LEt me entreat you, that we may deface out of our intended History whatsoever hath passed these last four Months, let us imagine that time to have happened in some fabulous age, and (for our mutual content) let us herein learn the Art of Oblivion. Had I been constrained to quit our ancient acquaintance, being of equal age to either of us▪ and whereof I make as great account as of my Father's inheritance; surely I had been driven to the like straits, as he who with one hand should be forced to cut off the other. It is then the necessity of my inclination, which forceth me to affect Philander, though he were mine enemy: and this passion doth so please me, that should any man cure me thereof, I would commense suit with him for my former malady. I will not accuse any man for the fault committed: Let us both imagine it to be a Child without a Father, and to clear all men, let us lay it up among the present miseries, and impute it to the power of fortune. I will rather suppose it to be the last effect of the Comet, then impute it to any act of your spirit, or that you contrived the discontent I have endured. I swear upon whatsoever is August or Sacred amongst men, I have no less loved you then my self, and have equally shared myself between my brother and Philander. Hence▪ forward I desire to do the like. But let us leave all these fair words, and petty niceties to poor spirits, and hereafter confer together with such liberty as Philosophy affordeth us. But above all things I entreat you not to suffer a supposed wisdom to restrain you within particular respects and petty considerations, which may hinder you from speaking high in what concerns me. Fear not to show yourself my sure friend, for it is neither theft, nor throat-cutting; and of the two extremities of defect and excess, it is better to fall into the fairest and least faculty. Otherwise if Friendship should never appear, but remain at all times as a recluse, what better use can we draw thence then of hatred alike hidden? and at the worst what use is there to be made thereof, but only for the pleasure of conversation, and necessity of commerce? But I will leave this discourse whereof I hope you have no use, to ask you some news or the little man you sometimes see, and who imagineth the King bereaveth him of all such offices as he bestoweth upon Mounsieur de Luynes. I make no question but he daily tormenteth both soul and body, for that he is not always at his Master's elbow, nor is so ordinarily seen at the Loover, as the steps of the great stairs, or the Swisses Hall. Threescore and ten years of experience have not sufficed to settle his spirit, and he who should observe his discourse without knowing him, instead of supposing his beard to be siluer-haired, would rather think he had cast flower on his face; yet are we to confess, he is one of the rarest Court-peeces, and that it is no small sport to see him in a chafe against the State, and the age we live in, which he maliceth more than he doth his creditors. Make quiet use of so pleasing a diversion, and remember the World could not end, nor Nature be perfect, if there were not as well such men as there are Apes and Monkeys.  
The 13. of November, 1623.   

To the same from Balzac.  
LETTER XII.  
SIR,  
I Beseech you reserve your counsel for those who are not as yet resolved; and go persuade the Count Maurice to marry, and beget Captains for another age. As for me, I love both solitariness and society, but will not be continually tied to either. If my Father had been of my mind, I had remained where I was before he got me. I imagine the party you desire to bestow on me, is fair; but stay awhile, and she will not be so: She is no fool; but happily more witty than is necessary for an honest woman to be: She is rich, but my liberty is unprizeable. So as to make me alter my resolution, there is no other means then an express commandment from God, with this proposition, either of death, or a wife. Those creatures at Paris are ordinarily so cunning, and well practised, they find nothing strange the first night they are married: and here, they have not wit enough to give their bodies right motion; but in all places they make men alike miserable, as do Fevers, War, or Poverty. To tell you freely how the matter stands, I will not daily disturb myself in telling my Mistress' hairs, for fear she should bestow them as favours upon her familiars; or to be jealous lest all the women who come to see her, were young men disguised. I cannot endure, that in my absence she and her gallant drink to the health of their Cuckold, and that I be the subject of all their chat. And on the other side, it were far worse, were she chaste, yet a scowl, and to be troubled with an enemy to assault me day and night. I rather affect a tractable vice, than a tyrannical virtue: But if there be any other remedy, I will not be reduced to such straits, as to choose the least of evils; since there is not any of this nature, I esteem not unsufferable. In a word Philander, my neighbour's example doth not alittle terrify me: he hath begotten so many dumb, blind, and deformed creatures, he is able to furnish a reasonable Hospital. I will not be bound to love Monsters, because they are mine, and were I assured not to be defective in this kind, I could well forbear having children; who if they be wicked, will desire my death; if wise, expect it; if the honestest living, yet will they now and then reflect upon it. But it may be (you will say) if my resolution were generally received, the Sea should be no longer charged with ships, and the Land would become desert. To this Philander I answer, that since the World is not always to endure, it were far better to have virtue become its Catastrophe, than any thing else; since it cannot find a more fair and honest conclusion, than a general abstinence in this kind.  
BALZAC. The 7 of April, 1625.   

To Philander from Balzac.  
LETTER XIII.  
SIR,  
SInce these be the particular days appointed for Devotion: we being now in the season of public Ecclesiastical mourning, and it importing every man to apply himself in the affairs of his conscience; you must excuse me, if I be short in my conversation with you in this kind, and keep all my discourse for my Confessor. It were strange we should herein do less than the Bells, who are now all dumb, or trouble the commerce contracted between God and man, only to tell idle Stories. Let us therefore (I pray you) surcease all sorts of news, and not mingle any profane matter with this holy Week, which desireth to be as pure as a Virgin. The high Feast we are falling upon, will set us at liberty, after which, instead of three Letters you have written unto me, I am contented to return you six answers  
On Goodfriday, BALZAC.   

To the same from Balzac.  
LETTER XIIII.  
YOur plaints are both right eloquent, and very unjust: I can at least well assure you, my thoughts are not so often here, as where you are, and if my Letters come not so far, it is because they can find none to carry them. But by these presents I purpose rather to rejoice with you for the recovery of your health, then to afflict myself unseasonably. Things past are to be reckoned as nothing, and what happened yeasterday, is as far from us as the life of Charlemagne. Wherefore, I who have a perfect experience of worldly affairs, would as soon comfort you for the loss you received by the death of your great Grandfather, (so many years dead before you were borne) as for the late danger of your Fever, since it is now gone. The best is, the Physicians have not so far exhausted you, but there yet remains blood sufficient, to bestow part thereof in your Mistress' service, and to fill the world with your offences; so long as the ruins of your head may be repaired, and your beauty bud again with the next Roses, there is nothing lost hitherto; but indeed if instead of your former head, you carried the figure of a rusty Murrain or rotten Pompion, I should much pity you in such a plight, and would presently add you to the number of decayed buildings. Now when all is done Philander, it is but a little water and earth mingled together, we study to conserve with all the maxims of wisdom, and all the rules of Physic. Let us reflect I pray you, upon our better part, and hereafter labour as well to cure ourselves of Vice, as of the Fever. It is that image of God we defaced by our own hands, we ought to repair; and our first innocency is the thing it behoveth us to ask at his hands, rather than our former health. For my part, I am absolutely resolved to lead a new life, and to take no other care but for my soul's health, and to procure the same for others. And truly it were far better to consecrate this great Eloquence of ours to his glory, who gave it us, then to employ it in commending fools, and in making our selves to be praised among children. The P. E. whom happily you know, and who hath one of the best, and most polite wits of all his company, confirms me all he can in this my design, and every hour of his company is as much to me, as eight days of reformation; yet is he not a man who professeth that pale virtue which affrighteth all men, and is incompatible with humane infirmities: but quite contrary, he flattereth me in reprehending my errors, and instead of the penance I deserve, he is contented to enjoin me honest recreations. Your brother will tell you more, about eight days hence, and will give you an account both of my actions and intentions; believe him as truth itself; and beside, assure yourself further upon my word, he is worth some Doctor and an half, and hath a good wit, without speaking of his zeal and virtue.  
BALZAC. The 17 of january. 1623.   

To Olympa from Balzac.  
LETTER XV.  
I Am much troubled to find the cause of your tears; to impute them to the death of your Husband, is happily but the bare pretext. It is not to be imagined that Death which causeth the most beautiful things to become offensive to the day's brightness, and affrighteth those who formerly admired them; should make that man pleasing unto you, who was never so to any. Yet you seem with him to have lost all, and do so cunningly counterfeit the afflicted, I can hardly believe what I see: Can it be possible, you should be thus pestered to support your good fortune with patience, or be really so sorrowful for the loss of a poor gouty fellow, whose overlong living I should rather have thought it fit to comfort you? But if this be not thus, what do you with all this great mourning, wherein you plunge yourself, and this midnight never removing from your Chamber? I must confess I was never more astonished, then to find such an Equipage of sadness about you, accompanied with such elaborate actions, and so constrained countenances; and without jesting Olympia, (after this I have seen) there remaineth nothing for the full expression of a feigned passion, but only to wear black smocks, and to be attended by Moors. Yet is it time, or never to return to your right senses, and to conclude your Comedy, let me entreat you to leave off all these sour faces to fools. Cast off this black veil which hinders me from seeing you, and consider that five foot of ground, is worth you two thousand pounds by the year. To raise such a rent, the revenues of half some Kingdom were hardly sufficient; nor can you tax me for not speaking herein the truth, since I have it from your own mouth. Is it not almost incredible, so small a corner of earth, should yield so large a revenue. I doubt not but diverse will suppose it bears Pearls or Diamonds. But I had almost forgot the most important business▪ I am to impart unto you, and where upon I first intended to write. I must therefore say, you are to have a special care, never to repair the loss you have lately received; assuring yourself there is no one man in the world worthy to enjoy you privatively: you shall be answerable for those excellent qualities Nature and Art have conferred upon you for the commanding of men, if you say you cannot live without submitting yourself to one. Herein Olympa, you ought not suffer the vain ambition to be wife to a great Signior to transport you, or the advantage of entering into the Loover in Carroch, to cause you quit the happiness you have to be Queen of your selfe▪ How much gold soever one bestow in fetters, and how glorious soever the scruitude be, yet assure yourself they are but a couple of bad matters. Of late there was not any part of your body, whereof another was not master, he would examine your very Dreams and thoughts: It was not in your power to dispose of one single hair, nay he rob you of your very name. See here Olympa, what it is to have a Husband, and what you torment yourself for with such prodigal tears. Methinks it were all you could, or aught to do were he revived; or if the news of his death were doubtful.  
Yours, BALZAC. The 22. of july, 1622.   

To Crysolita from Balzac.  
LETTER XVI.  
I Must needs disabuse you Crysolita, and inform you better in the History of that old Haxtris, you supposed to be a very Saint. First, you are to understand, she is extracted out of her mother's sins, nor was ever any Virginity so brittle, as that she brought into this world. It is very likely she hath lost all remembrance of any such matter: But people of those days, stick not openly to affirm, that the first time she had liberty to go abroad, (at her coming home) she missed her gloves and Maidenhead. After this, her beauty augmenting with riper years, she drew the eyes of all Italy upon her; and sold that fifty times at Court, she had formerly lost at School: But since then, she is arrived to an experience, far surpassing that of the Lord Chancellor, or the Pope's Datary: and when I shall tell you, she knoweth whether there be more pleasure in a circumcised Courtesan, then in a Christian; and that she hath experienced the activity of Jndians and Musconites, yet shall I relate but half the story. So it is, that now after she hath filled▪ Limbo with her paricidiall lechery, and been threescore years a Lectoresse in vice, she would make you confident of her conversion: Yet am I credibly informed, that not having now any thing worth the losing, she is turned Solicitress, to entice others to vice; nor is there any chastity can escape her, if it take not sanctuary in the Carmolites. She cannot endure there should be one honest woman in the whole City; this angering her as much, as though the rob her, or had declared herself her enemy. Yet is this the Saint you so much talk of C●●solita, and the very same old Madam, from whom you promised me so many miracles. Now I, who know her very heart, write unto you, what hereafter you ought to believe: for let her make what show she will, yet I know she is as far from her conversion, as from her youth. The Capuchins themselves could not cause her to pass her word to turn honest woman the next grand jubilee; for instead of a better answer, she plainly told them, she had not as yet dispatched her business, and could well stay till another, which will happen about eight and twenty years hence.  
BALZAC. From Rome the 5. of February, 1622.   

To Clorinda from Balzac.  
LETTER XVII.  
Clorinda,  
FOr that I am not in your conceit sufficiently punished with my Fever, you belike think it fitting, I should yet be further afflicted with Love; so as there is nothing wanting to end my good fortune, but only a lawsuit and a quarrel. In this very place, designed for repose and joy, I continually burn, I tell each hour, and my dreams are full of distractions. Yet after all this, you suppose you much oblige me in wishing me every night good rest, as though it were not in your power to give it me. I had once a Master of your humour: he had means enough to procure my advancement, yet he supposed it sufficient to wish me well, and that I ought to rest satisfied, so long as he said, I deserved a good fortune. I know not whether it be your intention to usemee in this manner: but howsoever I cannot take it ill, though you mock me, since you do it so handsomely. Advise me if you think good, to seek for a quiet life in Germany; cast me headlong down some Cliff, and then say God guide me; wish me a good night out of your chamber, all this concerns not me Clorinda. If I receive injuries from you, I am no longer in state to take notice of them. Yet I should think you might be somewhat more sensible of my sorrows, and at least to show yourself pitiful towards me, though you reserve your affections for some other. It is no generous act to kill a sick person, there is not any so common a Quacksalver but can do as much. And in conclusion Clorinda, all the honour you will attain unto herein after my death, is only to have had some small force more than my linger Fever.  
BALZAC. In my Bed the 20. fit of my Fever.   

Another Letter to Clorinda, from BALZAC.  
LETTER XVIII.  
WE are not separated either by Seas or Mountains: your lodging and mine touch, yet▪ find I it an impossibility to see you. If you were at japan, or in the Kingdom of China, I would resolve myself for those places, and I should find some Bark or other bound for that voyage: think not I dissemble, there is not any shelue in all the Sea, nor hazard to undergoo in so dangerous a voyage, whereof I have not less apprehension, than the meeting this little brother of yours. But it may be it is yourself, who make these difficulties, I suppose, to arise elsewhere. You are glad you want no pretext, on purpose to vex me when you please. If it be so Clorinda, let me be so much obliged unto you, as to conceal it. I had far rather be deceived, then know the truth to my prejudice: Either my company is troublesome unto you, or you reserve your favours for some other friend. Howsoever, I am contented to believe your Mother is sick, and that you cannot quit her Chamber: there are no excuses so counterfeit, I accept not for currant, so long as they relieve my spirits: Considering the power you have over me, it is a small matter to satisfy yourself in making me conceive the best. Yet must I thank you Clorinda, for violating justice so formerly, and feigning reasons with purpose to err punctually. By this means you will not suffer me so much as to soeme miserable, and you cozen me so cunningly, I can neither bemoan myself, nor beshrew you▪ Yet is it impossible I can for ever conceal my sensibilities: What violence soever I offer to my humour, it can no longer be contained. To be short Clorinda, if you loved me as you say, you would not live with me in the fashion you do; but I should receive from you real favours, not vain appearances; and say what you will, we shall meet alone once in our lives: I beseech you, let not this word affright you, for if any should find us in this manner, none will imagine we conspire against the King, or suspect I read Magic to you. Innocent actions carry their warrant with them, nor is there any necessity that two cannot be together without making a third. Believe me Clorinda, if we shut ourselves for three hours into a private chamber, the most slanderous will only imagine, I either let you see the errors you are in, or that you administer some medicine unto me for my Fever.  
BALZAC. The 15. of April, 1620.   

To Clorinda from Balzac.  
LETTER XIX.  
I Know not whether I should term it slackness, or patience, the small resistance I make against the displeasures you do me; it may be, you are resolved to see how far my fidelity will extend, and to extort the utmost proofesthereof: yet is it better Clorinda to endure injustice, then to act it, and to be rather the Martyr, than the Tyrant. Show your wit, I beseech you, by inflicting daily new torments upon me, and avoid all occasions of obliging me, with as much care as I seek those to serve you. I have prepared my spirits against all the bad occurrents can happen that way. There is nothing I cannot endure, if it comes from you, your slighting me only excepted: But herein I must tell you, I am so tender, as I am wounded with the least touch. I would not purchase the King's favour, if he afford it me in rough terms; nor would I accept of his Graces, were I forced to gain them with the foregoing the thing I affect more than his Kingdom. You understand me sufficiently what I mean hereby, and the just occasion I have to complain; but still you will have me in the wrong, nor do I doubt, but you will accuse me of your crime: But speak truly, have you no apprehension, that he whom you have so often injured, shall at length grow weary of his sufferings, and lest he should lose all fear, together with his hopes. You might consider Clorinda, that I am not possessed with slight passions, and how yourself hath told me ere now; that if God should arm me with thunder when I am angry, within four and twenty hours there would be neither Towers nor Pavilions standing in any place: Wherefore to second your conceit; know (if that were) one while the fire should fall upon all jealous persons, and by and by burn all the Mothers and little Brothers in a whole Province. And dou btlesse, if I did you no harm, yet would I put you into such a fright, you should be forced to hide yourself under ground, and come to meet me in some Cane. But I gain much by these glorious brags, or by my seeming feverity: I assure myself, you mock me and my threats. It is long since I have showed you the way how to catch me, and you know the means how to reduce me to my former duty: I must confess I am not of sufficient force to contest with Clorinda: her kisses have power to expel all spleen, even out of the spirit of an Italian Prince, for the greatest injury can be offered him. Nay, they would force the Duke de maine to forsake his Arms in the hottest of his Martial conflicts: Wherefore I pray you, let us agree upon a business, which of necessity must be concluded: how disaduantagious soever the peace be, I treat of with you, yet shall I at all times gain that which otherwise I should lose in your absence. I have therefore presented my complaints, with purpose to receive satisfactions: I am angry only to the end you may appease me. I will tell you to morrow, that I am come to oblige you, to take the pains to receive me.  
BALZAC. The 17. of April 1620.   

To Clorinda from Balzac.  
LETTER XX.  
I See well Clorinda, I do but lose my labour, and that it were an easier matter to turn ice into coals, then to kindle love in you: All I can say, makes no impression in your thoughts, you will not so much as hear reason, because it resteth on my side. Well Clorinda, I must resolve myself for the worst of events, and stay the time till your wrinkles afford me revenge for all the wrongs you have done me. Think not this tyrannical power of your beauty, will last to the world's end. Time which overturneth Empires, and prescribeth limits to all things, will use you as it doth the rest of fair workemanships. I pray have patience, if I take upon me to tell you this bad news; for I am not to day in the humour to flatter any. Though it would raise choler in you, yet must I say, you will grow stale, and be then no more what you now are. I doubt not of your sighs when you reflect upon this change, or that your very imagination is not sensible of some sorrow; yet shall this happen Clorinda, there is not an hour passeth, which impairs not some part of your face. But the time will come, when your Looking▪ glass will more scare you, than a judge doth a Felon: your fore▪ head will fly to the crown of your head; your cheeks will fall beneath your chin, and your eyes of those days, shall turn of the same colour your lips are at this hour. I could willingly wish out of my love unto you, my relation were not so true as it is. But since I have quitted all complacency, there is no means to make me silent. Glorinda, the Sun is still beautiful, though ready to set; and the Autumn agreeable, though sprinkled with some Snow, but we enjoy no happy years, but the first of youth: And be as careful of yourself as is possible, yet can you not conserve your complexion, and acquire experience. Will you have me say more, and acquaint you with what I understood by a stranger, with whom I have conversed all this day? You are to know there is not any part of the world so remote, whither his curiosity hath not carried him, nor rarity in Nature, he hath not carefully observed: He hath seen Mountains which burn perpetually without diminishing▪ he hath landed in Lands, never resting in one place; he hath seen natural Seamen; but he swore unto me, how among all these miracles, he never yet saw a beautiful old woman. The Moral hereof is, that you must make use of your youth, and gather Nosegays before the Roses wither. None knows better than yourself, that to be fair, is to reign without having need either of Guards or Forts. You see you are the world's ambition, no man desiring further happiness than Clorinda: but think not to continue this absolute authority, or this general esteem, by other means than you compassed them; and assure yourself, that when you have no further attractions than an eloquent tongue, no man will seek for them among the furrows of your face. A woman had need be perfectly provided of virtue, to repair the ruins of her beauty. All the wit and experience in the world is fruitless, when she falls into this state, nor can any thing hinder her from being hated, but only to change Sex. Remember then Clorinda, not to expect to live, when you are as good as dead; nor do not spend that time in deliberating, which should be employed in doing. You are now of years both to give, and receive contentment, and we are in the Month, wherein each creature turneth amorous; not excepting Lions, Tigers, or Philosophers. I entreat you therefore, not to show yourself the sole insensible creature in the world: suffer yourself to be convinced by reason, since you cannot resist the same but to your own disadvantage: You have no subject to be suspicious of what I say; for I advice you to nothing Clorinda, wherein I would not willingly join with you in the accomplishment.  
BALZAC. The 3. of May, 1620.   

Another Letter to Clorinda from Balzac.  
LETTER XXI.  
CLorinda, your Religion must needs be amiss, otherwise I should see you now and then at Church: But I think it were an easier matter to convert a whole Nation, then to dispose you to give me content. The cause why you persist in your own opinion, is, because it is opposite to mine. Well then, I must depart without speaking with you, and am barred from affording to my affection, what good manners would have exacted ofme, though I had not loved you: Truly I know not in what manner to suffer so wounding a displeasure, nor am I so well acquainted with myself, as to pass my word for him I speak of in this occasion▪ All I can say unto you Clorinda, is, that the only way to rid me out of my pain, is to perform the thing I have so often proposed unto you, and to make yourself capable of a strong resolution. Never did any Prince enterprise a more glorious voyage, then mine shall be, if you will make one: and truly, I see not why you should make any difficulty herein, the longer youriourney is, the further shall you be removed from tyranny▪ It is a Monster you ought to fly from, even to the world's end, and with whom to be in peace, is dangerous: Will you fear to come into the Country of Comedies, Painting, and Music; or into a place where women are by many as highly esteemed as Saints? with out flattering you, I must affirm, you shall seem overmuch to neglect your own quiet, if you let slip so favourable an occasion to procure it. It is time Clorinda, you make it appear what you are, and that we begin the History of our adventures. If you love, all things will be easy for you; there is no more difficulty to pass the Alps, then to go up into your Chamber: Nor doubt you that the Sea-waters will become sweet, if you be not satisfied in that they be smooth. But I am much afraid I shall not receive from you the satisfaction I expect. You will tell me (as you use) we must let Nature work, and that she will soon revenge us of our enemies▪ I suppose Clorinda, all this may happen, but it is no reason we should be obliged to the Tyrant's death for our liberty, but to our own resolutions.  
BALZAC. The 30. of july, 1620.   

To Lydia from Mounsieur Balzac.  
LETTER XXII.  
I Am almost mad to understand thou wert seen laugh to day. Is this true love Lydia to be merry in my absence? and to be the same woman thou art, when I am with thee? Yet should I have been satisfied, hadst thou been contented only to have made thyself merry with thy lookingglass, so the man in iron had not been in my place. I never saw him but once, and surely he is either a Sot, or else all the rules of Phyhognomy are false: yet because he calls himself Captain, thou permits him to persecute thee with his Compliments, and art at the point to yield. If he touch thee Lydia, all the water in the Sea is little enough to purify thee; and if thou allowest him the rest, have a care, least in his sleep, he take thee for an Enemy, and instead of his embraces, strangle thee.   

To the Baron of Amblovile from BALZAC.  
LETTER XXIII,  
My LORD.  
I Attend you here in the season of Jasmins and Roses, and do send you a taste of the pleasures of Rome, for fear you be poisoned therewith, upon your first approach. We are here in the Country of curiosities, and to be happy in this place, it sufficeth not to be blind. The Sun hath yet heat enough to ripen us Reasins, and to afford us Flowers: all the Winter falls upon the neighbouring Mountains, to the end we may not want Snow in August. But if you desire I should divert my Discourse unto more serious matters, & conceal nothing from you: I must tell you, there is no place under Heaven, where Virtue is so near a Neighbour to Vice, or where Good is so mingled with Evil: We here behold miracles on the on side, and monsters on the other; and at the same time when some Discipline themselves, others run to debauches of all kinds. Besides, there is as profound a peace here, as in that part of the Air elevated above the Winds and Storms. Idleness in this place, is an honest man's ordinary Vocation; and to save half the World, no man will rise hastily from Table, for fear of troubling digestion. If you chance to see any with scars in their faces, do not thereupon imagine they have purchased them either in Wars, or in defence of their honour, for these are only their Mistress' favours; but in recompense of such refractory humours, you shall see that here, the sanctity whereof doth illustrate the whole Church. It is their fervent prayers which impetrate all advantages over Enemies: It is their fastings which cause fruitfulness to flow upon the Earth: It is their innocency which conserveth the culpable from Eternal ruin. In a word, there are here such excellent examples of Virtue, and so enticing allurements to Vice, that I will not marvel if you turn honest man here, and I will likewise willingly pardon you, if you do not so. Truly, as new Spain is the Province of gold; and as Africa affords Lions, and France soldiers; so is Italy the mother of those things you best love. When you shall see these Female Creatures in their own Country, and compare their beauty with the bad fashion of the masculine Italians, I doubt not, but it will seem to you, aswel as to myself, these divine Women to have been created by themselves, or to be Queens who have married their Grooms. The most part of those beyond the Mounts, have no more beauty than needs must, to excuse them from being esteemed ugly; and if there be some one whose face you could fancy, this shall happily be some desolate Palace, or some well favoured beast. But here (for the most part) they are borne Eloquent; and I will tell you before hand, that in one and the same person, you shall find both your Master and Mistress. For my part, I ingeniously confess, I do no longer live under Clorinda's regency, and all that is permitted me in this place, is only sometimes to honour her memory. I expect you should at this passage accuse me of levity and disloyalty, and that you could willingly revile me. But do you not think my sighs must needs be surbated, in going every day four hundred leagues? Besides, being so far from her as I am, what know I, whether I love a dead body, or an Infidel. I have not received any favours from her, which are not rather marks of her virtues, than demonstrations of her love. And had she lost all her liberality in that kind, she could hardly miss it. I am therefore only obliged to my word, not to her affection. And as for that, I should over-esteeme her, if I made more reckoning thereof, than some Princes do of theirs, and I should show myself over superstitious, if I valued what I only whispered in her care, to be of greater efficacy than Letters Patents and Edicts. It is a point decided in Onids' Theology, that an hundred false Oaths from an amorous person, amount not to half a deadly sin, and that it is only the God of Poets whom we offend by our perjury in that point. Now I will be judged by herself, whether I having bestowed my service upon her, she should take it ill if another did reward me; or that I love rather to be happy, then otherwise; or desire rather to possess Lucretia, then to desire Clorinda. Will she have her tyranny extend even to the Church's patrimony, and that the Pope share his temporal authority with her? I do not believe she hath any such pretensions. For my part, I would she knew I can no longer behold any beauty but naked, nor receive any but warm & moist kisses. I will tell you the rest upon the banks of Tiber, and in these precious ruins whither I go to muse once a day, and to tread in their steps who have led Kings in triumph. If there were any means there to find a little of Sylla's good fortune, or of Pompey's greatness, instead of the Medals we now & then meet with, I should have a farther subject to invite you hither. Notwithstanding, if you be yet yourself, and that by solemn vow you have forsaken the world, and the vanities thereof, assure yourself, that it is in this Country where felicity doth attend you: and that being once in this place, you will esteem all those as banished persons, whom you have left behind you in France.  
BALZAC. The 25. of December, 1621.   

To the Count of Schomberg from BALZAC.  
LETTER XXIIII.  
My Lord,  
I Send you the papers you have formerly seen, and whereto you have attributed so much, as I should be ashamed to assent thereto, were it not that I hold it less presumption to believe I have merited the same, then to imagine I can have a flatterer of your fashion. I had need be elevated to a more sovereign fortune than the state of Kings, to expect complacency from a man, who could never be procured to approve evil: and of whose disfavour one can hardly find other cause, than the only truth he hath declared. Howsoever it be, since you are now in Lymosin, and take not any journey in those parts, without having a thousand old debates to reconcile, and as many new ones to prevent, it is very probable, that after so painful an employment, and so great disquiet of mind, my book will fall into your hands, just at such time as you cannot find any thing more tedious unto you, than what you come from treating of: For should I presume that in your pleasant walks of Duretal, where all your minutes are pleasing, and all your hours precious, there could be any time spare for me, and my works; it were as much as to be ignorant of the diversions there attending you; or not to be acquainted with the great affluence of noble company, daily repairing thither, to visit you. But were it so, that you had none with you, save only the memory of your forepassed actions, your solitariness hath no need of books to make it more pleasing; nay, if all this were not, yet if you desire to seek contentment out of yourself, you cannot find any more pleasing, then in the presence of your Children, and particularly of that divine Daughter of yours, from whom I daily learn some miracle. It is therefore in her absence, and in solitary walks, where I have the ambition to find entertainment, and to receive gracious acceptance. In all other places (without presuming either to pass for Orator or Poet:) it shall highly suffice me in being honoured with the assurance that I am  
My Lord, Your most humble Servant, BALZAC. The 25, of May, 1624.   

A Letter from the Count of Schomberg, to Mounsieur de Balzac.  
LETTER XXV.  
SIR,  
THe style you travail in, causeth the Pens of all such who attempt an answer, to fall out of their hands, and Eloquence may so properly be called yours, that it is no marvel though others have but a small share therein. I would therefore have you know, that if I understand any thing in Letters, yours do obscure whatsoever hath hitherto been esteemed of in our Language: and that (without flattering you) there can be no diversion so pleasing, which ought not to give place to the perusing of those Lines you sent me. This occupation is worthy the Cabinets of Kings, and of the richest Ear curtains of France; and not (as you would have it) of my solitary retirements in Lymosin, from whence I am ready to be gone, with resolution never to retire from the affection I have promised you, whence you shall at all times draw effectual proofs, whensoever you please to employ them for your service.  
Sir, Your most affectionate servant, SCHOMBERG. The 1. of june, 1624.    

THE LETTERS OF MOUNSIEUR DE BALZAC.  
To my Lord Mashall of Schomberg.  
THE FOURTH BOOK.  

LETTER I.  
My LORD:  
I Should be insensible of Public good, and an enemy to France, had I not (as I ought) a true taste of the good news your Footman brought me. I will not mention the obligations I owe you, being no small ones, if that be not a slight matter to be esteemed by you: But since I make profession to honour virtue even in the person of one departed, or an enemy; and at all times to side with the right, were there only myself and justice for it, you may please to believe, I complain in your behalf for the miseries of our times, and that I am most joyful to see you at this present, where all the world missed you: Certainly your retirement from Court, hath been one of the fairest pieces of your life, during which, you have made it apparent you are the same in both fortunes: since I can witness, that no one word then passed from you unsuitable to your resolution. Yet this rare virtue being there hidden, in one of the remote corners of the world, having but a very small circuit to dilate itself, must necessarily be contented with the satisfaction of your conscience and slender testimonies: In the mean time the authority of your enemies hath been obnoxious to all honest eyes. There was no means to conceal from strangers the States infirmities, or what reason to afford them for the disgrace of so irreproachable a Minister; nor was there any who grieved not, that by your absence the King lost so many hours & services. For my part, (my Lord) reflecting upon you in that estate, it seemed to me I saw Phidias, or some other of those ancient Artists, their hands bound, and their costly materials, as Marble, Gold, or ivory, taken from them. But now that better time succeed, each thing being again reduced to its place, it is time to rejoice with all good Frenchmen, that you shall no more want matter, and that the King hath at length found how unuseful your absence hath been to his affairs: Truly, be it that he content himselfeto govern his people wisely, or that the afflictions of his poor neighbours set near his heart, and that his justice extend further than his jurisdiction: No man doubts whatsoever he doth, but you shall be one of the principal instruments of his designs, and that as well ▪ Peace, as War have equal use of your Conduct. All men have well perceived, you have not contributed any thing to the administration of the King's treasure, save only your pure spirit, to wit, that part of the soul separated from the terrestrial part, being free from passions, which reasoneth without either loving or desiring; and that you have managed the Riches of the State with as great fidelity, as one ought to govern another man's goods, with as much care as you conserve your own, and with as great scruple as we ought to touch sacred things. But in truth it is no great glory for that man to have been faithful to his Master, who knows not how to deceive any: And did I believe you were only able to abstain from ill, I would barely commend in you the Commencements of Virtue. I therefore pass further▪ and am assured, that neither the fear of death, which you have slighted in all shapes, and under the most dreadful aspects it could possibly appear, nor complacency which often over passeth the best Counsels, to transport itself to the most pleasing ones; nor any private interest which makes us rather regard ourselves, than the Public; shall at all hinder you either from purposing, undertaking, or executing eminent matters, Posterity which will peradventure judge of our age upon the report I shall make, will see more elsewhere than I can here relate, and I shall rest sufficiently satisfied, if you please to do me the honour, as to remember that mine affection is no Child of your prosperity, and how in two contrary seasons I have been equally  
My Lord, Your most humble and most faithful servant, BALZAC.   

To the Bishop of Angoulesme.  
LETTER II.  
SIR,  
I Will no longer complain of my poverty, since you have sent me treasures of Roses, Ambergris, and Sugar; it being of such pleasing commodities, I pretend to be rich, leaving necessary wealth to the Vulgar. Two Elements have jointly contributed the best they have, to furnish matter for your Liberality; and smally valuing either Cold, or Pearls as I do, I could wish for nothing either from Sea, or Land, I find not among your presents. You have bestowed with a full hand what is offered upon Altars, but sparingly, which men reckon by grains, and whereof none (the King of Tunnis excepted) is so prodigal as yourself. In a Word, this profusion of foreign odours you have cast into your Comfitures, obligeth me to speak as I do, and to tell you if you feed all your flockeat this rate, there will not be any one in all your Diocese, who will not cost you more by the day, than the Elephant doth his Master. I see therefore Sir, I am the dearest Child you have under your Conduct, nor should I receive so delicate and precious nourishment from you, did not your affection force you to believe, my life to be more worth than ordinary, and consequently, that it deserveth morecarefully to be preserved then any other. But to return you Compliments for such excellent things, were as much as to undervalue their worth, should I strive to acquit myself that way; our Language is too poor and unable to lend me wherewith to pay you: And since in Homer's judgement the words of the most Eloquent among the Grecians, were esteemed little better than Honey, (the food of Shepherds) there is small probability mine should be comparable to Ambergris and Sugar, the delicacies of Princes. I therefore fear I shall beforced to be all my life time indebted unto you, for the favours I have received from you, and that it must be only in my heart, where I can be as liberal as yourself. But I well know, you are so generous, as to content yourself with this secret acknowledgement, and that in me you affect my naked good-meaning, which must supply the place of those other more fine, and subtle virtues I cannot learn at Court. Truly, as I expect no commendations, being the second perfumes you present me, in that I hold myself unworthy thereof: so do I suppose you cannot refuse me your affection, since it is a kind of deserving it, to be passionately as I am  
Sir, Your most humble and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 25. of December, 1626.   

To Father Garrasso.  
LETTER III.  
Father,  
YOu have found the place whereat I confess I am the most easily surprised, and to oblige me to yield, your Courtesy hath left nothing for your courage to perform: since therefore you employ all your Muses to require my Friendship, and have already paid of your own; I can no longer keep it to myself, but as another man's goods. But if this were not so, my resentments are not of such value with me, as not often to bestow them upon more slender considerations than those were which produced them; nor do my passions so transport me, but that I will at all times remain in the power of Religion and Philosophy. Hitherto I can defend a just cause, but in farther resisting what you desire, I should force right itself to be in the wrong, were it on my side: And out of bare enmity which in some commonwealth hath been tolerated, I should even pass to Tyranny, a thing odious to all men. Since our lives are momentary, it is no reason our passions should be immortal, or that men should glut themselves with revenge, whereof God hath as well forbidden the use, as the excess. It is a thing he hath solely reserved to himself; and since none but he, truly knoweth how to use this part of justice, he would no more put it into the hands of men, than he doth Thunder and Tempests. Let us therefore stop in our first motions, for it is already too much to have begun. Let us not term the hardness of our hearts, Courage: and if you have prevented me in the overture of the peace we treat of, repent not yourself, since you have thereby bereaved me of all the honour there had been in acquiring it. Heretofore Magnanimity and Humility might have been esteemed two contrary things, but since the maxims of Morality have been changed by the principles of Divinity, and that Pagan vices are become Christian virtues, there are even weak actions a man of courage ought to practise; nor is true glory any longer due to those who have triumphed over innocents, but to those Martyrs they have made, and to such persons whom they have oppressed. But to pass from general considerations, to what is particular between you and me, it is no way likely, a religious man would disturb the tranquillity of his thoughts, or quit his conversation with God and Angels, to intermeddle with wicked Mortals, and to make himself a party in our disorders. I should likewise have less reason to seek for an enemy out of the World, wherein there are so many adversaries to dislike, and so many Rebels to subdue. Now (Father) whatsoever opinion you have had, and notwithstanding any thing I have said in the beginning of this Letter. I never intended to commence any real War against you: I have not at all felt the emotion I showed; all my choler being but artificial, when at any time certain of my speeches seemed disaduantagious unto you; so as I freely consent, that what was written to Hydaspe, shall pass as a flash of my brain, and not as any testimony of my belief, only to let men know, I had a desire to show how able I was to contest with truth, if I had no mind to side with it. This science having been sufficiently daring to undertake to persuade, that a Quartan Ague was better than Health: Rhetoric I say, which hath invented praises for Busiris, made Apologies for Nero, and obliged all the people of Rome to doubt whether justice were a good, or bad thing, may yet in these day's exercise itself upon subjects wholly separated from common opinions, and by graceful fictions, rather excite admiration in men's spirits, then exact any credence. It raiseth Fantomes with purpose to deface them. It hath paintings and disguisements, to alter the purity of all worldly things: It changeth sides without levity, it accuseth innocency without calumny: And to say truth, Painters and Stage▪ players are no way culpable of those murders we see represented in Pictures, or presented upon theatres; since therein the most cruel is the most just. None can justly accuse those of falsity, who make certain glasses which show one thing for another: Error in some cases being more graceful than truth. In a word, the life even of the greatest Sages, is not altogether serious, all their sayings are not Sermons, nor is all they write, either their last Testament, or the confession of their Faith. What can I say more? Can you imagine me to be so curious, as to condemn the gust of all that great multitude, who flock to hear you every morning? Are you persuaded that I and the people can never be of one mind? That I will oppose myself to the belief of honest men? to the approbation of Doctors? and to their authority who are eminent above others? No Father; I allow no such liberty to my spirit: assure yourself, I esteem you as I ought. I commend your zeal and learning, yea, were it truer than ever it was, that to compose tedious Volumes, is no less than to commit great sins: Yet if you oblige me to judge of yours by that you sent unto me, I say it is very excellent in its kind, and that I will no way hinder you from obtaining a Rank among the Fathers of these modern ages. But my testimony will not (I hope) become the only fruit of your labours; I wish with all my heart the conversion of Turks and Infidels may crown your endeavours. I am persuaded, all the honour this world can afford, aught to be esteemed as nothing by those who only seek for the advancement of God's glory. I will therefore no farther dilate myself upon this Subject, nor wrong holy things by profaine praises; my intention is only to let you know, I assume not so poor a part in the Church's interest, as not to be extraordinarily well pleased with those who are serviceable thereto, and that I am right glad besides the propension I have to esteem your amity, so powerful a persuasion as Religion is, doth yet further oblige me.  
Yours, BALZAC.   

To the Cardinal of Vallete.  
LETTER FOUR  
My LORD:  
THe Letter you pleased to send me from Rome, caused me to forget I was sick, and I presumed to solace myself after three years of sadness, ever since news was brought me of Lucidors' death, and the success of that fatal combat, wherein you could not but be a loser, on which side soever the advantage happened. My Lord, I doubt not but your spirit though altogether stout and courageous, to support your proper misfortunes, is yet mollified by the relation of their miseries who love you, and where there is question rather of showing your good nature, or your constancy, you will quit one virtue to acquire another. I know well, that in the number of your goods, you reckon your friends in the first rank, allowing only the second place to your dignities, and to fifty thousand Crowns rend which accompanies them; and consequently I assure myself, you believe you are, as it were, grown poor by the loss of a man who had relation unto you. But I am likewise most certain, how after the passing certain unpleasant days out of the love you bore him; and having afforded him sufficient testimonies of your true affection, he now expecting no further acknowledgement or service, you will at length call to mind, that it is the Public to whom you owe your cares and passions, and that you are not permitted farther to afflict a spirit which is no longer yours. Since the misery of this age is so general, as it leaveth no one house without tears, nor any one part of Europe without trouble; and since Fortune is not of power to conserve even her own workemanships, who are many of them fallen to ground: it must needs so happen (my Lord) that being of the world, you are to taste of the fruits it produceth, and that you purchase at some hard rate, the good successes daily attending you. But truly, the place where you are, and the great designs taking you up, may well furnish you with so strong and solid consolations, as they need leave no work for others; and my Eloquence would come too late, should I employ it after your reason, which hath formerly persuaded you, there being now neither precept nor Counsel in all humane wisdom unproposed to your view; and since neither Seneca, nor Epictetus can say any thing save only your thoughts▪ I had much rather send you divertisements no way distasteful, then to present you any remedies which doubtless will prove importunate. These writings (my Lord) here enclosed, shall not enter as strangers into your Cabinet, they will not talk unto you of the five Pradicables of Perphirie, nor of justinian's Nevelles, or the numbers of Algebra▪ But you may there recreate and repose your spirits at your return from Audiences, Congregations, and the Consistory. I could well have bestowed upon them a more eminent title, than what they have. I could out of these composures have framed Apologies, Accusations, and politic discourses; yea, had I pleased never so little to have extended some of my Letters, they might have been called books. But beside, my design, aiming rather to please, then importune, and that I tend to the height of conceptions and not at the abundance of words: When I treat with you, (my Lord) I suppose myself to be before a full assembly; and do propose to myself never to write any thing unto you, which Posterity ought not to read. Now if sometimes from your person I pass to others, or if I commend those whom I conceive are deserving, I assure myself, I therein performing an act of justice, and not ofsubiection: you will be no way displeased with what I do, and well hope, I may conserve your favours without violating humane Laws, or separating myself from civil society.  
Your most humble servant, BALZAC. The 15. of july, 1629.   

To the Cardinal of Vallete:  
LETTER V.  
My Lord,  
THough innocency be the Felicity of the afflicted, and that I find in myself the satisfaction, he can expect who hath not offended, yet can I not so easily comfort myself: And the remedien my Philosophy afford me, are for meaner misfortunes than the loss of your favours. All I can contribute to my consolation out of the assurance I have of mine innocency, is the liberty I have taken to tell you so, and to complain of the injustice you have done me, if you have so much as suffered any to accuse me I need not seek colours to palliate my actions or words: it is sufficiently known, their principal objects have ever been the glory of your name, and the desire to please you: I befeech you likewise to call to remembrance, that hard times have not hindered me from embarking myself where my inclination called me; and that I have served my Lord your Father, when most of his followers were in danger to become his Martyrs. It should seem perchance▪ I stand in need of the memory of what is past, and that I make my precedent good offices appear, to the end to cause them to over way my present offences. No (my Lord) I intent not to make use of what now is not, for the justification of mine actions, nor am I ignorant that never any woman was so vicious, who hath not heretofore been a Virgin, nor criminal, who cannot prescribe some time preceding his bad life. I speak of to day, as well as of heretofore, and do protest unto you, with all the Oaths able to make truth appear holy, and inviolable; that I never had one single temptation against my duty, and that my fidelity is spotless, as (if you so pleased) it might be without suspicion: I must confess that you having declared yourself no way desirous to trench upon my liberty, and that you left it wholly to myself, I have sometimes made use thereof, imagining that without wronging that first resolution, I vowed to your service, it might be lawful for me to have second affections. I will not expect the rack to force me to confess it; I have loved a man whom the misfortunes of Court, and the diverse accidents happening in worldly affairs, have separated from some friends of yours, and have cast him into other interests than theirs. But beside, that he was extracted from a Father, who did not more desire his own good, than your contentment; and since I am most assured how amidst all the forepassed broils, he at all times conserved his inclinations for you. I must needs tell you, I was in such sort obliged unto him, as had he declared War against my King, and against my Country, I could not have chosen any side which had not been unjust: I therefore at this day bewail him with warm tears, and if ever I take comfort in the loss I have sustained, I shall esteem myself the most unworthy, and in grateful person living. Yourself (my Lord) knowing (as you do) how much I owe unto his amity, would sooner adjudge me to die with him, then blame my resentments. I assure myself all my actions are disguised unto you, on purpose to cause you to dislike them▪ Howsoever I will not despair, but the time to come will right me for what is past. You will on day see the wrong you ofter to my innocency, in admitting false witnesses in prciudicethereof, and what you now term my fault, you will then be pleased to say; it was my unhappy fate, or my hard fortune: in the interim, I am resolved to continue in well doing, and though there were no other but my conscience to acknowledge my fidelity yet inviolably to remain  
Your most humble and most faithful servant. BALZAC. The 30. of December, 1626.   

To the Lord Bishop of Nantes.  
LETTER VI.  
SIR,  
AS the bearer hereof can testify the obligations I owe you, so may he bear witness of my perpetual resentments, and will tell you, that were I borne your son, or subject, you could have but the same power over me, you now possess: nay, I am persuaded, I yet owe somewhat more to your virtue, then to the right of Nations, or Nature. If power hath made Princes, and chance Parents, reason well deserves a further kind of Obedience: It was that which overcome me upon the first conference I had with you, causing me to prostrate all my presumption at your feet, after having rightly represented to my thoughts, how impossible it is to esteem myself, and know you: I am sure this Language is no way pleasing to you; and that you will look awry at my Letter; but do what you please, I am more a friend to truth, then to your humour, and my spirits are so replenished with what I have seen, and heard, as I can no longer conceal my thoughts: I must tell you (Sir) you are the greatest Tyrant this day living; your authority becomes awful to all souls, and when you speak, there is no further means to retain private opinions, if they be not conformable to yours. I speak this seriously, and with my best sense; you have often reduced me to such extremities, that coming from you, without knowing what to answer you, I have been ready to exclaim and say, (in the rapture wherein I was) Restore me my opinion which you have violently forced from me, and take not from me the liberty of Conscience the King hath given me. But truly, it is no small pleasure to be constrained to be happy, and to fall into his hands, who useth no violence; but to their avail who suffer. For my part, I have at all times departed your presence, fully persuaded in what I ought to believe: I never gave you a visit which cured me not of some passion: I never came into your Chamber so honest a man, as I went foorch: How often with one short speech have you elevated me above myself, and bereaved me of whatsoever was fleshly▪ and profane in me: How often hearing you discourse of the World to come, and of true felicity, have I longed after it, and would willingly have purchased it at the price of my life? How often could I have followed you, (would you have conducted me) to a higher pitch of perfection, than all ancient Philosophers ever attained? So it is, that you only have bestowed the love of invisible things upon me, causing me to distaste my first and most violent affections: I should still have been buried in flesh, had not you drawn me forth, nor had my spirit been other than a part of my body, had not you taken the pains to unloose it from sensual objects, and to sever the eternal from the perishable part. You caused me at the first encounter to become suspicious to the wicked, and to favour the better side, before I was of it; you have made those remedies pleasing, which all others affrighted me with, and in the midst of vice, you have constrained me to confess Virtue to be the most beautiful thing on Earth. Think not therefore, that either the pomp of the Roman Court, or the glitter of that of France, can dazzle those eyes of my soul, where to you have showed so many excellent things. It is the beams and lightning of those eminent Virtues you have discovered unto me, which cast so forceable reflections upon the eyes of my soul, and which cause me, (though I formerly resolved to slight all things,) yet at least now to admire something. But yet (Sir) assure yourself, it is not the world I admire, for I rather reflect upon it, as on that which hath deceived me these eight and twenty years I have been in it, and wherein I fierce ever saw any thing, but how to do evil, and counterfeit to be good▪ In all places on Earth, whether my curiosity hath transported me, beyond Seas, or on the other side the Alps, in free States, or in Kingdoms of Conquest, I have observed among men only a fare of flatteries, fools and Cheaters; of Oldmen corrupted by their Ancestors, and who corrupt their Children: Of slaves who cannot live out of Servitude: of poverty among virtuous persons, and Ambitious Covetousness in the souls of great persons. But now that you have broken the bars, through which I could only receive some light impression of truth, I distinctly see this general corruption, and do humbly acknowledge the injury I offered to my Creator, when I made Gods of his Creatures; and what glory I fought to bereave him of, etc.  
BALZAC. The 12. of january, 1626.   

To Mounsieur de la Marque.  
LETTER VII.  
I Know not what right use to make of your praises; if I receive them, I lose all my humility, and in rejecting them, I give that as granted which I am taxed for. Upon the edge of these two extremities, it is more laudable to suffer myself to fall on my friend's side, and to join in opinion with honest men, then to lean to that of Lysander, since all men agree, that his censure is ever opposite to the right; and that he is the wisest man in France, who resembles him the least. There would be some error in the reputation I aim at, were I not condemned by him. Think it not therefore strange, that injuries are blown upon me by the same mouth which uttereth blasphemies against the memory of ρρρ, and remember this old Maxim, that fools are more unjust than some sinners: The best is, that for one Enenemy my Reputation raiseth against me, it procures me a thousand protectors; so as without stirring hence, I get victories at Paris; nor find I any Harmony so pleasing, as what is composed of one particular murmur, mingled with general acclamations. There are sufficient in your Letter to cause me to retract the Maxims of my ancient Philosophy: At the least they oblige me to confess, that all my felicity is not within myself, things without me entering towards the composition of perfect happiness. I must freely confess unto you mine infirmity: I should grow dumb, were I never so short a time to live among deaf persons, and were there no glory, I should have no Eloquence. But it is time I return to the task I have undertaken; and that instead of so many excellent words you have addressed unto me, I only answer you, that I am  
Your most humble servant, BALZAC.   

To Mounsieur Tissandier:  
LETTER VIII.  
AT my return from Poiton, I found your packet attending me at my house; but thinking to peruse your Letters, I perceived I read my Panegyricke; I dare not tell you, with what transport & excess of joy I was surprised thereupon, fearing to make it appear, I were more vain then usually women are, and affect praises with the like intemperance as I do perfumes. Without dissembling, those you sent me, were so exquisite, as be it you deceive me, or I you, there never issued fairer effects, either from injustice, or error. I beseech you to continue your fault, or to persevere in your dissimulation: For my part, I am resolute to make you full payment of what I owe you, and to yield so public a testimony of the esteem I hold of you, as my reputation hereafter shall be only serviceable to yours, oblige me so far, as to accept this Letter, for assurance of what I will perform; and if you find me not so serviceable as I ought to be, blame those troublesome persons who are always at my throat, forcing me to tell you sooner than I resolved, that I am  
Your most humble and faithful servant, BALZAC The 5▪ of August, 1625.   

To Mounsieur de Faret.  
LETTER IX.  
THere is not any acknowledgement answerable to my obligations unto you: If I owe you any honour, I am farther indebted unto you then my life comes to. Truly, to be sensible of another man's sufferings sooner than himself, or to assume a greater share in his interests, than he doth? I must confess, is as much as not to love in fashion, or not to live in this Age. It is likewise a long time since I have been acquainted, that the corruption environing you, doth not at all infect you; and how among the wicked, you have conserved an integrity suiting the Reign of Lewes the twelfth: Nay, happily we must search further, and pass beyond the Authentic History. It is only under the Poets Charlemagne, where a man of your humour is to be found, and that the combat of Roger hath been the victory of Leon. Without more particularly explaining myself, you understand what I would say; and I had much rather be indebted to your support, then to the merit of my cause, or to the favourable censure I have received from the Public. Certainly, truth itself cannot subsist, or find defence without assistance; yea even that concerning Religion; and which more particularly appertaineth to God than the other, seizeth not on our souls, but by the entermise of words; and hath need to be persuaded to have it believed. You may hereby judge whether the good offices you afforded me, were not useful unto me, or whether or no my just cause happened successfully into your hands. But I must defer the thanks due unto you upon this occasion, till our meeting at Paris, to the end, to animate them by my personal expression. Be confident in the interim; though pity itself would stay me in my Cell, yet you are of power to cause me to infringe my heremeticall vow: beside, you have set such a lustre upon that great City, and have punctuated unto me so many remarkable things, and novelties thereof, in the Letter you pleased to send me, as I should show myself insensible of rarities, and not possessed with an honest curiosity, had I not a desire to return thither. I therefore only attend some small portion of health to strengthen me, to part hence; and to go to enjoy with you our mutual delights, I mean the conversation of Mounsieur de Vaugelas, who is able to make me find the Court in a Cottage, and Paris in the Plains of Bourdeaux: Adieu Mounsienr, love me always, since I am with all my soul,  
Your most humble and affectionate servant, BALZAC. The 12. of December, 1625.   

To Mounsieur Coeffeteau, Bishop of Marseilles.  
LETTER X.  
IT is now fifteen days since I received any news from you, yet will I believe the change of air hath cured you; and if you (as yet) walk with a staff, it is rather I hope for some mark of your authority, then for any support of your infirmity: If this be so, I conjure you to make good use of this happy season yet remaining, and not to lose these fair days, hastening away, and which the next Clouds will carry from us. I give you this advice, as finding it good; and because there is not any thing doth more fortify feeble persons than the Sun of this Month, whose heat is as innocent as its light. Adamantus hath had his share of the unwholesome influence reigning in these parts. The Fever hath not borne him the respect due to a person of his quality, having so rudely entreated him, as he is scarce to be known: Yet hath he some kind of obligation to his sickness, in having acquainted him with such pleasures, as were not made for those who are over fortunate, and which formerly he knew not. At this present he can never be weary in praising the benefits of Liberty, nor in admiring the beauty of Day, and the diversities of Nature: so as to hear him speak, you would suppose all things to be Novelties unto him; and that he is entered into another world, or new borne again in this. Besides, they pass their time merrily at N. and of two hundred calling themselves Virgins, I verily think there is not one who speaks truth, if she have not recovered her Maidenhead. It may be their intention is not ill, and that in suffering themselves to be courted, they have no other design, then to raise servants to God. But since godly intentions do not always produce good effects, if you suffer things to run on in the same course which they do, I greatly apprehend in your regard, that Antichrist will shortly take his beginning in your Diocese; and lest you by consequence should be the first object of his persecution. I suppose you have a greater interest than any man▪ to oppose this accident which now threateneth us, and that to divert a mischief which is to be followed by the world's ruin, you ought not to spare the fulminations of Rome; nor make use only of half your power. There are not any will be averse to this good Work, save only our young Gallants. But you cannot procure their disaffections upon a better subject than this, nor do greater service to the jealous God, then to conserve the honour of those creatures he loveth,  
I am Your most humble and most affectionate servant, BALZAC. The 7. of October, 1618.   

To Mounsieur Pouzet.  
LETTER XI.  
IF you will not return from Court, we are resolved to send Deputies on purpose to require you of the King, and to beseech him to restore us our good company: I know well, that in the place where you are, there are prisons both for the innocent, and most happy; and that no man can blame you for your overlong abode there, without accusing you for being fortunate. But it were likewise small Justice, your absence should make this City a Village, and that Paris should usurp all the affections you owe me. As I perfectly love you, so do I expect to be reciprocally respected by you; nor would you I should herein have any advantage over you, though I yield unto you in all other things: Neither of us therefore can enjoy solid contentments, so long as we are separated; and I pretend you do me wrong, if you take satisfaction where I am not. Take Post therefore with speed, to be here quickly, grow not old either by the way, or at your Inn, for by this means I shall get the advantage of that time, and you shall gain me four days out of the loss of three Months. I have seen what you willed me concerning λλλ, But I would you knew, I have no resentments against forceless enemies, nor have I any mind to put myself into passion, when these petty Doctors please. Should these fellows speak well of me, I would instantly examine my conscience, to know whether I were guilty of any fault; and as Hippolytus suspected his own innocency, because he was esteemed spotless in his stepdame's eye: So should not I have any good opinion of my own sufficiency, were I gracious in their sights, who can have no other than bad affections. Howsoever, they cause me once a day to think myself some greater matter than I am, when I reflect upon their number, and the miracle I work, in interessing in one and the same cause superstitious persons, Atheists, and evil Monks Adieu.  
Yours, BALZAC. The 14. April, 1625.   

An answer to a Letter sent to Balzac, from a learned Old Lady, Madamoiselle de Gournay.  
LETTER XII.  
Madam,  
I Do here at the first tell you, I have no other opinion of you, than yourself gives me, and I have at all times had a more strong and sound notion of the inward qualities by the speech, then by the Physiognomy. But if after the Letter you did me the honour to write unto me, it were necessary to seek any foreign proofs; the testimony of those two great personages, who have admired your virtue even in the bud, and left the pourtraite thereof under their own hands, may well serve as an Antidote▪ to secure me from the impressions and the painted shadows of calumny. I who know that Asia, Africa, and a great part of the world beside, believe Fables as fundamental points of Religion, do not at all wonder (if in what concerneth your particular) there be some who side not with the truth, which is sure to find enemies in all places where there are men. This is an effect of that error, now grown old in popular opinion; that it is fit an honest woman be ignorant of many things, and that, to maintain her reputation, it is not requisite all the world commend her; but that she be unknown to all men. Nay, I say further: The vulgar doth ordinarily cast an injurious eye, and with some tax of extravagancy, upon great and Heroical qualities, if they appear in that sex, to which they conceive it ought not to appertain. Now though to speak generally, and to reflect rightly upon the order of earthly things, and the grounds of policy, I must confess, I should lean to the first of these opinions: Yet will I be well advised, how I think that Nature hath not so much liberty left her, as to pass (upon occasion) the limits she ordinarily alloweth herself; or sometimes to exceed her bounds without blame, to the end, to produce certain things, far surpassing the rest in perfection. It is no good Argument to aver, that because you are adorned with the virtues of our sex, you therefore have not reserved those of your own; or that it is a sin for a woman to understand the Language which heretofore the Vestals made use of. I will therefore leave these calumnious persons, who desire to bereave Lilies of their beauty; and Crystal of its clearness, to return to the Letter I have received from you; where without flattery I will affirm, that 
* Meaning himself.  this man who hath been described unto you, for so vain glorious a person; who despiseth times past, who mocketh the modern, and preiudicateth the future; hath found out diverse things in your works well pleasing unto him: so as if my approbation be at this present of any weight with you, you may for your own advantage, add this Encomion to that of Lipsius and Montagnie, and boldly affirm you have this advantage over Kings and Emperors, that the tastes of two different ages have agreed in your favour. Since you were first commended, the face of Christendom hath changed ten times: Neither our manners, attire, or Court, are cognisible to what you have seen them. Men have made new laws, yea, and the virtues of our forefather's age, are esteemed the vices of ours: yet shall it appear, how amidst so many changes and strange revolutions, you have brought even to ourtimes one and the same reputation; and that your beauty (I speak of what enamoreth the Capucins Friars, and old Philosophers) hath not left you, with your youth. I shall in mine own regard be very glad, the world should take notice how much I honour Virtue, by what name soever it passeth, and under what shape soever it is shrouded: and I esteem my party stronger by the half, than it hath been, since you have vouchsafed to enter thereinto. But if without offending against Grammatical rules, and those of Decorum: I durst take you for my second, I assure myself if we were to denounce war against these petty Authors, who are engendered by error, and disclosed out of the corruption of this age, you should not have over many in taking half a dozen of them to task for your part. At the least, you would put those Pedants to silence, who brag they have taught me to speak. Yet will I tell you, before I proceed any further, and to the end they may know as much (if you please) that my Mother is not resolved to give this for granted, and how if there be any glory to be gotten in so poor an exploit, she is determined to dispute the matter against all these booke-makers. I have ever been hitherto of opinion, that in what concerneth the choice of words, I ought to suffer myself to be governed by the common acceptation thereof, without adhering to any one man's single example; and that instead of acknowledging the authority of any particular, I am to follow the public consent. But howsoever, it is not the praise of a great Orator to speak our Language well, but rather the mark of a true Frenchman; Nor do I pretend applause from any, for not being borne in Holland, or Germany. It is true, I attibute much to Elocution, and know that high things stand in need of the help of words, and that after those have been rightly conceived, they are as happily to be expressed. It only angers me, that out of the poorest part of Rhetoric received among the ancients, they will needs extract all ours. And that to please mean spirits, it is sitting (as they think) our works should resemble those sacrifices, whereout they take the heart, and where, of all the head, nothing is left save only the tongue. I would make answer to the other advertisements you did me the honour to give me, if they had not relation to a matter I reserve myself fully to treat of in L. being a work I am in hand with, and which I hope shortly to present unto you at Paris. There it shall be, where I will make it appear unto you, that reason cannot have an easier task, then to persuade a spirit of the like making mine is, and that I equally love the truth, whether I receive it from any other, or that I find it myself.  
BALZAC. The 3. of August, 1624.   

To Mounsieur Berniere, Precedent in the Parliament of Rouen.  
LETTER XIII.  
THe mean compliment I am to offer you, is the first effect of the fuming Drinks I received from you. I have no means to find out my right senses to entertain you; they are lost in your excellent liquors, and I had need be more valiant than I am, to defend myself against Spain and Normandy, with their united forces: I verily think, that what should have been drunk at Berniere betwixt this and Easter, is overflown in my Chamber: If my Friends come not to my aid, I am in danger to suffer shipwreck, or not to become sober again till next year: yet will you needs have me even in this plight wherein I am, to act a sober man's part; and my soul to execute those functions you have suspended. It is impossible, not being myself, I should speak my ordinary Language; I cannot give you two words of thanks without taking one for another; and my head is so full of your Spanish Wine, and Normandy Cider, that my wits give place; I will therefore content myself, to assure you with this small portion offence yet left me, that supposing your Friendship produced nothing, and were as barren, as it is fruitful, I would sue for it out of a more noble consideration, then that of particular interest, and would testify unto you, that it is yourself I love, and not your fortunes: Believe, I beseech you, the truest of all men: you gained my heart the first time I had the honour to see you; I than gave myself wholly as yours, and said within myself, what I have often since reiterated, that you being rich enough to purchase a Sovereignty beyond the Alphonso es, if that should ever happen, I esteemed you a sufficient worthy person, to deserve to have me live under your Regency, and that I was  
Your most humble servant and subject, BALZAC. At Paris the 5. of March, 1627.   

To Mounsieur de Voiture.  
LETTER XIIII.  
THough the half of France divide us, yet are you as presentto my spirit, as the objects I see, and you have part in all my thoughts and dreams. Rivers, Plains, and Towns may well oppose themselves to my content: they cannot hinder my memory from taking entertainment with you, or from the frequent taste of those excellent Discourses wherewith you have graced me, till I be so happy as again to hear you. Though you should grow proud, yet must I confess▪ I conceive not any thing either great or sublime, save only those Seeds you have scattered in my Soul; and that your company, which at first, was right pleasing, is now become absolutely necessary for me: You may therefore well think it is not willingly I leave you thus long in your Mistress' hands, or that I suffer her to enjoy my goods, without giving me account: Every moment she obligeth you to allow her, are so many usurpations she makes upon me; all you whisper unto her, are secrets you conceal from me; and to have your conversation in mine absence, is to enrich herself by my losses. But there is no reason I should malice so fair a Rival, in that both of you are happy; or that I frame mine afflictions upon your mutual contents▪; provided (at my coming) I find four months absence notto haveblotted me out of your remembrance, and that Love hath there reserved some place for friendship, I shall still have for mine advantage the time passing to attend the hour assigned; and you will come to comfort me sometimes, concerning the miseries of this Age, and the injustice of men. In the interim, in the place where now I am, as I have but slender joys, so have I not any great discontents: I am in equal distance removed from disfavour and good fortune, and that unconstant Goddess, who is ever employed in depopulating Cities, and subverting States, hath no leisure to work mischief in mean places. I see Shepherdesses who can only say, yea and nay, and who are too gross witted to be deceived by understanding persons; yet is painting as little known among them as Eloquence; and because I am their Master, they would suffer me to show them, if I so pleased, how small a distance there is between power and tyranny: instead of the fine words and acquaint discourses wherein your Ladies abound, there issues from their mouths a pure and innocent breath, which incorporates itself with their kisses▪ and gives them a taste, you ordinarily find not among those of the Court. Supposing therefore you make not any better choice there, than I happen on hereby chance, I make over particular profession, to rely on your judgement, and of being▪  
Your most humble servant BALZAC. The 7. October, 1625,   

To Mounsieur de Vaugelas.  
LETTER XV.  
THe good opinion you have of me, makes up more than half my merit, and you herein resemble the Poet's Epicts, who out of small truths frame incredible fixions; howsoever, if you loved me not, but according to the rigour of Law and Reason, I should much fear to be but of indifferent esteem with you. It is then much better for me, the affection you bear me, appear rather a passion then a virtue. Extremities in all other things are reprooveable, in this laudable; and as certain Rivers are never so useful as when they overflow: so hath Friendship nothing more excellent in it then excess; and doth rather offend in her moderation, then in her violence. Continue therefore in observing neither rule, nor measure, in the favours you afford me▪ and to the end I may be lawfully ingrateful, being infinitely obliged, leave me not so much as words wherewith to thank you. Truly your last Letters have taken from me all the terms I should employ in this occasion▪ and instead of the good offices I incessantly receive from you, it seems you will only have new importunies in payment▪ Since it is thus, fear not my niceness, or that in matters of great consequence, I make not use of your affection, and in slight ones I abuse it not; henceforward it is requisite, you recover all my Law▪ suits, compose all my quarrels, and correct all my errors: For to undertake to cure all my diseases, I suppose you would not, in prejudice of Mounsieur de Lorime. It shall therefore suffice, you will be pleased to let him at this passage read how I requite my life at his hands; and if the only obeying him, will preserve me, I will place his precepts immediately after God's Commandments▪ There is no receit distasteful, if his Eloquence afford the preparative, nor pain unasswaged by his words, before it be expelled by his Art: Remotest causes are as visible to him, as the most ordinary effects; and if Nature should discover herself naked unto him, he could not thereby receive any further communication of her secrets, than he hath acquired by former experience. Let him therefore bestow better nights on me, than those I have had this six years, wherein I have had no sleep; entreat him to make a peace between my Liver and Stomach, and to compose this civil War, which disturbs the whole inside of my body, if he desire I should no longer live, but for his glory▪ and to persuade the world, he is nothing indebted to those Arabian Princes, who practised Physic, or to the gods themselves who invented it. Truly if mere Humanists, whom diverse of his profession have sometimes scorned, seem of slight consideration with him; or if he be not contented with a civil acknowledgement, I am ready to call him my preserver▪ and to erect Altars, and offer sacrifice unto him. Yea, to compass this, I will quit the better part of what I implore; I desire not, he should cure me▪ It is sufficient he hinder me from dying, and that he cause my diseases and plaints to endure some threescore years. I would likewise know (if you please) what his good Cousin doth, that Citizen of all Common wealths, that man who is no more a stranger in Persia, then in France, and whose knowledge hath the same extent, as hath all the Turkish Empire▪ and all the ancient Roman Monarchy. I have at the least three hundred questions to ask him, and a whole Volume of doubts to propose unto him; I expect at our first meeting, to resolve with him upon the affairs of former ages, and concerning the different opinions, of Baronius and Genebrard on the one side, and of Escales and Casaubon on the other. I am in the mean time resolved to pass ten or twelve days with Mounsieur de Racan, to the end to see him in that time work miracles, and write things which God must necessarily reveal unto him. Truly Conquerors have no greater advantage over Masters of Fence, than he hath over Doctors; and he is at this day one of the great Workemanships of Nature. If all wits were like his, there would be a great deal of time lost at School▪ Universities would become the most unprofitable parts of the Commonwealth, and Latin as well as Milan Parchment, with other foreign Merchandizes, would be rather marks of our vanity, than any effects of our necessity.  
The 10. of October, 1625.   

To Mounsieur de Racan.  
LETTER XVI.  
Were my health better than it is, yet the roughness of the season we are entering into, and which I hoped to prevent, makes me over apprehensive, to stir out of my Chamber, or to hazard myself in a long voyage: A Sunlesse day, or one night in a bad Host-house, were sufficient to finish the work of my Death; and in the state wherein I am, I should much sooner arrive in the next world, then at Chastellerant. I must therefore entreat you to hold me excused, if I keep not promise with you, or if I take some longer time to make provision of strength, to prepare myself for so hardy an enterprise. At our return from Court, we are to come to your delicate House, and to see the places where the Muses have appeared unto you, and dictated the Verses we have so much admired. Those wherewith you honoured me, do overmuch engage me, to leave my judgement at liberty; I will only content myself, to protest that you were never so very a Poet, as when you spoke of me; and that you have Art enough to invent new Fables, as incredible as ancient fictions: it seems Divinity cost you nothing; and because your Predecessors have furnished Heaven with all sorts of people, and since Astrologers have there placed Monsters, you suppose it may be likewise lawful for you▪ at least, to get entrance there for some of your Friends. You may do Sir, what you please; nor have I any cause to blame the height of you affection, since I hold he loves not sufficiently, who loves not excessively. It will only be the good Wits of our Age who will not pardon you; and will take it impatiently, to see my Name in your Verses with as great Splendour and Pomp as that of Artemisa and Ydalia. But as you employ not other men's passions either in matter of have or love; so I suppose you make less use of their Eyes in judging the truth of things. In this case, I am sufficiently confident of my Rhetoric to assure myself I shall at all times persuade you, that I am more Estimable than mine Enemies: and that they have no other advantage over me, who am sick, but only health, it they enjoy it. Besides, you need not make any Apology, in excuse of your tediousness: I well perceive by the Excellency of your labours, the time you have therein employed, and know that perfection is not presently to be attained. A Crafts-man may easily in a short time finish divers Statues of Clay, or Plaster; but these are but for a day's use, or to serve as Ornaments at a City's triumph, not to continue many Kings reigns: Those who carve in Brass or Marble wax old upon their Works, and doubtless, matters ever to endure are long to be meditated: if my Megreme would permit me, I could say more unto you, but all I can obtain of it, is to sign this Letter, and to assure you that I am perfectly  
Your most humble and affectionate servant, BALZAC. The 20. of November, 1625.   

To the Abbot of St. Cyran.  
LETTER XVII.  
SInce you desire to see in what Style I begun to Write; and how sufficient a fellow I was at nineteen: I here send you my Errors of that Age, and the first faults I committed: it were much better to condemn their memory, then to fall into them a fresh, by renewing them in this place. But you will be absolutely obeyed, and I have no resistance against your force: See here then the remainder of many things now lost, and what I have saved from shipwreck, being neither valuable to the Diamonds, or lumps of Ambergris, the Sea hath lately cast upon upon the Coast of Bayone.  
I advice you for your honour's sake, not to refresh the memory of what is past, nor to seek for examples of your fidelity in our Civil wars, since you have not therein conserved it. You may hereupon say what you please, and try (if you can) to make things seem to us contrary to what they are; yet am I well assured, you were engaged in a faction, wherein you have not been useful to the King, no, nor where you could serve him as an honest man ought; so as if you desire I should to do you a favour) forget things past; or if you will allege that the tranquillity we now enjoy, and the good order used in managing Public affairs, were the effects of your prudent conduct; beside, that this glory is not absolutely due unto you, and there remaining others who suppose they have as large a share therein as yourself. You must not take it ill, if I freely tell you, there is not any thing therein worthy of admiration. You entered upon the State▪ government in a peaceable time, you therein found all things so well disposed, as they seemed of themselves to work the wished effects; and the most of the French so inclined to subjection, as it was no hard matter to bring them to due obedience. And herein you are necessarily to confess, you owe much to CCC, and that he passed the last years of his life for your instructions, as he since then, died for the general good of this Kingdom. If there hath been any obstacle to remove, which at this present may be troublesome unto you, he hath before his death rid his hands thereof, with as much good fortune as resolution. If it may be esteemed a benefit, to understand the nature of the people, thereby to deal with them according to their humours, he hath made it appear unto you, there was not any thing above his patience; since without resentment, he was able to suffer the loss of his liberty; and if so it were, that he was forced to make use of some violent act, which nevertheless was necessary; neither hatred, nor envy, have ever been of power to hinder his undertake. In a word, he hath tamed the most stubborn spirits, he hath left the parties who most perplexed this poor Kingdom, either absolutely ruined, or so weakened, as they are utterly unable to rise again. He hath accustomed all men to patience, and hath performed so strange things, as we now find not any thing extraordinary; and (what I most esteem) he hath made the world see, how great things the King's authority was able to do, though sometimes he did this for the establishing his own. I therefore do not at all now wonder, if having found affairs disposed to receive such impressions, as you pleased to put upon them, you have hitherto caused them to fall out indifferently well, or if you have not as yet committed any considerable errors in the managing of State-affairs, as not having any matter of difficulty to overcome, you have only herein suffered yourself to be guided by common and ordinary precedents. But what is all this? that your endeavours should deserve to be preferred before all those services the D. and P. with their Predecessors have performed. Had you any imagination, when you spoke in so high terms, you could cause us to believe so great improbabilities; or had you so poor an Opinion of all men's judgements, as to suppose we more valued your fears and continual distrusts, than so many generous actions, performed by them in the eye of all Christendom, for the glory and reputation of this Crown▪ I will not touch upon the merits of the living, lest you should impute that to a desire of complacency, or some particular obligation, which the only interest of truth exacteth of me. I only require justice for the dead, whom you have dared to wrong in the King's presence, against all rules of Piety, obliging you to respect their memory. Doubt not, but that they are yet sensible of things in this world, and that amidst the glory and contentments they possess, their care to live in the good odour of men, doth yet continue: You may therefore well imagine, they have just cause to think, those lives they have lost in their Prince's service, and for the defence of their Country, had been ill employed, and might justly complain of our ingratitude▪ should we suffer before our eyes their reputations to be questioned, without testifying any distaste. In vain had they triumphed over the most beautiful parts of the earth, and carried their victorious Arms where the name of France was not yet arrived. To small purpose had they recluded the power of strangers, wherein the limits Nature prescribed unto them. In vain likewise, even in our memory had they conserved State and Religion, when those of your faction did diversely labour the ruin of both▪ should you now be suffered to enter into comparison with them; or as though the possession of that glory wherein they always remained, were unjustly controverted in their case. But the mischief herein is, that we have only right on our side, and that all things are so averse unto us, as it will be very hard to cause reason to be so much as regarded, because it favours us; so as I get nothing by disputing with a man who is above Laws, and in whose behalf, the King hath received so advantageous impressions, as he may securely exercise his passions, under pretext of his authority, and confound his particular enmities, togetherwith the interests of the Commonwealth. I should be very loath to say you are grown to such extremities, or that out of vanity and presumption, two imperfections purely humane, you should so suddenly stepped into Cruelty and tyranny, two Diabolical Errors. Nevertheless, if having great power in the King's breast, (as indeed you may do much, you cause a general diffidence therein of all things, and endeavour to bring his best servants into suspicion with him, thereby to make them unuseful: if you intent by imaginary jealousies to divert his inclination from that goodness, whereto at all times it hath had an extraordinary propension; or if you hinder him from the free use of his natural debonarity toward her, who brought him into this World. Do you not think men willbeginne to say, it is not vanity alone hath spoilt you? and that it will not be generally wished, that the Maxims you make use of, were somewhat more Christian, and less contrary to God's Commandments. I know we have a Prince of such perfection, as Heaven itself cannot without miracle make farther addition, than Experience. So timely a wise man, hath scarce ever been; all his inclinations do wholly aim at good, and Virtue is to him so natural, as I verily believe he would be much troubled to do ill. But you are not ignorant that one cannot give poison to any man so easily, as to him who in taking it, supposeth he receiveth wholesome Physic, and that ill counsels have never so great power over our spirits, as when we embrace them without distrust. Surely the uttermost of evils is that, whereof we have neither knowledge nor apprehension; nor is there any fault more dangerous, then when we make use of reason itself in our errors. I have no purpose to offend any with my discourse, and do entreat you to believe, I think it very well you make use of all the means, you suppose, may conduce to the causing the King's authority to become more awful to all men, and public peace further confirmed. These are two so delicate matters, as they cannot be touched without danger, nor conserved with overmuch care. Yet must you pardon me, if I say you are to be very circumspect, lest in thinking to strengthen this authority, you abuse it not to the prejudice of your own Conscience; and you are withal to consider, that Peace cannot be of any long continuance, if it be not pleasing to God, who hath never suffered without resentment, that the Laws of Nature should be violated. These Laws the Barbarians themselves allow of, have not been established either by force, or necessity, as others are: The first thing we can do, is to follow them, and the obedience we yield them, can neither be milder, nor more easy: They are not engraven upon Marble, but are borne with us; they are not peculiar to one people or Country, but are common to all men: They have not ordained any punishment for those who will not observe them, so was it not probable, that any could be found so much their own enemies, as to be inclined to such extremities. To conclude, they were not made for the mean and vulgar people only, but for all the world: and those are the more strictly thereto obliged, who owe most to their extraction. If this be true (as you cannot but know) should not Heaven be injured? things both Divine and Moral, should they not be openly despised, would not Nature herself cry vengeance against you, should you by your crafts and disguisements animate a young Prince against that person, who of all the world, aught to be most dear unto him, and deface out of his Royal soul by your servile fears (ill founded) his first and most innocent affections? I will not believe for mine own content, and the honour of our age, that this mischief can happen; but I am much perplexed to know who it is, that causeth all honest men to sigh, who hindereth us the perfect feeling of that felicity peace affords, and which compassionateth even strangers, who are least interessed in our affairs. Will you have so savage a soul, as to dread the fairest thing the world affordeth? or can you be so pusillanimous, as to have any timorous reflection upon an afflicted person? Can you imagine goodness itself should do hurt, or that the Court cannot without danger behold what it hath heretofore seen with so great contentment? For my part, if this be thus, I find no difference between a lost state, and one concerning itself in this sort; and it must needs be, those miseries you apprehend, are very violent, if they exceed your remedies. Alas, if we have forgotten we are Christians, shall we not at least remember we are men? if we be almost insensible, even to brutality, shall we not yet afford something to appearance? Be satisfied in being in estimation and favour with the King: Govern alone, (if you can) all his affairs; administer justice without any assistant; take all his authority into your own hands; yet suffer his Mother to see him, give way that he refuse her not a favour, which he cannot hinder, even his very enemies, sometimes from enjoying. Afford, since it is in your power, this favour to all France; appease in time those public complaints ready to rise against you, and slackening some part of your rigorous counsels, add this only point, deficient in the felicity of this King's reign. If you can procure so pious a thing, and so pleasing to God and Man; this great reputation of Honesty you have shrewdly hazarded, will return with more glitter, and lustre then ever it had; we will not believe our own eyes, if they show us any thing opposite thereunto: We will suppose it is some other who had a desire to outstrip the D. and P. and how there is not any appearance, that a man in whom age ought to finish, what the study of Wisdom had happily left unperfect, should still be subject to enter into errors. But if on the other side, you go on in abusing our good King's facility, and unprofitably to perplex his spirits with perpetual distrusts, if you disguise all things unto him, on purpose to cause him to perceive nothing, but what you please, not to take notice of ill, being hidden under the appearance of its contrary; persuade not yourself, that God will long suffer Truth to be unknown. Do not think, but things will shortly return to the same terms wherein Nature placed them; or that the King having once discovered the bad designs of his Favousites, will not easily be induced once again to amaze the whole world, by a second example of his justice, and to satisfy his people's complaints, by abandoning them to Public vengeance. Then will you over-late reflect upon this world's vanity: you will then consider, that when we esteemed you happy, you are mounted to a place from whence there is not any, who have not fallen, and how Fortune envious of your felicity, drew you from that sweet and peaceable life, wherein you were entered; fearing lest thereby you might conserve your Virtue, or therein avoid your ruin.   

To Mounsieur Malherbe.  
LETTER XVIII.  
AFter I have told you how dear the testimonies I received from your remembrance, are unto me; I can do no less than thank you for the good Justice you afforded me. If the like Integrity were to be found among those, who have the life and fortunes of men in their hands, I should take pleasure in pleading, and by the same reason Laws punish offenders, I might hope to be rewarded. It may be I flatter myself, but I suppose my interest is the same with all honest men, and that they can no longer live in security, since I am fallen upon, for the virtues I value in them. Surely if the World suffer ill tongues to touch upon my labours, it is very probable, they will not spare other men's; and that hereafter there will not be any thing so excellent, which shall not be hated, nor so holy, some Lysander will not violate. These ill examples therefore are not to be suffered, nor is it to be tolerated, that one particular person forsake public belief, to rely upon his own peculiar sense: and should this disorder continue, Artificers and Farmers would (at length) prove reformers of State. I pretend not hereby to lessen the favour I received from you: But on the contrary, I am so easy to oblige, as I suppose my friends give me all whatsoever they take not from me; you will yet avouch thus much, that supporting my side, you do in some sort fight in your own defence: For if to day they say, my Style is not good, to morrow they will maintain your Rhymes to be naught. But it is now time, after I have thanked you, that I wrangle with you, and complain for having been injured in the person of Mounsieur de Racan, whom you tax for a disease, whereof I have been dead this ten years. I doubt not, but that part of us whereby we are men, as well as by Reason, hath heretofore acquired you Honour; and that our History ought to yield a glorious testimony of your forepast Virtues in that kind: But since you can no longer be happy therein, but by memory; and that your Courage will now stand in need of your Son's assistance; me thinks, it is unseemly for you to scoff at our weakness; for howsoever in accusing us, for not having continued young so long as yourself, you can only tax us for arriving at the Haven sooner than you have done. There is none but M. F. who may boldly laugh at the debility of others, and make lests at our charge; but he hath reason so to do, since his merit herein is generally acknowledged; as being little less valiant in those feats, than that ancient Heroes, who subdued Monsters, and in one Night was fifty times Son in law to one of his Hosts. I infinitely esteem the eminent qualities where with he is adorned, and find nothing in him which is not perfectly pleasing. But when I consider, that he is capable to cause us to be despised by a whole sex, and to make us ridiculous to the most beautiful part of the World, I have great contestation within myself, to forbear to wish him ill; and what part soever I take, touching the glory all men allow him: Yet doth it not a little anger me, that my Eloquence is not so masculine as his.  
The 15. of August, 1625.   

To Mounsieur de Vaugelas.  
LETTER XIX.  
Were it not for the Letter you wrote me, I should have stood in need of all my Philosophy to comfort myself for the loss I have received. But since you have sent me the counterfeit of that divine company I left at Paris, having thereby something, representing my forepast good fortune; take it not ill, I begin to have less apprehension then formerly I had, of the discomfort I suffer in being removed from you; or if I say, you have caused your absence to become thereby the less irksome unto me, which otherwise would have proved insupportable. Lucidor doth overmuch oblige me in retaining me in his memory, and in desiring my company in his enchanted Palace. I beseech you to tell him, I shall never forget the happy day we there spent, and that I cannot believe, there is a more excellent Structure even in the Roman Kingdom, though builded by the very hands of Tasso, or Ariosto: in sadness my thoughts stayed there, when I parted thence, I still walk in his Allies; I wander in his Woods, and slumber upon the banks of the Fairies Fountain, whereof I need only drink a drop to turn Poet: That infinity of different beauties discovering themselves to our eyes, at the opening of the gates, caused me instantly to hate Rome, Paris, and all Cities; and I termed the Duke of Venice miserable, in that he is condemned never to remove from the place where he is, and consequently never to see what I there beheld. The Foot-post, who is to carry this Letter, doth much press my dispatch, telling me, he shall hazard, to remain still in this place, if I make it an longer. This is equally my misery, and your good fortune; for as I am constrained to deprive myself of the contentment to entertain time with you, so will this free you from diverse impertinent speeches, wherewith happily I should otherwise have importuned you.  
The 4 of August, 1625.   

To the same.  
LETTER XX.  
I can no longer live without receiving news from you, and understanding from yourself, the good success of your voyage. My Brother writ unto me, they have done you some kind of justice, wherewith you were reasonable well pleased; but if this content be not absolute, I am resolved not to rejoice, and I do already condemn the State, and all those who govern it. It is a shame to see the bounties of Princes in the hands of such persons who can neither be useful nor pleasing unto them; and that honest men must still satisfy themselves with the only testimony of a good conscience, and in the content they receive in well-doing: For my part, I will not complain of Fortune, provided, you have occasion to commend her. Now if the Ministers of State understood my secret, and that for satisfying of two, it were only necessary to oblige one; by acquitting themselves of what they owe you, they might easily spare what they have promised me. We have newly received tidings of the Defeat given to the Enemies naval Army; but having lost one of my near friends in that Conflict, I cannot forbear to be a bad Frenchman till to morrow, and to grieve for the Victory, whereatal others rejoice: Besides, I being of a profession only exercised in private, and repose; I assure you the report of Cannons begins to trouble me; for of all Wars, those of Germany please me best, in that I am thirty days journeys off: Our Doctors say no less than I do: the most zealous among them, longingly expect a more quiet season, fearing the ruin of the adverse part, for the interest of their Arguments and Scholarship: and in very truth, I cannot conceive what they should do with their controversies, were there no longer any against whom they could contend. I write you this from the bank of the most beautiful river of the world; but being so far from you, I taste all pleasures imperfectly; and were my Kinsman revived, not seeing you, there would still remain a kind of affliction upon me, which nothing but your presence is able to ease. Without playing the Poet, I can assure you, I have taught your name to all the Rocks in my wilderness: and it is written upon the Banks of all our trees: but you are no way obliged unto me, in that I love you extraordinarily. It is an action independent on my will or free election, it being at this present as necessary for me, as all other things are, without which I cannot subsist: And it is requisite I suffer myself to be transported by the force of my inclination, which another would call his Destiny. Be therefore when you please, mine enemy; you are assured I shall never be but  
Your most humble and most faithful servant, BALZAC. The 21. of September, 1615.   

To the same.  
LETTER XXI.  
A Lame Footman would have made more haste than the Messenger did, who delivered me your two Letters, fifteen days after the latter of them was written: Yet notwithstanding was he very welcome, and had it been Lysander himself, bringing news from you, he had been inviolable to all my Lackeys; and I had received him as my Friend. Truly, there is not any discontent which is not lost, in the joy I receive to be beloved by you, and if the small displeasure they have done me, were of power to offend me, I should in your favours find the remedy others seek for in revenge. I have as unmovedly read the Satire made against me, as I write this Letter; and have only accused my bad fortune, which hath at all times chosen the most infamous of all men for mine enemies: you cannot imagine how much I am ashamed of this unlucky accident, and of the wrong I suppose I receive, when at any time they give me the advantage in a comparison wherein Lysander cannot enter without having the better of it. Yet Sir, I am resolved to have patience, provided, the War you raise against me, be only feigned, and that you speak not seriously; for surely I would burn all my papers, werethey culpable of one single word displeasing unto you; and my thoughts should be far different from my intention, had I done any thing disgustful unto you; howsoever, I crave pardon for the fault whereof you accuse me, though I suppose I have not done you any so ill offices to fair Ladies, as it seems you would persuade me: On the contrary, if my testimony be seconded by their ascents, there will not be hereafter any among them, who will not look upon you, as at one of their chiefest felicities; and who will not sell all her Pearls, to purchase one of your Nights. Queen's will come from the remotest parts of the World, to taste the pleasure of your conversation; and you shall be the third▪ after Solomon and Alexander, who shall cause them to come at the report of your Virtue. As for devout persons, I do not think they will rank Health and Strength in the number of Vices; for by that reason they should hold all those for Saints, whom the Courts of Parliament have declared as impotent, and so fill Heaven with sick folks. To say truth, I cannot deny, but I have given the Alarm to Married men, and I must say, your visits will be suspicious to those who know you not: But when they shall understand what I intent to publish in all places, that you had rather dye, then violate with so much as one single thought, the laws of true Friendship, and that your fidelity is irreproveable: Instead of avoiding you, as an object of scandal, they will propound you to their Wives as an example of Continency. I could allege diverse other things for my justification, but if you think I have been faulty, I will not presume to imagine I am innocent; and rather than contradict you, I will sign the decree of my Death with mine own hand.  
The 10. of October, 1625.   

To the same.  
LETTER XXII.  
THere is no other means to exceed the height of what you have written, nor to answer the civilities of your Letter, but only by rendering you all your own words, I know not your meaning: but to take the most unprofitable of your Friends, for your benefactor, and to thank me for the ill I do you, is no less than strangely to abuse the propriety of words, especially for a man so perfectly acquainted with our language, as yourself; or questionless it must needs be, you suffer my persecutions with the like patience, as good men receive those afflictions God lays upon them. For as losses and diseases are presents and favours in terms of Devotion; so do you bestow pompous names upon poor matters, and you make yourself believe, you shall draw some advantage out of my Amity, though in truth you extract nothing thence but charge; nor doth it produce any better effects, than thorns: And upon the matter, what else are the pains and affairs, I perpetually put upon you; or what difference is there between the hatred of an Enemy, and so troublesome an affection as mine? It is I who disturb your rest, who usurp your liberty, who will not suffer you to have any leisure, though that be the true possession of the Wise. It is no want of goodwill in me, that I change not all your kindness into choler, and make not a pleader and wrangler of the best tempered spirit Philosophy ever received from Nature; I lay Ambushes for you at Paris, at Fontainebleau, and at St. Germans: Yea, should you think to hide yourself at the world's end, to avoid importunities, I would undertake the voyage of Magellan, to seek you out there: yet are you well pleased with all this, and I receive thanks instead of expecting ill words. The care you have to oblige me, exceeds all I can desire: Good offices come thick upon me, when they proceed from your side; and they are actions it seems you are pleased to convert into habitudes. Without entering into infinities, do I not of recent memory owe to your testimony, all the good opinion your excellent friend can have of me; and if he imagine I am worthy any estimation, is it not you who sets a value upon my defects, and who have assisted me in deceiving him? But in what sort soever you have procured me these favours, be it that therein you have either committed theft, or made an acquisition, I am still right happy to be beloved by a man, who hath the reputation not to affect ill things, and to please whom, it is as much as to be reckoned in the number of honest men. The day before I parted from Court, I had the leisure to observe him at Mounsieur the Marshal of Schambergs house; but I assure you, I could spy nothing of slender consideration, either in his words, or aspect; and though I have always used to be diffident of my first opinion; nor ever to judge without long deliberation, I have notwithstanding herein, sinned against my own rules; and was not ashamed to say, that a wit of twenty years had amazed mine: But the Sermon bell rings, which calls and forceably draws me from you: my contentment therefore must give place to my duty, which commands me to make an end, after I have required news from you, concerning a woman, to whom I am extraordinarily and particularly obliged; of a woman I say, who is more worth than all our books, and in whose conversation there is sufficient to make one an honest man, without either the help of greeks or Romans: How old a Courtier soever you are, you understand not French, if you understand not Madam de Desloges.  
On Christmas day, 1625.   

To the same.  
LETTER XXIII.  
I Hope very shortly to follow these few lines, and to come to court you with as much assiduity and subjection, as though you were to be the founder of my fortunes. I have no other business at Paris, but this; though I frame many pretexts for that voyage, but I swear seriously you are the only cause. My melancholy is of late become so black, and my spirits are so beclouded, as I must of necessity see you, to dissipate them. It is to small purpose to speak well of me in the place where you are, they do me no good though; this is as much as to cast incense upon a dead body, and to strew flowers upon his grave, but this is no reviving of him. I no longer receive any comfort in the news you send me, and I am well assured my misfortune is constant, what alteration so ever happen in the World: it remaineth then, that I seek for my consolation in your presence, and pour forth all my complaints into your bosom; this I will do at the first sight of the Sunbeams, beseeching you to believe, that as in the midst of felicity, I should have need of you to make me happy; so also having such a friend as yourself, I shall never esteem myself absolutely miserable.  
The 20. of November, 1625. BALZAC.   

Balzac his Letter to Hidaspe.  
LETTER XXIIII.  
I Do far more esteem the Carthusians silence, than the Eloquence of such Writers, and am persuaded, (excepting in Church Service, and for the necessity of Commerce) the Pope and the King should do well to forbid them Latin and French; whereof they seek to make two barbarous languages. I know well, that French spirits are sworn Enemies to all sorts of bondage, and that twelve hundred years of Monarchy, hath not been of power to make them lose their liberty, it being as natural to them as life itself. Whatsoever ugly face they frame to the Inquisition, and how full of Tigers and Serpents soever they paint the same, yet do I find it right necessary in this Kingdom: For besides that, it would cause (as in Spain and Italy) even the wicked in some sort, to resemble the Upright, and vice not at all to offend the public Eye: it would beside hinder Fools from filling the World with their bastardly Books, and the faults of School masters from being as frequent as those are of Magistrates, and Generals of Armies. Truly it is a shame there are Laws against those who counterfeit Coins and falsify Merchandizes; yet that such are freely permitted who corrupt Philosophy and Eloquence, and who violate those things, the Vulgar ought no more to meddle with, then with State government, or Religious Mysteries. The late great Plague was of small consideration in comparison of this, which checks all the World: and surely, if speedy order be not taken, the multiplicity of our Authors, will make a library as big as Paris, wherein there shall scarcely be found one good word, or reasonable conceit. These be the fruits arising out of inordinate idleness, and the third scourge caused by Peace, sent to afflict this poor Realm after Duels, and Law-suites. There are hardly any to be found, who are contented to keep their faults and follies to themselves, or to sin in secret; but are also doting upon their own follies, as they desire to engrave them in Marble and Brass, thereby to Eternize their memory, and to make them past retracting. Now to return to the party of whom you particularly required my opinion, and who indeed is the first subject of this Letter. I must ingeniously confess unto you, that next to Beer and Pbysicke, I never found any thing so distasteful as his works: he wanteth (almost throughout) even natural Logic, yea that part thereof which proveth men to be reasonable creatures. In three words he speaks four bad ones, and as he always strayeth from the subject whereof he treateth, so doth he ordinarily talk in an unknown language; though he intent to speak French: Besides ice itself is not more cold than his conceits, and when he desires to be facetious (as at every turn he fain would) he had need to be in fee with his Reader, to make him laugh, as at Funerals in Paris, weepers are usually hired for money. There is no question but truth were of far more force, and disarmed, than it can be with the assistance this simple Fellow would strive to afford her: Now supposing such men were engaged in the right, without any treacherous design, yet is it as much as to abandon God's cause, to suffer it to be supported by so weak and unworthy Pens. The Renegadoes have not so much wronged Christianity▪ as those who have not valiantly defended themselves against the Turks, and such who through defect of conduct and skill, though they wanted neither zeal, nor affection, suffer themselves to be surprised by the same advantages, they otherwise might have had over their enemies. Truly the Empire of the wicked doth much more maintain itself by our pusillanimity, then by its own power or forces; nor doth any thing cause▪ Virtue to be so badly followed, as doth the weak and unskilful teaching and explanation thereof. It were therefore requisite, some wise man, who had been in this Country, where there is continual debate, and where there is never either peace or truce, (called the College of Sarbow;) and who beside had the art to make good things grateful, and could bring matters to atonement by a sweet hand; should come to cleanse the Court from those opinions lately introduced, and cure Souls instead of wounding them with injuries. It was that great Cardinal who triumphed over all humane spirits, and whose memory shall ever be sacred, so long as there remain any Alltars▪ or that oblarion is offered on Earth. It was I say the Cardinal of Perron, who was able to show Epiourus himself, something more sublime and transcendent than this life, and cause his fleshy soul to be capable of the greatest secrets of Christian Religion. Though this man had a dignity equal in height to the greatest Conquerors and Monarches: Yet had he (in what concerned Religion) an heart as humble as that of decrepit men and Infants. How often hath he (with those two different qualities) imposed silence upon all Philosophyi, and spoken of Divine matters, with as great perspicuity as though he had already been in Heaven; or had seen the same divine verity wholly discovered, whereof here on earth, we have only a confused understanding, and imperfect knowledge. To tell you in plain terms, but for the works of this divine person, which I as highly esteem as the victories of the late King his Master, and wherein I desire always to leave mine eyes, when I am necessitated to give over reading: I had been much troubled to retire myself from the tracing the Book you sent me, since any mischief doth so easily catch hold of me, when I come near it, as I can hardly look upon a beggar without taking the itch, and my imagination is so tender and delicate, as it is sensible▪ and afflicted at the sight of any base object; yet thanks be to God, and the Antidote I continually take, I am the better armed against the conspiracy you intended against me: and have yet life in me, after having been under a fool's hands longer than I desired. But by what I can gather, he is notwithstanding in good repute in the place where you are, and likely enough to find store of such as will follow him, in that he is head of an evil party. I can hereunto answer you nothing, save only that between this place and the Pyrenean Mountains, good wits do sometimes stray from common opinion, as from a thing too vulgar; and do often take counterfeit virtues, yea, even those who have not any resemblance to the right, for perfect varities: But when I consider, how there is scarce any kind of beast which hath not heretofore been adored among Idolaters, nor any disease incident either to the body, or mind of man, whereunto Antiquity hath not erected Temples. I do not as all marvel, why diverse money do sometimes esteem of those, who are no way deserving; or why simple people should hold Sots in high reputation, since they have addressed incense to Apes and Orotadiles. The thing I most ve●e as herein, is, that both yourself & I, are in some sort obliged to the Author of the book you sent me, & that I have received the beginnings of my studios, and first tincture of Learning from the last, and least estimable of all men. For my part, I protest before all the world, I am not for all that guilty, either of the follies he will fall into, or of any such as he hath formerly committed: and that having had much ado to purify my understanding from the orders of the College, and to quit myself from perverse studies, I have now no other pretention, but to follow such as can no way be reproachable umo me. How soever, I should not reject Chastity, though my Nurse had died of the Pox; and it may sometimes happen, that a bungling Mason may lay some few stones in the building of the Loover, or at the Queene-mothers' Palace.   

LETTER XXV.  
THe Letter newly delivered unto me from you, is but three Months and an half old: it is an Age wherein men are yet young, yet some Popes have not reigned so long, and in the state wherein the Churches▪ affairs have often stood. You might have written unto me at the beginning of one Papacy, and I had received yours at the end of another; howsoever▪ I can no way better employ my patience, then in attending my good fortune; and as it was the use to be invited a year before hand to the Sybarites Feasts, so is it fitting you make me long attend the most perfect content I enjoy in this world. I doubt not but T. T. seeketh all occasions to do me ill offices, and that my absence affordeth him much advantage to wrong me; but on the other side, I cannot think men will more readily believe mine enemy's words, than mine own actions; or that it is sufficient only to slander an honest man, to make him presently wicked. It is true what he saith, that I am not very useful for Adamantaes service, I will at all times readily yield that quality to his Coach horses, & to the Mules that carry his Coffers: Yet am I too well acquainted with the Generosity of that Signior, to think he doth more esteem the body, than the soul, or to suppose that a Farmer should be of higher consideration with him, than a man of worth. What confession of Faith soever R. makes, I will not imagine he can ever be really altered: I had rather both for mine own contentment and his honour believe, it is only a voyage he hath made into the Adversary's Country, to the end to bring us some news, and to give us account of what passeth at Charenton: Surely, I suppose, I should not wrong him so much in holding him for a Spy among Enemies, as to call him a forsaker of his side, and a Fugitive from that Church, whereto he hath at least this obligation, (if he will confess no other) that it is she who made him a Christian. You may do me a courtesy, to make me acquainted with the cause moving him to forsake us, and to go from those Maxims he hath so often preached unto me; That a wise man dies in the Religion of his Mother: That he never altars his opinion: That he never reputes himself of his forepast life therein: That all Novelties are to him suspicious.  
It is long since I knew, that no man's cause can be bad in the hands of Mounsieur ' d Andilly, and that he betters all he affects: he interessed himself in my protection, the first day he saw any works; so as it is not any more myself whom he commends, but his own judgement, which he is bound to defend: Yet will I not desist from being much obliged unto him: For I supposing one affords me a favour, when at any time he doth me justice, you may well thiuke, I have right particular, and most tender sensibilities for those courtesies I receive, but they are in special regard with me, when they come from a person of so high estimation in my thoughts as he is, and of whom I should still have much to say, after I had related, how amidst the corruption of this age, and in the authority Vice therein hath gained, he hath notwithstanding the fortitude, to continue an upright man, and blusheth not at Christian virtues, nor vaunteth of Moral ones. I hope to see him within few days, and to take possession of some small corner in his House at Pompona, which he hath provided for me, there to breath at mine ease, and to set my spirits sometimes at liberty. In the interim you must needs know, about what I busy myself, and that I tell you, I entertain a fool, in whom I find all the Actors in a Comedy, and all sorts of extravagancies incident to the spirit of man. After my books have busied me all the morning, and that I am weary of their company, I spend some part of the afternoon with him, partly to divert my thoughts from serious things, which do but nourish my Melancholy. Ever since I came into this world, I have been perpetually troublesome to myself, I have found all the hours of my life tedious unto me; I have done nothing all day, but seek for night. Wherefore if I desire to be merry, I must necessarily deceive myself, and my felicity is so dependant upon exterior things, that without Painting, Music, and diverse other divertisments, how great a Muser soever I am, I have not sufficient wherewith to entertain myself, or to be pleased. Think not therefore, that either my fool, or my books are sufficient to settle my contentment; nay rather if you have any care of me, or if you desire I should have no leisure to be sad, make me partaker of all the news happening in the place where you are; let me fee the whole Court by your eyes, cause me to assist at all Sermons by your ears, give me account of the good and bad passages happening this Winter, and that there part not a post, uncharged with a Gazetto of your style, as there shall not any go hence, who shall not bring▪ you some vision of my retiredness▪  
There runs a rumour in these parts, that Mounsieur de Boudeville is slain, but since there are not many more hard achievements to be wrought, then that, it is too great a death to be believed upon the first report.  
The 1. of November, 162●   

LETTER XXVI.  
WEre I not confined to my bed, I should myself have solicited the business I have recommended unto you; nor should I have suffered you thus far to oblige me in my absence. But since I cannot possibly part hence,▪ and am here constrained to take ill rest, being far more grievous unto me then agitation; I humbly beseech you, to suffer these Lines to salute you in my stead, and to put you in remembrance of the request I made unto you. Sir, I am resolved not to be beholding to any but yourself, for the happy success whereof the goodness of our cause assureth us, and in case your Integrity should be interessed, I would owe the whole to your favour: For beside, that you are borne perfectly generous, I do not at all doubt, but the commerce you have with good books, and particularly with Seneca, hath taught you the Art, To do good to all men. But to the end the obligation I desire to owe you, may be wholly mine own, instead of referring it to the study of Morality, to your bountiful inclination, or to the justice of my request: I will rather imagine, I shall be the sole cause of this effect, and that you will act without any other assistance, out of the love you bear me, who am passionately  
Your most humble and most faithful servant, BALZAC. Paris the 2. of May, 1627.   

LETTER XXVII.  
GX. X. is resolved to leave all worldly affairs in the state he found them, and these great cares which should have extended themselves over the most remote parts of Christendom, have not as yet passed the limits of his house: He preserves his old age, and prolongs his life by all the possible means he can imagine: But it is thought he will not long make his successor attend, and that his Death will be the first news in the Gazetto. Physicians and Astrologers have concluded upon this point, that he shall not see the end of Autumn. For my part, I never made any great difference between a dead person, and an unprofitable one; and if things less perfect, aught to be post posed to more excellent ones; it were a mockery to make choice of sick folks, and cause them to be adored by those who are in health, or to put sovereign power into their hands, to the end only to have them leave it to others. But it is not my part to reform all things displeasing me in this World, and I should be very ungrateful, if I blamed that form of government, wherein I find myself very well: In effect (Sir) speak no more to me of the North, nor its neighbours; I declare myself for Rome against Paris, nor can I any longer imagine, how a man can live happily under your Climate, where Winter takes up nine Months of the Year, and after that the Sun appeareth, only to cause the Plague, and (weak as it is) forbears not to kill men: There is not any place (Rome excepted) where life is agreeable, where the body finds its pleasures, and the spirit his, where men are at the source of singular things. Rome is the cause you are neither Barbarian, nor Pagan, since she hath taught you the civility of Religion: She hath given you those Laves which arm you against error, and those Examples whereto you owe the good actions you perform. It is from hence Inventions and Arts are come to you, and where you have received the Science of Peace and War, Painting, Music, and Come dies are strangers in France, but natural in Italy: that great Virtue itself you so much admire in your Court, is she not Roman? That Martchionesse, of whom so many marvels are related, is she not Countrywoman to the Mother of the Graches, and to the Wife of Bratus? and in truth, to possess all those perfections the World acknowledgeth in her, was it not fitting she should be borne in a place whereon Heaven defuseth all its Graces? Truly, I never ascend Mount Palatin, or the Capitole, but I change spirit, and others than my ordinary cogitations seize upon me. This Air inspireth me with some great and generous thing I formerly had not; and if I muse but two hours upon the banks of of Tiber, I am as understanding, as if I had studied eight days. It is a thing I wonder at, that being so far off, you make so excellent Verses, and so near the Majesty of Virgil's. I suppose therefore, none will blame me, for having chosen Rome for the place of my abode, or for preferring flowers before snow and ice. If men choose Popes of threescore and ten years old, and not of five and twenty, the days are therefore neither sadder nor shorter, nor have we any subject to complain of our Master's debility, since we are thereto obliged for our quiet.  
From Rome the 25. of March, 1621.   

LETTER XXVIII.  
IT is not to answer your excellent Letter, I write you this, but only to let you know, you have so absolutely acquired me to your service, as you have left me no liberty to do what I desire, when there is any question of performing your pleasure. Since therefore you and your Printers have conspired against my quiet, and that you determine to make my infirmities as public, as though you meant to lead me to the Hospitals or Church-porches; I am co ntented with closed eyes to obey you, and to put my reputation to adventure, rather than seem to refuse you a thing you have demanded of me. Mounsieur the Prior of Chives, to whom I communicate my most secret thoughts, and in whose person you shall see that I know how to make good elections, (in delivering you this Letter) may conclude it, and acquaint you with the power I have given you over all my desires; truly, it hath no other bounds than impossibilities. Since as for those which are only unjust, I believe I should make small scruple, to violate the Laws for your sake, and to testify unto you, that virtue itself is not more dear unto me than your Friendship; this is  
Your most humble and most affectionate servant, BALZAC. The 4. of january 1624.   

LETTER XXIX.  
BEing now ready to alter my course of life, and part hence to come to Court, I held myself obliged to advertise you, that herein I do, what I have no mind unto, and that they have pulled me out from a soil, where I suppose I had taken root. It much afflicts me, that I must forsake the company of my Trees, and part from that pleasing solitude my good Fortune had chosen for me, before I was borne: But since all the World drives me out, and because what I call repose, my Friends term Pusillanimity; I must suffer myself to be carried away with the press, and to err with others, since they will not let me do well by myself. Upon my Conscience it is not out of mine own ambition that I am highminded, but out of my Fathers; and if people of his time had not measured things by the events, and had not belecued those only to be wise, who are fortunate, I should not have busied myself in searching at Paris, for what I ought to have found in myself: But truly I have so great obligation to so good a Father, and the care he hath taken to husband the good grain he hath cast into me, and to finish me after he had framed me; have been so great and passionate, as there is no reason, I should follow my private inclination, by resisting his intention. I go therefore since it is his pleasure, to live among wild beasts, and to expose myself to hatred and calumny, as though the Fever and Scyatica were not sufficient to make me miserable. At my first approach the Grammarians will call me into question, because I put not the French word Mensonge into the feminine gender, and do not believe the jurisdiction they have over words, is powerful enough, to cause this word to change Sex. Those who have not as yet written, will set pen to paper against me, and the new Bridge will echo nothing but my name and their injuries I shall be much distasted to hear I am become an Author, and that I perform indifferent good pieces. The meaner sort of spirits will be much moved, in that I have set so high a rate upon Eloquence, and being unable to follow me, they will throw stones to stay me. The truth I have not dissembled, will at once; offend our adversaries and ill Priests; debauched persons will never forgive me the P. P. they have seen in my books; and Hypocrites will wish me ill, because I set upon vice even within the Sanctuary. See here (my dear friend) the persecution prepared for me, and of what sorts of people the Army of mine Enemies is composed. In all appearance there is not any valour able to surmount so great a Multitude; and I should do much better to enjoy the peace of my Village, and to eat Melons in security, then to cast myself into this incensed troop, and to engage myself in an endless war: yet since all Grammarians are not worth one Philosopher, and in that the better part hath often the advantage over the greater; I am in hope, Authority and Reason siding with me, I shall easily get the upper hand of Multitudes and Injustice. To tax me in these times wherein we are, is as much as to give the lie to his Master, and to condemn the opinion of the prime men of our Age. Those who govern at Rome, and at Paris, make my labours their delights; and when at any time they lay aside the weight of the whole World, they refresh themselves with my Works. But if some bad Monks who in religious houses, as Rats, and other imperfect creatures may happily have been in the Ark, seek to gnaw my reputation; Mounsieur de Nantes, and Mounsieur de Berulle will conserve it; and you know them for two men▪ whom the Church in this age beholdeth, as two Saints dis-interred out of the memory of her Annals, or two of those Primative Fathers, whose Souls were wholly replenished with jesus Christ, and who have established the Truth as well by their Blood, as Doctrine. I have beside, as an opposite to my Calumniators, one of the most perfect Religious this day living; I mean Father Joseph, whose great Zeal is guided by as eminent an understanding, and who hath the same passions for the general good of Christendom, as Courtiers have for their particular Interests. This irreproachable witness knows, I reverence in others the Piety I find not in myself; and if I perform not all the actions of a perfectly virtuous person, yet have I at least all the sensibilities and desires. Mounsieur the Abbot of St. Cyran, who is not ignorant of any thing falling within the compass of humane understanding, besides the more sublime gifts and illuminations where with he is adorned, and who in a right profound Litterature, hath yet a more resigned humility, will answer for me in the same case; and though all these strange forces should fail me; have I not sufficient in the protection of the Bishop of Air, and Mounsieur Bouthilier, who do both of them love me, as though I had the honour to be their Brother; and who are so sage, so judicious, and so understanding in all things, as it is not probable, they would begin to err by the good opinion they have of me: I suppose that hereupon I may venture to go to Court, and that with so powerful assistance, there are no enemies I need fear. Yet will I once again tell you, and I beseech you believe me, I would not part hence, were I permitted to stay; and that it doth not a little trouble me, to lose the sight of my paths and allies wherein I walk, without being enforced to wear Boötes, or have any apprehension of Carroaches.  
From Balzac the 18. of October, 1624.   

LETTER XXX.  
I Am doubtful to believe you speak in earnest in your Letter, and that he, of all men, who hath most cause to be satisfied with himself, should need the assistance of any other to comfort him. This is as much as to be distasted amidst the abundance of all things, and to be ungrateful toward your good fortune, since in the height of those favours you receive, and expectation of those prepared for you; you notwithstanding seek for foreign pleasures, and are sensible of petty contentments among great felicities. My writings are no objects but for sick and sad eyes; yea, of such as will be neither cured, nor comforted: They may indeed flatter melancholy, and afford a man (in despair) poison not unpleasing unto him; but to contribute any thing to the satisfaction of a contented spirit, and to mingle themselues with the pleasures of his life, without corrupting all the sweetness, is a thing I can hardly be drawn to believe: And I herein imagine you have rather a design to tell me some good news, then to write a true History unto me. At the age of ooooo. you are seated upon Flowers-de-luce, and can you lie down upon Roses? You are wise, and have not acquired the same with loss of your best years; you are borne the same we desire to be at the best: on what side soever you cast your eyes, you find present felicities, and certain hopes; and were there neither Loover nor Palace to promise you preferments or offices, the house where you are, may alone make you happy. There it is, where virtue hath no cause to complain of the injustice of Fortune, and where she is more commodiously lodged, then among Philosophers; without going thence; you possess whatsoever we desire in our wishes▪ and what we imagine in our dreams. The days which to me are so long, and whose each moment I reckon, paste over swiftly at Villesavin; nor can Riches annoy you in a society capable to make even poverty pleasing. What likelihood is it then, this being so, you should be of your Letters opinion, and that you cannot be without me. It sufficeth me, you sometimes have me in your thoughts, as those in Heaven behold what they left on Earth: and that you receive the votes and prayers I shall hereafter address unto you, after the solemn protestation I am about to make, to remain whilst I live,  
Your most humble and most faithful servant, BALZAC. From Paris the 15. of September, 1617.   
The end of the Fourth and last Book.   

❧ A Table of the Letters contained in this Volume of Mounsieur de Balzac: wherein the names of all those to whom his Letters have been written, are contained.  

The first Book.  
THe Letter of my Lord the Cardinal of Richelieu to Mounsieur de Balzac. p. 1.  
The answer to my Lord, the Cardinal of Richelieu's Letter. p. 5.  
The third Letter, to my Lord the Cardinal of Richelieu. p. 10.  
Fourth, to the same. p. 13.  
Fifth, to the same. p. 17.  
Sixth, to the same. p. 20.  
Seventh, to the same. p. 24.  
Eighth, to the Lord Bishop of Air. p. 34.  
Nineth, to the same. p. 39  
Tenth, to the same. p. 44.  
Eleventh, to the same. p. 48.  
Twelfth, to the same. p. 58.  
Thirteenth, to the same. p. 61.  
Fourteenth, to the same. p. 68  
Fifteenth, to Mounsieur de la Motte. p. 74.  
Sixeteenth, to Mounsieur de Bois-Robert. p. 86.   

The second Book.  
TO my Lord the Cardinal of Vallete. p. 94.  
Second, to the same. p. 102.  
Third, to the same. p. 107.  
Fourth, to the same. p. 111.  
Fifth, to the same. p. 116.  
Sixth, to the same. p. 124.  
Seventh, to the same. p. 128.  
Eighth, to the same. p. 131.  
Nineth, to the same. p. 135.  
Tenth, to the same. p. 140.  
Eleventh, to the same. p. 144.  
Twelfth, to Mounsieur de Planty. p. 149.  
Thirteenth, to Mounsieur de la Magdelena. p. 152.  
Fourteenth, to Mounsieur de Montigny. p. 156.  
Fifteenth, to my Lord the Duke of Espernon. p. 158.  
Sixteenth, from the same Duke to the King. p. 163.  
Seventeenth, from the same Duke to the King. p. 165.  
Eighteenth from the same Duke to the King. p. 175.   

The third Book.  
TO my Lord the Duke of Valete. p. 191.  
Second, to Mounsieur de Plelles, Governor of Talmont, and Marshal of the Field of the King's armies. p. 197.  
Third, to Hydaspe. p. 202.  
Fourth, to the same. p. 217.  
Fifth, to Mounsieur de la Roche, Captain of the Guard. p. 219.  
Sixth, to Mounsieur de Bois-Robert. p. 222.  
Seventh, to the same. p. 227.  
Eighth, to the same. p. 235.  
Nineth, to the same. p. 240.  
Tenth, to the same. p. 245.  
Eleventh, to Mounsieur Girard, Secretary to my Lord the Duke of Espernon. p. 253.  
Twelfth, to the same. p. 257.  
Thirteenth, to the same. p. 260.  
Fourteenth, to the same. p. 261.  
Fifteenth, to Olympa. p. 265.  
Sixteenth, to Crysolita. p. 269.  
Seventeenth to Clorinda. p. 271.  
Eighteenth, to the same. p. 273.  
Nineteenth, to the same. p. 276.  
Twentieth, to the same. p. 280.  
Twenty one, to the same. p. 284.  
Twenty two, to Lydia. p. 287.  
Twenty three, to Mounsieur de Ambleville. p. 288.  
Twenty four, to the Lord Martial of Schomberg. p. 223.  
Twenty five, the Lord Martial of schomberg's answer. p. 296.   

The fourth Book.  
THe Letter to my Lord the Marshal of Schomberg. p. 298.  
Second, to the Lord Bishop of Angoulesme. p. 303.  
Third, to the Reverend Father Garrasse. 306.  
Fourth, to the Lord Cardinal of Valete. p. 312.  
Fifth, to the same. p. 316.  
Sixth, to the Lord Bishop of Nantes. p. 320.  
Seventh, to Mounsieur de la Marque. p. 325.  
Eighth, to Mounsieur Tissandier. p. 327.  
Nineth, to Mounsieur Farret. p. 329.  
Tenth, to Mounsieur Coeffeteau, Bishop of Marselle. p. 331.  
Eleventh, to Mounsieur Pouzet. p. 334.  
Twelfth, to Madamoselle de Gourny. p. 336.  
Thirteenth, to Mounsieur Berniere, Precedent in the Court of Parliament of Rouen. p. 342.  
Fourteenth, to Mounsieur de Voiture. p. 344.  
Fifteenth, to Mounsieur de Vaugelas. p. 347.  
Sixteenth, to Mounsieur de Racan. p. 351.  
Seventeenth, to the Abbot of S. Cyran. p. 354.  
Eighteenth, to Mounsieur de Malherbe. p. 369.  
Nineteenth, to Mounsieur de Vaugelas. p. 398.  
Twentieth, to the same. p. 372.  
Twenty one, to the same. p. 375.  
Twenty two, to the same p. 378.  
Twenty three, to the same. p. 382.  
Twenty four, to Hydaspe. p. 384.  
Twenty five, to Mounsieur de la Estang, Advocate to the King's privy Counsel. p. 391.  
Twenty six, to Mounsieur de Auaux, Master of requests of the King's House, and Ambassador for the French King at Venice. p. 396.  
Twenty seven, to Mounsieur Borbonius, the King's Greek Professor. p. 398.  
Twenty eight, to Mounsieur de Bois-Robert. p. 401.  
Twenty nine, to the Prior of Chives. p. 403.  
Thirtieth, to Mounsieur Bouthillier, one of the King's Counsel, and of his Council likewise in Parliament. p. 408.    

ERRATA.  
PAge the 5. for, address, read, write. p. ibid. instead of, or if, read, or as if. p. 8. for, my favour, read, in my favour. p. 10. for, and that Artemizaes' goodness, read, and I suppose that Artemizaes' goodness. p. 48. for dumble, read, dumb. p. 13. for, address, read, write. p. 32. line 11. read, and that resolutions. p. 188. for, of chardly, read, clearly. p. 186. for, variety, read, vanity. p. 265. whose over long living, read, for whose over long living. p. 160. for, tried, read, tired. p. 348. for, importunies, read, importunities. p. ●55. for, at the worst, read, at the most. p. 365. for, concerning, read▪ conserving. p. 369. for, you are, read, you were. p. 291. for, orders, read, ordures. p. 394. for any works, read, my works. p. 14●. for, I never die, read, I never dine. p. 133. for Elixa, read, Elixir.  
FINIS.