ndulgence of Heaven to us; but at the same time, as we
are to love our enemies, we are glad to see them mortified enough to mix
Christianity with their politics. An authentic letter from Madame
Maintenon to Monsieur Torcy has been stolen by a person about him, who
has communicated a copy of it to some of the dependants of a Minister of
the Allies. That epistle is writ in the most pathetic manner imaginable,
and in a style which shows her genius, that has so long engrossed the
heart of this great monarch.[236]

"SIR,

"I received yours, and am sensible of the address and capacity with
which you have hitherto transacted the great affair under your
management. You well observe, that our wants here are not to be
concealed; and that it is vanity to use artifices with the knowing men
with whom you are to deal. Let me beg you therefore, in this
representation of our circumstances, to lay aside art, which ceases to
be such when it is seen, and make use of all your skill, to gain us what
advantages you can from the enemy's jealousy of each other's greatness;
which is the place where only you have room for any dexterity. If you
have any passion for your unhappy country, or any affection for your
distressed master, come home with peace. O Heaven! Do I live to talk of
Lewis the Great as the object of pity? The king shows a great uneasiness
to be informed of all that passes; but at the same time, is fearful of
every one who appears in his presence, lest he should bring an account
of some new calamity. I know not in what terms to represent my thoughts
to you, when I speak of the king, with relation to his bodily health.
Figure to yourself that immortal man, who stood in our public places,
represented with trophies, armour, and terrors, on his pedestal:
consider, the Invincible, the Great, the Good, the Pious, the Mighty,
which were the usual epithets we gave him, both in our language and
thoughts. I say, consider him whom you knew the most glorious and great
of monarchs; and now think you see the same man an unhappy Lazar, in the
lowest circumstances of human nature itself, without regard to the state
from whence he is fallen. I write from his bedside: he is at present in
a slumber. I have many, many things to add; but my tears flow too fast,
and my sorrow is too big for utterance.

"I am, etc."

There is such a veneration due from all men to the persons of princes,
that it were a sort of dishonesty to represent further the condi