FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[281]The Relation of an Assault made by French Papists upon a Minister of the French Church, in Newport Street, near St. Martin's Lane, 11th June 1682.[282]Mémoires et observations faites en Angleterre, La Haye, 1698.

[281]The Relation of an Assault made by French Papists upon a Minister of the French Church, in Newport Street, near St. Martin's Lane, 11th June 1682.

[282]Mémoires et observations faites en Angleterre, La Haye, 1698.

Pierre Coste would be quite forgotten to-day if, by a singular piece of good luck, he had not translated Locke'sEssayinto French. Born at Uzès, in Southern France, in 1668, Coste fled to Holland at the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Though accepted as a minister by the Synod of Amsterdam, he appears never to have fulfilled pastoral duties. He knew Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; he had studied divinity; so to earn a living, he became a proof reader. In spite of his precarious condition, he seems to have had friends in high places, Charles Drelincourt, for instance, professor of medicine at Leyden University, and physician in ordinary to William of Orange and Mary, and Jean Le Clerc, the author of theBibliothèque universelle.

On the latter's advice, Coste learned enough English to translate Locke'sThoughts concerning Education. The favourable reception of the work induced him to undertake a translation of theEssay on Human Understanding: Locke heard of this and,in order to supervise the work, he invited Coste to come over to England. Locke was then living with Sir Francis Masham, at Oates, in England. Coste quite naturally became the tutor to the young Mashams, none being more qualified to apply the principles of theThoughts concerning Educationthan the translator.

Coste lived on at Oates till Locke's death in 1704. He subsequently became tutor to the son of the Earl of Shaftesbury, the author of theCharacteristics. We can trace him to Paris, following the chequered career of a man of letters; thence he went to Montpellier and Rome, wandered about Germany and Holland, returned to England, and finally found his way back to Paris, where he died in 1747.

Like all the "Dutch journalists," with the exception of Bayle and Le Clerc, he was merely a compiler and translator. Besides Locke, he translated Newton, Shaftesbury, Lady Masham. He published editions of Montaigne and La Fontaine; he wrote a life of Condé. Original work he never sought to achieve. "I have no ambition," he writes, "if I had, I should be unable to satisfy it." He is no more than a good-tempered, careless Southerner. With nothing of the Camisard about him, he invincibly recalls one of those sunny, self-possessed sons of Provence. Surely it was an accident of birth that made him a native of the Cévennes, he should have come into the world a little lower down in the valley of the Rhone. Of course he isoften insolvent, but when the duns clamour, a generous patron never fails to interfere. The great people he meets do not impress him; on the contrary he laughs at their foibles most indulgently. The background in which these eminent men live lends piquancy to Coste's letters; but the difficulty of understanding the allusions is somewhat irritating. The impression is that of a black void faintly illuminated by intermittent flashes of light. There is, however, some slight compensation in the recreating work of filling up the gaps with surmises.

Coste's correspondence we do not intend to publish in full. A selection must be made. All that concerns the relations between "Dutch journalists" and English writers interests the history of comparative literature. The information about Locke and the spread of his philosophy in France, must be carefully treasured up. But there are also familiar letters which throw the most vivid light on the life of some French refugees in Amsterdam. Thanks to them we shall know something about the man as well as about his works.

One of the letters printed below tells how Coste came to know Locke. "Speaking of that doctor(Drelincourt), I must say I have had the occasion to write to a famous English physician named Locke, of whom you have so often heard me speak. Yesterday I received a book with which he had been kind enough to present me. I shall thank him at the earliest opportunity." It appears that the success attending the operation performed by Locke on the first Earl of Shaftesbury in 1668 was not to be eclipsed by the publication of theEssay. Contemporaries spoke in the same breath of Locke and Sydenham as great physicians.

Into Coste's life at Oates we can get only a few glimpses, just some recollections jotted down long after Locke's death. Thus, on 8th January 1740, Coste wrote to La Motte, the "Dutch journalist," to complain about the "cape" with which the engraver had adorned Locke's portrait, heading an edition of theTraité de l'Education. Locke, he said, had never been a physician. "He could not bear being called a doctor. King William gave him the title and Mr. Locke begged an English lord to tell the King that the title was not his."

The anecdote clears up the mystery contained in a letter of Bayle. In the first edition of the famousDictionary(1698) Bayle had mentioned "Doctor" Locke. For Bayle as for every one in Holland who remembered the first Earl of Shaftesbury, Locke was a celebrated physician. Locke corrected the mistake, probably through the medium of Coste; but Bayle failed to understand."I am very sorry," he answered, "that he has taken so ill the granting of a title which will do him no harm in any reader's mind."[283]Bayle was not aware that Locke had been denied in 1666 his doctorship by the hostile Oxford authorities. Locke's behaviour is a characteristic instance of hard-dying resentment.

In February 1705, there had appeared in theNouvelles de la République des Lettres, an "éloge" or kind of obituary notice on Locke.[284]After a short account of the philosopher's life, followed some details on his character, among which it may be read that he was impatient of contradiction and easily roused to anger. "In general, it must be owned, he was naturally somewhat choleric. But his anger never lasted long. If he retained any resentment, it was against himself for having given way to so ridiculous a passion; which, as he used to say, may do a great deal of harm, but never yet did the least good. He would often blame himself for this weakness." The following passage in one of Coste's letters may serve to illustrate that general statement: "I remember that conversing one day with Mr. Locke, the discourse happening to light upon innate ideas, I ventured this objection: what must we think of birds such as the goldfinch that, hatched in the parents' nest, will fly away at last into the open in quest of food without either parent taking the least care,and that, a year later, know very well where and how to find and select the material necessary for building a nest, which proves to be made and fitted up with as much or more art than the one in which they were hatched? Whence have come the ideas of those materials and the art of building a nest with them? To which Mr. Locke bluntly replied: 'I did not write my book to explain the actions of dumb creatures!' The answer is very good and the title of the book 'Philosophical Essay Concerning Human Understanding' shows it to be relevant." By the way, in alluding to the strange workings of heredity, Coste had come unawares upon the strongest argument in favour of innate ideas.

After Locke's death, a quarrel broke out among his friends. Anthony Collins, the free-thinker, loth to admit of a single objection to his master's theory such as he conceived it to be, thought that both Le Clerc and Coste were pursuing a deliberate plan of disparagement and resolved to denounce them publicly. In 1720, one of his dependents, the refugee Desmaizeaux, published a volume of Locke's posthumous works, prefaced with an attack on Coste. Le Clerc, whose explanation had been accepted, was spared.[285]"M. Coste," wrote Desmaizeaux, "in several writings, and in his common conversation throughout France, Holland, and England, has aspersed and blackened the memory of Mr. Locke, in those very respects whereinhe was his panegyrist before."[286]No trace remains of the written strictures. A hitherto unpublished letter explains and justifies Collins' resentment. Reviewing a pamphlet of one Carroll against Locke, the CatholicJournal de Trévouxhappened to say: "Such is the idea entertained in England about Mr. Locke whom aLetter written to Abbé Dauxi by Mr. De La Costecharges us with slandering. The printed letter has been circulated in Paris.... We are pleased to see English writers judge their countrymen in the same way as ourselves. Perhaps the exaggerated praise that M. Le Clerc heaps upon his friend Mr. Locke, is a more decisive proof that we have found out the latter's impiety."[287]On receiving the review, Coste indignantly denied having written theLetter to Abbé Dauxi. The attitude of the Trévoux reviewers he failed to understand. "Their synopsis of theEssayappeared to me very good, as far as I remember, and Mr. Locke, to whom I read it, was pretty well satisfied."[288]To show that his feelings toward his patron were unchanged, Coste reprinted his "éloge" in the second edition of his translation of theEssay(1729), adding these words: "If my voice is useless to the glory of Locke, it will serve at least to witness that having seen and admired his fine qualities, it was a pleasure for me to perpetuate their memory."

In Coste's papers information abounds on the corrections he made to the several editions of his translation of Locke. It would be an invidious task to transcribe the long lists of errata that he sends to faithful La Motte, who seems to supervise the work of the press, but it may prove interesting to know the names of great people on the Continent who are to receive presentation copies of theEssay. They are "the nuntio in Brussels, the Duchesse du Maine, M. Rémond in Paris, Abbé Salier, sub-librarian to the King."[289]In 1737, he mentions the success of theThoughts concerning Education, reprinted in Rouen, upon the fourth Dutch edition. But theReasonableness of Christianityfell dead from the press, the Paris booksellers not having a single copy in 1739.

On the spread of Locke's ideas on the Continent, Coste's letters bear out the evidence to be gathered elsewhere, notably from the Desmaizeaux papers in the British Museum. While theThoughts concerning Educationand theEssaywere eagerly read, no one seemed to care about the social compact theory, toleration, or latitudinarian theology. As early as August 1700, Bernard writes to Desmaizeaux from the Hague that "Mr. Locke's book in French sells marvellously well." In 1707, according to Mrs. Burnet, the Bishop of Salisbury's wife, theEssaywas extensively read in Brussels.[290]In 1721, Veissière informed Desmaizeaux that he had presented the chancellor in Paris with "a miscellaneous collection of pieces ofLook, in English," and received profuse thanks. The same year, another correspondent from Paris congratulated Desmaizeaux upon the publication of "M. Look's" posthumous works, and begged for information on the meaning of the wordsgravitationandattraction, "the English language," he added, "not being quite unknown to me." This, of course, was before Voltaire had "discovered" either Locke or Newton and summed up for the benefit of his countrymen their respective contributions to the advancement of anti-clericalism and free thought.

But it must be borne in mind that Peter Coste was not entirely engrossed in translations of Locke. One day, he gave La Motte his appreciation on Richard Cumberland'sDe legibus naturæ disquisitio philosophica"written in so rude a style one does not know whether it be Latin or English.... Those defects," he added, "have disappeared from Barbeyrac's translation." But an "English gentleman, a friend of Mr. Locke, with whom he studied in the same college at Oxford," has undertaken to publish an abridged edition "ampler than the original one and still less readable."

At another time, Coste was interested in a less serious book, Richardson'sPamela. The famous novel had just appeared unsigned. With Southernrashness, Coste met the difficulty of authorship with a wild guess. "I heard aboutPamelain Paris, but I never read even a word of the book." However, he knows who wrote it, "'Tis M. Bernard, the son of our friend (the editor of theNouvelles de la République des Lettres) and minister to a French Church in London. I know it as a fact. The success of the work caused no doubt the author to let out the secret, which he had kept at first by publishing his work in English."[291]The eagerness with which these cosmopolitan writers seize upon any successful book, is both amusing and instructive.

To one of his correspondents Coste wrote about the same time: "I am, have been, and will remain all my life, to all appearances, in continual torment." It was a weary old man who talked on in that way. Fortune had ceased to smile. Now let us turn to another scene: Peter Coste, in all the confident strength of early manhood, is writing a series of letters of love which the author ofPamelawould have surely appreciated.

In 1694, one Brun, a native most probably of Languedoc, in partnership with a fellow-countrymanof the name of Rouvière, established himself as a trader in Amsterdam. The two merchants took a house in the most busy part of the city, the Heer-Gracht. They were both married. Madame Rouvière being still young, speedily became a confidante for the daughters of her husband's partner. Three of these lived in Amsterdam, the fourth had married a refugee, her father's business agent in London. To make this home circle complete, another name must be mentioned, Mademoiselle Durand, destined to marry a gentleman, M. de Bruguière, and according to the etiquette of old France to be henceforth styled "Madame."

It appears that Coste, the press-corrector, would be a frequent visitor at the house in the Heer-Gracht. There he met his friend, the journalist De La Motte. An intimacy naturally grew up between Coste and one of the daughters. Whenever they had to part for a time, he used to write either to her or to her sisters and friends. She answered occasionally. Only one of her letters is extant.

Mademoiselle,—(He has been ill, has delayed answering. Compliments: the letter received has delighted him.) We must love you well to rejoice in hearing how well you are diverting yourselves at the Hague, while here we drag on our miserable lives without the least pleasure.You seem slow to believe us so unhappy, for you speak of our garden and the study therein as of an earthly paradise. But you are greatly mistaken if you imagine the place, which appeared so charming when you were there, is still so, when you are there no longer. It's quite another thing. Your absence has disturbed everything. Our garden yields no more fruit. Even the weeds no sooner spring but they wither.... Such desolation is not limited to our garden, all Amsterdam feels it. Which reminds me of a conversation that took place over a fortnight ago in a house where I happened to be in good company.... A Fleming who had come from the Hague two days before, told us how charming a place it was.... I know the reason well, said I to myself:

"Which proceeds neither from the magnificent throneOf his British Majesty,Nor from the Ambassadors that are gathered together hereTo appease the upstirred heartsOf all the princes in Europe.One speedily sees, unless one be a mole,That two Iris's have caused the vast changeAnd thereforeIf in our business citySuch charms are not to be foundAs in the large Dutch burgh,It is because those Iris's are not there."

... Ah! had I been able, I should have simply laughed from Leyden to Harlem and leapt for joyfrom Harlem to Amsterdam. But that would not have been more possible than for Mlle Durand to come into the world before Mlle Rouvière.[293]When I take thought, I reflect that at bottom you do me the favour to send me your love as well as to Mlle Prades and M. de La Motte....—Coste.[294]

[The letter is addressed to "Monsieur Convenent, conseiller d'Orange, pour rendre à Mademoiselle Durand, à la Haye." Written about the same time as the preceding.]

Mesdemoiselles,—We thought we had to thank you only for the honour you did us to inform us on Saturday that you would welcome us with pleasure in your company to Leyden.... (usual old-fashioned complimentary phrases).

You no doubt wish to know what became of us after the fatal moment of our parting from you. We went on board feeling very sad, and now talking, now holding our tongues, lying down, leaning, yawning, dozing and sleeping, we reached Harlem. Those that did not sleep, heard the nightingale and the cuckoo sing.[295]I was of the number as well as Mlle Isabeau who, hearing the cuckoo sing,softly breathed quite a pretty song. She would have sung, but the glory to gain was too little with a cuckoo for a rival. As to the nightingale, she dare not try her strength against his, for fear of failure. There is risk everywhere, yet I believe that, had she had the courage to enter the lists, she would have come out victorious. As to M. Rouvière, he woke up only when compelled to leave the boat, and cross the town of Harlem. Do you know what he did to sleep so soundly? He made me promise to read him some of Madame Des Houlières'[296]poetry, paying me for my trouble, of course. He handed me an apple, on condition I should read until he fell asleep, and I won the apple very soon. I had not read six lines before I laid down the book to eat my apple, and there was no further need to take up the book.

Having crossed Harlem, we went on board once more and met in the boat a great talker, just back from England, a brother to M. Vasserot; he left us only the liberty to listen and to ask a question now and then, to compel him to change his subject. The talk was all about England....

Though I long to see you, I prefer being deprived of your presence to enjoying it, if your stay at the Hague may help Mlle Durand to recover health, which with all my heart I wish she will do.... I shall be as careful to tell you all that happens here as Mlle Durand must be to note all she feels in order to instruct M. Drelincourt. Talking ofthat doctor, I have had occasion to write to a famous English physician, named Locke, of whom you have heard me so often speak. Yesterday I received a book with which he was kind enough to present me. I shall thank him at the earliest opportunity. If Mlle Durand thinks it proper, I shall send him an account of her sickness, begging him to point out what remedies he thinks fit....Coste.

[From England, where Coste is staying, he writes a series of letters, by way of pastime, no doubt, when not engaged in the austerer task of translating theEssay, under Locke's immediate supervision.]

To Mademoiselle Suson and to Mesdemoiselles Isabeau and Jeannette to beg them to prevail upon Mademoiselle Suson to take up a pen.

Mademoiselle,—You love me little, in spite of your fine protests; or you know little what true friendship is. 'Tis not punctilious, as you feign to think. You are not witty enough, you say, to answer my letter. 'Tis untrue, an't please you; but even if it was so, must we be witty to write to a friend? Let us only consult our hearts, and utter what they feel. As to terms, a friend never stops to criticise them. Heavens! whoever amused himself with reading a letter from a friend with a dictionary and a grammar in his hand, to find out some obsolete word or sorry turn of phrase?Friendship is not irksome, and it is one of the finest privileges a friend has when writing to a friend, to say all he chooses to say in the way he chooses without fearing anything. He ventures everything and runs no risk. That freedom is the best part of friendship; without it I should not care a button (je ne donnerois pas un clou) for that sweet union so boasted of, so rare, so seldom known.

If this is not enough to induce you to write, I shall have recourse to three or four intercessors that have more power perhaps over your mind than I.

I begin with Mlle Isabeau. The worst soldiers are always placed in front of the army, because, if they run away, all hopes are not lost. I act in the same way. I do not trust Mlle Isabeau very much. According to her temper, she will fight for or against me. Maybe she will be neither for nor against, and should I find her in that fatal frame of mind, it would be idle for me to say: "Now, Mlle Isabeau, a line or two, please. Take pity on a poor lonely man who has scarcely lived since your going away. You can make him spend some sweet moments in writing to him, send him only four lines, or at least beseech Mlle Suson to write."She does not answer."Is it possible, Mlle Isabeau, for you to have forgotten me so? Are the promises"—She speaks to the wall.If I become more pressing, I may elicit a crushing reply. So I turn to Mlle Rouvière who will speak up for me,I am sure, and in such moving terms that Mlle Suson must surrender. "Who are you talking about?" she will say. "About that Englishman who would like perhaps to be with us here. What does he want? A letter from Mlle Suson. Well, you must write to him to-day, without fail. Give me the letter, I shall get it posted. Now, there's a merchant just stepping into the warehouse, I must go and see what he wants, I shall be back in a moment, excuse me, won't you, business above all." Oh, the fatal motto, the cursed merchant! the troublesome fellow but for whom I had carried my suit. Mlle Suson said nothing. She was half convinced by Mlle Rouvière's natural eloquence, together with that good grace inseparable from whatever she says and which it is impossible to withstand.

But let us not lose heart! I have still my reserves to bring up. What Mlle Rouvière has only tried, Mlle Durand will accomplish without so much ado. "The poor fellow," she will say, "he is right. Let us write to him without haggling." And immediately, taking a large sheet of paper, she will write this or something like:

You are right to blame my sister's carelessness. Since we think of you sometimes, it is just to tell you so. That will please you, you say; I am very glad of it, and—well—you may depend upon it.

No doubt Mlle Suson will follow that example and go on with the letter. I therefore thank Mlle Durand for the four lines and all the othersthat Mlle Suson will add, since it is through her intercession that I get them.

If you still resist, Mademoiselle, I shall send Mlle Jeannette forward as a sharpshooter that, if he dared, would fight furiously for me. But she will attempt something and say: "Why, certainly, sister, you should write to him!" She would say more but she is afraid you will reply: "Jeannette, mind your own business." If you venture as far as that, I shall tell you that you take an unfair advantage of your birthright and that she is right in advising you to keep your promise.

But we must not come to that pass. I am sure that Mlle Rouvière, Mlle Durand, and Mlle Isabeau (I write the name down with trembling) will have determined you to fulfil your promise, and that you will listen with pleasure to what Mlle Jeannette says to strengthen you in your resolve.

I had written this when I received Mr. De La Motte's last letter in which he informs me that you have begun a letter to me. So I have no doubt you wish to write to me. You have begun. 'Tis half the work. Take up the pen again and get the work over.... If you have not the leisure to write a long letter, write a short one. I shall always receive it with profit.

I beg of you to assure Monsieur your father and Mademoiselle your mother of my humblest regards. I have seen their granddaughter, your niece, a very pretty child. Whenever I go to London I shallnot fail to see her, as well as Mlle Gigon, whom I ask you to greet from me when you write to her. I am, etc.—Coste.

Madame,—I shall not want many words to persuade you that I heard the news of your marriage with much joy (usual florid compliments). You have above all a kind inclination for your husband. Yes! that last is not wanting, I have it from good authority, and it was absolutely necessary. 'Tis that gives relish to marriage, which, without it, would, according to those skilled in the matter, be only a dull, insipid union.... I present my compliments to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Rouvière and wish them a happy New Year. I take part in the joy of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Brun and in that they will soon have of being once more grandparents.

N.B.Pardon me, please, Madame, the liberty I take to inclose a letter to Mademoiselle Suson.

Mademoiselle,—Though a marriage has deprived me of the so-long-wished-for pleasure of receivingone of your letters, I am quite ready to write to you before receiving an answer to this letter and to those that I have already written to you to congratulate you on an adventure similar to your sister's.... I received, Mademoiselle, a very courteous letter from your good London friend, and I answered it two days later. There's a hint for you! But I wish to have the merit of perfect resignation, to suffer without complaining. Mlle Gigon mentions Messieurs Malbois and Macé as persons in good health. I do not know whether I shall be able to see them this winter.

M. De La Motte sends me word that you have received my last letter and finds I have pretty truly sketched your characters.

I do not withdraw what I said about Mlle Rouvière's natural eloquence. No one can take it from her, without taking her life too, but I know not whether she has the goodwill I credited her with in my letter. Had Mlle Rouvière spoken in my favour, she would have moved you, and the bride would not have failed to make you take up your pen, had she deigned to set you an example. But I do not see that you were either stirred by Mlle Rouvière's persuasive speech or enticed by Mme de Bruguière's example.... I thought Mlle R. would speak for me, that Mme de B. would take up a pen to encourage you to write.... As to Mademoiselle Isabeau, she cannot deny it, I have drawn her portrait after nature.... The heat of passion at seeing my letter did not last long. Likea heap of straw that blazes up, it cooled down almost as soon as it burst out....

As to Mademoiselle Jeannette, I am sure she did what she could for me. I am much obliged to her for her zeal. Please excuse the blots in my letter. I have not the leisure to copy it out.... Adieu, Mademoiselle, love me always as I love you or almost.—P. Coste.

Mademoiselle,—I see that in friendship as in love (the two passions are much akin), who loses pays. For the last six months you have been promising to answer my last letter, and, now I am beginning to despair of seeing the wished-for answer, you tell me, "Could you not, Monsieur, write to me sometimes without exacting an answer...." You know too well the price of your letters not to lavish them upon me. You will not have them match my own in number.... I was charmed with your letter, I cannot keep silence about it, I read it over many times and shall read it again....

Your artless compliment upon the New Year, went home. It quite moved me. I am very glad to see that my tastes quite agree with your own.That makes me believe I am reasonable. I have no ambition, and if I had, I should be incapable of satisfying it. I am very little encumbered with money and in no condition to amass much, however that may be necessary to the regard of the world. When I dwell on all that, I sometimes fancy it would be as well for me to leave this world quickly, as to linger on in an everlasting circle of toilsome vain occupations, but coming soon after to think that I have a few good friends in this world, I say to myself, that it is worth while living to enjoy so sweet a pleasure.—Coste.

Mademoiselle,—For your intention of writing to me, I owe you at least one letter. See how much obliged I should be to you if you deigned to carry out your intention. I do not care to reproach a friend. But I congratulate myself in mildly rebuking you, if I thereby oblige you to write. Lay your hand on your conscience. Have I not a right to complain a little? I have been writing for over a year and you have not once thought of answering me. I know that friendship does not stand upon ceremony, but can it put up with such carelessness? No, Mademoiselle. You know too well the delicacy of that charming passion, whichis the keenest pleasure of high-born souls, not to agree with me....—Coste.

[Two significant letters follow, one of which is the young girl's answer.]

Mademoiselle,—Having opened a few days ago one of the finest books written in this age, I read these charming words: "To be with those we love is enough. To dream, talk, keep silence, think of them, think of more indifferent things, but to benear them, is all one."

I could not see those words, Mademoiselle, without thinking of you, and I could not help adding: "What a torment it is to be far from her whom one loves." After thinking of that, I could not help writing.

I do not know whether you will take this for sterling truth; I mean to say, whether you will believe what I say. I am persuaded that you will not be in the least tempted to doubt my sincerity; but I do not know whether you will make much account of it. Here you are accused, you Dutch people, of loving only bills of exchange. As for me, I know a man who would value more highly than gold, however bright it may be, a compliment from you that would be as sincere as the one I have just paid you. I am, etc.—Coste.

Oates,6th February 1699, O.S.Pay the bearer 99,000,000,000 and a few millions, within six days, on sight.Mademoiselle Suson Brun, the Her-Gracht, Amsterdam.

Oates,6th February 1699, O.S.

Pay the bearer 99,000,000,000 and a few millions, within six days, on sight.

Mademoiselle Suson Brun, the Her-Gracht, Amsterdam.

Monsieur,—I am in receipt of yours of the 6th inst., and seeing you have drawn on me a bill of 99,000,000,000, I shall not fail to meet it when due; if there is anything in this city that I can do for you, I am yours to command. That is, Monsieur, the extent of the business gibberish I have acquired in five years' time. If you ask me only to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, you are now satisfied; but I should not be if I did not speak a language less barbarous and more intelligible than that one to persons like you and me. So I shall tell you, Monsieur, that of all the letters that I have received from you, none pleased me more than the last. You ever love me, you say, and if you read some sweet thing, you remember me; I own I did not dare expect that from you; not but that I know you to be a sincere and true friend, but I was afraid of the distance, the fine ladies you would find in England and the persons of merit[297]you see every day; but aboveall I was afraid of human nature, unfit, it is said, for constancy; I beg your pardon, Monsieur, if I have confounded you with so many people from whom you deserve to be distinguished, as much on this score as on others already known to me ere I was convinced of the last.

If the esteem I have for you was not of the highest, it would no doubt increase on discovering in you so rare a virtue, for I terribly love kind friends, and though of a sex to whose lot levity falls, nothing would pain me more than to cease loving one I had loved: what pleasure therefore it is for me who have loved, love, and will love you all my life, to have a friend such as I should wish to have! Ever love me, dear Monsieur, and believe that the brightness of gold, though I am in Holland, will never cause me such pleasure as the mere thought of having a friend tried by time. But I know not of what I am thinking. You ask only for a compliment and I am returning professions of love and lengthily too; no matter, compliments are only compliments, that is to say speeches generally devoid of meaning and that are far from expressing the true feelings of the heart, consequently they would be unfit to express the sincerity of the friendship I entertain for you; for

Of loyal friends if the fashion is lost,Istill love as women loved of old.

I write down those lines with a trembling hand, not knowing very well how that sort of thing mustbe put, but the lines express so fully my meaning that I thought you might overstep the rules, if the rhythm is not right; however that may be, you must be persuaded that such are the feelings of your kind friend.

(From Amsterdam,3rd March 1699.)

[A gap in the correspondence. Two years later Coste writes the following letters.]

... Last century, you were infatuated with wit, you say, and you thought yourself bound to write in a sublime style. Don't tell me that, Mademoiselle. I know you too well to believe that of you. I know that last century your mind had depth and strength and you were strong-minded; you wrote well, knowing what tone to assume and never departing from it. If that be a fault, you are not rid of it at the beginning of this century....

As for me, I fancy that a charming shepherdess who, after talking to her shepherd about rain and fair weather, suddenly said without regard to connection in subjects: "Oh, dear Tirtis, how I love thee!" would persuade him far better than a more witty shepherdess who, coming more skilfully to the point, said: "See the lamb yonder,how pretty it is, how charmingly it frisks about the grass, it is my pet, I love it much, but, dear Tirtis, less than thee!" That is more witty but not so moving, if I am to believe those skilled in the matter....

"Yes, in my heart your portrait is engravedSo deeply that, had I no eyes,Yet I should never lose the ideaOf the charming features that Heaven bestowed on thee."

[The last letter has caused him much disquiet. Suson has fallen ill of "languor and melancholy".]

A peace-loving creature has brought you back to health; and you think yourself thereby protected against all the malicious reflections of our friend. Asses' milk may cool the blood, enliven the complexion and restore the healthful look that you had lost,

"But its effect reaches not unto the heart."

If the sickness should be in that part, you must needs be wary; you might still remain ill a long time, in spite of your asses. There are remedies against love, but none are infallible. Such is a great master's decision. See whether it would be becoming for an ass to gainsay it.... Proud as you should be and delicate to the utmost, I donot think you in great danger in the country where you are. So I deem you quite cured. You may proclaim your victory, and, since you wish it, I shall proclaim it with you.... As for me, if I was to discover that you had allowed yourself to be touched by the merit of a gentleman who would feel some true tenderness for you, I should not esteem you the less, provided that love did not deprive me of your friendship. And, between you and me, I have some doubts on that score....—Coste.

[There were grounds to the feelings of jealousy shown in the last letter. No explicit record is left of what happened. But ten years later Coste, now married to Marie de Laussac, the eldest daughter of M. de Laussac, an army chaplain in England, writes to his once dear Suson, since become the wife of one La Coste, a refugee living in Amsterdam.]

Mademoiselle,—Then it is true that you complain of my not writing. Never was a complaint more agreeable. I should have accounted it a great favour at such a moment for you to think of me sometimes and to ask Mr. De La Motte news of me when you meet him. That is all I had hopedfrom you till Mlle. Isabeau's condition changes. But I did not yet know the extent of your generosity. I hear that, in spite of your ordinary and extraordinary business, you find time to read my letters and answer them. I own frankly that I should doubt it, had not Mr. De La Motte taken the trouble to assure me it was so; and though I dare not suspect him of wishing to make sport of me in so serious a matter, nothing can reassure me but the sight of one of your letters.

Then another motive of fear just comes to my mind: in spite of your good intentions, you might not keep your promise, under pretence that my letters need no answer....

Much love and many thanks to all your family. I mean thereby the three houses, nay, the fourth also soon to be founded. I should like to see little Marion again before setting out for Germany. I kiss her with all my heart and am, with a most particular esteem, Mademoiselle, your humble and obedient servant.—Coste.20th June 1712. From Utrecht.

These quaint letters call for little comment: is it not better to let the curtain drop on their mysteries and leave the story its charmingly indistinct outline? One or two remarks must suffice.

PIERRE BAYLE After ChéreauPIERRE BAYLEAfter Chéreau

Pierre Coste seems very anxious to clothe his thoughts in appropriate literary dress, and his anxiety is shared by Suson. At times the tone strikes one as so conventional that Coste might be suspected of insincerity if one did not bear in mind that even the language of true love must follow the fashion. At any rate Suson is sincere, and nothing is more touching than her very awkwardness when she tries her hand at the "sublime style." It is hardly possible to improve upon this very obvious statement without venturing upon unsafe ground. These old-fashioned lovers' emotions are tantalisingly unintelligible. Mark that they write to each other quite openly without even hinting at marriage. No doubt a wealthy merchant's daughter could not wed a penniless tutor, but then the Bruns, Durands, and Rouvières are respectable members of the French congregation in Amsterdam over whom watches a Consistory as strict on questions of morality as a Scottish Kirk. So we must fall back upon the hypothesis of a platonic friendship paralleled in England by no less eminent contemporaries than Locke[298]and Bishop Burnet.[299]Perhaps these letters of Coste shed some light on Swift'sJournal to Stella.

Yet another observation may be added: though the tragic element is absent, there is pathos, if it be pathetic for exiles to sigh after their native land. Pierre Bayle called Paris the earthly paradise of the scholars, Barbeyrac said that Amsterdam was fit only for merchants to live in. Coste could not brook the Dutch, and Suson laughed atthem in unison, instinctively regretting Languedoc and Provence. Such was the way in which the refugees, though devoid of poetic sentiment, "hanged their harps upon the willows by the rivers of Babylon."

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