Far from Home in Early Modern France: Three Women’s Stories (Volume 92) (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe: The Toronto Series) [Translation ed.] 1649590547, 9781649590541

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Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation, Anne-Marie Fiquet Du Boccage, and Henriette-Lucie Dillon de la Tour du Pin

Far from Home in Early Modern France:

Three Women’s Stories

ED I TE D , A ND WI TH A N I N TR OD U CTI ON BY Colette H. Winn T R A NS L ATE D BY Lauren King, Elizabeth Hagstrom, and Colette

H. Winn

The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe: The Toronto Series, 92

FAR FROM HOME IN EARLY MODERN FRANCE

The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe: The Toronto Series, 92

FOUNDING EDITORS

Margaret L. King Albert Rabil, Jr. SENIOR EDITOR

Margaret L. King SERIES EDITORS

Jaime Goodrich Elizabeth H. Hageman EDITORIAL BOARD

Anne Cruz Margaret Ezell Anne Larsen Elissa Weaver

MARIE GUYART DE L’INCARNATION, ANNE-MARIE FIQUET DU BOCCAGE, AND HENRIETTE-LUCIE DILLON DE LA TOUR DU PIN

Far from Home in Early Modern France: Three Women’s Stories •

Edited and with an introduction by COLETTE H. WINN Translated by LAUREN KING, ELIZABETH HAGSTROM, AND COLETTE H. WINN

2022

© Iter Inc. 2022 New York and Toronto IterPress.org All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Marie de l’Incarnation, mère, Saint, 1599-1672, author. | Du Boccage, Madame (Marie-Anne), 1710-1802, author. | La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Henriette Lucie Dillon, marquise de, 17701853, author. | Winn, Colette H., editor, translator. | King, Lauren, 1992- translator. | Hagstrom, Elizabeth, translator. | Marie de l’Incarnation, mère, Saint, 1599-1672. Correspondence. Selections. English. | Du Boccage, Madame (Marie-Anne), 1710-1802. Correspondence. Selections. English. | La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Henriette Lucie Dillon, marquise de, 1770-1853. Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans. English | Du Boccage, Madame (Marie-Anne), 1710-1802. Letters on England, Holland, and Italy. | La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Henriette Lucie Dillon, marquise de, 1770-1853. Journal of a fifty-year-old woman. Title: Far from home in early modern France : three women’s stories / Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation, Anne-Marie Fiquet Du Boccage, Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin ; edited and with an introduction by Colette H. Winn ; translated by Lauren King, Elizabeth Hagstrom, Colette H. Winn. Description: New York ; Toronto : Iter Press, 2022. | Series: The other voice in early modern Europe: the Toronto series ; 92 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “Travel accounts by three French women who journeyed through Europe, New France, and the new United States in the 17th- and 18th-centuries, their experiences documented in letters and memoir”-- Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2021055782 | ISBN 9781649590541 (paperback) | ISBN 9781649590558 (pdf) | ISBN 9781649590565 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Travelers’ writings, French--History and criticism. | Women travelers--History. | Marie de l’Incarnation, mère, Saint, 1599-1672--Travel--Canada. | Du Boccage, Madame (MarieAnne), 1710-1802--Travel--Europe. | La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Henriette Lucie Dillon, marquise de, 1770-1853--Travel--United States. | France--Social life and customs--17th century. | France--Social life and customs--18th century. | Canada--Social life and customs--17th century. | Europe--Social life and customs--18th century. | United States--Social life and customs--1783-1865. Classification: LCC DC33.4 .F368 2022 | DDC 840.9/32--dc23/eng/20211123 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021055782 Cover Illustration Marie de l’Incarnation. François de Poilly (1623–1693), illustrateur. Collection Michel Hennin. Estampes relatives à l’Histoire de France, tome 51, pièces 4595–4662, période: 1672. Courtesy Bibliothèque nationale de France. Madame Du Bocage. Tardieu (le fils), graveur; Mlle Loir, peintre du modèle. Collection Michel Hennin. Estampes relatives à l’Histoire de France, tome 146, pièces 12779–12866, période: 1802–1803. Courtesy Bibliothèque nationale de France. Henriette Lucy Dillon (1770–1853), Marquise de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, c. 1802 (watercolour on ivory) / French School / Bridgeman Images NUL230108. Bonne, Rigobert (1727–1794). Carte générale de France divisée par gouvernements. Paris: Lattré & Delalain, 1786. David Rumsey Map Collection, David Rumsey Map Center, Stanford Libraries 2612006. Cover Design Maureen Morin, Library Communications, University of Toronto Libraries.

Contents Acknowledgments

vii

Introduction The Other Voice Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation (1599–1672) Anne-Marie Fiquet Du Boccage (1710–1802) Henriette-Lucie Dillon, Marquise de La Tour du Pin (1770–1853) Experiencing Otherness It will be there that I find bliss . . . Let us step outside our homeland, there will be a new being . . . The happiest moment of my existence . . . The Journey Narrative: Forms and Content The Missionary Letter The Familiar Letter The Autobiographical Memoir: A Hybrid Form Travel Writing and Gender as a Field of Investigation and a Source for Teaching Note on the Translations

1 1 5 10 13 17 17 23 31 40 40 43 48

Travel Narratives Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondence Madame Du Boccage, Letters on England, Holland, and Italy Madame de La Tour du Pin, Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778-1815

55 59 61 101 173

Appendix 1: Cécile de Sainte-Croix, The Story of Her Crossing and Arrival in Quebec (September 2, 1639) Appendix 2: Glossary of Places Appendix 3: Table of Currencies and Values Appendix 4: Chronology

227 237 247 249

Bibliography

259

Index of Names

287

Thematic Index

293

Acknowledgments Special thanks go to Margaret King, the editor of this series, for her unfailing encouragement and support with this project. I greatly benefited from her learning and her critical faculties. This book is dedicated to her in affection and gratitude. I am grateful to the anonymous readers for their constructive criticisms and helpful suggestions. I must also warmly thank my friend and colleague Stephen Murphy for his help with Latin translations. Finally, Project Manager Margaret English-Haskin is acknowledged here for the meticulous work she and her team did on the layout and typesetting of this book.

vii

Introduction The Other Voice Travel has long been undertaken for adventure; for the attainment of a physically challenging goal; and for exploration, discovery, and the acquisition of knowledge.1 These motifs at the heart of all the great travel narratives of the past made travel exclusively a masculine pursuit. Because of the prevailing views of the female sex and restrictive gender norms, travel was not an option for most early modern French women, yet it was undertaken by the three women whose stories appear in this volume. Although there are real differences between them, they have in common the fact that each of them traveled outside of France, either voluntarily or involuntarily, during an era when the idea of a woman traveler was still something of a novelty. The Ursuline nun Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation journeyed to Canada in 1639 with the explicit goal of teaching the daughters of the native inhabitants, and remained there until her death in 1672, more than thirty years later. In reading in The Jesuit Relations of 1635, an issue of the serial publication that reported from 1632 to 1673 on the Jesuit mission in Canada, she learned that the Jesuit Fathers were seeking “some brave mistress” to erect a seminary in Quebec in New France. As per the decree of the Council of Trent,2 Ursuline nuns were to abide by the regulations of enclosure. In order to go outside their material cloister, they needed special permission from ecclesiastical authorities. On the assumption that men were better prepared by their experience and their knowledge of sacred texts to do missionary work, Catholic authorities were reluctant to give women such permission. In response to her pleas, they finally allowed Marie to leave, but special measures were taken to ensure provisionary claustration during the three-month-period that it would take to go overseas: she would need to make the journey in the company of other nuns; they would say their daily communal 1. See Nandini Das and Tim Youngs, “Introduction,” in The Cambridge History of Travel Writing, ed. Das and Youngs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 1–16; and Yaël Schlick, “Travel Literature,” in French Women Writers: A Bio-Bibliographical Source Book, ed. Eva Martin Sartori and Dorothy Wynne Zimmerman (New York: Greenwood Press, 1991), 534–35. 2. The legislation established in 1298 by Boniface VIII and reiterated in December 1563 by the Council of Trent only allowed nuns to leave the convent in case of fire or epidemic. See Council of Trent, session 25, chap. 5, in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. Norman P. Tanner, 2 vols. (London: Sheed & Ward; Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 2: 777–78. On the way in which the first Ursuline missionaries circumvented the constraints of enclosure, see Leslie Choquette, “ ‘Ces Amazones du Grand Dieu’: Women and Mission in Seventeenth-Century Canada,” French Historical Studies 17, no. 3 (1992): 627–55.

1

2 Introduction office; and they would be confined to designated quarters on the ship.3 On May 4, 1639, Marie embarked on the Saint Joseph for New France. Two Jesuits were traveling with her as well as three Hospitallers from Dieppe,4 two Ursuline nuns5 with their benefactress, Marie-Madeleine de Chauvigny (1603–1671),6 and the latter’s lady companion, Charlotte Barré. A selection of sixteen of Marie’s letters depicting her career as a missionary in Canada are included in this volume. In 1750, Anne-Marie Fiquet Du Boccage7 set out at the age of forty on her first “Grand Tour”8—which was something of an oddity. It was not until later eighteenth century that it became common for women to travel, notably well-educated 3. Letter 37, April 15, 1639, 70; in Correspondance, ed. Guy-Marie Oury, 2nd ed. (Solesmes: Abbaye Saint-Pierre, 1971), 81–82, indicates that the nuns had been invited to use the captain’s quarters. On the measures taken to ensure enclosure while the nuns were traveling, see Nicole Pellegrin, “La clôture en voyage, fin XVIe–début XVIIIe siècle,” in Rogers and Thébaud, Voyageuses, Clio: Femmes, genre, histoire 28 (2008): 77–98. . 4. These Hospitallers, who were members of the Augustinian order, included Mother Marie Guenet, called Marie de Saint-Ignace, Anne Lecointre, called Anne de Saint-Bernard, and Marie Forestier, called Marie de Saint-Bonaventure who founded the Quebec’s Hôtel-Dieu in 1639. 5. One came from the Tours Congregation (Marie Savonnières de la Troche). The other, Cécile Richer (also Cécile de Reuville de l’Enfant Jésus, later known as Mother Cécile de Sainte-Croix), from the Dieppe Congregation, left an account of the journey overseas, translated in Appendix 1 in this volume. 6. Marie-Madeleine de Chauvigny Gruel de la Peltrie (1603–1671), secular foundress of the Ursulines of Quebec. Her life trajectory resembles that of Marie de l’Incarnation. Marie-Madeleine was married against her will at the age of seventeen to the Chevalier de Gruel, Seigneur de la Peltrie. Widowed at twenty-two, she planned to devote the rest of her life to the practice of virtue. When her father insisted on remarrying her, she conceived the idea of a sham marriage with Monsieur Jean de Bernières de Louvigny, a treasurer of France at Caen, who subsequently became procurator of the Ursulines at Quebec. When the 1635 Jesuit Relation came to her attention, she made the decision to devote herself and her fortune to the conversion of Amerindian girls. See Marie-Emmanuel Chabot, OSU, “Chauvigny, Marie-Madeleine de (Gruel de la Peltrie)” in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2015), , and Françoise Deroy-Pineau, Madeleine de la Peltrie, Amazone du Nouveau Monde: Alençon 1603–Québec 1671 ([Montreal]: Bellarmin, 1992). 7. Madame Du Boccage traveled in company of her husband, although she seldom speaks of him in her correspondence. They did not always take the same route or means of transportation, and they frequently participated in different activities. 8. Originally, the Grand Tour was meant “to round out the education of young men of the ruling classes by exposing them to the treasured artifacts and ennobling society” of Europe; see James Buzard, “The Grand Tour and After, 1660–1840,” in Peter Hulme and Tim Youngs, eds., The Cambridge Companion to Travel Writing (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 37–52, at 38; and Jean Boutier, “Le Grand Tour: Une pratique d’éducation des noblesses européennes. XVIe–XVIIIe siècles,” in Le voyage à l’époque moderne (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 2004), 7–21. For a broader perspective on the Grand Tour and the transformations of the travel industry from 1750 on, see Lynne Withey, Grand Tours and Cook’s Tours: A History of Leisure Travel, 1750 to 1915 (New York: William Morrow, 1997).

Introduction 3 upper-class English women who seemed to enjoy more freedom than their French counterparts. In the earlier part of the century, travel remained, for the most part, a masculine endeavor.9 Except for noble women who traveled for family affairs (marriage, private or political matters, or for maintaining their network of relationships) or undertook occasional journeys to reputed spas,10 there were relatively few women then who ventured outside of France in search of knowledge. Yet, like the young men of the nobility who went abroad to complete their education, Madame Du Boccage traveled for the purpose of self-improvement first, in 1750, to England and Holland (i.e., the Netherlands), the two countries which most fascinated the French.11 She was well aware of the unusual nature of her initiative, given her sex and age. Seven years later, in 1757–1758, she undertook her second Grand Tour, this time in Italy, to experience firsthand the classical culture that influenced her works12 and, at the same time, the intellectual liberty offered there to educated women.13 A selection of fourteen letters from Du Boccage’s epistolary account of her travels are presented in this volume. 9. On travel as a male activity, see Luigi Monga, “Travel and Travel Writing,” in Luigi Monga, ed., L’odeporica/Hodoeporics, vol. 14 (Chapel Hill, NC: Dept. of Romance Languages and Literatures, 1996), 29–33. 10. See Dorothea Nolde, “Princesses voyageuses au XVIIe siècle: Médiatrices politiques et passeuses culturelles,” Clio: Histoire, femmes et sociétés 28 (2008): 59–76; and Colette H. Winn, “Des Femmes en mouvement . . . ,” in Le voyage en Europe à la Renaissance, ed. Cynthia Skenazi, Romanic Review 94, nos. 1–2 (2003), 115–51. 11. Partly as a result of Voltaire’s publication of his Lettres anglaises, also known as Lettres philosophiques (1734), England was especially admired as a model of religious tolerance, freedom of speech, enlightened monarchy, burgeoning economy, and the new scientific spirit; it was the country of Newton and Sloane, Reynolds and Watt. See Roy Porter, “Angleterre,” in Michel Delon, ed., Dictionnaire européen des Lumières (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1997), 80–84. On Holland, see Madeleine van Strien-Chardonneau, “Hollande,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 347–51; and especially Le voyage de Hollande: Récits de voyageurs français dans les Provinces-Unies (Oxford: The Voltaire Foundation, 1994). 12. The Grand Tour in Italy reached its height in the middle of the eighteenth century, partly because of the excitement built around the excavation of Roman ruins. Tourists also flocked to Italy for its warm weather, its enchanting sceneries and, above all, for its arts. See Pierre Chessen, “Grand Tour,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 520–21. 13. Elite Italian women had the liberty to engage in the fields of science and mathematics, which was still denied to women in other European countries. On this Italian phenomenon, see Paula Findlen, “Women on the Verge of Science: Aristocratic Women and Knowledge in Early EighteenthCentury Italy,” in Women, Gender and Enlightenment, ed. by Barbara Taylor and Susan Knott (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 265–87. See also in Paula Findlen, Wendy Wassyng Roworth, and Catherine M. Sama, eds., Italy’s Eighteenth Century: Gender and Culture in the Age of the Grand Tour (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), the articles by Elisabetta Graziosi, “Revisiting Arcadia: Women and Academies in Eighteenth-Century Italy,” 103–24, and Marta Cavazza, “Between Modesty and Spectacle: Women and Science in Eighteenth-Century Italy,” 275–302.

4 Introduction In March 1794, as the revolutionary Terror had gripped France, HenrietteLucie Dillon, Marquise de La Tour du Pin left that country and fled to America to escape imprisonment and persecution.14 During the most dangerous part of the French Revolution, the La Tours du Pin had moved to Bordeaux where they lived inconspicuously for months, hidden by sympathetic friends near their family estate of Bouilh, which had been completely sealed. When Lucie (as she is generally known) heard of a ship bound for America, which was docked in Bordeaux harbor, she immediately bought passage and took it upon herself to plot their exile,15 using an old acquaintance to secure false documents. A few days later, pretending to take her children for a walk for a couple of hours, she embarked on board the Diane, a single-masted wooden ship, with her husband, their four-year-old boy, and their eleven-month-old baby girl. The family stayed in the new United States, in the state of New York, from 1794 to 1796. Then, the revolutionary turmoil having subsided somewhat, they returned to France. Travel was to make up a large part of Madame de La Tour du Pin’s life. After she returned from America, she was forced to relocate to England due to France’s political unrest in the aftermath of the Revolution. In the following years, she sojourned in different foreign countries as she accompanied her husband in his diplomatic missions. Selections from La Tour du Pin’s Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman describing her travel experience over the years 1794 to 1797 are included in this volume. Not only was the activity of traveling symbolic of a freedom of movement that was ordinarily denied to women, but the act of writing meant access to public discourse, which was on the whole open solely to men. The three women showcased here produced substantial accounts of their journeys and experiences abroad. Between 1639 and 1672, Marie de l’Incarnation maintained a vast correspondence with family, friends, and members of her order, documenting the progress of her Canadian mission as well as her spiritual ascent. Madame Du Boccage compiled a detailed record of her educational journeys throughout Europe via a series of letters addressed to her sister. For all we know, the first account of a woman’s trip to Italy ever written in French was hers. As for her letters about Holland, they are considered to be a founding text on the voyage to Holland, the earliest of eighty-two travel narratives published in the years 1748–1754, among which only four were written by women. Madame de La Tour du Pin, our third 14. Shortly after her arrival in America, Madame de La Tour du Pin heard of the deaths of her father, Monsieur de Dillon, and of her father-in-law, Monsieur de La Tour du Pin. Loyal supporters of the monarchy, both had perished the same day on the scaffold. 15. On the emigration phenomenon during the Reign of Terror, see Massimo Boffa, “Emigrés,” in François Furet and Mona Ozouf, eds., A Critical Dictionary of the French Revolution, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1989), 324–31; and with a broader perspective, Donald Greer, The Incidence of the Emigration During the French Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1951).

Introduction 5 travel chronicler, was one of the few women authors to leave behind a written testimony of her escape during the Reign of Terror.16 Her copious Journal, intended for her only surviving son, relates, in addition to the American episode, her European travel throughout her life. These engaging accounts of women’s travels represent significant contributions to early modern travel literature and to other textual traditions often associated with travel writing, such as the epistolary genre and various forms of life writing.

Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation (1599–1672), The Mother of New France The path leading to New France, where Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation spent the second half of her life carrying out her apostolic mission, was far from direct or free from challenges. From the age of seven, Marie was inclined to a sacred vocation, but her father had other plans for her. When she was seventeen, he arranged her marriage to the master silk worker Claude Martin. Claude died two years later and Marie was left with legal troubles and debts to repay. The precarious state of her affairs compelled her to find work to ensure her survival and that of her six-month-old baby boy, Claude. Thus, in 1621, she entered the service of her brother-in-law, Paul Buisson, the head of the largest transport company in Touraine. Marie began at the bottom of the ladder, initially responsible for the daily chores of cleaning and cooking for the family and workers and caring for the ill, the poor, and those injured at work. Because of her entrepreneurial spirit and her business sense, however, she rapidly climbed the ladder. In 1624, Buisson, who was well aware of his sister-in-law’s managerial and business skills, made her his secretary and chief accountant. The following year, he entrusted her with full responsibility for the management of his company. Consequently, Marie became a businesswoman, one of the first in early modern France.17 In 1620, on the eve of the feast of the Incarnation, she experienced her first mystical encounter with Jesus Christ. She referred to it as her “conversion.” After 16. On September 5, 1793, the Convention used the term Terror to signal “its intention to organize, systematize, and accelerate repression of the Republic’s domestic adversaries and to ensure quick punishment of ‘all traitors.’ ” Historically speaking, it designates the period between September 5, 1793 and July 27, 1794. See François Furet, “Terror,” in Furet and Ozouf, A Critical Dictionary of the French Revolution, 137–50, at 137; and David Andress, “The Course of the Terror, 1793–1794,” in Peter McPhee, ed., A Companion to the French Revolution (Malden, MA: John Wiley, 2012), 311–27. 17. On Marie de l’Incarnation as a businesswoman, see Guy-Marie Oury, Marie de l’Incarnation (1599–1672), 2 vols. (Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval, 1973), 1:67–79 and 93–111; and Françoise Deroy-Pineau, Marie de l’Incarnation: Marie Guyart, femme d’affaires, mystique, Mère de la NouvelleFrance (Saint-Laurent, Québec: Bellarmin, 1999), 109–24. For an empathetic study of Marie de l’Incarnation’s unconventional trajectory, see Natalie Zemon Davis, Women on the Margins: Three Seventeenth-Century Lives (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), 63–139.

6 Introduction she had paid off her debts and her son had reached the age of boarding school, nothing seemed to stand in her way of pursuing the religious vocation to which she felt called by God. On January 25, 1631, despite her relatives’ protest, she entrusted the custody of her son to her sister and took leave of her aged father to enter the Ursuline monastery in Tours under the name of Marie de l’Incarnation. She was accepted as a choir nun (the nun in charge of reciting the office in Latin), a position generally assigned to girls with a dowry.18 In order to enter the Ursuline monastery in 1635, Marie had to make the ultimate sacrifice of separating from her only child, who was only eleven years old at the time. She interpreted her abandonment as an act of obedience to the will of God and in conformity with the commands of the Gospel.19 We know very little as to how she prepared the young boy for their upcoming separation, but when the time came for her to leave, Claude accompanied her to the monastery without a word of complaint. In her Relation of 1633, Marie wrote, “this child came with me totally resigned. He dared not admit his affliction to me, but I saw tears fall from his eyes and knew that he was hurting inside.”20 Eight years later, when Marie left for New France, she once again left her son behind, this time, never to meet him again in the flesh. The spiritual turn that his mother’s life had taken played a vital role in the growth and maturation of the young man.21 As years passed, Claude, too, seemed to have adopted his mother’s view of his abandonment. In 1640, at the age of twenty, he entered the Maurist congregation of Benedictines at Vendôme. Over the course of the three-decade-long correspondence between mother and son (1640–1672), a bond formed that was so strong that it would defy geographical separation and endure the detrimental effects of time.22

18. On non-noble choir nuns, see Elisabeth Rapley, “Women and the Religious Vocation in Seventeenth-Century France,” French Historical Studies 18, no. 3 (1994): 617–19. 19. Mary Dunn argues that Marie’s unconventional decision was fostered by a patristic tradition of devaluing biological motherhood as incompatible with Christian discipleship; see “ ‘The Cruelest of All Mothers’: Marie de l’Incarnation, Motherhood, and Christian Discipleship,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 28, no. 1 (2012): 43–62. See also her more fully developed argument in The Cruelest of All Mothers: Marie de l’Incarnation, Motherhood, and Christian Tradition (New York: Fordham University Press, 2016). 20. Relation de 1633, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Écrits spirituels et historiques, ed. Claude Martin, reedited Albert Jamet, 2 vols. (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer; Québec: L’Action Sociale, 1929–1939), 1:9. 21. See Guy-Marie Oury, Dom Claude Martin: Le fils de Marie de l’Incarnation (Sablé-sur-Sarthe: Abbaye de Solesmes, 1983). 22. Much has been written on the distinctive relationship between “an absent mother and her abandoned son.” See Marie de l’Incarnation, From Mother to Son: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation to Claude Martin, ed. and trans. Mary Dunn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 32–40; and Sophie Houdard, “Le cri public du fils abandonné, ou l’inexprimable secret de la cruauté d’une mère,” Littératures classiques 68, no. 1 (2009): 273–84.

Introduction 7 Ironically, the woman who had defied conventional norms of motherhood by twice abandoning her son embraced motherhood voluntarily when she emigrated to New France: for Marie de l’Incarnation assumed the position of Mother Superior of her convent community for three six-year terms between 1639 and 1672 and became, as she herself declared with a sense of pride, the mother of her little “seminarians.” “They see us as their biological mothers,” she wrote. “When they have the slightest trouble, they throw themselves into our arms, as if we were their refuge.”23 Indeed, motherhood occupied a definite and significant place in the way she conceived her apostolic mission. Marie’s students included both French and Amerindian girls (Algonquin, Montagnais, and Huron) between two and seventeen years of age.24 The latter could be boarders (or “seminarians”), short-term pensioners (from a week to several months), or day students. Because the young Amerindian girls were removed from their families, Marie deemed it essential to create a safe, stable, and loving environment at the convent. The nuns were to welcome the girls with open arms, show them signs of affection, and look after them as their own mothers would. In the following passage, Marie notes the transfer of maternal love as a result of this day-to-day nurturing: I will tell you that these young girls generally love us more than their parents, and demonstrate no desire to follow them, which is very extraordinary among natives. . . . While we carried out our spiritual exercises, they remained continually silent; they did not even dare to raise their eyes to look at us, thinking that this would interrupt us. But when we finished our exercises, they showed us their affection in a way that they never do with their biological mothers.”25 In another letter, this one to Father Barthélemy Vincent dated Summer 1642, Marie describes the process of identification typical of children this age. Some of the little girls, she noted, built houses out of foliage to have a private place to pray as they saw the Sisters do. Many reasons brought the young girls to the convent—their parents may have entrusted them to the Ursulines at the time of the hunt, they may have been orphans or pledges of peace in time of cessation of hostilities—but they invariably came hungry. At the convent, Dominique

23. Letter 41, January 1640, 73; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91–92. 24. The Algonquin, Montagnais, and Huron are Amerindian peoples indigenous to eastern Canada whom Marie encountered, to which set the Iroquois were added from the 1660s. See James White, ed., Handbook of Indians of Canada, Appendix to the Tenth Report of the Geographic Board of Canada (Ottawa: C. H. Parmelee, 1913), 14–19, 205–13, 224–28, and 312–14. 25. Letter 43, September 3, 1640, 77; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 96–97.

8 Introduction Deslandres notes,26 material assistance always preceded spiritual assistance, as this was a sure way of attracting and retaining the young girls. Marie adopted the ritual of hospitality in conformity with Amerindian custom and would often treat her little pensioners with sagamité,27 a type of porridge of hulled corn, which they greatly enjoyed. Convinced that doing so would enhance her teaching, she made it her business to find out about her students’ family environment and lifestyle, whether they came from supposedly more docile peoples, such as the Huron and the Algonquin, or whether they were raised by those generally hostile to Christians, such as the Iroquois. She soon discovered that girls from sedentary families—those who had been taken from their woodland environment and settled in villages—could achieve just as much as her French students, whereas those who came from families that retained their nomadic customs—those who moved from place to place to hunt, fish, and gather resources—seemed to lose everything they learned at the convent as soon as they returned home. Marie considered the highest priority of her teaching to be the spiritual education of the children in preparation for their first communion, and the moral instruction that went along with it. Girls were taught Christian doctrine and prayers as well as the correct manner of doing spiritual exercises, making their confessions, and receiving the sacraments. They were introduced to specific values and prescriptive gender norms prevalent in seventeenth-century French society. They also received minimal training in reading, writing, arithmetic, and sometimes music. As directed by the king of France, the Amerindian people were to learn to speak French and behave like the French in every respect except for eating habits and dance. Marie sensed the importance of learning the languages of her students to facilitate communication and gain their trust. Even though she found it challenging, she learned several indigenous languages to be able to explain to her students the Christian doctrine in their own language and thereby form intermediaries who could in turn convey the Christian message in their own tongue. She also encouraged singing when she saw the pleasure her students took in singing in unison the Christian hymns that had been translated into their language. By incorporating elements of indigenous culture in her teaching methods, including the Amerindian ritual of hospitality, their native tongues, or their joy in singing, Marie made of her convent an entre-deux, a sort of privileged space, where two very different worlds could meet and cultural exchanges became possible. 26. Dominique Deslandres, “Un projet éducatif au XVIIe siècle: Marie de l’Incarnation et la femme amérindienne,” Recherches amérindiennes au Québec 13, no. 4 (1983): 281. 27. On the indigenous foundation for this meal and the influence of the French in naming it, see Janet C. Gilmore, “Sagamité and Booya: French Influence in Defining Great Lakes Culinary Heritage,” Revue de la culture matérielle 60 (Automne 2004): 58–69; .

Introduction 9 Today, Marie de l’Incarnation is especially remembered as the founding Mother of the first Ursuline Congregation in North America and as one who encouraged cultural exchanges between early settlers and Amerindians.28 Equally important, however, is the metaphorical mother figure, whose fecundity made her the first woman writer of New France. From early on, writing occupied a special place in Marie’s life. She was indeed a prolific writer and, by 1684, “the most published member of her order.”29 In addition to the extensive correspondence that she maintained during the thirty-three years she spent in Canada,30 she wrote, at her son’s request, an autobiographical narrative, in which she related her mystical encounters. The first account she penned at her son’s solicitation burned in the fire that ravaged the convent in 1650. Marie then wrote another version that she sent Claude in 1654. She made him promise that no one but himself or her niece, Marie Buisson, who had entered the Ursulines in Tours, would ever see this document. However, as early as 1647, she had begun to write about her religious experiences, with the consent of her spiritual director, hoping to leave her writings as a legacy to Claude. By 1653, Marie had composed an intricate index outlining her spiritual journey.31 Drawing from these works and her correspondence, Claude Martin published in 1667 an account of his mother’s life entitled La vie de la Vénérable Mère Marie de l’Incarnation.32 He also published her correspondence in 1681, with revisions including editing the style and the order of the paragraphs, removing the passages deemed too intimate, reorganizing the letters in conformity with his categories of “lettres spirituelles” and “lettres historiques,” and contextualizing them in view of a specific readership.33

28. On Marie as cultural intermediary, see Alessandra Ferraro, “Attività missionaria e mediazione interculturale in Nouvelle-France: Marie de l’Incarnation,” in Le culture dei missionari, ed. Nicola Gasbarro (Rome: Bulzoni Editore, 2009), 153–74; and Marie Gourdeau, Les délices de nos cœurs: Marie de l’Incarnation et ses pensionnaires, 1639–1672 (Sillery, Québec: Septentrion, 1994). 29. Thomas Carr, “Writing the Convent in New France: The Colonialist Rhetoric of Canadian Nuns,” Quebec Studies 47 (Spring/Summer 2009): 4. 30. From the 13,000 letters she wrote, only about 300 are extant. 31. See Vincent Grégoire, “Marie de l’Incarnation religieuse, mystique et mère: La première femme écrivain de Nouvelle France?,” Dalhousie French Studies 42 (Spring 1998): 47–56. 32. Claude Martin, La vie de la Vénérable Mère Marie de l’Incarnation, Première Supérieure des Ursulines de la Nouvelle France: Tirée de ses lettres et de ses écrits (Paris: Louis Billaine, 1677); facsimile reprint ed. Guy-Marie Oury (Sablé-sur-Sarthe: Abbaye de Solesmes, 1981). Most nun authors published through the intermediary of a male ecclesiastic, and their writings usually appeared after their death. 33. Martin’s editorial initiatives should be understood in the context of the scriptorial interaction that ordinarily took place between religious women and their spiritual directors. See Carla Zecher, “A New-World Model of Female Epistolarity: The Correspondence of Marie de l’Incarnation,” Studies in Canadian Literature 21, no. 2 (1996): 96–99.

10 Introduction In addition to her spiritual writings, Marie drafted in 1647 the Règlements, or Rules, that accompanied the Constitutions of the Ursulines of Quebec. Before her death, she intended “to leave behind as many things in writing as possible” to assist the Ursuline nuns who would pursue her teaching apostolate. To this end, she produced several textbooks, catechisms, and prayers between 1662 and 1668: “a large Algonquian book about sacred history and holy things, along with a dictionary and an Iroquoian catechism, which is priceless . . . , a large Algonquian dictionary in the French alphabet,”34 and another one in the Amerindian alphabet. None of these works has survived; some were lost in the fire of 1686, others were given to nineteenth-century oblate missionaries going up North. In the years 1669–1670, just before her death, Marie authored two texts to appear in MarieAugustine de Pommereu’s Chroniques de l’Ordre des Ursulines, a two-volume history of the order’s communities published in 1673. Finally, she composed necrologies and death notices of the nuns who had died at the convent of Quebec and she contributed various accounts of her mission in New France to The Jesuit Relations. An author, a mother, and a mystic, the missionary career of Marie de l’Incarnation reached its apogee on April 3, 2014, in the estimation of her coreligionists, when she was canonized as a saint of the Roman Catholic Church.

Anne-Marie Fiquet Du Boccage (1710–1802), Poet, Translator, Salonnière, and Traveler The two consecutive Grand Tours outside of France that Madame Du Boccage undertook in her forties appear to be the culmination of a life devoted from early on to education and self-improvement. Born into the upper-middle-class of Rouen (Normandy), Anne-Marie Le Page received an exceptional education at the exclusive convent of the Assumption in Paris.35 It was there that her precocious thirst for knowledge and her uncommon capacity for learning were first noticed. At barely seventeen years old, she married a certain Pierre Joseph Fiquet Du Boccage from Dieppe, who was a receveur des tailles (tax official). Their union, which remained childless, seems to have been happy, as she and her husband shared similar interests in traveling, literature, and the translation of poetry. By the age of thirty-five, Madame Du Boccage had already achieved literary and worldly notoriety36 due to 34. Letter 235, August 9, 1668, 87; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 801. 35. On her life and career, see Grace Gill-Mark, Une femme de lettres au XVIIIe siècle: Anne-Marie Du Boccage (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1927); and Rotraud von Kulessa, “Anne Marie Le Page,” in Dictionnaire des femmes de l’ancienne France, at SIEFAR [La Société Internationale pour l’Étude des Femmes de l’Ancien Régime]; . 36. On participation in academic contests as a component of the strategy of success, see John R. Iverson and Marie-Pascale Peretti, “ ‘ Toutes personnes . . . seront admises à concourir’: La participation des femmes aux concours académiques,” Dix-huitième siècle 36 (2004): 313–22.

Introduction 11 the prize awarded to her in 1745 by the Academy of Rouen, a rare distinction for a woman, for a poem on the “Fondation d’un prix alternatif entre les Belles Lettres et les Sciences” (Foundation of an Alternative Prize between the Belles Lettres and Sciences).37 This achievement earned her the esteem of Voltaire and the flattering epithet of “the Sappho from Normandy.”38 Madame Du Boccage was not only one of the few women in France awarded a prize from a provincial academy in the eighteenth century, she was also the woman who received the greatest number of honors during her lifetime, including membership in various academies in Rome, Padua, Bologna, Lyons and Rouen. As a femme de lettres, Madame Du Boccage distinguished herself from other women who took up the pen in her time by both the range of her writings (she embraced virtually every genre including poetry, drama, epistolary, travel literature) and the choice she made in practicing “masculine” genres such as tragedy and epic. By choosing to explore genres usually reserved for men, Madame Du Boccage hoped to gain recognition in the literary circles open to great scholars of the time. During her lifetime, she gained rapid recognition in literary circles as a poet, a translator, and a salonnière. From an early age, she had taken a liking to poetry and had applied herself to the study of the English language. She tried her hand at all kinds of poetry: society verse, which was much in vogue at the time, pastoral verse, verse-drama, and verse-epic. Between 1740 and 1760, she published numerous verses in periodicals such as the Mercure and the Journal de Verdun, and she was also frequently acclaimed in the same journals.39 She gained great visibility by being the first of many to attempt to put Milton into French verse. Le paradis terrestre (1748), her imitation of his Paradise Lost, was the most popular French version in the eighteenth century. The other important works she composed during these years include an epic poem in ten cantos relating the discovery of the New World by Columbus, La Colombiade, ou la Foi portée au 37. This poem was published the following year in the journal Mercure de France. 38. One may want to explore further the relationship between Voltaire and Madame Du Boccage. Du Boccage had great admiration for the man and his works. But Voltaire’s attitude toward her was ambivalent at best. The legend goes that he had made disparaging remarks to the Baron von Grimm about her works and that, in 1758, when she visited him at Ferney on her way back from Italy, he crowned her with laurel while making monkey faces behind her back. See Jean-Charles Chessex, “Madame Du Boccage ou la belle inconnue,” French Review 30, no. 4 (1957): 297–302. 39. She was a well-respected figure, as indicated by the praise she garnered: Forma Venus, Arte Minerva (A Venus in form, a Minerva in art). This motto appeared under Mademoiselle Loir’s portrait of Du Boccage, which was used as a frontispiece in eighteenth-century editions of La Colombiade and the Recueil des œuvres de Madame Du Boccage. As R. Thomas Watson notes, “[t]he first part of the motto brings to mind the role that women were expected to play in society, that of an elegant ornament, typified by the hostess of the salon,” whereas the second part refers to the goddess Minerva, who was the embodiment of wisdom and reason; see “Forma Venus, Arte Minerva: Madame Du Boccage: A Simone de Beauvoir avant la lettre,” Simone de Beauvoir Studies 7 (1990): 4.

12 Introduction Nouveau Monde (1756), and Les Amazones (1759), a play for the stage concerning gynecocracy. It was performed eleven times between July and August 1759 by the Comédiens ordinaires du Roi. In the 1760s, she published La Mort d’Abel,40 which she had begun in 1715, a paraphrase in verse of Salomon Gessner’s Der Tod Abels, and Le Temple de la Renommée, a translation of Alexander Pope’s Temple of Fame. In Rouen, the Du Boccages associated with literary figures who took an interest in the works of Milton and Pope and in the practice of translation. Among them were Henri Martin Le Roy, who published an annotated translation of Paradise Lost in 1775; Jean-François du Resnel du Bellay, a commentator and translator of Pope’s Essay on Criticism (1730), his Essay on Man (1736), and The Principles of Morality (1745); and Pierre-François Guyot, better known as Abbé Desfontaines, a translator of both ancient and modern texts, including the three extremely popular English works Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift, The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope, and Joseph Andrews by Henry Fielding. In 1733, the Du Boccages settled in Paris, where they spent eight months of the year. They held a literary salon41 that assembled once a week, first at rue de La Sourdière, and after 1758 at rue Saint-Roch, some of the great minds of the time, including the mathematician and astronomer Alexis Clairaut; the geometer Charles Marie de La Condamine; the naturalist Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon; the chronobiologist Jean-Jacques d’Ortous de Mairan; the moralist and historiographer Nicolas-Charles-Joseph Trublet; the philosopher Étienne Bonnot de Condillac; the famous playwright Pierre de Marivaux; and the scientist and author Bernard Le Bovier de Fontenelle, who attended the Sunday suppers of Madame Du Boccage on a regular basis and was a great admirer of her verses.42 Madame Du Boccage’s salon was especially known for the international 40. Since Madame Du Boccage did not know German, she used a prose translation of Gessner’s Der Tod Abels as a basis for her translation. When she wrote her imitations of Chinese poems, she likewise consulted prose versions by Pierre-Martial Cibot, a contributor to the serial publication Mémoires concernant l’histoire, les sciences, les arts, les mœurs, les usages des Chinois . . . , ed. Jacques Marie Amiot, et al. (1776–1814). In a letter to M. de Moncrif, she admits having consulted Du Pré de St. Maur’s translation of Milton when she revised her imitation of Paradise Lost: “J’ai reparé toutes les petites marques noires excepté deux . . . , une au 153e vers du 4e chant, et l’autre au 324e du même chant, dont je vous envoie l’endroit marqué dans la traduction de M. du Pré de St. Maur à la 321e page.” See “Unpublished Letters of Mme Du Boccage,” ed. Frederick King Turgeon, Modern Philology 27, no. 3 (1930): 322. 41. On eighteenth-century sociability and literary salons, see Antoine Lilti, The World of the Salons: Sociability and Worldliness in Eighteenth-Century Paris, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 47–49. 42. Bernard Le Bovier (or Le Bouyer) de Fontenelle (1657–1757), member of the Académie française, secrétaire perpétuel of the Académie royale des Sciences (1699–1740), author of Lettres galantes, published anonymously in 1685, was best known for his Nouveaux Dialogues des morts (1683), his Entretiens pour la pluralité des mondes (1686), and his Digression sur les Anciens et les Modernes (1688). As a “Modern” in the famous Quarrel between the Ancients and the Moderns, Fontenelle believed in the continuous progress of human knowledge since Antiquity and highly valued innovation and

Introduction 13 intellectuals who frequented it, many of whom she had encountered or had renewed ties with during her leisure journeys in England, Holland, and Italy: among them, the diplomat and passionate francophile Lord Chesterfield;43 the philosopher and art critic Francesco Algarotti; the economist Ferdinando Galiani; and two of the most prominent Italian playwrights, Carlo Goldoni and Vittorio Alfieri. Clearly, the flattering welcome Madame Du Boccage had received on her Grand Tour, especially in Italy where France was much admired at the time,44 the successful reception of her works both in France and outside, her numerous contacts abroad, and her foreign acquired knowledge added a cosmopolitan element to her salon, which made it stand out from other contemporary centers of Enlightenment.45

Henriette-Lucie Dillon, Marquise de La Tour du Pin (1770–1853), a Survivor of the Reign of Terror The notoriously challenging times in which she lived may explain the lifelong, wide-ranging mobility of Madame de La Tour du Pin. A survivor of the Reign of Terror, she was also a first-hand witness to the rise and fall of Napoleon Bonaparte, invention. See Jochen Schlobach, “Anciens et Modernes [Querelle],” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 75–79. 43. Philip Dormer Stanhope (1694–1773), 4th earl of Chesterfield and knight of the garter, statesman, diplomat, member of the Whig party, and man of letters; see Samuel Shellabarger, Chesterfield and His World (Boston: Little Brown, 1951). Lord Chesterfield is the author of Letters to his Son on the Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman, a work published posthumously by his widow (1774), which contains some four hundred letters to his illegitimate son Philip Stanhope. Chesterfield also wrote numerous letters to his friends, among whom was Madame Du Boccage. Twelve of his letters to her in the years 1750–1752 are found in Miscellaneous Works of the Late Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield: Consisting of Letters to His Friends Never Before Printed, and Various Other Articles, ed. M. Maty, 2 vols. (London: Printed for Edward and Charles Dilly, 1777), 2:242–81 (Letters LXXXV– XCVI). Several of these letters refer to Chesterfield giving Du Boccage busts of Pope, Milton, Dryden and Shakespeare. See “Anne-Marie Fiquet du Boccage, and a Bust of Alexander Pope,” at Bath Art and Architecture (October 25, 2014); . 44. In Italy, she was viewed as a distinguished visitor and was received by the highest society, including the pope and the cardinals; nationalism was emerging, promoting a sense of cultural distinctiveness and trying to lessen the impact of cosmopolitan influences. See Jeremy Black, “Cultural History and the Eighteenth Century,” XVII–XVIII: Bulletin de la société d’études anglo-américaines des XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles 42 (1996): 7–20. 45. On eighteenth-century salons as centers of Enlightenment, see Dena Goodman, “Enlightenment Salons: The Convergence of Female and Philosophic Ambitions,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 22, no. 3, special issue on The French Revolution in Culture (1989): 329–50. On the rivalry between Madame Du Boccage’s salon and that of Madame Geoffrin, see Gill-Mark, Une femme de lettres au XVIIIe siècle, 24–49.

14 Introduction the coronation of three kings (Louis XVI, Louis XVIII, and Charles IX), and the ascent of Emperor Napoleon III. Henriette-Lucie Dillon was born in Paris in the fashionable Faubourg Saint-Germain, rue du Bac.46 She came from a prominent family of Irish descent, linked to the Dillons of Costello-Gallen whose chief renown, after the fall of the Stuarts, was won as Colonel-Proprietors of Dillon’s Regiment, an Irish brigade that had long served in France. Her father, Arthur Dillon (1750–1794), son of Henry Dillon, 11th Viscount Dillon of Costello-Gallen, inherited the leadership of the Dillon’s Regiment and served in North America and the West Indies during the American Revolutionary War.47 He married his second cousin, Thérèse-Lucie de Rothe (1751–1782), daughter of General Edward de Rothe and Lucy Cary, who later belonged to the intimate circle of friends of Marie Antoinette and served the queen from 1780 to 1782. Lucie was only twelve when her mother died, and because her father was frequently absent from home on military campaigns, she was placed under the care of her maternal grandmother Lucy Cary (?–1804), daughter of Laura Dillon and Viscount Falkland, and spouse of General Edward de Rothe. In her early teens, Lucie was appointed lady-in-waiting to Marie Antoinette, rapidly learning the rules of courtly etiquette required of a young lady upon her début at Versailles. On May 21, 1787, at the age of sixteen, Lucie was engaged, with Marie Antoinette’s blessing, to Frédéric-Séraphin de Gouvernet, a young and handsome aide-de-camp to Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. She welcomed this union as she saw an opportunity to escape from the control of her tyrannical grandmother, but also she had a premonition that it was meant to be: “It was an instinct, an impulse from Heaven. God had destined me for him.”48 Upon the death of her father-in-law, she became Comtesse de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, then Marquise de La Tour du Pin when King Louis XVIII granted her husband the title of marquis. 46. The information that follows is based upon Madame de La Tour du Pin’s Journal and various biographical sources including Catherine Montfort, “Madame de La Tour du Pin: An Aristocratic Farmer in America,” New Perspectives on the Eighteenth Century 12, no. 1 (2015): 35–47, and Montfort, “Madame de La Tour du Pin, 1770–1853: Le Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans,” Dalhousie French Studies 108 (Spring 2016): 39–51; Caroline Moorehead, Dancing to the Precipice: Lucie de La Tour du Pin and the French Revolution (London: Chatto & Windus, 2009); for which see also Ruth Scurr’s review of Moorehead’s Dancing, “Stolen Youth: The Life of Lucie de La Tour du Pin: The French Revolution as seen from Versailles,” The Nation (August 17, 2009); . 47. See Richard Bourke and Ian McBride, eds., The Princeton History of Modern Ireland (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2016), 492. 48. Madame de La Tour du Pin, Recollections of the Revolution and the Empire: From the French of the Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans by La Marquise de La Tour du Pin, ed. and trans. by Walter Geer (New York: Brentanos, 1920), 36; online at archive.org: . Citations from texts not included in this volume are from this translation.

Introduction 15 Between 1790 and 1806, Lucie had ten pregnancies with six live births in different places and countries, due to the numerous posts Frédéric held during his long diplomatic career. Early in the Revolution (from March to October 1791), he was appointed Plenipotentiary Minister at the Hague. During the Terror, the La Tours du Pin escaped to America. The journey overseas, which lasted sixty days, proved to be quite stressful for the whole family. Early on, they felt their lives in peril when a ship from the French Coast Guard came alongside the Diane and ordered the captain to follow them. If not for a fortuitous fog that allowed the Diane to escape in the opposite direction, the passengers would surely have faced the guillotine. Throughout the journey, Monsieur de La Tour du Pin suffered the unpleasant symptoms of seasickness. Their son Humbert cried for white bread and fresh milk and baby Seraphine’s gums would not stop bleeding as she ate hardened biscuits riddled with worms. Madame de La Tour du Pin found it impossible to rest. At night, obliged to lay in the same bed as her baby girl, she dared not move for fear of killing her: Fearing that I would smother her by rolling on top of her in my sleep, I found a way to attach myself to the side of the bed with a band of cloth that circled around my waist, in a way that kept me from turning or changing position. In this way, my little girl had all the space that she needed. At first, this way of sleeping was a real torture but I quickly became accustomed to it, and in a few days, it seemed as though I had never slept any other way.49 This episode is highly indicative of Madame de La Tour du Pin’s resourcefulness and of her remarkable ability to adapt to the situation at hand, whatever it might be.50 Equally symbolic of her level-headedness and her determination to embrace the new life ahead of her with its uncertainties and hardships is another episode during the Atlantic crossing when she hacked off her hair with kitchen scissors, even though the Titus style51 was not yet in vogue for women: “I found 49. Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans, 1778–1815, 2 vols. (Paris: M. Imhaus & R. Chapelot, 1913), Part. 1, chap. 16, 381–82; online at Gallica: ; and at archive.org: . Citations from texts translated in this volume are from this edition, to be cited henceforth as La Tour du Pin, Journal (quotation here is on pages 179–80). The same publishers had printed an earlier edition in 4 vols. in 1907–1911, with the subtitle publié par son arrière petit-fils le colonel comte Aymar de Liedekerke-Beaufort. 50. Alix de Rohan Chabot defines Madame de La Tour du Pin’s special adaptability to whichever challenge life sent her way as “le talent du bonheur.” See Alix de Rohan Chabot, Madame de La Tour du Pin: Le talent du bonheur (Paris: Perrin, 1997). 51. The so-called Titus haircut originated during the Reign of Terror when executioners would chop the hair of those sentenced to death close to the nape of the neck to make sure the guillotine did the job. In the early 1790s, men began to crop their hair short to imitate the busts of Roman Emperor

16 Introduction my long hair so matted that, despairing of ever being able to untangle it and apparently anticipating the Titus haircut, I took a pair of scissors and cut it short, which angered my husband.”52 As she tossed it overboard, she simply observed: “I threw my lovely blonde curls into the sea, and with them all the frivolous ideas that they had ever fostered in me.”53 The La Tours du Pin finally landed in Boston, where they encountered other French émigrés, revolutionaries for the most part, who did not look kindly upon these royal sympathizers on the run. From there, they went to a rural community in New York upon the recommendation of an acquaintance and rented a farmhouse with the intention of learning from their landlord how to till the soil and manage a farm. Six months later, they purchased their own dairy farm in Troy, a few miles from Albany in upstate New York. In 1796, the La Tours du Pin were summoned by their friends to return to France as the political climate was changing. When the Terror was over and the proscription against émigrés was finally lifted, they went back to reclaim their family estate that would otherwise have been confiscated. But on the eve of the 18 Fructidor Coup (September 4, 1797), they fled into exile again, this time to England, where they lived as émigrés on the charity of relatives and friends. They returned to France at the turn of the century. For the next thirty years, the La Tours du Pin would be constantly on the move. They left for Belgium for five years when Napoleon appointed Frédéric Prefect of Brussels. Then after a year in Amiens, the family lived briefly in Vienna, where Frédéric served as Ambassador Plenipotentiary, then relocated once more when he became Minister of the Court of the Low Countries. For the next ten years, from 1820 to 1830, the La Tours du Pin resided in Turin, where Frédéric held the post of Ambassador. When he retired from public life in January 1830, they took residence in Versailles. Frédéric died at the age of 78. Lucie outlived her husband, whom she loved dearly, and five of her six children. In 1820, at the age of fifty, she began putting in writing her recollections for her two children who then survived, her last-born son, Aymar, and her daughter, Charlotte, known as Alix, who died suddenly in 1822. The manuscript, which had been preserved by Aymar, ended up in the hands of his nephew, Hadelin, who in turn bequeathed it to his son, also named Aymar, who first published it in 1906.54 In a few years, the book went through sixteen editions.

Titus. In the late 1790s, women adopted the Titus style as well. By the end of the eighteenth century, the Titus haircut became a sensation. On revolutionary hairstyles and the “Titus” look, see Robin Bryer, The History of Hair: Fashion and Fantasy Down the Ages (London: Philip Wilson, 2000), 75–77. 52. La Tour du Pin, Journal, Part 1, chap. 16, 386. 53. La Tour du Pin, Journal, Part 1, chap. 16, 386. 54. Frédéric Claude Aymar de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Comte de Gouvernet (1806–1867), Madame de La Tour du Pin’s son; Hadelin Aymar Charles-Alphone Marie Liedekerke-Beaufort (1816–1903),

Introduction 17

Experiencing Otherness Most striking about these women’ travel experiences is their diversity: the women’s personal circumstances (age, social background, etc.) and motives for travel, the time spent in foreign lands, and the parts of the world where they traveled, all differed. Whereas Marie de l’Incarnation left France in search of a richer spiritual life, and Madame Du Boccage did so in search of leisure and instruction, Madame de La Tour du Pin was forced to flee to avoid capture or persecution, such that her memoir can be read partly as an escape narrative. All three narratives provide an account of an extended visit abroad, not simply a journey. Madame Du Boccage spent sixteen months in Italy; Madame de La Tour du Pin resided a little less than two years in America; and Marie de l’Incarnation spent over thirty years overseas. From the beginning, Madame Du Boccage knew that her sojourn in Italy was temporary, even though she hoped to prolong it and might have done so were it not for her husband’s sudden gout attack. When she fled her homeland, Madame de La Tour du Pin was probably hoping never to come back again,55 but even though she rapidly adjusted to her new life in America, she did return when France’s political climate became more propitious for her husband’s affairs. Marie de l’Incarnation, uniquely, had made the choice early on to devote her entire life to the education of indigenous girls. Such motives had a significant impact on the way in which these women perceived and embraced Otherness. Other questions to keep in mind when reading these travelogues include: how prepared were these women to undertake a journey abroad in terms of what they knew of and of what they imagined about these distant lands before they actually set foot on them? how did their perceptions change during their time abroad? how open were they when confronted to the numerous challenges (physical, cultural, and so forth) which come inevitably when encountering unfamiliar situations and people? what benefits were they hoping to reap from their exposure to a foreign culture and what did they actually gain?

It will be there that I find bliss . . . In the eyes of early modern people, Amerindian Otherness was the greatest imaginable form of Otherness: in addition to geographical diversity, they felt there existed fundamental differences with respect to forms of social organization, mores

Aymar’s nephew, the son of his sister Alix de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet; and Aymar de LiedekerkeBeaufort (1846–1909), Hadelin Aymar’s son. 55. As the family is about to return to France, she notes, “France had left me with memories of horror. I had lost my youth there, broken as it was by innumerable terrors.” La Tour du Pin, Journal, Part 2, chap. 5, 100–101.

18 Introduction and customs, culture, and language. They perceived Amerindians as “savages,”56 which, according to the etymology of this term (from the Latin silva, or “forest”), refers to peoples who live in the forest in the state of nature, and therefore who are untouched by civilization. At the time, the Amerindian was also viewed as a being devoid of moral principles. The sociopolitical power that the Huron and Iroquoian women exercised scandalized the patriarchal society of early modern France.57 The sexual license Amerindian girls displayed and their autonomy in matters of marriage and divorce were seen as evident signs of the moral inferiority of Amerindians.58 Most of all, “sauvagerie” was associated with the degraded state of humanity since the Fall, in Christian theology the time when, with the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, humanity was condemned to sin and death until its redemption by Jesus Christ.59 Merely judging from the vocabulary Marie used in her correspondence, one might conclude that her opinion of the Amerindian Other concurred with that of her contemporaries. After all, she, too, employed the adjective “sauvage” and the noun “sauvagesse” to refer to the impure souls awaiting to be washed clean from the stain of original sin in the blood of the lamb. For her, the terms savagery and barbarism implied physical violence as well, the “savages” being in her eyes the enemies of the Christians. Despite these preconceptions, however, Marie arrived in Canada with an open mind toward the Amerindians: “I adore all these little ‘savages;’ it is as though I carry them in my heart.”60 Her mission, as she understood it, was mainly to make Jesus known to those who did not yet know him. She 56. In the letters, we have used the term “native” to translate the original “sauvage” in order to respect current sensitivities. For a discussion of Otherness, however, it seems necessary to understand the terms “sauvage,” “sauvagesse,” and “sauvagerie” in their historical context. For more on the nuances of these terms, see Hans-Jürgen Lusebrink, “Barbare, sauvage,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 140–43. For suggestions as to how to translate them into English, see John DuVal and Kathleen DuVal, “Are Sauvages Savages, Wild People, or Indians in a Colonial American Reader?” Translation Review 79, no. 1 (2010): 1–16. 57. Coming from a patriarchal society, colonial Europeans failed to understand the matrilineal kinship system of Iroquois society and the crucial role women played in political, social, and economic activities. On gender roles among indigenous peoples and the clan mothers, see Cindy Baskin, “Women in Iroquois Society,” Canadian Woman Studies, vol. 4, no. 2 (1982): 42–46; https://cws.journals.yorku.ca/ index.php/cws/issue/view/574. 58. In comparison with seventeenth-century European women, women in Iroquoian and Algonquian societies enjoyed a good deal of freedom in major life decisions. They could engage in premarital sex without public disapproval, choose their marriage partners, and divorce if the marriage did not work out. See “Women of New France,” Fort St. Joseph Archaeological Project, Booklet Series no. 1 (2010); . 59. Some of the ideas developed here come from my article “La rencontre franco-amérindienne d’après la correspondance de Marie de l’Incarnation (1639–1672),” in Altérité et différences à l’aube des temps modernes, ed. Cynthia Skenazi and Colette H. Winn, French Forum 43, no. 2 (2018): 253–67. 60. Letter 11, March 20, 1635, 63; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 41.

Introduction 19 did not see the act of “trying to gain souls” as an assertion of French supremacy, but rather as the recovery of souls hitherto subjected to the yoke of Satan. In her view, however, it was necessary for the success of this “regeneration” that the Amerindians adhere to a civilized way of life: that is to say, to the precepts of Christianity and the social and ethical values that prevailed in the French society of the post-Reformation era. She seems to have recognized that the process of assimilation expected of native nations, in accordance with the policy of francisation, or gallicization, promoted by King Louis XIV and his minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert, entailed some loss.61 She touched upon that loss, but did not dwell upon it, in some of her letters: “The last three girls that you sent to us left their native ways at the door; they brought none of them into our home. . . .”62 The fact that Marie took it upon herself to learn, at the age of fifty, several indigenous languages shows that she recognized the uniqueness of Amerindian traditions, unlike many of her contemporaries who saw Amerindian civilization as inferior and considered native languages to be primitive. In a letter to her son in the year 1670, Marie challenges the stereotypes disseminated by early settlers. Considering the common view that the “savage” is “easy to convert because he has no faith or law,”63 she argues that before the Europeans ever came, there existed some among the “savages” who knew instinctively, while gazing at the world around them, that there existed a powerful being who had created all things and reigned over them with great wisdom. I met several natives who, while admiring the harmony of things in nature, were wondering, “Surely there exists a Creator of all that we see in this world, because all this could not come from nothing.” They would pray in this way to the one who created all, and those who are Christian have adopted this way of speaking; when wanting to pray to God, they say, “You, the Creator of everything, etc.”64

61. The policy of francisation or gallicization began “with the arrival of Father Paul Le Jeune in Quebec as Superior of the Jesuit Missions in New France, on 5 July 1632.” His aim was to teach the Amerindians French manners, language, and religion. See Georges F. G. Stanley, “The Policy of ‘Francisation’ as applied to the Indians during the Ancien Régime,” Revue d’histoire de l’Amérique française 3, no. 3 (1949): 338–48. 62. Letter 41, Jan. 1640, 73; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91 (my emphasis). 63. See for instance Jacques Cartier or rather Jean Poulet, who wrote in the Première relation de Jacques Cartier de la terre neufve, dite la Nouvelle France, trouvée en l’an 1534: “We knew that they would be easy to convert.” In Cartier, Voyages au Canada: Avec les relations des voyages en Amérique de Gonnevile, Verrazano et Roberval, ed. Charles-André Julien, R. Herval, and T. Beauchesne (Paris: Éditions la Découverte, 1992), 102. 64. Letter 270, 1670, 96–97; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 915.

20 Introduction The Amerindian beliefs in both the existence of a “Messou [who] would have mended the world,”65 and the immortality of the soul, and their fear of hell, were not, in her view, so far from Christian convictions. Consequently, she did not assume that the reason for the savages’ apparent docility was because they were a blank slate but because some of their beliefs predisposed them favorably to their conversion to Christianity. Foreign to her, however, was the Amerindian belief in the power of dreams.66 In the same letter quoted earlier, Marie explains that Amerindians feel the need to enact exactly what they see depicted in their sleep, which she considers to be a major obstacle to their conversion. Ironically, Marie herself based her whole missionary destiny in what had been revealed to her in dream visions: it was in a dream, she claims, that God showed her Canada and commanded her to found a monastery there.67 What struck her as “foreign,” even more than this belief in dreams, was to see “wolves become lambs and beasts children of God.”68 In other words, it was not so much the “savage” that she found foreign but the Amerindian convert after the unexpected metamorphosis achieved by baptism. Her letters are filled with examples illustrating this sort of foreignness. The fear of God among a people presumed to be without faith or law seemed to her exceedingly strange; and so did the new convert’s desire to die for God, since it was thought that Amerindians were extremely fearful of death.69 She found the Amerindians’ gratitude toward the Sisters after they had been baptized utterly surprising, because she believed, as was commonly believed at the time, that “savages” were, by nature, ungrateful (Letter 65).70 That some Amerindian converts engaged in a search for perfection was also at odds with the contemporary European understanding of native women. Most foreign of all, in Marie’s view, was the behavior of the so-called “Thérèse Huronne” who chose voluntary solitude and retired on a mountain to pray to God. In sum, Marie saw foreignness in the radical change by which the Other

65. Letter 270, 1670, 97; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 916. The Messou, or “Great Spirit,” the chief among the supernatural beings called Manitous, is a deity who, it was believed, had restored the world after its destruction in a universal flood. See Paul Le Jeune’s Relation, 1634, chapter 4, in Reuben Gold Thwaites, ed., The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents: Travels and Explorations of the Jesuit Missionaries in New France, 1610–1791, trans. Finlow Alexander et al., vol. 6 (Cleveland: Burrow Brothers, 1897), 157; . 66. On the importance attached to dreams in Amerindian culture as a source of both practical and spiritual guidance, see Elisabeth Tooker, An Ethnography of the Huron Indians, 1615–1649 (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1991), 86–91. 67. See Letter 17, March 3, 1635, 68; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 42–43. 68. See Letter 80, August 26, 1644; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 222. 69. Letter 58, September 15, 1641; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 139. 70. Letter 65, September 29, 1642, 166.

Introduction 21 could be mistaken for the Same and could no longer pass for “an Other.”71 Letters 41 and 43 abound with such astonishing, and yet somewhat disturbing examples: Magdeleine Amiskoveian (a seventeen-year-old Algonquin) behaves as though she had been raised by us. There is no spirit more gentle or flexible than hers; she holds her companions to their duty and takes great delight in holy matters.72 Little Magdeleine is in no way like a native girl; there is no child more obedient or affectionate.73 Your goddaughter Marie Magdelaine Abatenau was given to us at just six years old, still covered in smallpox. At such a young age, she alone had served her parents in the sickness that killed them, with so much devotion that she elicited admiration from all who saw her. There is no one more obedient than this child; she even anticipates obedience, because she has the tenacity to go places that she foresees being useful to us; and she does what we ask of her with so much drive and grace that she could be mistaken for the daughter of a noble family.74 As can be seen in these passages, Marie found herself at a loss when trying to put into words the new sort of Sameness that emerged from the process of assimilation, from the fusion, and confusion, of the Same and the Other.75 Marie seldom called attention to Otherness per se. She usually approached the subject of Otherness in conjunction with either her apostolic mission or her own spiritual quest. In a letter to her spiritual director, Dom Raymond de Saint 71. For a more theoretically-grounded and nuanced study on this notion of “neither the one thing nor the other,” see Mary Dunn, “When ‘Wolves Become Lambs’: Hybridity and the ‘Savage’ in the Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation,” The Seventeenth Century 23, no. 1 (2012): 104–20. Of particular interest is the analysis concerning the way in which Marie “crafts a distinctly hybridized colonial identity that questions the post-Tridentine Church’s rendering of the female religious subject” (116). 72. Letter 41, January 1640, 73; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91 (my emphasis). 73. Letter 41, January 1640, 73; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91 (my emphasis). 74. Letter 43, September 3, 1640, 76; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 95–96 (my emphasis). 75. In his famous essay “Of Cannibals” (Essays, Book I, 31), Montaigne likewise argues that what is “wild” is what has been changed artificially: “It seems we have no other test of truth or reason than the example and pattern of the opinions and customs of the country we live in. There is always the perfect religion, the perfect government, the perfect and accomplished manners in all things. These people are wild, just as we call wild the fruits that Nature has produced by herself and in her normal course; whereas really it is those that we have changed artificially and led astray from the common order, that we should rather call wild. The former retain alive and vigorous their genuine, their most useful and natural, virtues and properties, which we have debased in the latter in adapting them to gratify our corrupted taste. . . . It is not reasonable that art should win the place of honor over our great and powerful mother nature.” See The Complete Essays of Montaigne, trans. Donald M. Frame (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1958), 152 (my emphasis).

22 Introduction Bernard, she claims that she was prepared to welcome the Other Amerindian with open arms in order to show God how much she was capable of loving him.76 In another letter to Dom Raymond, she declares that she was prepared to confront Otherness in its strangest and most frightening forms so that she might be chosen by God to work for the salvation of souls.77 In yet another letter, she described the Sisters’ eagerness to be entrusted with the task of washing the little Amerindian girls, even though this meant that they would have to overcome their natural repugnance to the sight of the vermin and to the bad odors that emanated from the excess grease that covered their pupils’ bodies.78 In many of her letters, Marie expressed her admiration for the primitive qualities displayed by her Amerindian pupils as the result of Christianization. Otherness, in this light, carried the positive connotations of purity, childlike simplicity, and regeneration, reminiscent of the original fervent Church of apostolic times: “If only simplicity reigned in all hearts as it does in the hearts of our new Christians”;79 “It appears that the apostolic spirit of early Christianity has penetrated New France, and that it impassions the hearts of our good neophytes.”80 As a reminder of the Christian ideal to be attained (the “simplicity” of the primitive Church),81 these new Christians were, in Marie’s view, true objects of emulation: “Marie Magdelaine Abatenau . . . knows her catechism by heart, along with Christian prayers that she recites with so much devotion that she inspires the same feeling in those who see her.”82 Otherness, viewed in such a positive light, generally triggered critical selfreflection. On August 28, 1642, Marie penned a letter to one of her sisters-in-law, in which she deplores the permissiveness of the Old World in stark contrast to the sincere and profound piety of the New World: “One can truly say that our beloved neophytes shame the Christians of Old France, who, unlike them, were born and raised in the Roman Catholic religion.”83 When she turned her gaze inward, she wrote to the Mother Superior of the Ursulines of Tours, all that she could see was “the creature set in her sinful habits.”84 This image of the hard-hearted sinner, which sharply contrasts with that of the “souls freshly bathed in the blood of the

76. See Letter 11, March 20, 1635, 63; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 24. 77. See Letter 37, April 15, 1639, 70; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 81. 78. See Letter 43, Sept. 3, 1640, 78; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 97. 79. Letter 41, Jan. 1640, 81; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91. 80. Letter 43, Sept. 3, 1640, 74; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 95. 81. See Letter 53, August 30, 1641, 76; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 125. 82. Letter 43, Sept. 3, 1640, 81; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 95 (my emphasis). 83. Letter 61, August 28, 1642; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 149. 84. Letter 68, Sept. 15, 1641; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 141.

Introduction 23 lamb,”85 is indicative of Marie’s deep understanding of her moral weakness and suggests that she is advancing up the spiritual ladder.86 In several respects, Marie de l’Incarnation remains a woman of her time: she viewed her faith as the only true faith and was totally convinced of the merits of her mission to win souls back to Christ and the Catholic Church. She never completely discarded some of the negative perceptions her contemporaries had of the Amerindian Other. But on the whole, she had a highly developed sense of nuance as well as a capacity for open-mindedness unique for her time. She accepted stereotypes only after having revisited them in the light of her own experience in Canada. Under her pen, the real Other was not the “savage,” but the Amerindian convert, whom she viewed as a hybrid being resisting categorization. In general, her encounter with Otherness formed an intrinsic part of her religious quest, whether it be the initial step that led to her active teaching apostolate in order to save souls or to a more contemplative stage in the ladder of spiritual ascent.

Let us step outside our homeland, there will be a new being . . . Madame Du Boccage firmly believed in the benefits to be gained from uprooting oneself from routine and familiar environments. In her lifetime, she did so on several occasions: first by moving away from the provincial city of Rouen to settle in the capital of France, then twice again by stepping outside her homeland on a Grand Tour in search of new adventures to satisfy her curiosity and keep her life exciting. In the 1750s, she enjoyed her journey to England and Holland, but seven years later, as she was packing for her sixteen-month journey to Italy, she admitted having mixed feelings at the mere thought of venturing out on the roads. However, the “desire to see new things” soon overcame her anxiety: Last Easter, Monsieur Du Boccage and I departed; those who knew of our fragile health disapproved. We were already tired from our travel preparations, upset to leave our friends and the charming house where we lived, but full of a desire to see new things. Despite being worried about the dangers of our journey, we were very eager to leave. You are familiar with these contradictory emotions.87 85. Letter 41, January 1640, 73; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 91. 86. On Marie as mystic, see in addition to Guy-Marie Oury, Marie de l’Incarnation, and Deroy-Pineau, Marie de l’Incarnation, see Marie de l’Incarnation, From Mother to Son, 24–32; and Raymond Brodeur, ed., Femme, mystique et missionnaire: Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation: Tours, 1599–Québec, 1672: Actes du colloque organisé par le Centre d’études Marie-de-l’Incarnation sous les auspices du Centre interuniversitaire d’études québécoises qui s’est tenu à Loretteville, Québec, du 22 au 25 septembre 1999 (SaintFoy, Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval, 2001), Part 3. 87. Letter 16, April 25, 1757, 140; from Lettres de Madame Du Boccage, contenant ses voyages en France, en Angleterre, en Hollande et en Italie, faits pendant les années 1750, 1757, et 1758 (Dresden:

24 Introduction In her letters, Madame Du Boccage frequently mentions the physical challenges of travel, perhaps to boast in having met them: the unfavorable weather conditions, the time spent on the road or at sea,88 the carriages’ lack of comfort, the poor state of the roads or the agitation of the sea.89 However, when she arrived at destination, she usually forgot the frustrations of the actual journey. Similar to other members of the intellectual elite of eighteenth-century Europe, Du Boccage liked to think of herself as “a stranger nowhere.”90 To achieve this goal, she believed one ought to follow a certain code of conduct: first, travelers should behave in a thoughtful manner and be respectful of other customs. When she was served breakfast at an inn in Rochester, even though she did not care for it, she exchanged views with the other travelers to avoid behaving in an improper fashion.91 Seeing that Italian women wore hardly any rouge when they went out, partly because of the heat, she conformed to their custom. Secondly, Du Boccage believed that travelers should avoid taking national stereotypes at their face value, but instead keep revisiting them in light of their own experience abroad. Madame Du Boccage takes numerous examples to show how ill-founded such generalizations are, based on what she was able to observe. In her letter dated May 25, 1750, she opposes the hospitality she found in England to the alleged coldness of the British people: “I had been told that they rarely George Conrad Walther, 1771), 104; online at archive.org: . 88. In Letter 16, April 25, 1757, 140 (Du Boccage, Lettres, 103), Madame Du Boccage voices impatience when, on her way to Italy, she is forced to spend time in Fontainebleau, waiting for her carriage to be repaired. On the experience of time as a subject for reflection in Madame Du Boccage’s correspondence, see Rotraud von Kulessa, “L’expérience du temps chez Madame Du Boccage,” in Le temps des femmes: Textes mémoriels des Lumières, ed. Anne Coudreuse and Catriona Seth (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2014), 153–64. 89. The fact that the road system did not improve made Italy increasingly appear as a country of the past. On the poor state of the roads, see for example Letter 22, July 5, 1757, in Du Boccage, Lettres, 168: “The streams that cut across the path are as difficult to navigate as the mountains. How are the sovereigns of these regions, whose manors are so lavish, too frugal to finance access to the crowds of travelers who have been coming for a thousand years to admire their homes? Princes, cardinals, pilgrims, and all sorts of curious people continue to endure these grueling routes, which remain virtually impassable.” On the state of routes (land and water), on European national developments in the eighteenth century, and on transport facilities, see Georges Livet, Histoire des routes et des transports en Europe: Des chemins de Saint-Jacques à l’âge d’or des diligences (Strasbourg: Presses universitaires de Strasbourg, 2003). 90. An expression used in the English dictionaries of the time to designate the cosmopolitan or citizen of the world. See the definition for “cosmopolite” in J. Johnson, The New Royal and Universal English Dictionary (London: Millard, 1763); and Samuel Johnson, A Dictionary of the English Language (London: Printed for T. Osborne and J. Shipton . . . et al., 1756), both available at Eighteenth Century Collections Online. 91. Letter 1, April 1, 1750, 104–5; Du Boccage, Lettres, 5.

Introduction 25 invite foreigners for dinner, but I have found that they religiously observe the laws of hospitality. We had not been here more than two days before we were invited for dinner.”92 In the same letter, she states that like most stereotypes, those about British cuisine are doomed to inaccuracy: “I have adapted to these foreign dishes quite easily and even to typical British cuisine, which we normally dislike; their unrefined meat, their pudding, their fish (which is far less expensive than in Paris and therefore served at every meal), and their chicken in a butter sauce are excellent.”93 She, nonetheless, takes a critical look at what she encounters abroad. Before her journey, like most enlightened thinkers, she celebrated Holland and England as the lands of religious freedom. When in Holland, however, she viewed things differently. Considering the Jansenists and Molinists who “remain at odds and hate each other more than they do the Calvinists and the Lutherans,”94 she expresses skepticism at the allegedly peaceful coexistence of different religious denominations. In England, her curiosity prompted her to attend various religious assemblies. Despite her desire to be tolerant, certain things remained foreign to her. For example, the Jewish liturgy sounded to her so “awful” that she had to leave the service before the end,95 and she found the confused jumble of words that came out of the mouths of the Quakers supposedly inspired by the Almighty so ridiculous that she could not help but poke fun at it. Thirdly, travelers, in her view, should immerse themselves and experience different people and lifestyles in order to gain an accurate view of the foreign culture: “To truly understand the traditions of this country,” she declares in Letter 9, “we visited not only the palaces of the neighboring lords, but also shepherds’ huts and farmers’ homes.”96 Although she seemed to make a point of viewing different sections of the cities that she visits, it is clear from reading her letters that she associated herself mostly with the cultivated elite to which she belonged. In Holland, the fact that she did not speak the language made personal contacts impossible outside of the Enlightenment circles where French was spoken, such 92. Du Boccage, Letter 5, May 25, 1750, 120; Du Boccage, Lettres, 33. And again in Letter 4, April 25, 1750, 123 (Du Boccage, Lettres, 29): “They are wrongly accused of being cold to foreigners. I cannot believe that they treat us so kindly.” 93. Du Boccage, Letter 5, May 25, 1750, 120; Du Boccage, Lettres, 33–34. 94. Letter 11, June 30, 1750, 136; Du Boccage, Lettres, 75. Causes for disagreement concerned their concepts of predestination, divine grace, and free will. On the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century disputes between the followers of Cornelius Jansen and the adherents of Molinism, a theological movement named after the Spanish Jesuit Luis Molina (1535–1600), see Monique Cottret, “Jansénisme,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 411–13; and Joseph Pohle, “Molinism,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 10 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911); . 95. Letter 6, May 12, 1750, 127; Du Boccage, Lettres, 39. 96. Letter 9, June 4, 1750; Du Boccage, Lettres, 53.

26 Introduction as the milieus of high finance and diplomacy (the embassies of both France and England) and the Stadhouder’s entourage.97 Fourthly, Madame Du Boccage believed that the seasoned traveler should be broad-minded and fully embrace difference, contrary to French travelers who demanded to find France everywhere they went: We hardly resemble those French who rebel against all that is unfamiliar to them. On the contrary, the more we move away from our habits, the more we satisfy our curiosity. We do not visit a country to impose our own fashions, but rather to discover new ways of doing things.98 She recognizes that “humans are the same everywhere,” but observes that “their passions and their mores” take “different forms.”99 For example, the English people generally show a better sense of limits and more self-control than the French. A case in point is the public speakers who have learned to be concise as opposed to France’s long-winded beaux parleurs. Regarding transportation mishaps, she found that the English carriage drivers are quite capable of exerting self-control over anger, a thing unheard of in France in a similar situation. And she remains speechless at the sight of “the order and silence in the middle of a crowd” in London’s pleasure gardens.100 She argues that the best way to benefit from exposure to foreign cultures is to take away the best features of each of them. In that regard, she finds her friend and correspondent, the well-traveled Lord Chesterfield, to be exemplary: He visited all the courts and took away only the good aspects from each of them: a greater understanding of humankind, the art of conversation, the mastery of several languages, a comprehensive library, the most beautiful paintings to decorate his palace, and the desire to build it in a sophisticated architectural taste.101 Du Boccage willingly admits that there are things that the British do better than the French, and others that the French do better than the British. “Good tea,” she declares, “can only be found in London.”102 She commends the British for the effective way they inspire talents by promising honors and titles whereas the 97. On these milieus, see Strien-Chardonneau, Le voyage de Hollande, 118–28. 98. Letter 5, May 25, 1750, 120; Du Boccage, Lettres, 29. 99. Letter 36, April 8, 1758; Du Boccage, Lettres, 112. 100. Letter 3, April 15, 1750, 110; Du Boccage, Lettres, 14. 101. Letter 2, April 8, 1750, 107; Du Boccage, Lettres, 9. 102. Letter 2, April 8, 1750, 106; Du Boccage, Lettres, 8.

Introduction 27 French distribute pensions in vain. She finds admirable the patriotic spirit that drives the learned and the wealthy in England to see that their compatriots will benefit, regardless of their social origins, from the knowledge they were able to acquire during their lifetime. However, in the so-called Enlightenment age, she is surprised to see the power that superstitions and unfounded fear still exert among the common people.103 She agrees that British ladies look good in their “white pinafores and little straw hats,” but finds them much less attractive when they attempt to dress like French women. In her mind, France remains the undisputed leader of fashion,104 and she feels strongly that other countries should refrain from trying to imitate the French in this domain: I do not know why all of Europe feels so inclined to adopt our fashion trends, considering that our vicissitudes are difficult to follow, even in our own provinces; foreigners only discover our fashions when they are out of season and never follow them in the same way that they were originally intended in Paris. Each country has its own language, customs, ideas, and should have its own fashion, always better suited to the body than foreign clothing.105 In addition to fashion, Du Boccage asserts French supremacy in several domains, including luxury goods, comfort, and the arts in general: “the English are still a hundred years behind us as far as luxury is concerned; . . . Their rooms display few armchairs: tall chairs, barely padded, are suitable for them”; “their writing practices as well as their architecture, painting, and sculpture are still in their beginning stages.”106 In sum, she combines an appreciation of other cultures with a sense of pride in her own cultural heritage. Of particular concern to Madame Du Boccage were international exchanges among cultivated people. In a letter dated from Paris January 6, 1772 to mathematician and physicist Paulo Frisi, she wrote: 103. See her account of the terror that the prediction of an earthquake by a soldier provoked among the English; in Letter 5, May 25, 1750, 122; Du Boccage, Lettres, 30. 104. By the eighteenth century, France had already established itself as the arbiter of fashionable taste. Parisian fashions were enthusiastically followed everywhere in Europe. In the early years of the century, dolls dressed in the latest styles were sent out from Paris to shopkeepers and royal courts throughout Europe to inform women of the changes in fashion trends. Later in the century, they were replaced by fashion magazines that served the same purpose. See Madeleine Delpierre, Dress in France in the Eighteenth Century, trans. Caroline Beamish (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), esp. 58–70. 105. Letter 2, April 8, 1750, 107; Du Boccage, Lettres, 8. 106. Letter 4, April 25, 1750, 118, and Letter 5, May 25, 1750, 122; Du Boccage, Lettres, 24 and 31.

28 Introduction I wish that men and women of letters from all nations could have a reliable and easy access to one another’s works and to memoirs that they may like to read. This is a Republic where peace and cultural exchange enjoy too little power; the pleasure one takes in writing about religion and politics has destroyed everything else with, unfortunately, few benefits for humankind.107 As a translator, Du Boccage took an active role in the transmission of foreign culture in France and French culture abroad. She made her own works available abroad by translating them herself or having them translated into German, Portuguese, and Italian.108 She was also instrumental in making several authors (English, Italian, German, and Chinese) available in French, whether she translated them herself or found a translator to do so.109 Her correspondence to Paulo Frisi speaks of the arrangement she made for the translation into French of one of his works, which finally appeared in 1774 under the title, Traité des rivières et des torrents, augmenté du Traité des canaux navigables, traduit de l’italien par Deserrey (Treatise of Rivers and Torrents, Supplemented by a Treatise of Navigable Canals, translated from the Italian by Deserrey; Paris: de l’Imp. Royale). She claimed that she thought of translating the work herself but refrained from doing so, not knowing what to do with the names of places. She, herself, found it essential to retain the foreignness of the original in the translation: [the translator] must not appear at all in [the translation], just the Author whom I wish to make known in another language. Many people claim that the work you translate must be appropriated and given, according to your tastes, the form that is most suitable: this is no longer rendering into our language the character of mind of foreigners, it is to impute our own to them.110 107. Du Boccage, “Unpublished Letters of Mme Du Boccage,” 337. 108. Among these are translations of her Les Amazones in Italian, and her La Columbiade in German, Portuguese, and Italian respectively: Gli Amazzoni, tragedia della Signora Du Boccage, trans. by Luisa Bergali Gozzi (Venice: P. Bassaglia, 1756); Die Columbiade, oder der in die neue Welt übergebrachte Glaube, ein Heldengedicht, trans. from the French (Glogau und Leipzig: Christian Friedrich Günther, 1762); A Colombiada ou a Fé levada ao novo mundo, epopêa, trans. Antonio Luiz de Seabra (Lisbon: typ. da Acadenia, 1893); La Colombiade, poema di Madama Du Boccage, ed. and introd. Antonio Francesco Frisi (Milan: stampa di G. Marelli, 1771). This last translation was done in several stages and is the work of several hands: the first canto by Pietro Verri, the second canto by the Abbey Soresi, etc. Frisi directed the enterprise and wrote an introduction for the translation. See Letters to Frisi of June 29, 1767, August 20, 1769, and September 10, 1771, in Du Boccage, “Unpublished Letters of Mme Du Boccage,” 332–34. 109. See letters to Frisi of September 10, 1771 and January 6, 1772, in Du Boccage, “Unpublished Letters of Mme Du Boccage,” 334–36. 110. “Préface” to Le Temple de la renommée, in Recueil des oeuvres de Madame Du Boccage, 3 vols. (Lyon: Les frères Périsse, 1770), 1: 274, cited by Georges Van Den Abbeele, “Goodbye Columbus: Madame Du

Introduction 29 Clearly, Du Boccage highly valued the cultural benefits of international exchanges, whether it be through translation or through travel abroad. However, the personal benefits to be gained from foreign experience were just as important to her. The journey that she recounts in her letters to her sister is both an outer and an inner journey. In addition to developing cultural sensitivity, she saw in traveling the opportunity of gaining perspective and greater self-awareness. It allowed her to transcend a day-to-day life pattern that she judged unsatisfying: “Traveling provides the most fleeting and entertaining times in life,” she declares in Letter 36.111 Because traveling presented new challenges, it was bound, in her eyes, to arouse curiosity and make one question the nature of things: “humans die all the same” [. . .] “One may then wonder, ‘why travel’? It is good to experience what reason calls into question.”112 But most of all, it led to critical self-examination. In the following passage, as she tries to put into words her impressions about the breathtaking view from the rooftop of Chateau Saint Elme in the Naples area, she remembers who she once was and wonders who she really is: My extreme agitation reminds me of the verses from my youth, and despite my fatigue, I shall transcribe them exactly as I wrote them then. Compare to them the lengthy poems I write now and my endless voyages and you will see how much age can alter our sentiments! Oh, how fickle humans are! I fail to understand who I really am: I have always undertaken the riskiest of tasks and yet I am the timidest of persons; I am living in the world and yet I love solitude. I often have somber thoughts. Judge from these rhymes how somber my ideas were at the age of twenty.113 Du Boccage viewed traveling as a crucial necessity not only to overcome boredom, but also to preserve the capacity for wonder typical of youth. In the following passage, she embraces the possibility of self-reinvention that exposure to “Otherness” offers her: For many reasons, I will say that it is better to travel the world later in life rather than earlier. When we are fifteen or twenty years old, our country, which has been good to us and which we accept with open arms as a budding flower unfurls for the sun, has then a sense of newness. We must first make the best of that; everything should serve as a subject of reflection, surprise, and pleasure. By force of Boccage and the Migration of Identity,” in Monga, L’Odeporica/Hodoeporics, 414 and note 11. 111. Letter 36, April 8, 1758; Du Boccage, Lettres, 311. 112. Letter 6, May 12, 1750, 128; Du Boccage, Lettres, 41. 113. Letter 27, October 1, 1757, 161; Du Boccage, Lettres, 226–27.

30 Introduction habit, however, things become insipid, and we become so to them. Let us step outside our homeland, and there will be a new being, and although humans are the same everywhere, their mores and passions take on different forms which awaken our attention, and stir that curiosity so characteristic of youth; these new interests would undoubtedly accompany whoever had the courage to travel the world, and would endlessly renew the sensations that time and the boredom of always seeing the same horizon ultimately dull.114 In her more mature age, she felt more inclined to reflect, weigh and compare the laws, institutions, and customs of various nations, and confront her views with other approaches and perspectives. To this reader, Du Boccage’s reflections on the condition of women and, more generally, on human life, in the aphoristic style reminiscent of La Rochefoucault’s, give her epistolary travelogue its originality. A few examples follow: here, she contrasts women’s position in English and French societies, but she also calls into question the allegedly elevated status of British women by pointing out the little influence they actually have in the public sphere.115 Indeed, she seems to have perceived the fundamental contradiction of upper-class women’s position in hierarchical societies of unequal opportunities: Here [i.e., in England], women have little influence in public affairs, but can wear the crown and govern the nation; the lords’ wives have seats on the dais and wear distinctive symbols of honor during great celebrations. Women in France (a country renowned for its gallantry) have no specific rank; they do not have access to the throne and are forbidden from filling seats in the Academy.116 In another letter, she remarks that gender prejudices continue to prevail all over Europe partly because of human tendency for self-delusion: By the way, women here [in Italy] here are all highly praised as persons of stature. Whereas too many compliments are made about 114. Letter 36, April 8, 1758; Du Boccage, Lettres, 311–12 (my emphasis). 115. The belief that “England [was] the paradise of women” was frequently reiterated after the publication of John Ray’s A Collection of English Proverbs, Digested into a Convenient Method for the Speedy Finding Anyone upon Occasion (Cambridge, UK: Printed by J. Hayes, for W. Morden, 1670), 54, Proverb 95. Madame Du Boccage was ambivalent about the supposedly superior female freedom in England. In her letter of April 25, 1750, she remarks, “We see here a greater number of women at gatherings and performances than in Paris; they go there in their later years without fear of showing their wrinkles” (Letter 4, 118; Du Boccage, Lettres, 25). But in the same letter, she expresses surprise at the fact that they still wear “stays.” 116. Letter 6, May 12, 1750, 126; Du Boccage, Lettres, 37.

Introduction 31 their appearance, too few concern their intellect. Those of our sex condemn, out of jealousy, women who have merit; the other sex indiscriminately attributes women’s accomplishments to their male friends’ good advice. In our absence, men compensate in this way, since, in our presence, they feel obligated to constantly praise us; but this excessive flattery, which one may consider to be without consequence or simply done out of habit, weakens our reason to the point that we do not know what to think. All beautiful women are compared to Venus or Minerva, the soldiers to Caesar, and the poets to Homer. Such a pernicious abuse of terms makes it impossible for one to find the proper ones to celebrate the true heroes.117 In her letters about Holland, a country where “everything can be found even though nothing grows there,” Du Boccage devotes much space to consumerism. From all accounts, she, herself, did not purchase much abroad, yet she received “the most beautiful gifts,” including the 1750 edition of Milton’s Paradise Lost and several first editions of the Classics. Here and there, she weighs and compares the cost of things in different countries. She recognizes that England provides better value for money: “Our modest lodging [in Deal] was, however, better than what we could have found in France in a similar setting.”118 She has also this comment on greed and the foolish things humans will do for money: “If it is considered foolish to live poor in order to die rich, it is even more inconceivable to be incapable of being frugal and therefore spend one’s life in anguish.”119 A perhaps anachronistic observation may be made in closing: Would Madame Du Boccage have presaged the impact of climate change? Did she expressly oppose the French seventeenth- and eighteenth-century moralists’ view by affirming the unchanging nature of the human heart in an ever-changing world? Everything changes: names, forms, situations, mountains become lower, valleys grow higher, the sea gives lakes to the earth while the earth gives the sea islands, rivers dry up, and new springs are born, but my affection for you is eternal.120

The happiest moment of my existence . . . The term “Other” takes on its full range of meanings under the pen of Madame de La Tour du Pin. French aristocrats saw as “Others” the revolutionaries who had 117. Letter 28, October 8, 1757, 162–63; Du Boccage, Lettres, 229–30. 118. Letter 1, April 1, 1750, 104; Du Boccage, Lettres, 4. 119. Letter 33, January 17, 1758; Du Boccage, Lettres, 280. 120. Letter 28, October 8, 1757, 167–68; Du Boccage, Lettres, 236.

32 Introduction taken over their country. This is the way the La Tours du Pin saw their compatriots who had emigrated to Boston: “They were mostly common folks, impoverished merchants, or laborers looking for work. They seemed to us to be more or less sympathizers of the revolution and they saw us as aristocrats who escaped from the torment, which in their view, we well deserved for our past tyranny.”121 In her new homeland, Madame de La Tour du Pin avoided talking about her social status in France and putting on the airs of a lady. She observes, “I was the owner of a 250-acre farm. I lived exactly like those who had as much as we did, no more no less.”122 The day she took possession of her farm, she adopted the costume worn by the women on the neighboring places, that is to say, a skirt of blue and black striped wool, a little camisole of light brown cotton cloth, a handkerchief of the same color, and her hair parted [. . .] and caught up with a comb.”123 Born an aristocrat, she had been brought up in luxury, but unlike the young ladies of her rank, she was not versed in the elegant arts expected at court. Her maid, Marguerite, a peasant girl from the neighborhood of Compiègne who had brought her up, taught her early on the fundamental domestic skills that would yield important benefits as she became a farmer in upstate New York: “I had always had a great desire to improve my mind. I wished to know everything, from the cuisine to experiments in chemistry, which I made with a little apothecary who lived at Hautefontaine.”124 While her husband ploughed the land and cut the wood, Madame de La Tour du Pin managed the entire household with the help of her young slave girl, Judith. Her workday began with the sun rising and ended with its setting, both in winter and summer. In addition to keeping house, cooking, sewing, mending, washing clothes and bedding, she did all the ironing, a task at which she excelled. She proudly remarked, “In my early youth, before I married, I would often go to the laundry room at Montfermeil, where, as if by intuition, I had learned how to iron. As I was naturally dexterous, I was soon just as good at ironing as the girls who had showed me how to do it.”125 In addition to housework, she fed and took care of the farm animals, skimmed the milk,126 participated in the harvesting of the crops, and helped her husband make cider—buying barrels especially made for cognac and fine Bordeaux in order to get a better price for it. She also went to the local market to sell the vegetables she cultivated herself, and her dairy 121. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 183; Part 2, chap. 1, 4. 122. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 207; Part 2, chap. 4, 94. 123. La Tour du Pin, Recollections, 219. 124. La Tour du Pin, Journal; Part 2, chap. 1, 11. 125. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 207; Part 2, chap. 4, 94–95. 126. In a poem entitled La pitié, Jacques Delille immortalized the image of Madame de La Tour du Pin milking the cows. See La pitié, Chant IV, in Œuvres de Jacques Delille (Paris: Giguet et Michaud, 1805), 159–65.

Introduction 33 products—the eggs from the chickens she raised and the most delicious grass-fed butter, upon which she impressed the family’s insignia with a wooden stamp. Her humility and her industriousness soon earned her the esteem of her neighbors. She also developed a reputation for her kindness and generosity and made many new friends in Albany. Some of the families of Dutch origin that had settled in Albany like the Schuylers, the van Rensselaers, and the Hamiltons127 were quite distinguished and the La Tours du Pin soon realized that they belonged to the same world. The Quakers, on the other hand, aroused their curiosity, and they decided to visit a community nearby. As Madame de La Tour du Pin’s comments show, they were favorably impressed by the hard work of the Quakers, the spirit of cooperation that reigned in the community, the general impression of order, and the cleanliness of the lodgings and dairy farms. She observed that the physical work was shared by both men and women. Her reaction to the Quakers’ gathering was similar to that of Madame Du Boccage. She found the dynamics of speech and silence that constituted their experience of worshiping puzzling; and the chants and words of those feeling particularly inspired sounded odd to her ear; she described them as “a sort of a groan or shout that did not sound like either a song or a chant. . . . an unintelligible language, which seemed to be mixed with a few English words.”128 Generally speaking, her impression was that this was a community closed on itself, suspicious of outsiders, and not very hospitable: “we went back home . . . unimpressed by the Quakers’ welcome.”129 In the eyes of eighteenth-century Europeans, the lack of clothing connoted primitiveness and savagery. Unaware of Mohawk culture, Madame de La Tour du Pin expressed astonishment when she first saw local Mohawks going about naked, “I must admit, I was a little surprised when I saw for the first time a man and a woman, totally naked, walking peacefully along the road, without anyone else finding it odd. But I soon became accustomed to it.”130 She also shared her contemporaries’ views regarding Amerindian habits of alcohol consumption.131 She recounts a story someone had told her about two youths who took advantage 127. General Philip Schuyler was a close friend of President Washington who had married Catherine van Rensselaer. In 1789, Alexander Hamilton (1755–1804) was appointed by George Washington as the first Secretary of the Treasury, but in 1795, he returned to his law practice in New York. He was married to Elizabeth (Eliza) Schuyler who created the first orphanage in New York. The Hamiltons were members of the social elite who regularly attended balls and the theater. 128. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 197; Part 2, chap. 3, 69. 129. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 197; Part 2, chap. 3, 69. 130. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 190; Part 2, chap. 2, 40–41. 131. On the liquor trade and for an overview of Amerindian alcohol use in the eastern colonial woodlands, see Peter C. Mancall, Deadly Medicine: Indians and Alcohol in Early America (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995).

34 Introduction of an Amerindian for their own entertainment. In Madame de La Tour du Pin’s account, the youths are portrayed as villains as they encouraged the vice of drunkenness, and the Amerindian the victim of his own addiction to rum. The story ends with the words of caution that “wiser folks” offered to the youths: “the wiser folks warned them that if that native had the chance to avenge himself, even if he had to wait twenty years, he would do so.”132 The remark implied that Amerindians, because they never forgave an injury, were not to be trusted. Madame de La Tour du Pin seems to have held that view, as can be seen in another passage concerning some baskets an Amerindian she knew had promised to weave during the winter. In the spring, when he returned with six baskets for her, she expressed her surprise and willingly admitted that she was wrong in her assumption that he would not keep his word: “I did not expect Amerindians to keep their word, even though I was told that they did. I was wrong.”133 As she became acquainted with the Mohawk, she grew to like them and saw in them qualities that she often found lacking in the white man: “However, these Amerindians, who barely knew a few words of English and who passed their summer going from farm to farm, were as much attuned to etiquette or to a friendly greeting as a nobleman at court would have been.”134 Moreover, she recognized that Amerindians could be highly talented, and on several occasions expressed her appreciation of native crafts such as the bowls, spoons, and wooden spatulas, the “buffalo skin slippers embroidered with died bark or with porcupines’ quills,”135 or the woodsplint basketry prevalent throughout the northeastern woodlands:136 “He gave me six,” she remarked, “stacked on top of each other. The top one was round, huge, and so tightly woven that it held water like a clay jar.”137 Little is said about the women, except for a brief remark concerning the “prodigious patience Amerindian women are known for”138 and a satirical portrait of the “Old Squaw.” Madame de La Tour du Pin delicately explains the meaning of the term “squaw” to ensure her reader that this is not, in her mouth, a derogatory term. She also tries to minimize the caricature of the witch that emerges from her description of the old lady by noting that “[e]ven among civilized folks, an old woman is always an ugly sight to behold.”139 Yet at the same time, she notes the woman’s aura of malice that discomfited those around her: “when she was 132. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 194; Part 2, chap. 3, 57. 133. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 193; Part 2, 56. 134. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 195; Part 2, 57. 135. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 190; Part 2, 40. 136. See Sarah Peabody Turnbaugh and William A. Turnbaugh, Indian Basketry of the Northeastern Woodland (Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing, 2015). 137. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 193; Part 2, chap. 3, 56. 138. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 194; Part 2, chap. 3, 57. 139. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 194; Part 2, chap. 3, 59.

Introduction 35 around, my slave girl felt uneasy.”140 She also remarks on the old woman’s vanity, demonstrated by the objects she covets, among them the mirror Madame de La Tour du Pin lent her and the glittering jewelry she gave her as protection against a bad omen. The mirror is reminiscent of the Old World’s misogynistic representation of a woman at her toilette gazing at her reflection, whereas the jewels evoke the cheap trinkets colonists traded with Amerindians in exchange for the far more valuable commodities of furs and political alliance. What might be the significance of La Tour du Pin’s portrayal of the Old Squaw? Perhaps it is intended to display the narrator’s ability to handle the foolish old woman, as well as to live harmoniously with her new neighbors: “If you let her look at herself in the mirror, you could bet that she would bless your brood and your cows, that your cream would keep, and that your butter would be a beautiful yellow.”141 Early in Madame de La Tour du Pin’s account, when the family was still in France, we learn that one of the male servants in their household was black.142 Zamore, La Tour du Pin’s hairdresser and courier, is depicted as a loyal and trustworthy servant. These qualities were especially appreciated at a time when servants were known to report their masters’ whereabouts to revolutionary authorities. When La Tour du Pin plotted their exile to America, she entrusted Zamore with packing the family’s effects without the knowledge of the maid. It was, in part, thanks to their black servant that these French aristocrats survived and preserved their freedom. Before going to America, Madame de La Tour du Pin probably never had to grapple with slavery. It is not that the French did not take part in the Atlantic slave trade (they were in fact the third largest slave traders in the late eighteenth century) or that slavery was not a topic of heated debates in the enlightened circles that she frequented,143 but for many the question of slavery remained a moral or 140. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 194; Part 2, chap. 3, 59. 141. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 194; Part 2, chap. 3, 58. 142. As Shelby T. McCloy notes, “In France as also in England during the eighteenth century it was fashionable in aristocratic and bourgeois circles to have Negro servants, commonly dressed in livery and sometimes carrying a parrot, monkey, or gay parasol.” See McCloy “Negroes and Mulattoes in Eighteenth-Century France,” The Journal of Negro History 30, no. 3 (July 1945): 277. 143. The question of race and slavery was on everybody’s lips at the time. French Enlightenment thinkers, including Rousseau, Voltaire, and Diderot, addressed it in their works, although they were not uniformly opposed to slavery. An article on “The Slave Trade” was included in the Encyclopedia. On the complex relationship between Enlightenment and slavery, see Jean Ehrard, Lumières et esclavage: L’esclavage colonial et l’opinion publique au XVIIIe siècle (Brussels: André Versaille, 2008). In 1786, Madame de Staël, a close friend of Madame de La Tour du Pin, published Mirza, ou Lettre d’un voyageur (Mirza, or a Traveler’s Letter), an African tale of love between two Senegambians, in which she presents a new concept of beauty, thereby hoping to move the public to recognition of the basic humanity of slaves. In 1789, the play L’esclavage des nègres by Olympe de Gouges, one of the most vocal abolitionists of her time, was performed. It was written five years before the founding of the

36 Introduction philosophical issue completely divorced from reality. After all, “there [were] no slaves in France.”144 Slavery was confined to the French colonies of the West Indies, across the Atlantic. However, with the Revolution underway and the unfolding colonial slave revolt in Saint-Domingue (today Haiti), the matter was finally taken to the National Assembly of France. In February 1794 (16 pluviôse II, 1794), near the time when Madame de La Tour du Pin embarked on the Diane, the National Assembly abolished slavery in conformity with the humanitarian ideals of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, the statement of foundational principles of the Revolution.145 In late 1794, Madame de La Tour du Pin would be faced with the reality of slave ownership as she sought male labor to help her run her farm in upstate New York. In her Journal, she states that the mere thought of purchasing a man was so new to her at the time that she could never forget the circumstances of the transaction: “Meanwhile, we bought a black man, and this purchase, which seemed to be the simplest thing in the world, caused such a new feeling in me that I will always remember the precise circumstances of it.”146 She comments on how remarkable it was: “never having bought a man, I was still astonished by the manner in which it all happened.”147 What is striking here, and in other such passages dealing with the practice of slavery, is her silence about her personal feelings and her firm intention to record only the facts—about which she is not always accurate or fully forthcoming. For example, she refers in her Journal to the post-nati (or after birth) policy, which provided that children born to slaves after 1784 would remain slaves for some time after they became adults in order to compensate owners; but that policy abolitionist organization known as the Société des Amis des Noirs (Society of the Friends of Blacks) and was first presented to the Comité de lecture of the Théâtre-Français in 1783. See Mary Jane Cowles, “The Subjectivity of the Colonial Subject from Olympe de Gouges to Madame de Duras,” L’esprit créateur 47, no. 4 (2007): 29–47. A modern edition, L’esclavage des nègres, ou l’heureux naufrage, by Sylvie Chalaye and Jacqueline Razgonnikoff, appeared at L’Harmattan in 2006. 144. This maxim served “to foster a romanticized view of racial egalitarianism in French society.” See Samuel L. Chatman, “ ‘There Are No Slaves in France’: A Re-Examination of Slave Laws in EighteenthCentury France,” The Journal of Negro History 85, no. 3 (2000): 144. 145. Haiti obtained its independence on January 1, 1804, but slavery was reintroduced in Guadeloupe on July 16, 1802 and in Guiana on April 25, 1803. In 1848, slavery was officially abolished for the second time and permanently. On the complex attitudes and actions of abolitionists and the revolution in the French Caribbean, see Catherine Reinhardt, “French Caribbean Slaves Forge Their Own Ideal of Liberty,” in Doris Y. Kadish, ed., Slavery in the Caribbean Francophone World: Distant Voices, Forgotten Acts, Forged Identities (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2016), 19–38. On the abolition of slavery and colonial issues, see Yves Benot, La Révolution Française et la fin des colonies: Essai (Paris: La Découverte, 1988), and Jeremy D. Popkin, “Race, Slavery, and the French and Haitian Revolutions,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 37, no. 1 (2003): 122–33. 146. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 191; Part 2, chap. 2, 41 (my emphasis). 147. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 193; Part 2, chap. 2, 41.

Introduction 37 was not yet in vigor in the state of New York at the time, but only in Rhode Island and Connecticut.148 Was the “rosy picture” that she painted of the condition of black people in New York the result of her failing memory, as she suggests in her preface, or was it, as Doris Y. Kadish claims, due to the decision she made then “not to offend her American benefactors,” namely the Schuylers, who owned most of the property in the area where the La Tours du Pin settled”?149 Madame de La Tour du Pin purchased four slaves altogether. In addition to Mink, the young man who sought to escape the control of an abusive master, she acquired his father, Prime, as well as a young woman, Judith, and her husband, who had been separated by sale. We know little about their backgrounds, in spite of the fact that, so she claimed, she worked side by side with them every day. In her Journal, Mink is immortalized by the friendly salute he addressed his new owner as she first laid eyes on him: We . . . found Mink already in the sleigh. He had gone to his room and dressed in his finest clothes, which truly belonged to him, as he did not bring any of the effects bought by his master, not even his moccasins. In the sleigh’s trunk, he put the rest of his personal effects, which could have fit inside a hat. He then returned, tipping his cap, as the most stylish English coachman might have done, and asked me, pointing to the horses, “Are these my horses?”150 Prime is remembered by the story of General Schuyler’s twenty-three-year-old horse, which he nursed back to life and then used for farm work. In these comments, Madame de La Tour du Pin crafts for herself the image of a benevolent slave owner. She insists, for instance, that she did all that she could to preserve the integrity of the black family—for she reunites Prime and Mink, father and son, and Judith and her husband are allowed to live together with their three-month-old daughter in a room of their own on the farm—thereby complying with one of the goals of the antislavery movement.151 Elsewhere, her negative portrayal of her tailor, a white man, and most likely a proponent of slavery, shows that she herself was no advocate of slavery but simply conformed to local customs: “This man ate with us because he was white. He certainly would 148. On the post-nati policy and emancipation in the North, see Edgar J. McManus, Black Bondage in the North (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1973), 174–75, and Sylvia R. Frey, “Slavery and AntiSlavery,” in Jack P. Greene and J. R. Pole, eds., A Companion to the American Revolution (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2000), 402–12, esp. 408–10. 149. See  Doris Y. Kadish, “Henriette de La Tour du Pin and Slavery,” 6–7, at Francophone Slavery; . 150. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 192–93; Part 2, chap. 2, 45. 151. See Kadish, “Henriette de La Tour du Pin and Slavery,” 7.

38 Introduction have refused if we had suggested that he eat with the slaves, even though they had better clothes and manners than he did.”152 Time and time again, she points out that the well-being of her slaves was a priority of hers. Not only did she reunite families, but she also made sure that the slaves had good working conditions, were well fed, and appropriately dressed. She sewed shirts for them herself and hired a tailor to make them coats and capes. The depiction of a frolic contributes to the picture of this happy community whose bonds are strengthened as white and black workers come together to harvest and store the corn crop: First, the floor of the barn is swept as if there were going to be a ball. At nightfall, candles are lit and people (black and white) gather and set to work. There is always one person singing or telling a story. Towards the middle of the night, a cup of warm milk mixed with cider is served. The wealthier farmers add five or six pounds of brown sugar, and those who are more modest, add an equal amount of molasses, then spices like clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, etc. To our great pride, our workers drank the entire contents of an immense laundry tub of this mixture with toasted bread. These wonderful people left our home and went into a frigid cold at five o’clock in the morning, saying, “Famous good people, those from the old country!”153 Finally, Madame de La Tour du Pin claims that, when her husband decided to return to France in order to reclaim the family estate, she agreed on one condition: that he grant her slaves their freedom. She records the moment when she announced to them that they were going to be free. The scene is full of details and highly emotional, as the slaves pour out their feelings when they hear the good news. But what makes this passage unique is the fact that, for the first time, the slaves are viewed as subjects whose voices are being heard. It seems that Madame de La Tour du Pin understood the implications of enslavement and saw her slaves for what they really were: sentient beings deserving the same privilege of freedom that she enjoyed: They were extremely worried, and came shaking into the sitting room where I had called all four of them together; Judith, who was about to give birth, was holding in her arms her little three-year-old Maria. They found me alone. I said to them with great emotion, “My friends, we are about to leave for Europe, what should we do

152. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 206–7; Part 2, chap. 4, 94. 153. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 206; Part. 2, chap. 4, 93.

Introduction 39 with you?” At these words, the poor souls were distressed. Judith fell into a chair, sobbing; the three hid their faces in their hands, and they all were still. I continued, “We have been so happy with you, it is only fair that you be rewarded. My husband asked me to tell you that he grants you your freedom. Upon hearing these words, our good old servants were so astounded that they were speechless for a few seconds. Then, all of a sudden, all four of them knelt at my feet and cried, “Is it possible? Do you mean that we are free?” I replied, “Yes, upon my honor, from this moment on, as free as I am myself.”154 Indeed, as Kadish observes, “there are no easy answers to where a woman such as La Tour du Pin stood politically,” especially in light of her enthusiastic support for Napoleon, who reinstated slavery in the French colonies in 1802.155 Whatever her reasons may have been in fashioning herself as a benevolent emancipator of slaves, she nevertheless set an example of toleration for future generations. In sum, two of the women whose experiences have been reviewed, Marie de l’Incarnation and Madame de La Tour du Pin, who saw themselves as “Others” in their own societies, experienced with great ambivalence their positioning in colonial territories. When they found themselves in the role of the colonizer, they abandoned the perspective from the margin for that of the center. Marie de l’Incarnation saw the colonial policy of francisation applied to indigenous peoples as compatible with her mission of saving souls and, therefore, did not question it at first. However, she bent the accommodationist approach in various ways so as to better achieve her goals. For example, in her school, she allowed the use of native languages, which was officially forbidden, and encouraged activities such as singing Christian hymns translated into indigenous languages as a means of winning her students for Christianity. She also permitted her students to retain some of their native foodways. In the late 1660s, when the authorities increased pressure on the Ursulines to achieve the complete assimilation of Amerindians, she expressed great frustration as she knew those demands to be unrealistic.156 Madame de La Tour du Pin adapted to the sensibilities of her acquaintances in her first encounter with the practice of slavery. Her reticence in her Journal regarding issues of race and slavery may indicate, perhaps, that she did held no firm position 154. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 209–10; Part 2, chap. 5, 101–2. 155. “Henriette de La Tour du Pin and Slavery,” 1. 156. For a thorough study of Marie’s evolving attitude toward the promotion of francisation, see Mairi Cowan, “Education, francisation, and Shifting Colonial Priorities at the Ursuline Convent in Seventeenth-Century Québec,” Canadian Historical Review 99, no. 1 (2018): 1–29; .

40 Introduction on the issue, or else that she deemed it wise to keep her position to herself, given the complexities of aristocratic alliances at the time. Whatever the case might have been, she chose to be remembered by her actions rather than by an explicitly stated political philosophy. Generally speaking, all three women demonstrated cultural awareness while abroad, whether by attempting to communicate in the language(s) of the host country, by accepting different cultural values and norms, or by thinking beyond their own social circles. In each case, time spent abroad led to personal and spiritual growth.

The Journey Narrative: Forms and Content Because the narratives included in this volume are all three by women, one may wonder what they have in common and whether or not travel writing can be viewed as inherently gendered.157 Marie de l’Incarnation and Madame Du Boccage use the epistolary format, which was often favored by women writers in the mideighteenth century.158 Madame de La Tour du Pin, in contrast, opted for a hybrid form of life writing, poised between the memoir and the then-burgeoning genre of autobiography,159 in which to depict the story of her life against the backdrop of the French Revolution. These differences in modes of narration are indicative of the extraordinary fluidity of travel writing.

The Missionary Letter In addition to the texts produced for internal use, nuns exchanged many others with the outside world. The letter was also the preferred form of missionary travel literature, a tradition that originated, according to Friedrich Wolfzettel, with Jesuit 157. Robert Aldrich notes, “Issues surrounding women, travel, and writing have attracted particular attention, though with little consensus about whether there exists a particular ‘voice,’ themes, or perspectives.” See Aldrich, “Gender and Travel Writing,” in Das and Youngs, The Cambridge History of Travel Writing, 520. For a different perspective, see Patricia Akhimie, “Gender and Travel Discourse: Richard Lassels’s The Voyage of the Lady Catherine Whetenall from Brussels into Italy (1650),” in Travel and Travail: Early Modern Women, English Drama, and the Wider World, ed. Patricia Akhimie and Bernadette Andrea (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2019), 121–38. 158. On women travelers’s textual choices see Zoë Kinsley, Women Writing the Home Tour, 1682–1812 (Aldershot, Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 2008), Part I, 2, esp. 46–54, and Kinsley, “Travelogues, Diaries, Letters,” in Das and Youngs, The Cambridge History of Travel Writing, 408–22, esp. 418–22. See also Amy Elizabeth Smith, “Travel Narratives and the Familiar Letter Form in the Mid-Eighteenth Century,” Studies in Philology 95, no. 1 (1998): 77–96. 159. On the relation between travelogue and autobiography, see Adrien Pasquali, “Récit de voyage et autobiographie,” in Monga, L’Odeporica/Hodoeporics, 71–88, and Nicolas Bourguignat, “Et in Arcadia Ego . . .”: Voyages et séjours de femmes en Italie, 1770–1870 (Montrouge: Aux Éditions du Bourg, 2017), chap. 3.

Introduction 41 missionaries who wrote letters to send news and reports to their superiors.160 Like theirs, although it was far from lacking in literary qualities, Marie’s correspondence was not intended for publication.161 Her isolation in the alien wilderness of New France made the normal practice of sharing news with those left behind even more important. Her correspondents included friends and ecclesiastical relations, patrons, and family members. Clearly, the content of her letters varies according to the person with whom she is communicating. Letters addressed to her ecclesiastical superiors (the Feuillantines and the Jesuits) and to various religious communities (the Ursulines of Tours, Dijon, Poitiers, and Saint-Denys, the Sisters of the Visitation, and others) describe, for the most part, the life of the community of Quebec. Their main objectives are to maintain ties with the sister communities and to preserve records of corporate memory. Letters to patrons (mainly lay women of the urban elites attached to the growing dévot movement, including Madame d’Ailleboust, Madame Bourdon, or Mademoiselle de Luynes162) report the successes as well as the needs of the convent community in an attempt to encourage money and in-kind donations. These letters generally open with the nuns’ accomplishments, which are measured by the number of conversions, and then move on to the financial difficulties the monastery faces as the result of outside events: a harsh winter, perhaps, or a fire, an attack by the Iroquois,163 a rapidly-spreading epidemic, the departure of an intendant who was also the benefactor of the community, or the passage of royal troops to whom the remainder of the food supplies had to be relinquished. Marie focuses on the impact such events have on the spiritual vitality of her community and shows how the lack of the mere necessities of life can jeopardize the success of her apostolic mission. She claims that the most difficult thing for her is to have to turn away future recruits for lack of material resources. 160. Friedrich Wolfzettel, Le discours du voyageur: Pour une histoire littéraire du récit de voyage en France, du Moyen Âge au XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1996), 165. On travel and mission, see also 165–86. 161. On Marie’s writing talents see Grégoire, “Marie de l’Incarnation religieuse, mystique et mère,” 35– 58, and Marina Zito, “À propos de la correspondance de Marie de l’Incarnation,” in Bernard Emont, ed., Actes des journées d’étude sur les écrits de la Nouvelle-France: Tenues à la Maison de la recherche de la Sorbonne et à la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 29 mai–2 juin 2006 (Paris: Le Bretteur, 2007), 43–49. For a comparison between Marie’s epistolary writing and that of other seventeenth-century épistolières such as Jeanne de Chantal or Madame de Sévigné, see Zecher, “A New-World Model of Female Epistolarity,” 89–102. 162. On the female dévot movement, see Elizabeth Rapley, The Dévotes: Women and Church in Seventeenth-Century France (Montreal-Buffalo: McGill-Queens University Press, 1990). 163. Historians generally focus on the economic motives behind the seventeenth-century conflict between the Iroquois and New France. José Antonió Brandão goes much further than the so-called Beaver Wars interpretation in his Your Fyre shall burn no more: Iroquois Policy towards New France and Its Native Allies to 1701 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1997).

42 Introduction The letters written to her relatives (brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces) are typically quite brief and are limited to information about her health and her teaching activity. Those addressed to her son Claude Martin are by far the richest of all, both from an historical and a spiritual viewpoint.164 Marie informs Claude about her day-to-day activities and the development of the colony. She devotes many of her letters to describe the mores of the indigenous populations, describing tribal rivalries and the differences that exist between the nomadic and the sedentary peoples in terms of their social organization, housing, food resources, and spiritual beliefs. She talks at length about her work as a cloistered missionary, the exemplary conduct of her new converts that she occasionally contrasts with that of the colonists’ daughters, and the arrival of new pupils at the monastery. In telling Claude about the “souls she won over,” she hopes to make him see that the sacrifice she made by abandoning him was in the end all worthwhile. Guy-Marie Oury notes an evolution in the way that Marie relates the history of the colony: “In the beginning, she privileged anecdotal history and exotic details that might pique curiosity or amuse her correspondents. As years went by, and such details became more familiar to her, more ordinary, she seldom mentioned them. On the other hand, she was more capable of discerning the events that had a real significance for the history of the colony, and making value judgments.”165 Thomas Carr, however, argues that the shift in emphasis has more to do with the evolution of colonial Canada.166 He believes that, when New France became a colony, Marie began to devote more space in her letters to the political and military events in terms of their impact on the convent community. She wrote at length of the corruption that beset the colony in the 1660s, as the population of Canada nearly doubled, due to the arrival of French troops for subduing the Iroquois, and of immigrants as per Colbert’s plan of peopling the country. She spoke quite strongly against the settlers’ immorality and the ravages of alcohol on the Amerindians due to the traffickers’ greed. By then, in Marie’s eyes, the society of New France was no longer a devout society embodying the best of the Gallican Church, but the mirror reflection of seventeenth-century France with all its evils. Whereas in the earlier letters, she repeatedly emphasized the Amerindians’ receptiveness to Christianity, in the later ones, she deplored being able to show but meagre results for all her efforts.167 She even admitted to her son that, in many cases, there was more success with the French than with the Amerindians. Unsurprisingly, age and illness had much to 164. Oury, Marie de l’Incarnation, 1: 390. 165. Oury, introduction to Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, xviii–xix (my translation). 166. See Carr, “Writing the Convent in France.” 167. Letter 237, September 1668, and Letter 244, October 17; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 809 and 828.

Introduction 43 do with this shift in perspective. Her belief in saving souls weakened as she battled her own physical challenges. Occasionally, the voice that is heard is that of the biological mother. In one letter to Claude, Marie talks of the pumpkin seeds that she is sending him with several recipes of the ways pumpkins are eaten in New France: “My praise in the last year or so for the pumpkins of the Iroquois has given you a taste for them. I am sending you pumpkin seeds, which the Huron have brought to us from their country, but I do not know if your soil will alter the taste.”168 Obviously, mother and son share many such moments of complicity together. Imagining her son’s astonishment when he reads about her most recent undertaking, she observes, “Perhaps you will laugh when you hear that, at the age of fifty, I began to study a new language.”169 The voice that prevails, however, is that of the spiritual mother. Large portions of Marie’s letters concern holy matters. Sometimes, she acts as Claude’s spiritual director, sharing with him the fruits of her meditations; sometimes, she speaks to him about her interior dispositions, her anxieties about the state of her soul, or her fear of not being worthy of the task entrusted to her. Over time, she came to recognize Claude as a spiritual peer, turned to him for assistance, and asked him for his holy blessing on behalf of her Canadian mission. The closing of Letter 80, written August 26, 1644, bears testimony to the spiritual and emotional intimacy that developed over the course of the years between mother and son: As for you, I am ever with you at God’s side. Let us remain, therefore, in this vast ocean, and live here below while waiting for the eternity in which we will truly see each other.170

The Familar Letter Madame Du Boccage, like Marie de l’Incarnation, elected epistolary writing to tell of her journeys. However, she chose the familiar letter, a classical model rejuvenated a century earlier by Madame de Sévigné.171 Madame Du Boccage claims that she put pen to paper at the request of her sister (Madame Du Perron) and that it is mainly to please her that she provides detailed accounts of her day-today whereabouts. She insists that she writes no matter what, even when traveling 168. Letter 246, October 1668, 94; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 832. 169. Letter 126, May 17, 1650; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 390. 170. Letter 80, August 26, 1644; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 224–25. Translation by Dunn in Marie de l’Incarnation, From Mother to Son, 71. 171. Some critics credit Vincent Voiture for this renewed interest in the classical model. The publication, in the eighteenth century, of new translations of Cicero, Seneca, and Pliny partly explains the continued success of the familiar letter.

44 Introduction and entertainment leave her hardly any time to breathe,172 or when, at the end of a busy day, she can hardly keep her eyes open.173 She apologizes when her social agenda forces her to interrupt her writing. In addition to being a strategy for selfauthorization,174 this allegedly private tête-à-tête presents numerous advantages. First, by duplicating spontaneous oral exchange, it gives Madame Du Boccage greater liberty in terms of both content and style. She speaks with no other restraint than unwillingness to cause dissatisfaction; the issues she covers include topics that were considered to be men’s privilege, such as politics, government, economy, and commerce. In terms of stylistic features, she writes in a natural fashion, which imitates the flow of conversation with its digressions and interruptions.175 The casual aspect of private exchanges creates the impression that they are spoken in a fresh and authentic manner. (Authenticity and veracity were essential to travel writing.) Finally, it allows her to speak about herself and tell frankly of the esteem in which she is held by many famous people without sounding immodest.176 It is true that the tendency to speak constantly about oneself, seen as vain in all other situations, can hardly be considered so in a correspondence, the point of which is to share the things that affect us the most.177 Since your affection for me makes you want to know what concerns me, I shall let you know how extensively I am spoiled here. I am sure you will be interested to hear how much I am sought after.178 Toward the closing of her correspondence, Madame Du Boccage addresses the questions raised at the time by the publication of epistolary travel narratives: why would the autobiographical materials they contain deserve notice and what sort of private letters are appropriate for a public audience?179 As a response to the 172. Letter 10, June 20, 1750, 132; Du Boccage, Lettres, 67. 173. Letter 27, October 1, 1757; Du Boccage, Lettres, 226. 174. On questions of authorship and intent in late eighteenth-century aristocratic memoirs by women, see Claudine Giachetti, Poétique des lieux: Enquête sur les mémoires féminins de l’aristocratie française, 1789–1848 (Paris: Champion, 2009), chap. 1. 175. This seemingly artistic facility, known as “the esthetics of negligence,” is most fully embodied by Madame de Sévigné. On this natural unaffected elegance see John C. Lapp, The Esthetics of Negligence: La Fontaine’s Contes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971). 176. In 1757, when she was about to be admitted to the Academy of Rouen, a certain Ciderville thought her to be unworthy. But in 1765, after her correspondence appeared in print, he changed his mind. 177. Letter 16, April 25, 1757, 139; Du Boccage, Lettres, 104. 178. Letter 28, October 8, 1757, 162; Du Boccage, Lettres, 228. 179. On the debate over the presence of autobiographical materials in a travel narrative and on the conflict over public versus private audiences, see Smith, “Travel Narratives and the Familiar Letter

Introduction 45 question of public utility, she declares that it is to comply with her sister’s wish that she consents to make her letters public: I must truly love you to have found so many moments to write to you in the midst of all these worldly entertainments and the weariness brought on by traveling. You wish to repay me for my trouble by taking on one of your own, that of preserving my letters.180 Before they appeared in subsequent editions of her works, the letters were assembled into a coherent structure and carefully edited; the more intimate details were eliminated and style was revised to conform to eighteenth-century aesthetics, according to which “Nature takes precedence over Art, but it is Nature methodiz’d.”181 In writing these letters to her sister, Madame Du Boccage claims that her goal is to instruct and entertain. In accordance with the humanist ideal, her epistolary travelogue combines scientific information with personal anecdotes. The parts containing objective descriptions are most likely drawn from the guidebooks that were available to her at the time, two of them in particular: Bernard de Montfaucon’s Diarium italicum182 was intended for the archeologically-curious traveler, whereas François-Maximilien Misson’s Nouveau voyage d’Italie183 had become by 1750 the standard book for travelers in Italy. Indeed, the highly technical and specialized information such as the width, length, and architectural features of monuments or the detailed inventories of public and private art collections seem to suggest that Madame Du Boccage used accredited guidebooks to complete the notes she had taken during her visits. The reproduction of ancient inscriptions found on funeral monuments was also a common feature of such guidebooks. In one of her letters, Madame Du Boccage declares leaving out descriptions that have been given time and time again.184 In another, she claims that, at her sister’s solicitation, she will provide accurate accounts of what she sees and experiences.185 In yet another, she admits that she kept some of her Form,” 90–96. 180. Letter 40, July 8, 1758; Du Boccage, Lettres, 350. 181. See Bruce Redford, The Converse of the Pen: Acts of Intimacy in the Eighteenth-Century Familiar Letter (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1986), 1–11, and note 3. 182. Bernard de Montfaucon, Diarium italicum, sive monumentorum veterum bibliothecum, musæorum, &c. notitiæ singulares in itinerario italico collectæ (Paris: Jean Anisson, 1702). 183. François Maximilien Misson, Nouveau voyage d’Italie, avec un mémoire contenant des avis utiles à ceux qui voudront faire le mesme voyage, 2nd ed. (The Hague: Henry van Bulderen, 1694). 184. Letter 22, July 5, 1757; Du Boccage, Lettres, 173. 185. See Letter 2, April 8, 1750, 107; Du Boccage, Lettres, 9: “you wish for accurate accounts, and you will indeed receive such accounts”; or Letter 3, April 15, 1750, 111, in Lettres, 15: “My description is

46 Introduction descriptions of towns and landscapes brief, but that they are probably sufficient to allow non-travelers to imaginatively experience the voyage and those who previously traveled to the places she evokes to relive old impressions: Hopefully, those who have not seen the objects of which I am speaking here will find in my brief sketches the desire to seek out more striking descriptions of them by more fastidious travelers; and those who are familiar with these objects may find some pleasure in remembering them with me.186 In her view, however, there is more to travel writing than noting monotonously facts about climate, topography, road system, soil, and so forth. Whereas an “objective” account may be of great interest to the historian, the geographer, or the scientist, she believes that the report of her personal adventures, reactions, opinions will be more to the liking of her sister and the worldly circles for which she clearly writes as well.187 Besides, as she states in her letter of April 15, 1757, no two observers perceive things the same way: “A hundred people watch the same object and contemplate it from many different perspectives; may my own enhance the pleasure you find in reading about these places!”188 Georges van den Abbeele rightly notes that, on many occasions, Madame Du Boccage “foregrounds herself as reactive to the ‘marvels’ she encounters, thus allowing a self-portrait, or at least an exploration of her subjectivity, to emerge from the itinerary of the travel.”189 It is in these more subjectively oriented passages that van den Abbeele finds Madame Du Boccage’s real contribution to travel literature: “[I]n forging this link between travelogue and autobiography, Du Boccage might well be said to be the inventor of modern travel literature.”190 Equally noteworthy in this reader’s view is the fact that she seeks to absorb every enriching experience and devotes much space to the sensations she collected during her journeys.191 For example, she writes of her breathtaking experience as she sets foot in the Vatican Library, of her enchantment at the sight of places once accurate, or at least that is what I am told.” 186. Letter 23, July 20, 1757; Du Boccage, Lettres, 178–79. 187. As shown by the literary and conversational registers that she adopts, with references to ancient and modern authors familiar to these circles, comparisons drawn from classical mythology, and witty remarks. 188. Letter 16, April 25, 1757, 139; Du Boccage, Lettres, 104. See also Letter 6, May 12, 1750, 125; Lettres, 36: “You wished to hear about the British government, but books would tell you more about it than I could; and yet, they would not reveal my true sentiments on the subject.” 189. Van Den Abbeele, “Goodbye Columbus,” 420. 190. Van Den Abbeele, “Goodbye Columbus,” 420. 191. On travel and sensitivity, see Wolfzettel, Le Discours du voyageur, 300–311.

Introduction 47 inhabited by ancient poets, of the sense of wonder inspired by the great ruins of southern Italy, of her delight at hearing the nightingales’ nocturnal melody in the silence of the woods around Aix-en-Provence, and of her feeling of elation when standing before the physical majesty of the Alpine mountains. These descriptions of her emotions are particularly interesting in light of the changes that were occurring at the time regarding human relationship to nature, the particular features which became privileged objects of aesthetic appreciation,192 and the way to express the beauty perceived in the natural world. The art of rendering natural beauties was so new at the time that adequate language had yet to be invented; hence this comment by Madame Du Boccage: You cannot imagine the sheer immensity of these mountains unless you have climbed them. The views from the mountaintops—both frightening and beautiful—fuel the imaginations of poets; but their descriptions fail to recreate reality and deter me from sketching it for you. The representation of the Alps by the ingenious and talented Haller focuses more on the bliss of the residents of Switzerland— Haller’s homeland—than on the image of some hundred mountaintops, whose summits, covered by an eternal snow, seem to stop the heavens . . .193 When Madame Du Boccage visits London pleasure gardens, her excitement is such that it prompts her to write a long poem in which she compares the entertainments offered in modern England’s Ranelagh to the games of Ancient Greece and Rome’s floralia festival. Many of her letters include such lyrical pieces inspired by the things that she saw. Except for a few exceptions, we have refrained from translating Madame Du Boccage’s poetry as we felt this was not the strongest feature of her correspondence. Much attention is given to the social self, for Madame Du Boccage was of the opinion that “there [were] far more benefits to be reaped from interacting with humans than from contemplating statues.” Considering that Madame Du Perron enjoyed rural retreat far from the tumult and business of the world (so we are told), the importance accorded to worldly entertainments and sociability networks may appear like an anomaly. Madame Du Boccage explains: “I promised, dear Sister, to entertain you in the solitude of your manor house with an account of my activities. Our friendship makes them important to you. My life is

192. On the shift in aesthetic attitude toward the mountain, see Renzo Dubbini, “La montagne comme modèle esthétique entre le XVIIIe et le XIXe siècle,” Revue de géographie alpine 87, no. 1 (1999): 61–69, and Pierre Chessex, “Montagne,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 722–25. 193. Letter 11, June 30, 1750, 143; Du Boccage, Lettres, 73.

48 Introduction as busy as yours is calm.”194 Generally speaking, such passages tend to degenerate into a name-dropping catalogue of social engagements. However, today’s reader will learn a great deal about eighteenth-century European sociability networks, especially the cosmopolitan circles which revolved around the diplomatic corps and the high finance milieu which the Du Boccages frequented. Madame Du Boccage delights in describing the warm reception she received in these fashionable assemblies, the luxurious interiors, the elegant dinners as well as the worldly distractions that she attended, including theatrical performances, concerts, operas, and so forth. Occasionally, she reports a charming story typical of eighteenthcentury salon sociability. Aside from the practices of elite conviviality, her letters are highly informative on the profound transformation of social interactions that occurred over the course of the eighteenth century as well as the emergence of new spaces and forms of sociability (elite and popular) such as the pleasure gardens,195 the coffee houses,196 and the gentlemen’s clubs.197 In sum, Madame Du Boccage’s travel letters present a delicate balance between, on the one hand, factual reportage across diverse fields and lyrical descriptions, and, on the other, social comment and self-reflexive passages. As such, they provide valuable material for the consideration of the important sociocultural changes that marked the age of Enlightenment and the emergence of increasingly subjectives tendencies presaging the Romantic movement and modern autobiography. Read as a tourist guidebook, these letters offer advice about where to go or what to see and, as we have seen earlier, about how to travel in order to maximize the benefits of foreign experience.

The Autobiographical Memoir: A Hybrid Form The intention to abstain from a particular genre of writing seems to explain Madame de La Tour du Pin’s choice of title for her narrative: “I do not intend to write a book—merely the journal of my life.”198 Her use of the word journal may also indicate that she kept a diary at some point or perhaps notes which served as memory aids when the time came to put her recollections into writing. When she put pen to paper, early forms of lifewriting were emerging. Two, in 194. Letter 1, April 1, 1750, 105; Du Boccage, Lettres, 4. 195. On eighteenth-century commercialized leisure and the invention of the pleasure garden, see Sarah Jane Downing, The English Pleasure Garden, 1660–1860 (Oxford: Shire, 2009) and David Coke and Alan Borg, Vauxhall Gardens: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011). 196. On the appearance, around 1652, of the coffeehouses, the so-called penny universities, see Brian Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee: The Emergence of the British Coffeehouse (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005). 197. On the role of club life in London, see Valérie Capdeville, “ ‘Clubbability’: A Revolution in London Sociability?” Lumen 35 (2016): 63–80; . 198. La Tour Du Pin, Recollections, 1. The following discussion is drawn from pp. 1–2 (emphasis mine).

Introduction 49 particular, seem to have appealed to the late eighteenth-century women writers: the memoir199 and the autobiography. At the time, there was still no true prototype, but there already existed a consciousness of the defining features of these genres. The generic description, which Madame de La Tour du Pin provides at the beginning of her book raises a number of questions of classification. Nevertheless, scholars have unanimously considered it to be a memoir. A close reading of her opening statement reveals that her narrative is in fact a hybrid form that draws from both the memoir and the autobiography. These are interrelated genres: both are first-person accounts of the author’s life, but the autobiography covers the author’s entire life whereas the memoir, generally composed some time after the events it reports, relates only part of it. The story that Madame de La Tour du Pin recounts ends in 1815 with Napoleon’s return from Elba (at the time, she is forty-five years old) and it tells of events experienced and witnessed first-hand by the writer. Another feature that gives every appearance of belonging to the genre of memoir is the loose, episodic structure of the narrative, and its conversational, even digressive style.200 My memory is already much impaired. Moreover, my imagination carries me sometimes so far from the subject I wish to follow that it is difficult for me to pick up the threads so often broken by these digressions [. . .] Perhaps I shall speak of the past and tell the story of my early years only in episodes and without continuity. This more amateurish type of writing (“I have never written anything except letters to those I love. I have no order in my ideas, and little method”), ordinarily associated with the minor genre of memoir as opposed to “professional historiography,” allowed women a means of entry into the world of print. Other features mentioned in the preface clearly belong to the autobiographical genre, including the emphasis placed upon the author’s opinions, feelings, and emotions: “If I were only to relate events, a few sheets of paper would suffice for a record of so little interest, but if I undertake to set forth the history of my opinions and my feelings, the journal of my heart, the enterprise is more difficult, for to depict oneself, self-knowledge is essential, and one does not begin to acquire that at fifty years of age.” In addition, Madame de La Tour du Pin insists that her life story will offer insights into the private self: “Let me then take advantage of the ardor which still remains, and which the infirmities of age may sweep away at any moment, to 199. On the growing vogue for memoirs by aristocratic women in the late eighteenth century, and for a definition of the genre see the pioneering work of Henri Rossi, Mémoires aristocratiques féminins: 1789–1848 (Paris: Champion, 1998), and Giachetti, Poétique des lieux. 200. Her apology is in conformity with the traditional modest stance expected of women.

50 Introduction relate some facts of a troubled life, but one not so unhappy from the events known to the public, as from the secret afflictions known only to God.” Finally, her use of the term confessions with its implications of self-criticism, frankness, and honesty clearly situates her work in the footsteps of the highly influential Confessions of Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1781): “I do not pretend to write my confessions, but although I should dislike to reveal my faults, I wish nevertheless to depict myself as I am and as I have been.” In short, The Journal of My Life recounts Madame de La Tour du Pin’s life story within its historical and social context, blending personal anecdotes with those involving people, most of them famous, with whom she crossed paths such as Theresa Tallien, Marie Antoinette, Napoleon Bonaparte, King Louis XVIII, the Marquis de Lafayette, Camille Desmoulins, Fanny Bertrand, the Duke of Wellington, Talleyrand, Madame de Staël, and so forth. Less an image of the French aristocracy during the turbulent times of the Revolution and the Restoration, it is instead a fascinating account of the life of a woman embroiled in the swirl of successive political upheavals. Madame de La Tour du Pin does not attempt to relate the details of the political events she witnessed, but instead refers the reader to the memoirs of the time: “I will not recount the story of the 18th of Fructidor. It can be found in contemporary memoirs.”201 Take as an example the march of the “Poissardes” (fish sellers) to the Palais Royal on October 5, 1789, which is seen from the unique perspective of one who feared for the life of her husband (he was commander of the National Guard at the time). Her description of the demonstration as it snowballed into a mob, and the women invaded the palace to demand bread for their families and forced the royal family to return to Paris,202 is limited to the facts with no personal comment: The advance guard of two or three hundred women commenced to arrive and to spread out in the Avenue. Many entered the Assembly and said that they had come to look for bread and to take the Deputies to Paris. Night came on, and several gun shots were heard. They came from the guard of the National Guard and were directed against my husband, their commander, whom they had refused to obey. . . .203 Elsewhere, Madame de La Tour du Pin devotes a single sentence to an event, which she apparently found important and disturbing enough to expressly come 201. See, for example, La Tour du Pin, Journal, 225; Part 2, chap. 6, 141. 202. On this event, see Julia V. Douthwaite, “From Fish Seller to Suffragist: The Women’s March on Versailles,” DOI:10.7208/chicago/9780226160634.003.0002; . 203. La Tour Du Pin, Recollections, 95.

Introduction 51 back to Paris to see it: “I went to rejoin [my husband] for several days to see the indecent funeral procession of Voltaire when his remains were taken to the Panthéon.”204 Generally speaking, she shows more expertise in the portrayal of the notorieties of her time. Among her numerous character sketches, the highly critical portrait of the Empress Marie Louise, whom she had met in Laeken (near Brussels) while Napoleon was visiting the northern part of his Empire, deserves special mention: The Empress on every occasion showed the greatest insipidness. Every day she said the same thing to me in giving me her pulse to count: “Do you think that I have any fever?” to which I invariably replied: “Madame, I do not know anything about it.” The Duc d’Ursel was charged with the task of arranging the morning promenades, according to the weather. One day when Marie Louise visited the Museum, she seemed to be struck by a handsome portrait of her illustrious grandmother, Marie-Thérèse. The Duc d’Ursel proposed to her to place the portrait in a salon at Laeken. She replied: “Oh no, the frame is too old.” Another time he suggested as an interesting promenade that part of the Forest of Soignes known as the “Pilgrimage of the Archiduchesse Isabelle,” whose sanctity and goodness have remained in the hearts of the people. She replied that she did not like the woods. In fine, this insignificant woman, so unworthy of the great man whose destiny she shared, seemed to make it a point to be as disagreeable as possible to the Belgians whose hearts were so disposed to love her. I never saw her again until after she lost her throne, and then she was still as destitute of intelligence.205 Madame de La Tour du Pin begins by recounting three specific incidents, providing significant details to reveal the nature of the flaw she wishes to expose in Marie Louise. Next, through the technique of contrast, she opposes Marie Louise’s negative attributes to the remarkable qualities of those around her—her insignificance to the greatness of the man she married, her inconsiderate attitude to the devotion of her Belgian subjects—to demonstrate that the Empress did not possess the essential qualities required by her position. The closing line intimates that the loss of her throne was the result of her lack of intelligence. The reversed order of cause and effect, in placing emphasis on the weakness, gives a circular turn to the portrait and suggests that Marie Louise was in fact incapable of drawing any positive lesson from her downfall. 206 204. La Tour Du Pin, Recollections, 125. 205. La Tour Du Pin, Recollections, 366–67. 206. Marie Louise of Austria (1791–1847) was Napoleon’s second wife (1810–1821). After Napoleon’s final overthrow and his exile to the island of Elba in 1815, she received the duchies of Piacenza, Parma,

52 Introduction In addition to these vivid portraits, especially worthy of note are Madame de La Tour du Pin’s descriptions of buildings and natural landscapes in colonial America. The log house, as she pens it, becomes the symbol of self-sufficiency. First, she focuses on specific fabrication techniques and gives a “practical” account, which reads like a step-by-step construction guide: One begins by leveling a plot of land of about fourteen or fifteen square feet and building a brick chimney, which is the home’s most comfortable place. Next, one raises the walls, which are made of large logs still covered in their bark and are notched in such a way that you can join them exactly one to the other. On top of the walls, one constructs the roof, leaving room for the chimney to pass through. A door is then placed facing south.207 Then, to make sure that her reader fully envisions what the house looks like once finished, she compares it to what may be more familiar to the French gaze: “Such houses can be found in Switzerland, in the pastures high in the Alps, where they are used as shelter for shepherds and their flocks.”208 The “untouched” beauty of the American countryside had a particular appeal for Madame de La Tour du Pin. This comes as no surprise, considering the growing fascination of the court of Versailles with more natural garden layouts and, in particular, with the English landscape garden as shown by the Hamlet created in 1783 for Marie Antoinette near the Petit Trianon: The prodigious fertility of this virgin land had allowed the spread of many invasive plants: wild vines that crept from one tree to another. In unshaded places, thickets of blossoming rhododendrons, some with deep purple flowers, others with pale-violet ones, and rose bushes of all kinds formed colorful flowerbeds in the middle of fields adorned with moss and flowering grasses, while in the lower areas, furrowed and sustained by little streams called creeks, every type of aquatic plant bloomed.209 The depiction of the scene with its emphasis on the wide variety of plants and wild flowers found in America and the palette of colors and shades bears a “Romantic” imprint as it dissolves into an account of the author’s emotions: “I found this and Guastalla (Treaty of Fontainebleau of 1814), which she governed until she died. When Napoleon died in 1821, she remarried morganatically Count von Neipperg. 207. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 189; Part 2, chap. 2, 38. 208. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 189; Part 2, chap. 2, 38. 209. La Tour du Pin, Recollections, 14.

Introduction 53 fresh nature scene so enchanting that I spent the entire day in a continual state of ecstasy.”210 Among the finest pages of Madame de La Tour du Pin’s Journal are her recollections of her more intimate feelings such as grief. One of the most moving moments is when she tells, with piercing details and exceptional candor, of the death of her baby girl and the grief that followed. The tragedy provided for her a doorway into spiritual awakening. In the following passage, she takes her reader through the way in which she, who had no religious upbringing, managed to find faith, learn to pray, and regain the strength to move forward. I was quite satisfied with my present life when God struck me with the most unexpected, and, as I saw it then, the fiercest blow one could endure. . . . My little Séraphine was taken from us by a sudden illness, which is very common in that part of the continent: an abrupt paralysis of the stomach and intestines, without fever or convulsions. She died within a few hours, fully aware of her pain. . . . Although I had never been impious, far from it, I was never all that religious until this point in my life. During my education, no one had ever spoken to me about faith. . . . But the time had come when I was forced to fear the hand that had stricken me! I am not sure that I could describe exactly the transformation that took place in me. It seemed as though a voice called upon me to change my entire being. Kneeling on my child’s grave, I begged this voice, sent by God, to grant me his forgiveness and comfort me in my despair. My prayers were answered. God blessed me with the grace of knowing and serving him. He gave me the courage to bow humbly under this blow and to prepare myself to endure in silence the new burdens, which he would judge fit for me in the future. From this day on, I was submitted and resigned to the will of God.211 In short, the hybrid form Madame de La Tour du Pin adopted to recount her experiences as a traveler is a telling example of the tensions running between the different life writing genres in vogue in the last decades of the eighteenth century. The various types of writing noted in relation to the travel accounts by the three women appearing in this volume—the letter, the guidebook, the memoir, autobiography, and other forms of life writing, the confession, the escape narrative—indicate the multiplicity as well as the malleability of travel writing. Despite these differences and some variations in styles, what these travel narratives have in common is their emphasis on the personal. Indeed, all three writers devote 210. La Tour du Pin, Recollections, 14. 211. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 204–5; Part 2, chap. 4, 89–90.

54 Introduction as much space to the inward journey as they do to outward, bodily travel. Mary Louise Pratt argued that whereas men’s goal in traveling was to gather and possess, women’s was self-discovery and self-realization.212 It is not argued here that an emphasis on sentiments or the private self should be perceived as a distinctively gendered quality, but simply that in these particular women’s narratives, travel writing invariably leads to introspection. Some of Marie de l’Incarnation’s letters to her spiritual advisers and to her son read as a spiritual autobiography, as do those recounting her visions and her private spiritual endeavors to draw closer to the divine.213 One of two things provokes soul searching, which is generally followed by self-deprecation. The fervent faith that she witnesses in her newly-baptized indigenous girls, in contrast to her own, causes her to feel like a hard-hearted sinner. Likewise, the recognition that some of her students, when reunited with their families, would go back to their old ways of life triggers a feeling of unworthiness and inadequacy for the apostolic mission entrusted to her. Madame Du Boccage takes a special interest in aspects of female experience that are shared by women across a variety of patriarchal systems: women’s power and freedom, or lack thereof, female education, dress code and, overall, contemporary attitudes towards women. The remarks that she makes regarding the women she encounters in her journeys show that what she observes abroad raises her consciousness with respect to her own social status at home. In addition to self-reflection, the observation of foreign mores and customs frequently leads to commentary on human flaws, life in general, and old age. The hardships that Madame de La Tour du Pin endured during the Atlantic crossing set out the process of self-exploration with, eventually, that of self-reinvention. As she becomes more self-aware, she begins distinguishing between the essential and the superfluous in life, and appreciating those things that she can no longer take for granted like “a bountiful table”: “Such a powerful reaction might appear trivial to those of you who have never lacked anything. Allow me to express how I felt at the sight of such a bountiful table: my pleasure at that moment was so great, I don’t recall having experienced something as powerful as that ever before.”214 The process of self-reinvention that ensues is admirably captured in a striking scene where the narrator is shown getting rid of all the items she had 212. Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London: Routledge, 1992), 159–60. 213. On this genre see Roger Pooley, “Spiritual Experience and Spiritual Autobiography,” Baptist Quarterly 32 (1988): 393–402, and Franz Beckenbauer, “Spiritual Autobiography,” in Encyclopedia of Life Writing: Autobiographical and Biographical Forms, ed. Margaretta Jolly (London: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2001), 835–37. 214. La Tour du Pin, Journal, 184; Part 2, chap. 1, 4. See also Journal, 181; Part 1, chap. 16, 386: “As difficult as my life was on board the ship, it forced me to forgo all the little pleasures of which you never know the price until you have lost them.”

Introduction 55 packed when she left France. Symbolic of her aristocratic past in the Old World, they are of little use to the person that she is about to become in the New World: “our baggage . . . was of considerable volume. We rid ourselves of half of it. Stylish clothing, fine fabrics, lace, a piano, music, pieces of porcelain, all these things that would be superfluous in a small household were converted into money.”215 This awakening remained particularly vivid for Madame de La Tour du Pin as it marked the birth of her new self. Finally, the underlying tension should be noted that resulted from the conflicts these women faced as traveler, or travel writer, or both. To capture the “out-of-the-ordinary” nature of the female traveling experience, the three of them choose the plain style (“l’écriture du quotidien”). The ambivalence that the woman writer experiences when putting pen to paper to relate her journey is best exemplified by Madame Du Boccage. Clearly, she liked to think of herself as an independent woman who embarked on two Grand Tours in her later years, yet she carefully conformed to the customary code of femininity: she continually reminds the reader that she travels in company of her husband although she says very little about him. In her preface, she attempts to justify her decision to commit her experience to paper and she does so within the suitably self-effacing epistolary genre. The apparent contradiction between her claim that her husband “helps [her] put her impressions into words” and the ensuing authoritarian “I shall” type of account is particularly puzzling in her letter of April 8, 1750: “I shall tell you frankly of our whereabouts and our observations: you wish for accurate accounts, and you will indeed receive such accounts.”216

Travel Writing and Gender as a Field of Investigation and a Source for Teaching The early 1970s witnessed the rediscovery of travel books and their reassessment as a literary genre deserving scholarly attention.217 The next decade, under the impetus of feminist literary critics, saw special interest in women’s contributions to travel writing, a genre which many had assumed to be overwhelmingly masculine. This first wave of scholarly investigations aimed to document the 215. La Tour du Pin, Journal, Part 1, 4. 216. Letter 2, April 8, 1750, 107; Du Boccage, Lettres, 9. 217. For a good overview of scholarship on travel writing by women and a substantial bibliography, see Carl Thompson, “Journeys to Authority: Reassessing Women’s Early Travel Writing, 1763–1862,” Women Writing 24, no. 2 (2017): 131–50; ; Susan Bassnett, “Travel Writing and Gender,” in Hulme and Youngs, The Cambridge Companion to Travel Writing, 225–41; and Dunlaith Bird, “Gender,” in Charles Forsdick, Zoë Kinsley, and Kathryn Walchester, eds., Keywords for Travel Writing Studies: A Critical Glossary (New York: Anthem Press, 2019), 99–102.

56 Introduction rise of the woman travel writer from the last decades of the eighteenth century to the twentieth century, as well as identify and locate women’s travel accounts. Travel books by women are thought to be significantly fewer in numbers than those written by men and many of them have remained in manuscript form, yet they continue to be rediscovered. For the period between 1880 and 1914, Laura Godsoe located some hundred and fifty female-authored narratives in various women’s periodicals.218 In the last three decades, some of the important primary texts have been made available through the publication of anthologies such as Leo Hamalian’s collection Ladies on the Loose: Women Travellers of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries; Jane Robinson’s Unsuitable for Ladies: An Anthology of Women Travellers; and, more recently, the edition by Shirley Foster and Sara Mills An Anthology of Women’s Travel Writing,219 to name just three. Whereas travel narratives from modern periods and especially those authored by anglophone female travelers have generated much critical attention,220 those by French women from the early modern period (sixteenth- to mid-eighteenth centuries) have until recently received short shrift. Judging from the most recent publications, scholarly interest in the early modern period appears to be increasing. In 2008, Le voyage au féminin. Perspectives historiques et littéraires. XVIIIe–XXe siècles, edited by Nicolas Bourguignat, contained a single essay on three French eighteenth-century women travelers including Madame Du Boccage. In 2011, the online special issue, Voyageuses et histoire(s), edited by N. Pellegrin,221 while its main focus is European travelers of later periods, also includes three articles on earlier periods: two by Isabelle Havelange, one of which is particularly useful222 as 218. See “Exploring their Boundaries: Gender and Citizenship in Women’s Travel Writing, 1880– 1914,” Journal of the Western Society for French History 37 (2009): 222n4; . For those texts that still remain out of print, see also Benjamin Colbert, Women’s Travel Writing, 1780–1840: A Bio-Bibliographical Database, Designer Movable Type Ltd. . 219. Leo Hamalian, ed., Ladies on the Loose: Women Travellers of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (London: Dodd, Mead, 1981); Jane Robinson, ed., Unsuitable for Ladies: An Anthology of Women Travellers (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994); and Shirley Foster and Sara Mills, ed., An Anthology of Women’s Travel Writing (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002). 220. See Bénédicte Monicat, Itinéraires de l’écriture au féminin: Voyageuses du dix-neuvième siècle (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1996); Rebecca Rogers and Françoise Thébaud, eds., Voyageuses, in Clio: Femmes, genre, histoire 28 (2008); (although this title offers little pertaining to French women specifically); and Nicole Pellegrin, ed., Voyageuses et histoire(s), in Genre et histoire 8 (Spring 2011) and 9 (Fall 2011); and . 221. Nicolas Bourguignat, ed., Le voyage au féminin: Perspectives historiques et littéraires, XVIIIe–XXe siècles (Strasbourg: Presses universitaires de Strasbourg, 2008); Pellegrin, Voyageuses et histoire(s), Genre et Histoire 9 (Fall 2011). 222. Isabelle Havelange, “Les voyageuses françaises au prisme de la Bibliographie annuelle de l’histoire de France, de 1970 à 2010,” in Pellegrin, Voyageuses et histoire(s), part 1, Genre et Histoire 8 (Spring

Introduction 57 it identifies four women travelers from the Middle Ages, three from the sixteenth century, seven from the seventeenth century, twelve from the eighteenth century, and six from the French Revolution.223 It also includes Christiane Coester’s essay concerning the journey of the early modern bride.224 Finally, of particular interest for early modernists is the 2018 special issue of Women in French Studies, edited by Catherine R. Montfort and Christine McCall Probes.225 A third of it is devoted to travel writing from the Middle Ages to the Revolution with thoughtprovoking essays on Marie l’Égyptienne, Renée de France, Marie Anne Françoise von Hohenzollern, Sophie de Hanovre and Madame de Graffigny. After the importance of travel narratives for literary history and genre theories had been acknowledged, the first critical question that was raised was whether or not travel writing was inherently gendered. Some of the early critical studies emphasized gendered commonalities, assuming that all women invariably traveled and wrote of their journeys in a way fundamentally different from men. Such static categorizations were not only misleading, but they also significantly underplayed the complex and imaginative ways in which individuals negotiate their identities. In opposition to this essentializing tendency, scholarship since the 1990s favors intersectional approaches that take into account the multiple factors that shape an individual’s traveling and subsequent writing, including not only gender, but also historic context, race, national perspective, class, age, education, political sympathies, religious beliefs, financial situation, geography, and type of mobility.226 As scholars recognized the importance of underlining not only the differences, but also the affinities and parallels between male- and female-authored travel books, more comparative studies began to appear.227 Since the mid-1990s, women and gender-based approaches have become more nuanced as they have 2011); . 223. For bibliographical references, see also Isabelle Havelange, “Les voyages dans la BAHF du Moyen Âge au XXe siècle,” in Pellegrin, Voyageuses et histoire(s), part 1, Genre et histoire 8 (Spring 2011). . 224. Christiane Coester, “Passage de frontières: Le voyage de la jeune mariée dans la haute noblesse des temps modernes, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle,” in Pellegrin, Voyageuses et histoire(s), part 2, Genre et histoire 9 (Fall 2011). . 225. Catherine R. Montfort and Christine McCall Probes, eds., “Les femmes et le voyage/Women and Traveling,” Special issue of Women in French Studies 7 (2018). 226. See Thompson, “Journeys to Authority,” 136. 227. Nicolas Bourguignat reads comparatively the accounts left by Franz Liszt and Marie d’Agoult of their 1835 journey to Switzerland in order to show how both of them draw on traveling to gain better control over their lives and further develop their artistic talents; see “Voyage et genre, une interrogation renouvelée,” in Bourguignat, Le voyage au féminin, 7–18. Elizabeth A. Bohls examines the various ways in which several anglophone travel women writers challenge the eighteenth-century aesthetic discourse that was the product of an exclusively male elite; see her Women Travel Writers and the Language of Aesthetics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).

58 Introduction been carried out alongside theoretical concerns current in the Anglo-American critical discourse such as postcolonial studies.228 More recent studies have raised pointed questions including the relationship between text and the female body, the role of performativity, women and scientific writing, and female spaces, the representation of the harem, in particular. In short, travel writing has become an important field of scholarly inquiry. Much has been done as discussed, yet further exploring still remains in historical archives and private collections to bring to light long-forgotten travel manuscripts of the early modern period (sixteenth to eighteenth centuries). Of special importance for further study are several Oxford bibliographies such as James Muldoon’s “Travel and Travelers” and Muireann Ó’Cinnéide’s “Travel Writing.”229 The former, which pertains to the Middle Ages exclusively, contains a small section on Margery Kempe, the only medieval woman traveler mentioned, and the pilgrimage narrative. The latter focuses on the Victorian era but includes several sections of interest such as “Women’s Travel Writing” and “Women and Space.” Collected volumes such as Akhimie and Andrea’s Travel and Travail and Das and Young’s The Cambridge History of Travel Writing, in addition to specialized dictionaries, and encyclopedias are a good starting point for further investigation. Highly recommended as a reference guide to travel writing are Travel and Exploration: An Encyclopedia, and the most recent Keywords for Travel Writing Studies, where can be found entries by eminent specialists of travel writing studies such as Dúnlaith Bird, Zoë Kinsley, and Betty Hagglund.230 In the last two decades, travel writing has proved to be a rich source for teaching a variety of subjects in the humanities and social sciences. In many courses, it has emerged as an invaluable resource for discussions of current topics of interest such as human mobility and migration, cross-cultural encounters, imperial ideologies and colonial discourses, the construction of individual, national, and spatial concepts of identity, women and knowledge, tourism, and so forth. 228. The chief concern of such studies has been the relation of women travelers to colonialism and imperialist ideologies. See, for example, Sara Mills, Discourses of Difference: An Analysis of Women’s Travel Writing and Colonialism (New York: Routledge, 1991), and, more recently, Isabelle Ernot, “Voyageuses occidentales et impérialisme: L’Orient à la croisée des représentations, XIXe siècle,” in Pellegrin, Voyageuses et histoire(s), part 1, Genre et Histoire 8 (Spring 2011); . 229. James Muldoon, “Travel and Travelers,” in Oxford Bibliographies/Medieval Studies; ; and Muireann Ó’Cinnéide, “Travel Writing,” in Oxford Bibliographies/Victorian Literature; . 230. Jennifer Speake, ed., Travel and Exploration: An Encyclopedia, 3 vols. (New York: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2003); Forsdick, Kinsley, and Walchester, Keywords for Travel Writing Studies, in which you will find eminent specialists of travel writing studies such as Dúnlaith Bird, Zoë Kinsley, and Betty Hagglund.

Introduction 59 A great variety of course syllabi can be found on line. In addition to the digital resources mentioned earlier, worthy of note is John Maunu’s website Digital Resources for Travel Writing and Travel Narratives in World History.231 In my seminar on “The Encounter with the Other in an Age of Discovery,” my students read for the first time the three texts featured here. As a token of their appreciation for this discovery and to make these texts available to non-French speakers, they helped me translate them into English.

Note on the Translations The texts translated here, which include individual letters or selected passages substantial enough to constitute a whole, will give the reader a sense of the special qualities of travel writing by early modern women. The bracketed page numbers in the texts, corresponding to the pagination of the base texts used in this translation, will assist the reader who may wish to consult the originals. The translation of Marie de l’Incarnation’s Correspondance is based upon Guy-Marie Oury’s edition, still considered today to be the standard edition. It comprises letters addressed to a variety of correspondents and thus differs from recent translations such as those by Mary Dunn in From Mother to Son: The Selected Letters of Marie de L’Incarnation to Claude Martin (2014), which, while noteworthy, only contains letters that Marie de l’Incarnation wrote to her son over the years. It also comprises letters that were not translated in Joyce Marshall’s Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de L’Incarnation (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967). Our selection of Madame Du Boccage’s Letters has been translated from the 1771 Dresden edition. As far as we know, there exists only one anonymous English translation of the letters, dating from 1770. Madame de La Tour du Pin’s selections are translated from the 1913 edition of her Journal, available on line. We retained this edition’s divisions into chapters and subchapters. Two translations are currently available: the 1920 translation by Walter Geer, which is complete but somewhat dated, and the 1971 abridged translation by Felice Harcourt. Even though Harcourt’s translation reads smoothly, we found instances where she is either too close to the text or takes too many liberties. On occasion, sentences are missing from the translation. The primary objectives of this volume are as follows. First, it is our intent to see these texts with new eyes by juxtaposing them in a critical examination of the genre of travel writing. The modern scholarly apparatus will assist readers in exploring further the most significant passages. Second, we aim to provide an accurate reading so as to bring the truest possible feel of the original. Third, we strive 231. John Maunu, Digital Resources for Travel Writing and Travel Narratives in World History, at World History Connected; .

60 Introduction to maintain clarity and ensure legibility by occasionally modifying the syntax in order to respect English grammatical norm or to clarify ambiguous passages. Finally, we gear the translation linguistically and culturally to the twenty-firstcentury reader by seeking equivalent effect and substituting for instance English idioms and metaphors for French expressions that have no direct correspondent in English; avoiding the use of words that reflect a historical reality with which readers may not be necessarily familiar; respecting current sensitivities, even if this means lightly modifying the content of the original text; and capturing the energy of the source texts in order to maintain the reader’s interest. To avoid the proliferation of footnotes identifying places or values of currency, distance, or weight, that information is placed in the backmatter of this volume in a Glossary of Places and a Table of Currencies and Values, along with a Chronology juxtaposing historical events with important events in the lives of our three authors, an Index of Names mentioned in the texts, and a Thematic Index.

Marie de l’Incarnation Correspondence

translated by Lauren King and Colette H. Winn

Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondence The selection of sixteen letters presented here, extending from 1635 to 1670, includes discussions of Marie de l’Incarnation’s intent to go to Canada, her journey there, her experience as a missionary to the native population, and her perception of Amerindian culture and customs. The bracketed and bolded numbers at the head of each letter and mid-paragraph denote pages in Oury’s edition of Marie’s Correspondance.

[24] Letter 11: March 20, 1635 Tours, to Feuillantine Dom Raymond de Saint Bernard1 She tells him about the dream that God inspired in her to go to Canada to work towards salvation, and the comfort she finds in such a high calling. Most Reverend Father, it would be impossible for me not to tell you what is weighing on me. I have never desired anything that might help elevate me in the eyes of Jesus that I have not already relayed to you; and at the same time, I have always complied with your helpful counsels. This is why, Most Reverend Father, I have such a strong desire to go to Canada; as this desire follows me everywhere, I do not know who I need to ask for help so as to fulfill it. But I have been told that you plan to undertake such a mission yourself, and that this affair is so advanced that you are supposed to take the first ship that leaves after Easter. Good God! Can this be true? If indeed it is, take me with you, for the love of God. I adore all these little native girls; it is as though I carry them in my heart. Oh, how happy I would be to teach them to love Jesus and Mary! I must confess that for more than ten years I have felt this desire to work for the salvation of souls, and I find such delight in this labor that my passion is constantly renewed. There is no thought so pleasing and it seems to me that no one on earth could ever deserve anything as priceless as being chosen by God for such a high calling. I think that in order to be so blessed, one must love more than all the angels do; because this grace is earned through love, and if I had loved in a way that I should have, I would have already won over the heart of my beloved Jesus, and would have compelled him to grant my wishes without delay. Nonetheless, you will not believe how many projects I take on, or how many times a day my mind wanders and disturbs him who alone can fill my 1. The Feuillantines (Feuillants) were a penitential religious order that had split off from the Cistercians. In 1634, Dom Raymond became prior of the royal Monastery of Saint Bernard des Feuillants, which was located rue Saint Honoré in Paris. He was Marie’s confessor and spiritual director from 1620 to 1631. When she went to New France, she found herself under the governance of the Jesuits but she continued nonetheless to turn to Dom Raymond for spiritual guidance. It was he who “encouraged her to make writing a central part of her religious experience.” See Davis, Women on the Margins, 67–68.

63

64 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION heart with love. Knowing that his Majesty chooses from among his subjects only a few to carry out his holy wishes, I wondered when I heard of your intentions whether this Divine Savior had not chosen you to help me carry out my work in order to top all the other gifts he has bestowed upon me through you. Did he decide that my happiness would begin and end with you, [25] to guide me to the point where he wants me to be? If this is so, may he be infinitely blessed, and may his love make me worthy of this mission. But when I consider my imperfections, I cannot help thinking that he would not want anything to do with me, and that some other more beloved woman will win his heart, and that he will bestow this fortunate destiny upon her. But he cannot be wrong. I thank him for guiding those he elects. I nevertheless beg you to help me carry out my mission, and to give me a favorable response. But I suspect you will blame me: how can such a miserable creature dare to aspire to such a sublime life? Do as you please, Most Reverend Father; I will forever honor your severity as well as your goodness. [26] Letter 12: April 1635 Tours, to Feuillantine Dom Raymond de Saint-Bernard She recounts the way in which her mission in Canada began and developed as he had imagined it, hoping that he will be able to determine whether or not this mission is inspired by God. You have good reason, Most Reverend Father, to assume and to be wary of my weakness. I can well imagine you are surprised and even astonished to see me of all people aspire to something that is out of my reach. Forgive me, dear Father, if the force that drives me also makes me say things that I am ashamed to even imagine because of my baseness. I will therefore tell you of my disposition, since you enjoy hearing about it. Your Reverence knows about the close and privileged relationship I have enjoyed with the Lord for a long time, to the point that I could not take my gaze away from him who kept me content with the pleasure I found in his love. I considered myself so blessed that the loss of everything else seemed pleasant to me, and the many hardships that I had to endure could not bring me out of this disposition. It so happened that since the beginning of my religious profession, God kept my mind in a state of gentle contemplation, pondering the delightful beauty of his word and especially the link between ancient and evangelical law. I continuously recalled the passages of Holy Scripture that reassured me of all the truths that are written in the sacred incarnate word (although I had never doubted them), and generally in all the highest points of our faith, so that through the greatness of this light, I was so ecstatic that I found myself saying, “O Heavenly Father! I vow to believe all that has been written of you and all that weak creatures are unable to say of you, because, Heavenly Father, you delight me with

Correspondence 65 the knowledge with which you have filled my mind. My soul now feels an extreme desire to live an apostolic life, and when I forgot my weakness, it seemed to me that the feelings with which God had filled my heart were capable of converting all those who do not know him and who do not love him. As I engaged in my spiritual practices, I would find myself very ashamed when [27] I needed to confront my emotions, which were not suitable for my sex or for my condition. I had not heard about the mission, but my spirit nevertheless longed for these foreign lands. For more than ten years, as I told you in my last letter, I have wished for and envisioned this great mission; but I have felt the strongest desire to carry it out since gaining this new knowledge and, even more specifically, since having heard that there might be some way of executing it. Moreover, we had a chance to read the account which, far from discouraging me, reignited my desire and courage. It would be impossible to tell you about the private discussions that I had continuously with my Lord on this topic. He made me see that this undertaking was the greatest, most glorious, and most rewarding of all the functions of Christian life; that there is no creature worthy or deserving of this undertaking; that his love must make the choice, and when he has done so, it is gratuitously. I found so much delight in this that my heart was filled with joy, and I thought that if I had a thousand lives, I would sacrifice them all at once if it meant I would possess such a treasure. After these reflections, I find myself to be so poor, so despicable, and so far from the conditions necessary to win his good graces that I feel pressed to say to him, “O Jesus, you know all my faults: I am the most contemptable creature on earth and I am not worthy of your gaze, but, Heavenly Father, you are the Almighty and will give me what you desire me to have.” My heart is then be overtaken by an indescribable peace; it contemplates those souls who do not love him who is infinitely kind. I keep thinking of the passage by Saint Paul that says, “Jesus Christ died for all,” and it pains me immensely to see that all have not yet lived, and that so many souls are sunken in death. I feel confusion over daring to aspire, and even to consider myself capable of contributing to their discovering spiritual life. I ask forgiveness for my audacity, and with all that, I can neither tear my gaze away from those souls, nor lose the desire that follows me everywhere. As I fear that my desires are simply natural impetuosities—or rather, that my pride will not be satisfied with this—I envision all the hardships at sea as well as on land; what it means to live with savages; the danger of dying of hunger or of cold; the frequent occasions of being taken, and more generally speaking, all that is frightening in the execution of this plan. After these considerations which could not possibly satisfy human nature, and which could very well be frightening, I find no change in my disposition. On the contrary, I feel an internal instinct telling me that our Father, who can do as he wishes, will give the plenitude of his spirit to those souls who expose themselves. It will not be for themselves, but for him that those souls operate and carry out their plans, and they should not lose

66 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION courage in the face of the difficulties they will encounter. All of this encourages me to endure my suffering beside my beloved Lord,2 and I [28] attempt to win his heart. But then I am plagued with the thought that I am not like the Mother who asked our Lord that the first two spots in his kingdom be for her children,3 to which he responded that she did not know what she was asking. I fear this, and in my fear, I resort to my ordinary refuge; I beg to never be given what I ask of him through my suffering, but that, through his love, he will grant me that which is destined for me for all eternity. Oh, Most Reverend Father, how fortunate these souls will be, on whom this blissful destiny falls! Whoever they may be, I will eternally praise God for his choice; and if I find myself rejected, I will not say that it demonstrates a lack of love on the part of my dear Master, but that it is I who has made myself unworthy of his great mercy. Since the moment I first felt this desire, I have never felt anything that made me look back; on the contrary, I have seen new beauties that ignite my desire even more. Help me, then, Most Reverend Father, so that I may die while serving him who has had so much mercy on me; I can express my intentions well, but I cannot execute them without the help of the Other. If only you knew the power of my desire, you would have compassion for me; and I am sure that you would not refuse to help me. May God allow you to know my thoughts, because it is impossible to say all that I am thinking; I dare only to tell you that I believe God expects this of me. My continuous prayers will be on this subject, because I want nothing more than the will of his Divine Majesty to whom I submit all of my desires.

[42] Letter 17: March 20, 1635 Tours, to Feuillantine Dom Raymond de Saint-Bernard She describes a vision in which God shows her Canada, and another in which God commands her to found a monastery there. Most Reverend Father, as I cannot hide anything from you concerning the graces that God has bestowed on me, I shall tell you in my natural simplicity that at the Christmas celebrations one year ago, five or six days before Mother Ursula and I entered the novitiate to take on leadership roles there, I found myself in close union with God. While asleep, it felt as though a companion and I walked hand in hand through a treacherous place. We did not see the obstacles that hindered us: we merely felt them. Anyway, we were so brave that we overcame all these difficulties and arrived at a place called the tannery, where skins were cured for two years 2. On the central role of suffering in Marie’s understanding of spiritual union, see Dunn, in her introduction to Marie de l’Incarnation, From Mother to Son, 24–32. 3. The mother of Zebedee’s sons; see Matthew 20:21.

Correspondence 67 so that they might be used in the way for which they were intended. We needed to pass through this area to reach our home. At the end of our path, we found a solitary man who ushered us into a beautiful and spacious square, with only the sky for cover. The cobblestone was spotless, white like alabaster, and decorated with gilded silver. A perfect silence reigned there. With his hand, the man signaled to us which way we needed to turn; he was no less silent than he was solitary, only telling us what was absolutely necessary. In one corner, we saw a small hospice of white marble, built in the admirable architectural style of ancient times. On the roof, there was an embrasure in the form of a chair on which the Virgin Mary4 was sitting, holding baby Jesus in her arms. I rushed towards her and quickly spread my arms, reaching the two extremities of the space where she was seated. However, my companion remained off to the side, where she could still easily see the Holy Virgin and her little Jesus. This house faced East. It was built in a very distinguished area at the bottom of which there were large spaces, and in these spaces, a church enveloped in such a thick fog that you could only see the top of its roof, which rose above the clouds. From the place where we were, there was a path leading down [43] to these vast spaces; the path was extremely dangerous, with intimidating rocks on one side and terrifying precipices with no support on the other. However, it was so straight and narrow that it was even frightening to look at. The Virgin Mary overlooked this destitute place; as for me, I was burning with the desire to see the face of this Mother of infinite love, because I could only see her back. As I was lost in these thoughts, she turned her head towards me and, with a dazzling smile, she kissed me on the forehead. She also turned back to her little Jesus, speaking to him privily as though she had plans for me. She did this three times. My companion, who had already taken a step on the descending path, had no share in the attention paid to me by the Virgin Mary; she only had the comfort of seeing her from the place where she was. I cannot explain the bliss I felt from such an enjoyable experience. At that moment I woke up still rejoicing in the feelings that I had experienced, which stayed with me for several days afterwards. But I continued thinking about the meaning of such an extraordinary thing, the fulfillment of which seemed so mysterious, because in the vision that came to me, everything happened so peculiarly that only the man of whom I have spoken was aware of it and said several words. At the beginning of this year, all of this came rushing back to me as I was praying with the thought that the destitute place that I had seen was New France. I felt a strong inward attraction for this place, with a commandment to go there to found a church for Jesus and Mary. From then on, I was so filled with emotion that I gave my consent to our Lord, and promised to obey him should he be 4. On the role the Virgin Mary played in Marie’s spirituality, see Henri de Lubac, “Marie de l’Incarnation et la Sainte Vierge,” in Maria: Études sur la Sainte Vierge, ed. Hubert de Manoir de Juaye (Paris: Beauchesne, 1954), 3:181–204.

68 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION willing to give me the means to do so. In addition to my inclination, our Lord’s commandment and the promise that I had made to obey him were so imprinted on my spirit that if I had a million lives, I should feel no fear in risking them. And indeed, the enlightenment and the vibrant faith that I feel may condemn me on Judgement Day, should I fail to comply with his Divine Majesty’s wishes. Ponder this a little, I beg you. Things happened just as I said, and I felt obligated to tell you about them in order to eventually surrender to our Divine Lord.

[72] Letter 32: January 17, 1639 Tours, to Feuillantine Dom Raymond de Saint Bernard Marie tells him of Madame de la Peltrie’s plans to found an Ursuline monastery in Canada, how this woman asked to accompany her, and the difficulties encountered by the nuns from Paris and Tours as they attempt to work with one another. Most Reverend Father, we are in a situation where our Reverend Mother and I would like to ask for your invaluable assistance. What I will tell you about it is to remain between you and me, because such an important matter must be dealt with in secret. Here it is: our Lord inspired a woman of quality and virtue5 to found a monastery in Canada for Ursuline nuns, and she respectfully asked me to go with her, because she wants to give herself over to this calling. Until now, her plan was to take all the nuns of the foundation into our home, but when business needed to be dealt with, the provincial Jesuit Reverend Father6 (who, I believe, is committed to his word, or at least to the affection of our Reverend Mothers from Paris) stood in our way, unaware that we knew it. He therefore suggested to this woman that the nuns from Paris would need to be taken, to which she responded that she unequivocally wanted to take me before any other. In response to this, and in response to the desire of the Reverend Father de La Haye7 to have me go there first, he gave his consent; but he added that it was enough for me alone to leave with a companion, and that for the others, they would be taken more 5. For Madame de la Peltrie, see Introduction, 2 note 6. 6. Étienne Binet, Jesuit preacher and a prolific spiritual writer, played a major role in the renewal of religious life during the Counter-Reformation; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 73n1. 7. Father Georges de La Haye was a Jesuit whom Marie had met at the Ursulines’ Congregation in Tours, where he frequently preached. He became Marie’s spiritual guide and encouraged her to continue writing. According to Guy-Marie Oury, it was Father de La Haye who first asked Marie de l’Incarnation for an account of her life; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 73n2. It is thanks to him that we have various documents in Marie’s hand, relating her temptations and the graces she felt that she had received from God to overcome them.

Correspondence 69 easily from Paris. And because these Reverend Mothers take an oath to instruct others8 (which we do not do), these Reverend Fathers say that their rules are better than ours; as a result, their rules must be followed when the nuns of these two monasteries come together. This is what I and our Reverend Mother find difficult, because we find our rules as effective as theirs. But we will agree, unless you feel otherwise, that the Sisters are to uphold their current constitutions until we reach the place where, according to the country’s policies, we will establish rules that all of us will embrace unanimously. Please tell us your feelings on the matter; we expect to hear from you at your earliest convenience. There is yet another obstacle that has arisen. The woman wants to leave this year, [73] but she has had much difficulty finding someone who wants to buy her possessions secretly, such as she desires, so as to not be deceived. I advised her on our last trip to devote a third of her fortune to the foundation of the monastery, according to custom, so as to take action more freely and to fear nothing. I have not yet received a response. Anyway, it is a situation that requires the assistance of your prayers. I humbly ask for them with your holy blessing.

[81] Letter 37: April 15, 1639 Dieppe, to one of her brothers Marie gives him an account of her departure for Canada, and tells him of her desire to suffer in the name of the Lord in this mission. Dear Brother,9 may the life and love of Jesus Christ be your portion. We must leave France in order to enter the New World, where God is virtually unknown apart from a small group of saints who labor to bring him recognition. The infinite goodness of our Lord fell over me, and he himself chose me to establish a life there. Through his mercy, he has elected the most unworthy agent on earth. Help me to bless his Providence, in whose arms I surrender myself to live or die, either at sea or in the stronghold of barbarism, because all is the same to me in his loving will. It is therefore at this point that I must say goodbye to you forever, since the vessels are ready and we shall depart next week as long as a storm does not prevent 8. In addition to the three traditional monastic vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the Paris Congregation of Ursuline Sisters was bound to take a fourth vow of consecration to the Christian education of girls. This fourth vow became the special feature of the Ursulines. On the teaching activity of the Ursulines, see Peter Maurice Waters, The Ursuline Achievement: A Philosophy of Education for Women: St. Angela Merici, the Ursulines, and Catholic Education (North Carleton, Victoria, Australia: Colonna, 1994). 9. Hélie Guyart (1595–?), Marie’s elder brother; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 82n1.

70 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION us from leaving.10 Oh, how I long to have already made the sacrifice of my life! So great is my desire to do so that it seems to me that in the midst of all dangers, I shall be more assured and peaceful at sea than on land. Do you know of the perils that we shall experience on this massive ocean, the toughest to travel of all the seas? Evidently, many vessels may get lost on the voyage over twelve hundred lieues [leagues],11 but there are also many hardships to endure such as sickness and the fear of meeting British, Dunkirk,12 and Turkish privateers. However, none of this really matters; life and death are the same in my eyes. I sacrifice myself more willingly than any other thing I have ever done in my life. Crosses and suffering are more pleasing to me than all joys on earth: if I should be sent into the heart of the cruelest barbarism, it will be there that I find bliss. I shall cherish my little native girls more than I would princesses. I shall willingly follow my dear Jesus and suffer all that he wishes for his love. Pray to him that he gives me great courage, and thank him for the grace he has granted me by calling upon me instead of so many others for such a high mission. The three of us Ursulines13 have been granted the favor of embarking on the Amirale [82], and even the captain14 is willing to give up his pleasant and spacious cabin where we will not be spared the noise of the loud engine. We are traveling in the company of the Hospitallers as well as our foundress Madame de la Peltrie and two secular girls.15 The Reverend Father Superior in charge of missions is accompanying us, giving us consolation by saying Mass every day and administering the Holy Sacrament to us. Farewell then, dear Brother, farewell forever.

10. They left on May 3; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 82n2. 11. See Appendix 3: Table of Currencies and Values. 12. The reference to “Dunkirk” pirates probably alludes to the English and French ships that cruised the English Channel preying on Spanish and Portuguese vessels; see Robert J. Anthony, Pirates in the Age of Sail (New York: Norton, 2007), 6–14. Dunkirk had been under Spanish domination since the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis (April 3, 1559) and, in May 1635, during the Thirty Years’ War, the French and Spanish went to war; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 82n4. 13. See Introduction, 2 note 5. For their crossing and arrival in Quebec, see the account of Cécile de Sainte-Croix (Cécile Richer) in Appendix 1 in this volume. 14. For Captain Bontemps, see Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, Letter 39. 15. The Hospitallers were a female religious order aiming to serve the sick. For Marie’s traveling companions, see Introduction, 2 note 4. On the variety and the spirituality of Hospitallers Sisters in seventeenth-century France, see Marie-Claude Dinet-Lecomte, Les sœurs hospitalières en France aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles: La charité en action (Paris: Honoré Champion, 2005). The secular girls were Charlotte Barré who accompanied Madame de la Peltrie, and Catherine Chevallier, a servant of the Hospitallers; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 83n9.

Correspondence 71 [86] Letter 39: May 20, 1639 At sea, to Mother Françoise de Saint Bernard, Mother Superior to the Ursulines of Tours Marie describes her physical and mental dispositions. Most Reverend Mother, I am grateful for your holy blessing. I am sure that when you received this letter, you were no longer expecting news from your Sisters except from those in Quebec; we, on the other side, did not think that we would find the means to give you news. But fortunately, some fishermen who accompanied us through the Manche were kind enough to offer to deliver the letters that we might wish to write to our friends. We therefore traversed the British coast and left Manche in a cheerful mood thanks to our dear Jesus, although we ran the risk of being captured by Spanish and Dunkirk privateers. Just a few days ago, we caught sight of one of their fleets of approximately twenty vessels, but our captain prudently took the route along the English coast to avoid running into them. We saw several other vessels from afar, without being able to make out the colors or judge where they were from. Now that we are leaving Manche, we are free of such dangers; but only God knows whether we will be protected from storms at sea. Since our departure, every day we have tried to prepare ourselves as much to die at the hands of enemies as to die as a result of the turbulent sea. Our hearts still remained untroubled by the turmoil of the elements because the sole thought of Divine Providence, to which we had surrendered ourselves, makes us forget our state and everything around us. It is impossible to explain or even conceive of the peace one feels after submitting entirely to God’s will. We have all been seasick, but this is insignificant; at this moment, we are in spirits as great as if we were in our monastery. Nothing is better managed than the vessel’s entire crew. I will wait to tell you about the specifics when we arrive in Quebec. I cannot find the words to tell you about the charity and care that Reverend Vimond16 bestows upon us: the love that a caring mother showers on her children is no greater in spiritual or temporal things. Our captain, Monsieur Bontemps, is just as good to us, [87] providing us with every convenience at his disposal; he does so with such grace that it seems as though he is making this voyage just for us. But I am concealing from you my heart’s deepest secret, for this is not the time to tell you about it. We are already as accustomed to the water as though we had been raised at sea. A nun who fulfills her duty everywhere is at ease everywhere, since the object of her affection is in every place. I ask you to share our updates with all of our friends. Farewell, farewell, farewell. 16. “Vimond” is the Jesuit Barthélemy Vimont (1594–1667), who entered the Society of Jesus in 1613, and was appointed Superior of the Canadian mission, succeeding Father Le Jeune, at the end of 1638; see Honorius Provost, “Vimont, Barthélemy,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 1979), .

72 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION [88] Letter 40: September 1, 1639 Quebec, to one of her brothers Marie gives an account of her arrival in New France. Dear Brother,17 may the life of Jesus direct and serve as a model for your own. I am certain that the affection you have for me makes you wish to learn of the success of our voyage and my arrival in Canada. In satisfying you I also wish to satisfy myself, and to assure you that we are in the place of which we had dreamed, in health as perfect as though we had never left Tours. Not that we did not suffer many hardships during our three months of navigation;18 storms increased to more than two thousand over the course of the thirteen hundred leagues that we had to travel. We found ourselves on the verge of a shipwreck, but he who controls the winds and the sea kept us safe in his all-powerful arms. May he be eternally praised and blessed by angels and men. What we saw when we arrived in this new world made us forget our suffering: hearing his Divine Majesty praised in four different languages,19 witnessing the baptism of so many natives, hearing them preach themselves the word of Jesus Christ to their compatriots, and teach them to bless and love our God, seeing them give thanks to him for having sent us to this wilderness to teach their daughters, and show them the path to heaven; is not all of this sufficient to make us forget our crosses and our fatigue, had they been a thousand times greater than they were? This year, more than five hundred Huron and Montagnais20 have been baptized. I beseech you to pray for the conversion of the others, who are quite numerous, because there are almost an infinite number of nations where Jesus Christ remains unknown. We have come with the preachers of the Gospel who will try to teach natives the holy word. In the end, we are all here for the same reason. May God fill us with his spirit, so that we may succeed for the greatest glory of the Keeper of the Vineyard who is Jesus, to whom I dedicate my life.

17. Hélie Guyart, the same correspondent as in Letter 37. 18. The journey lasted from May 4 until August 1, 1639. 19. Montagnais, Algonquian, Huron, and French. 20. For the Huron and Montagnais (now Innu), see Introduction, 7 note 24.

Correspondence 73 [91] Letter 41: January 1640 Quebec, to Jesuit Father Paul Le Jeune21 The first Amerindian seminarians. It would be impossible for me to explain the consolation I felt this week after seeing so many souls baptized, and after our Savior willed that they be instructed in our little chapel. Today, our joy was reignited when we saw girls and women from tribes of hunters who had been christened in our home. On three occasions this week, we paid special attention to them but did so gladly. Most Reverend Father, it seems that these good people carry paradise within them, as do the souls that are freshly bathed in the blood of the lamb. But what can I tell you about our seminarians? Magdeleine Amiskoveian (a seventeen-year-old Algonquin) behaves as though she had been raised by us. There is no spirit more gentle or flexible than hers; she holds her companions to their duty and takes great delight in holy matters. Marie Negabamat becomes more accomplished by the day; this girl is so God fearing that one day, while I was instructing the two who have not yet been baptized, she had tears in her eyes. She perfectly comprehends the mysteries of our faith; the greatest pleasure that we can give her is to explain these truths through images. She is so devoted to the Holy Virgin that she trembled at the sight of her portrait; she called her Mother, kissed her, and cherished her wholeheartedly. She tolerates no indecency from her companions. When we have her pray in her native tongue with them, she also joins the little French girls to continue praying. Little Magdeleine is in no way like a native girl; there is no child more obedient or affectionate. She does what is asked of her; she is an innocent angel, and little Ursula is, too. The last three girls that you sent to us left their native ways at the door; they brought none of them into our home and it seemed as if they had been raised by us. They are not disturbed by the coming and going of native women and girls, and they demonstrate no desire to follow them. They acknowledge them in the French fashion and leave them showing no sorrow. They see us as their biological mothers. When they have [92] the slightest trouble, they throw themselves into our arms, as if we were their refuge. One day, while I had a headache, the girls were told that I was sick and that I would die if they made any noise. Upon hearing the word “die,” they began crying and remained perfectly silent. What more could you ask for? Does it not seem as though these poor people are showered with heaven’s treasures? 21. Paul Le Jeune (1592–1664), a Jesuit missionary born of Calvinist parents, abjured Protestantism in 1608, entered the Society of Jesus in 1613, served as Superior of the Jesuits in Canada from 1632 to 1639, and was first editor of The Jesuit Relations from New France. See Léon Pouliot, “Le Jeune, Paul,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2017), .

74 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION [94] Letter 43: September 3, 1640 Quebec, to a noblewoman Marie describes the Amerindian girls’ natural disposition to pity and asks her benefactor to obtain funding for their education. Madame,22 your letter provided me with a consolation that I can neither describe nor thank you enough for. Although your daily duties keep you from writing to me (the tempestuous sea may have kept such a precious letter out of my hands), I will not miss the opportunity to tell you about this wonderful country, while you are waiting to read the Relation23 for more detailed descriptions. We have, Madame, every reason to praise our compassionate Father for the great mercy he has had on our poor natives. Not only are they open to being baptized, but they have also learned to settle down and have begun to cultivate the land. It appears that the apostolic spirit of early Christianity has penetrated New France, and that it impassions the hearts of our good neophytes. If France gives them a little help to build small houses in the village that we founded in Sillery, we shall witness much more progress very soon. It is an admirable thing to see the fervor and zeal of the Reverend Fathers of the Society of Jesus. In order to incite these poor natives to work, Father Vimond (Superior of the Mission) brings them himself to work, and cultivates the land alongside them. Next, he has the children pray and teaches them to read, as he finds nothing unworthy of him when it pertains to God’s glory and the well-being of this poor people. Reverend Father Le Jeune, who is the principal worker in this vineyard, continues to make miracles happen here. He preaches to the people every day and has them do whatever he wishes, because he is known in all these nations, and in their minds, he is a man who possesses miraculous powers. Indeed, he is an inexhaustible worker and goes far beyond what can be said about the execution of his ministry, in which he is assisted by the other Reverend Fathers, who will sacrifice both their lives and their health to save these poor souls redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ.

22. Possibly Marguerite Thiersault, a benefactor and the mother of Jesuit missionary Jean Poncet de La Rivière de Brétigny; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 100n1. 23. The Jesuit Relations for the year 1640. See Paul Le Jeune, Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la Nouvelle France en 1640 (Paris: Sébastien Cramoisy, 1641), at archive.org: ; and for the Hurons in 1640, The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents, ed. Reuben Gold Thwaites, trans. Alexander Finlow et al. (Cleveland: Burrow Brothers, 1898), vols. 17–20; .

Correspondence 75 The Huron relentlessly persecuted the Fathers.24 One of them25 feared he might be killed with an axe. Someone hit him with a tree limb in protest against the faith he was preaching; there was a similar conspiracy against the others who are delighted as well to suffer. A good one thousand people were baptized there. The devil works hard, but Jesus Christ will always be our Master. May he be eternally praised! [95] There is some talk that two native girls may be given to us along with two Algonquin girls, on top of the current eighteen who fill our seminary, without speaking of external girls who come regularly. I suspect, Madame, that our French correspondents may have difficulty believing the blessings that God continuously bestows upon this little seminary. Here is some evidence that will help you better understand our consolation. The first native seminarian who was given to us, a ten-year-old named Marie Negabmat, was so accustomed to running in the woods that we lost all hope of keeping her in the seminary. Reverend Father Le Jeune, who was able to convince her father to give her to us, sent two older baptized native girls with her, and they remained for some time so as to help her settle in; but this was in vain, because four days later, she ran away into the woods after having ripped apart a dress that we had given her. Her father is an excellent Christian and lives like a saint; he ordered her to come back to the seminary, which she did. In just two days, there was an admirable change in her. She no longer seemed like herself; so deeply was she driven by prayer and by the practices of Christian devotion, that today she sets an example for the young girls of Quebec, even though they have all been very well-reared. As soon as she makes a mistake, she asks for forgiveness on her knees and she does the penance that we give her with gentleness and an incredible affability. Simply put, you cannot look at her without being moved by devotion, for there is so much innocence and inner grace in her expression. During this same period, we were given a seventeen-year-old girl named Marie Amiskvian. Never before has there been someone more flexible, more innocent, or more ingenuous. We have not caught her lying even a single time, which is a great virtue among natives. If her companions accuse her of doing so, she remains silent; she is so devoted to her prayers that she never needs to be told to recite them. She even prays for the others, and all the kindness she bestows upon them makes it seem like she is their mother. Her mind is amazingly able to retain what we teach her, particularly the mysteries of our holy faith, which makes us hope that she will do great things when she returns to her native people. 24. They held the Jesuits responsible for the smallpox epidemic that was spreading in Huronia; see Oury in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 100n5. 25. Paul Ragueneau (1608–1680) had arrived in the Huron country in 1637, and was appointed Superior of the Jesuit Huron mission in 1645. See Léon Pouliot, “Ragueneau, Paul,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2019), .

76 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION A Frenchman seeks her hand in marriage, but we plan to give her to a man of her nation because of the example we hope she will set for the natives. Oh, if only God could inspire generosity in someone in France to help build a small house for her! She would undoubtedly perform very worthy work. This girl greatly helped us in the study of her language, because she speaks French well. She wins the hearts of all by her remarkable kindness and admirable qualities. Your goddaughter Marie Magdelaine Abatenau was given to us at just six years old, still covered in smallpox. At such a young age, she alone had served her parents in the sickness that killed them, with so much devotion that she elicited admiration from all who saw her. There is no one more obedient than this child; she even anticipates obedience, because she has the tenacity to go places that she foresees being useful to us; and she does what we [96] ask of her with so much drive and grace that she could be mistaken for the daughter of a noble family. As she is your goddaughter, I would gladly name her a daughter of Jesus Christ. For your consolation, I will add that she knows her catechism by heart, along with Christian prayers that she recites with so much devotion that she inspires the same feeling in those who see her. Marie Ursule Gamitiens, goddaughter of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse,26 is only five or six years old. As young as she is, there is no difficulty in having her carry out her Christian duty. As soon as she wakes up, she takes it upon herself to pray to God. She prays her rosary during Mass and sings hymns in her native tongue. Agnès Chabdikuchich was given to us during the same period. The name Agnès suits her very well, because she is as gentle and docile as an agneau (lamb). Sometime before entering the seminary, she met the Reverend Father de Caen27 in the woods where she was gathering a supply of wood. No sooner had she seen him that she threw her axe aside and said, “Teach me.” She did this with such grace that he was markedly touched, and to fulfill her wish, he brought her to the seminary with one of her companions. There, they quickly became worthy of holy baptism. She made wonderful progress with us, as much in her knowledge of the mysteries as in the good virtues, in learning how to do her chores, in reading, in playing the viola, and in a thousand other little skills. She is only twelve and she completed her first Communion on Easter with three of her companions. 26. According to Oury in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance,100n13, Claude Martin erred when he edited his mother’s correspondence; it should have been Mademoiselle de Luynes. 27. Jean de Quen (1602–1659), Jesuit, and discoverer of Lake Saint Jean. When he arrived in Canada in 1635, he was first employed at the college in Quebec, then he worked with the mission in Sillery. In 1640, after having ministered to the parish of Notre-Dame-de-la-Recouvrance in Quebec, he came back to Sillery in 1640 and worked with the hospital. See Victor Tremblay, “Quen, Jean de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2018), .

Correspondence 77 Seven-year-old Nicole Assepanse was given to us the same day. Her parents, who are some of the most influential natives, asked us to take her for a while because she could not follow them in the hunt. This girl has such an open mind that she is as capable of being instructed as a twenty-year-old girl. After having been in the seminary for only five months, she was capable of summarizing the principal points of our faith, and was perfectly familiar with catechism and Christian practices. When her mother came for her after returning from the hunt, this innocent girl recited prayers to her. Her mother had not yet been baptized. I admired her simplicity in the way she received her daughter’s instruction with such enthusiasm and docility. Delighted to hear her daughter praying to God and responding to catechism, she told her, “My daughter, you will teach me and your father; if you still wanted to stay at the seminary where you are so beloved, you would become even more capable of teaching us.” Nonetheless, this girl could not leave her mother who only had her for a child; but she told her, “Although I want to go, it is not because I am lacking anything. I eat as much as I want, the Virgin Sisters give me beautiful clothes, and they love me, but I cannot leave you.” After she said these words, we took her back into the natives’ huts, where she is admired by all. It would take me too long to speak about all the girls individually, but I will tell you that these young girls generally love us more than their parents, and demonstrate no desire to follow them, which is very extraordinary among natives. They learn as much from us as their age and their condition allow. While [97] we carried out our spiritual exercises, they remained continually silent; they did not even dare to raise their eyes to look at us, thinking that this would interrupt us. But when we finished our exercises, they showed us their affection in a way that they never do with their biological mothers. Four of them took Communion on Easter: they did so with so much purity that the slightest thought of sinning frightened them, and with so much ardor and desire to become one with our Lord, that while awaiting Communion, they cried, “Ah! When will Jesus come kiss our hearts?” When Reverend Father Pijart,28 who had baptized them and instructed them for Communion, saw them behaving with such angelic modesty, tears came to his eyes. We had eighteen, without counting the current native women and girls, who have permission to enter the place designated for the instruction of French and native girls, where they come without fail. After the instruction and the prayers, we throw them a feast in their fashion. Hunger is the clock that determines meal time for native girls, so that while having food for our seminarians, we must also plan for those who may join us. This happens particularly in the winter, when old people are unable to follow the natives in the hunt, because if we did not care for 28. Claude Pijart (1600–1683), Jesuit, priest, and teacher, entered the Society of Jesus in 1621, left for Canada in 1637, worked for 3 years at the Trois Rivières mission, went off on various missions in 1640 and subsequently lived in the Huron country. See J. Monet, “Pijart, Claude,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 1979), .

78 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION them during that time, they would die of starvation in their huts. God granted us the power to help them until the spring. They were good company for us, and it will be a great consolation to be able to continue doing so with the help of charitable French donors, without whom this will be absolutely impossible. Our little seminary cannot possibly survive on its own due to the large expenses incurred in taking care of seminarians and helping other natives. I assure you, Madame, our expenses are unbelievable. We had brought enough clothes for two years; everything was used from the beginning of this year, and when we had no clothes left to give them, we were obligated to give them some of ours. All the clothing that our founder had given us for our own use, and some of the clothing that our French Mothers had sent us, we used to make them look clean. It is a singular consolation to deprive us of all that is most necessary in order to win souls for Jesus; we would prefer to lack everything than to leave our girls in the unbearable filth that they bring from their huts. When they are given to us, they are completely naked and we need to wash them from head to toe because of the grease with which their parents cover their bodies in order to protect their skin. However diligent we are, and even though we often change linen and clothing, we cannot rid them for very long of the vermin caused by the excess grease on their bodies. One Sister spent a part of the day doing just this. It is a duty that each Sister covets eagerly. She who carries it out feels rich with elation, while those who are deprived of it feel unworthy and remain modest. Our founder carried out this duty for almost the entire year; today it is Mother Marie de Saint Joseph who enjoys this happiness. Aside from the native women and girls that we receive in the house, [98] men visit us in the parlor, where we attempt to show them the same kindness as we do to their wives, and it is a true consolation to remove bread from our own mouths to give to these poor people, so as to inspire in them the love of our Lord and his faith. But after all, it is a gift of Divine Providence that we can have girls at all after the large number of those who died last year. Smallpox afflicted the entire native population and entered our seminary, which became a hospital in just a few days. All of our girls were afflicted by this sickness on three separate occasions, and four of them died from it. We were expecting all of them to get sick, because smallpox is highly contagious, and we tended them day and night. Because we were confined to such a small space, we were constantly obligated to be together. But thanks to our Lord’s help, none of us fell ill. The natives who are not baptized thought (wrongly so) that baptism, instruction, and dwelling among the French were the causes of this mortality. This made us believe that we would be given no more girls, and that the ones we already had would be taken away from us. But God’s Providence spreads with such goodness here that the natives even came before us to ask us to take their daughters. If we had more goods and clothing, we could receive a large number of girls, even though we would not have enough

Correspondence 79 space. If God calls upon several holy souls to help us become closer to the natives, as we intend to do, we will have a great number of them. We long for the time when we will be able to excel in the tasks for which our Lord sent us into this happy country. For housing us all, we only have two small rooms which serve as the kitchen, canteen, sanctuary, classroom, parlor, and choir. We had a small wooden church built, which is nice despite its modest appearance. At the end, there is a small sacristy where there lives a young man who belongs to Madame de la Peltrie, who serves as porter and provides us with all necessities. You would not believe the expenses we incurred for this little house, even though it is so rudimentary that we can see the stars through the planks at night, and we can hardly keep a candle lit because of the wind. I will tell you how we are able to house so many people in such a small place. The edge of the rooms is divided into cabins made of pinewood planks; one bed is close to the ground, and the other is above it, so you need to climb up a ladder to get to it. With all of this, we find ourselves happier than if we were in the most luxurious monastery in France. It feels too comfortable to be in Canada, where I, for one, expected not to have any lodging aside from a bark hut. My Sisters sometimes tell me, “If we have one difficulty in Canada, it is that we lack hardship and do not suffer enough; we rejoice when we are given nothing, so as to be poor in all things.” [99] After that, Madame, are we not the most fortunate and happiest people on earth? I cannot express to you the feeling that is in my heart. Bless the all merciful Creator whose mercy is so great he bestows it upon so unworthy a creature as myself. It appears that our good Jesus looks kindly upon our wretchedness. We had asked for workers from France to build on the site near the natives that we had designated. We were not sent a single one (our financial situation not allowing it) and we were even told that we would not be able to survive, look after seminarians, or even build anything at all; and yet, alas, here we are, destined to remain in our little huts, unless his Divine Goodness assists us in ways that he alone understands. Our founder shows us so much kindness and agrees that we need to build further, but her relatives stop her from getting carried away in her religious zeal. There you have it, Madame, a short account of the current state of our seminary which, as you see, exists only by God’s providence. When you meet with powerful people, I beseech you to recommend our seminary to them, and if his Divine Majesty touches the hearts of some, Monsieur de Bernières29 (who is in charge of our affairs and who sends us our necessities) is the person to contact. For the sake of your beloved Jesus Christ, intercede yourself for the native girls. A large number will be lost if we do not bring them out of this wretchedness; and, as for now, we are incapable of helping them because of our limited supplies and our tiny lodging. Several days ago, we had one girl baptized who was on the verge 29. See Introduction, 2 note 6.

80 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION of self-destruction. She had been abandoned by all of her people; they did not dare give her to us for fear of her being a bad influence on our seminarians. We witnessed a miraculous change in her, because all of a sudden she became docile and supple like an infant, and there is no one more enthusiastic for the practices of our holy faith. She insisted on being baptized; she received baptism as though she had been a catechumen for her whole life. Reverend Father Buteux,30 who had sent her to us from Trois Rivières and who had met her in a state of depravity, came to visit her and had tears in his eyes when he saw how modest she was, and how strong was her moral compass. He told me with great emotion, “If this were the only good deed you have done since being in this country, you would have done a lot and you would feel sufficiently rewarded for your efforts with the conversion of this soul.” The glory belongs to God alone, because it is he who does all. I write this account for you, Madame, to give you yet another reason to praise the Creator. I am unable to describe all that he does in this country. The Relation will reveal some of his accomplishments, but not all; and people will not always believe those described there. In the end, if we are worthy of suffering hardships, rest assured, Madame, that you will have a great part in it. Please be so kind as to let me know of your good works and hold me in your prayers and keep me in the heart of our beloved Jesus. Yours truly.

[125] Letter 53: August 30, 1641 Quebec, to Mother Marie Gillette Roland, of the Daughters of the Visitation of Tours Marie writes about feeling unworthy of the mission with which she has been entrusted in Canada, the ease with which she learns the language, her skills at instructing Amerindian girls, and the innocence of the newly converted. Dear Reverend Mother, may you receive the peace and tenderness of our beloved Jesus. My heart still retains the love that I have for dear Sister Gillette, of whom we often speak as we would of someone whose memory we cherish. You have consoled me greatly by giving me news of dear Sister Louise Françoise.31 I thanked 30. Jacques Buteux (1599–1652), Jesuit, entered the Society of Jesus in 1620, sent to Quebec in 1634, appointed superior of the Trois Rivières mission in 1639. In 1652, he wanted to push on further with his evangelizing explorations; he went northwards, hoping to reach the Hudson Bay but was killed by the Iroquois on the upper Saint Maurice River. See Albert Tessier, “Buteux, Jacques,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 1979), . 31. Sister Louise-Françoise Rogier de la Marbellière (c. 1621–1707), daughter of Jean Rogier, sieur de la Marbellière, entered the Daughters of the Visitation in Tours in 1640. See Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 126n1.

Correspondence 81 our good Lord for having so lovingly called upon her. I beg you to assure her that I am praying for her so that our Savior may give her perseverance in her holy resolutions. Long live Jesus, dear Sister! Long live Jesus, who bestows so much mercy on the poor. He has shown me so much mercy that I cannot even express it to you. Who am I, beloved Sister, to have been called upon for such a holy labor? I never would have dared to even think of being capable of teaching our dear neophytes, and yet our good Lord has given me the ability to do so in their language. I admit, there are difficulties in learning a language so unlike ours; and yet I am made fun of when I say it is challenging. I am told that if the process were so tough, I would not complete it so easily. But believe me, the desire to communicate helps greatly. I would like for my tongue to reveal the feelings in my heart, to tell my dear neophytes what it knows of the love of God and Jesus our Savior. There is no danger in telling our native girls what we think of God. I sometimes reveal my thoughts aloud in their presence, and they do the same. If only simplicity reigned in all hearts as it does in the hearts of our new Christians, nothing in the world would be more delightful. They confess their sins with an unprecedented innocence, and they receive their penance with an admirable submissiveness. I was speaking to a man yesterday who had lost himself by going back to the pagan hunting tribes. When, upon returning, he visited me, I said to him, “Will you continue in the same mischief? Will you remain with the pagan woman whom you married? Do you love God? Do you believe in him? Do you want to obey him?” He responded, “I love God, and love him sincerely. [126] My decision has been made: I want to obey him from now on. I believe in him, and to better serve him, I am leaving this woman and withdrawing to live with sedentary Christian tribes. I am extremely sad to have angered him who created all things.” After I reprimanded him, I consoled him about the decision he had made, and which was entirely sincere, because he spoke openly about his sins in the presence of another native man, and he received my reprimands so humbly that there was not a single person who remained unmoved. I must admit, dear Sister, that I highly value such temperaments. There are times when natives are at risk of dying of starvation, they sometimes travel three or four leagues to find thickets of bad tasting berries, or repulsive roots that we would have difficulty stomaching. It distresses us so much to see them so famished that we hardly dare to look at them. Judge for yourself whether it is possible not to deprive yourself of everything on such occasions. When they come back from hunting, they sometimes offer us a small morsel of smoked meat in order to express their gratitude for our kindness. We take it to make them happy, but we find the odor unbearable. As for them, they take incredible pleasure in eating it raw. Surrender all their needs and all those of these regions to our good Lord, from whom I wish you all the blessings in return for the good that you do our little seminary. I embrace you and am in him with all my heart.

82 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION [681] Letter 201: August 10, 1662 Quebec, to her son Frightening disorder fueled by wine and spirits; Bishop Pétrée goes to France to bring back the remedy. My dear Son, I spoke to you in another letter about a cross that weighed on me more heavily than all the hostilities of the Iroquois.32 Here is what it is. In this country, there are Frenchmen so miserable and so fearless of God that they destroy our new Christians by giving them strong liquors such as wine and brandy in order to obtain beaver pelts from them.33 These liquors are detrimental to these poor people, men, women, boys, and even girls, because they are undisciplined when it comes to eating and drinking. They are immediately intoxicated and become almost crazed. They run about naked with swords and other weapons, spurring everyone in their vicinity to flee; day and night they run through Quebec, without anyone being able to stop them. Murder, violence, and monstrous brutalities ensue. The Reverend Fathers have done all they can to stop the destruction provoked by the French as well as the natives, but all their efforts have been in vain. We pointed out to the native girls who are not living with us the danger there is for their souls in following their parents’ example; they have not come back since. The native temperament is like this: they copy all the people of their nation except for those who have become well versed in Christian morality. An Algonquin chief (an excellent Christian and the first Canadian to be baptized) who visited us was complaining, “Onontio,34 the governor, is killing us by allowing us to have alcohol.” We told him to ask the governor to forbid alcohol. The chief responded, “I have already asked him twice and he has done nothing about it; but if you ask him yourself to prohibit it, perhaps he will listen to you.” 32. The Iroquois, known to the French as the Iroquois League, tried to maintain control over the lucrative fur trade and engaged in the Beaver Wars against the French and their allies including the Hurons. See “Iroquois” and “Iroquoian Family” in White, Handbook of Indians of Canada, 224–28. 33. The trade in beaver pelts gave native people access to all kinds of manufactured goods (guns, knives, cloth, and beads) in exchange for furs, but the fur trade was also very destructive for them, forcing them into dependency on Europeans and creating an epidemic of alcoholism. See “Fur Trade” in White, Handbook of Indians of Canada, 175–77; and Ann M. Carlos and Frank D. Lewis, “The Economic History of the Fur Trade: 1670 to 1870”; . 34. Onontio—literally “Big Mountain,” a translation of “Montmagny” in the Iroquoian languages— was the name given by the indigenous people to Charles Huault de Montmagny, the first governor of New France (1636—1648), and became the name which the Iroquois Confederacy used for subsequent governors of Quebec. See Jean-Claude Dubé, The Chevalier de Montmagny: First Governor of New France (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2005); and Jean Hamelin, “Huault de Montmagny, Charles (‘Onontio’),” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2003); http://www.biographi. ca/en/bio/huault_de_montmagny_charles_1E.html.

Correspondence 83 It is a horrible thing to see the gruesome accidents caused by this trafficking. Our bishop35 has done everything imaginable to stop the course of something that tends to nothing less than the destruction of faith and religion in this land. With his natural gentleness he attempted to deter the French from this commerce so contrary to God’s teachings and to the salvation of the natives. They scorned his remonstrances, because traffickers are supported by [682] a secular power which has a strong hold on them. They told him that alcohol is allowed everywhere. We responded that in the New Church, and among uncultivated peoples, it should not be. Experience shows that alcohol inhibits the spreading of faith, and the good behavior that is expected of the newly converted. Reason was no more effective than gentleness. There were other vehement debates on this subject, but in the end, zeal for the glory of God prevailed with our bishop and obliged him to excommunicate those who engaged in this trafficking.36 This bolt of lightning affected them no more than the rest; they ignored it, saying that the Church has no power over matters of this nature. The situation being so extreme, the bishop leaves for France in search of a means to put an end to this disorder, which brings so many calamities with it. He thought he would die of pain in thinking about this subject; he became consumed by it. I believe that if he is unable to succeed, he will not come back, which would be an irreparable loss for this New Church and for all its poor Frenchmen! He gives up all material things in order to help them, and if I had to summarize what I observe of his virtue, I would say that he has the traits of a saint. I beg you to recommend, and have others recommend, such important an affair to our Lord. May it please him to send us back our bishop, the father and true shepherd of the souls entrusted to him.

35. François de Laval (1623–1708), bishop in partibus infidelium of Petraea, vicar apostolic in New France (1658–1674), first bishop of Quebec (1674–1688). See André Vachon, “Laval, François de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (1969; rev. 1982), . 36. In their Relations, the Jesuits repeatedly noted the harmful effects of alcohol on Indian tribes: moral degradation, physical decline, death and depopulation. On May 5, 1660, Bishop Laval took the bold step of excommunicating all refractory traffickers. But his intervention incurred the opposition of the merchants. When he saw that he would never stamp out the liquor trade without a powerful aid, he decided to go back to France to lay his case before the king himself. Bishop Laval was successful. He returned to New France in 1663 and founded the seminary of Quebec, a theological seminary which would become the preeminent institution for the training of the clergy of New France. On the conflict between the clergy and civil authorities regarding the sale of intoxicating liquors to Indians, see George F. G. Stanley, “The Indians and the Brandy Trade during the Ancien Regime,” Revue d’histoire de l’Amérique française 6, no. 4 (1953): 489–505. On the decisive role the Church played in the conflict over the liquor trade, see Cornelius J. Jaenen, The Role of the Church in New France (Toronto: McGrawHill Ryerson, 1976), 77–82.

84 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION You see that my letter only speaks to the matter that weighs most heavily on my heart, because it is there that I see God’s magnificence dishonored, the Church scorned, and souls in clear danger of being lost. My other letters will respond to yours.

[767] Letter 223: October 16, 1666 Quebec, to her son Notable ceremony in Quebec for the transfer of the bodies of Saints Flavian and Félicité. Arrival of the French army in Iroquois country. Dear Son, I am extremely grateful for the holy relics that you sent me. We will watch over them carefully and with veneration in a place designated for such sumptuous gifts, where we have four reliquaries that we display on the altar at solemn feasts. In the transfer of the sacred bodies of Martyr Saint Flavian and Sainte Félicité that our Holy Father gave to our bishop for this country, we had our part, as did two other religious houses. This land had never before seen such a beautiful ceremony. The procession consisted of forty-seven clerics in surplice, copes, chasubles and dalmatics. Since the relics needed to be taken to the four churches of Quebec, we found solace in witnessing this magnificent ceremony. Viceroy de Tracy37 and Governor de Courcelles,38 along with the two most noteworthy noblemen, carried the ceremonial canopy. The most eminent of the clerics carried the four reliquaries on beautifully decorated litters. As the procession left each church it set up a shrine. Music played continuously, resonating through the streets lined with devotional stations. Robed in his pontifical vestments, Monseigneur [the Bishop François de Laval] followed the holy relics and the procession. Several days prior, he had consecrated the cathedral Church in a beautiful ceremony, and he hopes to consecrate ours next year. I never would have dreamt of seeing such magnificence in the church of Canada. When I arrived here, I saw nothing but ignorance and barbarism. It is a delightful thing to see Monsieur de Tracy always being the first to arrive at these holy ceremonies, because he would never want to 37. Alexandre de Prouville, Marquis de Tracy (1620–1670), king’s counsellor and a professional soldier who took part in several important battles. In 1667, he received the commission as lieutenantgeneral of America. He was not, however, viceroy of this territory, since the title belonged to the Comte d’Estrades who was at the time the king’s ambassador to Holland. See Léopold Lamontagne, “Prouville de Tracy, Alexandre de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2019), . 38. Daniel de Rémy de Courcelles (1626–1698), eighth governor of Canada (1665–1672). Courcelles, along with Prouville de Tracy, was instrumental in subduing the Iroquois who periodically ravaged the colony. See W. J. Eccles, “Rémy de Courcelle, Daniel de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2018), .

Correspondence 85 miss a moment of them. He has been seen in the church for more than six hours at a time without leaving. The example that he sets is so powerful that everyone follows him as children do their father. He supports the church with his piety and the effect he has on all souls. This makes us fear that the king will call him back next year. We have been told that His Majesty is having a magnificent ship prepared so that Monsieur de Tracy may return to France with the honor that he has earned by his great accomplishments. [768] He has left to take part in the war against the Iroquois of New Holland,39 who are stopping other nations from believing in God. He did all that he could to entice them with kindness, but they are violent people who are not swayed by his charm, which would win over anyone who has at least some common sense. According to the estimates of the army’s progress, combat must have taken place in the first village over the last three days. If God blesses this initial effort, the two other villages will be attacked next. They have strong forts and cannons; they are valiant and they will undoubtedly cause much bloodshed. However, our French soldiers are so fervent that they fear nothing, and there is nothing that they will not do. They set out carrying cannons on their backs through waterfalls and rough terrain; they even carried their rowboats, which has never been heard of before. The whole regiment believes that they are about to storm the gates of paradise, and they hope to take it by force, because it is for the sake of faith and religion that they fight. We received this news several days ago, and we have been further reassured that the whole army is in good health, that the governor is on the front lines, and Monsieur de Chamblay40 is at the rearguard. 39. The Agniers, name given by the French to the Mohawk, one of the five nations of the Iroquois Confederacy; see E. M. Ruttenber, Footprints of the Red Men: Indian Geographical Names in the Valley of Hudson’s River, in the Valley of the Mohawk, and on the Delaware: Their Location and the Probable Meaning of Some of Them, Proceedings of the New York State Historical Association 6 (1906): 190– 93. The tensions that caused this war arose from the struggle over the control of the fur trade. The Iroquois began trading and developing alliances with the Dutch and British merchants who provided them with firearms in return for beaver pelts. For a long time they were among the most determined enemies of the Jesuit missionaries. The years 1665–1666 known as the French and Iroquois Wars saw increased hostility between the Iroquois and the French colonial forces. In 1666, Monsieur de Tracy, governor general of New France, sent the Carignan-Salières regiment to confront the Mohawk. They avoided battle but the French burned their villages and their food supplies. The following year, the Mohawk made peace with the French and allowed the Jesuits in their villages. Raoul Naroll examines this conflict further, including more complex factors besides the economic ones, and the lack of crosscultural understanding between the Iroquois and the French. See “The Causes of the Fourth Iroquois War,” Ethnohistory 16, no. 1 (1969): 51–81. 40. Jacques de Chambly (d. 1687) arrived in Canada in June 1665 as captain of the Carignan-Salières regiment. He directed the construction of Fort Saint Louis on the Richelieu Rapids and took part in Prouville de Tracy’s expedition against the Iroquois. See René Baudry, “Chambly, Jacques de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2015), .

86 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION Monsieur de Salières41 is the colonel of the regiment, and Monsieur de Tracy is the generalissimo who commands the entire military. Our new native converts follow the French army with all our young French-Canadians who are terribly brave and who run through the woods like natives. It will be two weeks before we receive more news of the combat. However, this whole New Church will not cease to pray, and we are reciting the forty-hour prayer, which goes on in four churches for forty hours straight; each church takes its turn, knowing that the future of the country depends on the success or failure of this war. This is the third time since February that our Frenchmen have not returned to their homeland, to the great surprise of the British and even the Iroquois, who cannot understand why it is only the French who have dared to undertake this expedition. Monsieur de Tracy waited to leave with the majority of the army on the day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross,42 and it is assumed that they arrived there after one month of traveling. I will tell you more about this expedition after their return, or as soon as we have received news of it. For now, I beg that you allow me to pause for a moment. I am very tired after writing so many letters. I still have over forty left to write, which I hope to send by the last ship. Continue to pray for us.

[800] Letter 235: August 9, 1668 Quebec, to her son Marie writes of her relentless pursuit of the salvation of Amerindian girls; the present state of the Ursuline monastery of Quebec; and the services performed by the nuns for all of Canada in response to rumors that had begun circulating in France that their efforts in New France were futile. Dear Son, here is my response to your third letter. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the precious and holy relic43 that you sent me. It will be kept in the beautiful reliquary from which we took several relics to display on the altar of our church when it was consecrated. You have obliged me in sending me the documents attesting their genuineness, because the public needs to know of our church. When I saw your holy relic honoring such a great saint, my heart was moved with devotion and I thanked this sacred personage for choosing this country as his final resting place. Thank you once again, dear Son. 41. Henri de Chastelart, Marquis de Salières, colonel of the Carignan-Salières regiment sent to crush the Iroquois. See Oury in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 769n6. 42. September 14, 1666. 43. Relic of Saint Vulfram de Sens or de Fontenelle (c. 640–703), known for his apostolic work in Friesland.

Correspondence 87 You believe that I will soon die. I do not know when this happy moment will come, or when I will be given over to our Savior. My health is somewhat better now than it was in previous years, although, since my strength is still extremely diminished, it would take very little to do away with me, especially because I am not completely cured of the bile flow that has so long afflicted me. I still have a bitterness in my mouth that makes everything I eat taste like absinthe. I eventually got used to it; I had to, or else I would have weakened and died. However, I find solace in this infirmity, which constantly reminds me of our Lord’s suffering on the Cross. In spite of these inconveniences, I am able to obey our rules. I fasted on Lent, as did the young members, and I observed all the other fasts of our Church; put more simply, I am able to carry out my duty thanks to our Savior. I sing so softly that you can hardly hear me, but I still have enough strength to recite my prayers aloud. It is difficult for me to pray on my knees at Mass; I am weak, and it is surprising that I am not even more so, considering the pain and high fever that I have so long endured. All during our stay, we had hoped that dear Mother Cécile de Reuville de l’Enfant Jésus44—a nun from Rouen—would join us, and I was preparing to teach her [801] the Algonquian language; I was convinced that, with her great determination, she would grasp it easily, because these Indian languages are difficult and one must be truly dedicated to learning them. On winter mornings, it is my job to teach these languages to my younger Sisters: there are some who go so far as to learn the basic principles and grammatical rules, provided that I translate the Indian words into French. But learning words from the dictionary is too arduous a task for them. Out of our younger Sisters, there is only one who has truly blossomed. The Assistant Mother and the Mother Cécile de Sainte-Croix are quite well versed in these languages, because we learned the dictionary by heart at the beginning of our studies. As it is very difficult to learn these languages, I decided to leave behind as many things in writing as possible before I die. From the beginning of last Lent until Ascension Day, I wrote a large Algonquian book about sacred history and holy things, along with a dictionary and an Iroquoian catechism, which is priceless. Last year, I rewrote a large Algonquian dictionary in the French alphabet; I have another one written in the Algonquian alphabet. I am telling you this to show you that God’s goodness is giving me strength in times of weakness, so that my Sisters will have what they need to carry out his work for the salvation of souls. French girls45 need no instruction other than that in our rule; yet after we have done all that we can, we will consider ourselves to be mere unworthy servants, nothing more than tiny grains of sand under the foundation 44. Cécile le Seigneur de Renéville (d. 1718) entered the Ursulines of Rouen on November 6, 1659, and was promoted to the office of Superior in 1681; Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 804n3. 45. “French girls” are the daughters of the French colonial elite in Quebec.

88 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION of this New Church. I am trying to reach out to you in many different ways, but as my letters might get lost, I will repeat here what I have mentioned elsewhere about our work since you want to hear about it. First, every day, we have seven choir Sisters who share the responsibility of instructing the French girls, as well as two converse Sisters46 in charge of external affairs. The native girls stay and eat with the French girls, but they need private instruction (and sometimes several instructors to assist them, depending on how many of them we have at the time).Unfortunately, I have just had to refuse seven Algonquin seminarians, because we were short on supplies after the officers had taken everything for the king’s troops, which were in need of provisions. Since we have been in Canada, we have never refused to help others despite our poverty, and it was very painful for us to have to turn away these girls; but I must accept and humble myself in our helplessness. We were also obligated to return several French girls to their parents. We limited ourselves to sixteen French girls and three native girls (of whom two were Iroquoian and one was a captive to whom we wanted to teach French). I will not mention the poor, of whom there are many and with whom we must share what we still have. Let us return to the topic of our seminarians. In this country, great care must be taken to instruct the French girls. I can assure you that if there were no Ursuline nuns here, their souls would be in constant danger.47 The reason for this is that there is a large number of men; parents who do not want to miss Mass on a holiday or on Sunday [802] will leave their children at home with several men to watch them. Girls of every age are in evident danger, as experience shows that they require protection. All I can say is that the girls in this country are more knowledgeable about threats to their virtue than French girls are. Thirty resident girls give us more work than sixty girls in France. They require a lot of attention, but we do not watch their morals as we would if they were in the convent. They are gentle, good spirited, and committed to doing good whenever possible, but since several of them are only short-term pensioners, the instructors must fully dedicate themselves to their education, and sometimes they must teach them to read, write, and count, as well as prayers, Christian morals, and everything else that a girl should know, all over the course of a single year. There are some whose parents leave them with us until they are old enough to be provided for, either in the world or in religious life. We have 46. Converse, or lay Sisters came from families that could only pay a modest dowry for them to enter the convent. They were usually assigned manual labor. See Rapley, “Women and the Religious Vocation in Seventeenth-Century France,” 621. 47. Marie de l’Incarnation is alluding here to the moral dangers faced by women (promiscuity, extramarital sex, prostitution, nonmarital births) in colonial society due to the unbalanced gender ratio in the early generations of settlement. On the effects of the shortage of women in male-dominated colonies, see Herbert Moller, “Sex Composition and Correlated Patterns of Colonial America,” William and Mary Quarterly 2 (1945): 113–53.

Correspondence 89 eight of our professed Sisters as well as novices who did not want to return to the outside world and who are very good, having been raised with a profound sense of innocence. We have still others who do not want to return to their families, happy to be finding so much fulfillment in God’s house. Two of these girls are the daughters of Monsieur de Lozon48 (who is very well known in France); they are simply awaiting the return of Monsieur de Lozon Carny49 to enter the novitiate. Some girls are placed with us in order to prepare for their first Communion; for this reason, they remain in the seminary for two or three months. As for the native girls, we accept them at any age. In the case that some native man—whether Christian or pagan—forgets his duty and captures a girl of his nation, keeping her from observing God’s law, she is recovered and placed with us. We watch over her until the Reverend Fathers come to take her away. Others are like migrating birds and remain here only until they are overcome with sadness, an emotion that natives find unbearable. As soon as the girls become unhappy, their families, fearing they will die, take them away. We release them in these situations, because they are more easily won over this way than by being kept through fear or prayer. Others leave out of fantasy or caprice. They scale our fence, which is as high as a fortress wall, and go running through the woods like squirrels. Some persevere, and we raise them to be proper Frenchwomen: we provide for them and they do very well. One girl was given to Monsieur Boucher,50 who has since served as Governor of Trois Rivières. Others return to their native families, able to speak French well and proficient in reading and writing. These are the fruits of our work, which I wanted to share with you in response to the rumors being spread, including that the Ursuline nuns are worthless in this country and that none of their accomplishments here are mentioned in the Relations. Our Reverend Fathers and our bishop are thrilled about the education that we give to the young girls. They take them through the process of Communion as early as eight years old, finding them as educated as they are 48. Madeleine (1652–1731) and Angélique (1662–1732), daughters of Jean de Lauson (1620/1635– 1661), Grand Seneschal of New France, and Anne Després. See J. Monet, “Lauson, Jean de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2017), . 49. Charles de Lauson, sieur de Charny (c.1629–after 1689), son of Jean de Lauson, governor of France, and Marie Gaudar. In 1652, he had married the thirteen-year-old Louise Giffard at Quebec, and entered orders on her death. He eventually became the ecclesiastical superior of the Hôtel-Dieu of Quebec. When his brother, Jean de Lauson, was killed by the Iroquois on June 22, 1661, he had to assume the guardianship of the latter’s children. See Honorius Provost, “Lauson de Charny, Charles de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2017), . 50. Pierre Boucher (1622–1717), governor of Trois Rivières, royal judge, founder and seigneur of Boucherville. See Raymond Douville, “Boucher, Pierre,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (1969, rev. 1982), .

90 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION capable of being. If it is said [803] that our efforts are futile here because the Relations do not mention us, the same must be said of our bishop, his seminary, the seminary of the Reverend Fathers, the clergy of Montreal, and the Hospitallers, because the Relations mention nothing of them either. And yet, it is these activities that inspire the support, strength, and even honor of the entire country. If the Relations mention nothing of us, nor of the congregations or seminaries that I have just mentioned, it is because all that is noted is the spreading of the Gospel and that which relates to it. Even then, many things are edited out in those copies of the Relations that reach France. Last year, the Duchess de Senneçay51—who has been kind enough to write to me all these years—evoked the discontent she felt over something that had been edited out, and this year, she echoed the same sentiment. Monsieur Cramoisy,52 who is in charge of printing the Relations and has a deep affection for the Hospitallers here, took it upon himself to insert a letter53 that the Mother Superior had written to him, which created a good deal of commotion in France. Dear Son, what we are doing in this New Church is seen by God and not by men. Our enclosure is all-encompassing and it is difficult to speak about what happens behind closed doors. It is quite different from the Hospitallers: the Hospital is open54 and the good that is done there is known to all. It is therefore reasonable to praise its goodness. But anyway, we, along with the Hospitallers, await the reward for our services from him who penetrates even the most hidden of places and who sees as clearly in the dark as in the light. That is good enough for us.

51. Marie-Claire de Baufremont, Marquise de Senneçay (1618–1680), first maid of honor to Queen Anne of Austria, wife of Jean-Baptiste de Foix, a benefactor of the Hospitallers (for whom see note 54 to this text); see Oury in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 804n11. 52. There exist three original editions of the Relations des Jésuites en Nouvelle-France (The Jesuit Relations). The first edition (composed of forty-one small duodecimal volumes) and the last editions were printed respectively in 1632 and 1673 in Paris by Sébastien Cramoisy (1584?–1669). The 1637 Relation was printed in Rouen by Jean le Boullenger; see Léon Pouliot, “Le Jeune, Paul.” 53. The Relation of 1656 contains a copy of Paul Le Jeune’s response (dated March 10, 1656, from La Rochelle) to the letter sent to him by the Hospitaller Mother Marie de Saint-Bonaventure; see The Jesuit Relations, ed. Thwaites, vol. 41, LXXXVIII: 235–41; . 54. “The Sisters Hospitallers belonged to the non-cloistered women’s congregations of seventeenthcentury France who established the pattern of active, apostolic religious life for women.” See Marguerite Vacher, Nuns Without Cloister: Sisters of St. Joseph in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, trans. Patricia Byrne (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2010), xi.

Correspondence 91 [820] Letter 241: September 21, 1668 Quebec, to the Ursuline Superior of Saint-Denys Marie describes the state of wretchedness of her monastery and the manner in which Amerindians are being gallicized.55 It is I, dear Mother, who profoundly missed your precious letters. Long ago, I heard of your reputation from Reverend Father de La Haye and the late Mademoiselle de Luisnes.56 I immediately shared the admiration that they had for your virtue and if we had been in a position to request Sisters from France at that time, we would have enlisted your help in asking that your holy community allow you to join forces with us. But God did not wish this; rather, he destined you to carry out the services that you have done for him since, and that you continue to do for his greater glory. In the letter that you were kind enough to write to me, I learned that your affection for Canada fills your heart, since through your benevolence you hope to embrace the country’s interests, and especially those of our seminary. This touched my heart and inspired a renewed sense of friendship for you, dear Mother, because I never would have dared presume that you took a special interest in us and more specifically in me. But since this is the wish of our Lord, may we create between us and our two communities a new and indissoluble union. We all love you sincerely and we do not doubt your reciprocal affection for us. Your friendly letter is a testament to this, just like the one you wrote to our assistant, Mother Saint Athanase.57 I have not overlooked what you wish from me with regard to your request concerning this virtuous woman. It is my honor to write to her, even though my letter only contains civilities. If our good Lord wished to inspire her to help our needy seminary, she would surely carry out very charitable work. I will tell you sincerely that our seminary incurs huge costs, and because of all these expenses, we have no funding left for our native girls, besides that which is used for the four Sisters who instruct them. For the nearly three decades that we have been in this country, the girls [821] that we fed and reared at the seminary came into our care as a result of Divine Providence.

55. For francisation and gallicization, see Introduction, 19 note 61. 56. Anne Marie d’Albert de Luynes, daughter of Charles d’Albert, Duc de Luynes, a favorite of King Louis XIII, peer and Constable of France, and of Marie-Aimée de Rohan. She died in 1646. See Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 178–79n1. 57. Marguerite Flécelles, called Marguerite de Saint Athanase (1614–1695), daughter of Jean de Flécelles and Catherine d’Elbène, Ursuline nun from the Paris congregation, arrived in New France on July 17, 1640. See Mary Ludovicka [Mother Sainte-Croix], Glimpses of the Monastery: Scenes from the History of the Ursulines of Quebec during Two Hundred Years, 1639–1839, 2nd ed. (Quebec: L. J. Demers & Frère, 1897), 149–51.

92 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION We have brought up several native girls in the French manner, as many Huron as Algonquin. Those who later married Frenchmen get along well together. One can read and write perfectly in her Huron language as well as French; no one would be able to identify her as a native. The governor was so delighted about this that he had her write something in both her language and ours to take to France, so as to show what an extraordinary feat it is. His Majesty, having sent troops into this country and seeing that God blessed his military campaigns, intends little by little to teach all natives French ways in order to make civilized people of them. First to be baptized are the children. Our bishop has selected a large group of them to be gallicized. The Reverend Fathers took many of them to be educated in their school in Quebec; all are dressed in French fashion and are taught to read and write as we do in France. We are in charge of the girls in accordance with our order; but while we have raised them since our arrival in this country, we only succeeded in gallicizing those whose parents wanted that for them, and several poor orphans for whom we served as guardians; the others were simply transient and stayed with us for about a month before others came to replace them. But at present, we must gallicize all of them and dress them in French clothes, which is not an inexpensive undertaking, because there is not a single one among them, just like little boys, whose clothing and food expenses amount to less than two hundred livres. The late Mademoiselle de Luisnes helped us greatly by sending us fabric for their clothes and a healthy allowance for food. She planned to create a foundation for this very purpose, and when she got sick, she mentioned in her will generous bequests on our behalf, but because she passed away before she could sign her testament, this fell through. After her death, we and our girls remained without support, and presently, there are only two generous ladies in France who each send us fifty livres for our seminary. Around the same time, our monastery burned down, and these two misfortunes combined reduced us to a state of extreme poverty. Only God’s Providence allowed our monastery to be rebuilt and put us in the condition where we are now. But although there were fewer of us to work at the hospital, we managed to retain a good number of our girls—whom we consider our richest treasures in this world, and for whom we left France—as well as our Mothers and all our friends. There you have it, dear Mother, a small taste of our past adventures and our current state. Be the advocate for our needy seminary, if our good Jesus and the Virgin Mary inspire you to do so. We would have been delighted if the good Mother of your house had come to visit us this year with the Mother of Rouen, but there were so many changes concerning the latter’s visit that our bishop finally got tired of it. In our dire state, he agreed to our taking novices from this country instead. We have taken four of them so far and a fifth [822] is about to enter. But it is clear to us that to maintain the religious spirit in this country, we will always need to have Sisters from France. This is why, dear Mother, we reach out to you on this occasion. Our Reverend Fathers spoke so honorably of the sanctity of

Correspondence 93 your house, and with what we know of it, we feel that the best thing for us to do is to seek your help and request that you send us Sisters, preferably young ones so as to cope with the tasks of the convent and endure the rigorous climate of this country—since older Sisters would find it harder to become acclimated. I reiterate, dear Mother, my sincere affection for you; I also ask for yours in the intimate union of our Divine Savior. Forever yours.

[832] Letter 246: October 1668 Quebec, to her son Accounts of Monsieur Talon’s return to France; of people recruited and sent to Canada; and of the nature and quality of the fruits grown in this country. Praise of a good middle-class Quebec gentleman. Dear Son, Monsieur Talon58 is finally leaving us and returning to France, much to all of Canada’s chagrin, because since he has served here as governor, the country has really developed and business is flourishing more now than it has since the French have lived there. The king sent someone in his place named Monsieur Bouteroue,59 about whose nobility and merit I know nothing yet. The ships did not bring any sick people this year. The vessel that arrived was a real melting pot: there were Portuguese, Germans, Dutchmen, and people from a number of other nations. There were also Moorish women, along with women from Portugal, France, and other countries.60 A great number of young girls have 58. Jean Talon (1626–1694), governor of New France in 1665–1668 and 1670–1672. Although he did not accompany French troops during the 1665–1666 expedition into the Iroquoian cantons, he played a major role in the success of the French army. He left for France in mid-November 1688 for health reasons. See André Vachon, “Talon, Jean,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2020), , and Lionel Groulx, “Colonisation au Canada sous Talon,” Revue d’histoire de l’Amérique française 4, no. 1 (1950): 61–73. 59. Claude Bouteroue d’Aubigny (1620–1680), chevalier and Conseiller à la Cour des Monnaies, governor of New France from April 8, 1668 until 1670. Although Bouteroue did not measure up to Talon (his predecessor) in terms of vision or competence, he was generally liked. He was instrumental in having an edict passed by the Conseil Souverain [High Council] to curb the sale of liquor to the Indians. See W. J. Eccles, “Bouteroue d’Aubigny, Claude,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2017); . 60. In Les filles du roi au XVIIe siècle: Orphelines en France, pionnières au Canada (Montreal: Leméac, 1992), the demographer Yves Landry reports that out of the 770 women sent to New France, most were single; about thirty were widows. They came, for the most part, from urban areas, where French, rather than regional dialects, was more widely spoken. Only 4% of the “King’s daughters” did not marry in Canada. Landry’s study confirms the crucial role these women played, through their marriage and their fertility, in the implantation of the French people and the French language in the Saint Lawrence Valley.

94 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION come, and we are still expecting more. The first to be wed was a Moorish woman who married a Frenchman. As for the men, they are those who were released from the king’s service and who were subsequently sent to this country. They were all placed in the village of Talon, two leagues from here, to live and populate the area. Once they have gone through the initial quantity of flour and lard supplied them by the king, they will suffer considerably until they have cleared the land. Now, we only ask for village girls who are fit to work as the men are. Experience shows that those girls who were not raised for these tasks are not suited to this environment, and soon find themselves hopelessly imperiled. My praise in the last year61 or so for the pumpkins of the Iroquois has given you a taste for them. I am sending you pumpkin seeds, which the Huron have brought to us from their country, but I do not know if your soil will alter the taste. They are prepared in various ways: putting them in soup with milk, frying them, baking them in the oven like apples, or braising them like pears, so that they truly taste like cooked pippin apples. In Montreal, there are melons as delicious as the best in France; here, we grow them only rarely, because we are not far enough south. There is also a certain variety that we call “watermelon,” which resembles the pumpkin. Watermelons are eaten like melons, either with salt or sugar; [833] they taste delicious and they are not bad for you. The other vegetables are like those in France. They are harvested, just like wheat, to provide food throughout the winter and until the end of May, when the gardens are covered in snow. As for the trees, we have plum trees which are cultivated and fertilized in order to give us abundant fruit for three weeks. The plums are not baked in an oven, because all that would be left of them is a pit covered by skin; but they are used to make marmalade with sugar, which is excellent. We make ours with honey; this seasoning is sufficient for us and our children. We still preserve green redcurrants as well as cranberries, a wild fruit, which sugar makes tasty. We are beginning to have Calville and Reinette apples, which grow beautifully here and are delicious, but these varieties originally came from France. Now you know about our work and our delicacies, which would count for nothing in France, but which are highly valued here. The carrier of this letter is Monsieur de Dombourg,62 who is accompanying his mother, Madame Bourdon, to France.63 I beg you to welcome them warmly, 61. Letter 225, November 12, 1666; Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 775. 62. Jean-François Bourdon de Dombourg (1647–1698), captain in the merchant marine and son of the engineer-surveyor, Jean Bourdon (for whom see the next notes, 63 and 64). For Bourdon de Dombourg, see Jean Hamelin, “Jean-François Bourdon de Dombourg,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2015), . 63. This is the second wife of Jean Bourdon, who on August  21, 1655, married Anne Gasnier (1611–1698), the widow of Jean Clément Du Vuault de Monceaux. She was a friend of Marie Barbe de Boullongne d’Ailleboust, wife of Governor Louis d’Ailleboust, co-founder of the Confrérie de la

Correspondence 95 because this is a family that I love and cherish more than any other in this country. They did not want to leave without bringing you word from me, so as to have the consolation of seeing and speaking to you. Monsieur Bourdon was the king’s prosecutor, a position that he earned because of his integrity and merit. He and I shared a very particular spiritual relationship, because, in spite of his secular habit, he led a most orderly life. He enjoyed the constant presence of God and a close relationship with his Divine Majesty. Sacrificing himself entirely for the public good, this charitable man once risked his life to reach an agreement with the Dutch on behalf of our French captives. He was a father to the poor, the consoler of widows and orphans, and an example for all to follow. Ever since he settled in this country, he has been engaged in all sorts of good works. He had four daughters64 whom he joyfully and graciously gave over to God’s service. Two of them were Hospitallers, but one of them died; the two older ones are Ursuline nuns in our monastery and are very good Sisters. He has two sons: the younger one is completing his studies in Quebec, while the elder is the one who is delivering this letter to you. I view them as my own nephews, and this is why I recommend the elder one to you with such enthusiasm. As for Madame Bourdon, she is very much looking forward to meeting you. This woman is an example of piety and charity throughout the country. She and Madame d’Ailleboust65 go together to visit prisoners, help criminals, and even transport them on a stretcher to be buried. The one I am describing here as the most active and vigorous of these two is constantly occupied with these good works and assisting the poor, which she is doing quite successfully. She is a mother to the destitute and a paragon of every kind of charitable service. Before coming to Canada (where she came driven wholly by piety and devotion), she was the widow of Monsieur de Monceaux, a noble gentleman. Sometime after [834] her arrival, Monsieur Bourdon was left a widower with seven children, Sainte Famille at Montreal and benefactress of the Hôtel-Dieu at Quebec. Anne had emigrated to Canada with the intention of devoting her life to the poor. See Honorius Provost, “Boullongne, Marie Barbe de,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 1979); . 64. Jean Bourdon had eight children from his first wife, Jacqueline Potel, who died on September 11, 1654. His four daughters became nuns. Geneviève was the first Ursuline born in Canada; she took the name of Mother  Marie de Saint Joseph; Anne, called Mother  Sainte Agnès, became a superior of the Ursulines; Marguerite, called Mother Saint Jean-Baptiste, entered the Augustines and was one of the three founders and the first superior of the Hôpital Général of Quebec, where Marie, who went under the name of Mother Marie-Thérèse de Jésus, took the veil. See Jean Hamelin, “Bourdon, Jean,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 2015), . 65. Catherine d’Ailleboust de Sainte Gertrude, sister of the former governor and lieutenant-general of New France, Louis d’Ailleboust, and Benedictine Sister at Saint Pierre de Reims; see Oury in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 725n1.

96 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION all of whom were incapable of taking care of themselves, let alone their father. She felt a powerful urge to help this family, and to do so, she resolved to marry Monsieur Bourdon, whose virtues she had heard about, but on the condition that they would live together as brother and sister. This condition was observed exactly as promised. She married down in order to perform this charitable deed, which was judged in France (where she was very well known both in Paris and in the rest of the country) as a frivolous act contrary to the austere mode of life she was known to have led, one much different from that of a married woman. But people changed their opinions when it became known how much good had resulted from this generous action. She raised all of Monsieur Bourdon’s children with extraordinary benevolence and put them in the position where they are now. I wrote this long letter to honor the virtue of this lady and her pious family, and to show you that there are people of honor and merit in this country. Show these two kindness; truly, they deserve it.

[915] Letter 270: 1670 Quebec, to her son Marie responds to some of Claude’s questions concerning the Amerindians’ religion, morals, and governance.66 My dear Son, in this letter, I respond directly to the questions you asked me concerning our natives. A good Reverend Father filled in what I had forgotten, and you can rest assured that everything in this letter is true. You will see accounts of the foolishness of those natives who, due to their innate sinfulness, which prevails in them before baptism, do not have either faith or a natural understanding of things. You asked the following questions: I. Did the natives know of the one true God before encountering Europeans? If so, what knowledge did they have of him? My response is that they had no knowledge of God. There were only a few who (by reflecting on the movements of skies and constellations and the repetitive cycle of the seasons) knew instinctively that there existed a powerful being who had created all things and reigned over them with great wisdom. I met several natives who, while admiring the harmony of things in nature, were wondering, “Surely there exists a Creator of all that we see in this world, because all this could not come from nothing.” They would pray in this way to the one who created all, and those who are Christian have adopted this way of speaking; when wanting to pray 66. For a useful overview on these questions, see Raymond Douville and J. D. Casanova, La vie quotidienne des Indiens du Canada à l’époque de la colonisation (Paris: Hachette, 1967).

Correspondence 97 to God, they say, “You, the Creator of everything, etc.” Those who were convinced of their reasoning would address him as I have just described, and give him offerings like cornmeal and tobacco, which are the most valuable things they have. Among them, two Algonquin chieftains were immediately won over after having heard the words of Reverend Father Le Jeune and embraced our faith. They were the first two native Christians, and both gave us their daughters the morning following our arrival in this country. There are several examples of this, which serve as a testament to God’s goodness. [916] II. Did they love some divine being, and how did they worship him? Several of them praised the Sun and offered it sacrifices: they threw bear, moose, and other animal fat into the fire, and burned tobacco and cornmeal. There were some who acknowledged the existence of a certain “Messou”67 who mended the world. This knowledge is wonderful and is closely linked to the coming of our own Messiah, who is the Savior of the world. But the blindness of infidelity obscured this beautiful revelation with a ridiculous fable: the Huron said that this Manitou repaired the world with the aid of a rat and a female muskrat. Others prayed to certain spirits who they believed to preside over the oceans, woods, mountains, valleys, and other places. But all obey the instructions they believe they receive in their dreams as they would obey a divine being,68 accepting exactly what had been revealed to them in their sleep. If a man dreamed that he had killed another man, he would find him immediately upon waking up; he would take him by surprise and kill him. Those who have no other faith still behave this way, because they feel obligated to obey their dreams, and this evil is one of the greatest obstacles to faith. I just heard two things that confirm what I have just said, and which should inspire those born into Christianity to give thanks to our Divine Lord for the precious call, so pure and so true, that they have received. A native, a respected Iroquoian leader, dreamed that he needed to kill his Christian wife (who was in Montreal at the time living in a village where natives had been settled, many of them Iroquois); he promptly woke up and came to this village, which is more than a hundred leagues from his country, to kill this woman. Learning of this man’s rage, the Reverend Fathers had his wife hide in a locked hut. This furious (albeit frightened) man found his way to the hut by using dogs, who are trained to do this. She hid in the attic; the dogs followed her; finally, she jumped to the ground, fled, and was put in the care of the natives. Look at the blindness of these people without faith, who walk more than one hundred leagues to obey a dream. Another dreamed that he needed to capture a young girl; he walked just as far as the other 67. For Messou and the Manitou, see Introduction, 20 note 65. 68. On the importance of dreams and visions in indigenous culture see “Dreams and Visions,” White, Handbook of Indians of Canada, 132–33; .

98 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION to fulfill this dream. The girl fled to the Reverend Fathers, who hid her; the native flew into a rage, threatening to kill everyone if the girl was not given back to him. While a Reverend Father was distracting him, the girl was put in a rowboat so that she could escape. The native chased after her. She was taken to Chambly, which is one of the forts on the Iroquoian trail; he still followed her. She was taken to various places, but he never ceased to look for her. Finally, he caught her and took her away. Is that cruelty not shocking? What makes it even more frightening are the alcoholic spirits that the French give to the natives: when they drink brandy even once, they obey the phantasms caused by their drunkenness just as they do their dreams. When these two things are combined, there is nothing more ferocious, since when they kill each other, they cut off their opponents’ noses and ears, and many are mutilated in these battles. But let us get back to our questions. [917] III. Did they believe in the immortality of the soul, and supposing that they did, what, in their eyes, did the soul become after death? They believed in the immortality of the soul: the honor they bestowed upon their bodies is proof of that. They believed that the soul, being separate from the body, went beyond the sea, where it rested in peace. To complete this voyage, they were given their last rites, while animal fat is burned near the tomb of the deceased. They were even given some weapons and other necessary things for the voyage. Generally speaking, all American peoples believe that the soul is immortal and that, after death, it will depart for the place where the sun sets, never to rise again. Before encountering Europeans, the natives were so firm in this belief that when they were catechized and were told of Paradise, they would say that they did not want to go there, but rather to the country where the souls of their ancestors had gone. They believed that there, too, lived the souls of beavers, moose, and other animals whose flesh they had eaten during their lives. This belief in the immortality of souls will serve them well during their conversion. IV. Did they have officials who managed peace, war, or government? Yes, they had them: they send ambassadors back and forth to maintain peace, but they often kill the ambassadors in violation of the laws of our nations. They wage war by taking one another by surprise. They sometimes besiege the villages and take control of them; other times, they lift the siege. They rarely fight in organized battle. Their government is not absolute; the chieftains discipline the young with light reproaches, but they are eloquent and persuasive so as to win them over. V. Did they have knowledge of the creation of the world and of the Flood, and is there a holy text similar to the Bible? No to the first question, outside of their inference from the harmony of the world that there existed some great being that had created it and who maintained it in

Correspondence 99 constant and regulated order, as I have already noted. As for the second question, they have their fables, which have some connection to what the Bible says of the Flood. The Abenaki, a people from the south, speak of a young virgin who gave birth to a great man.69 Since this people did not know Europeans any sooner than the other American nations did, their knowledge of the Virgin Mother is extraordinary and surprising. The same applies to their idea of this great man, who is her son, because it is this Manitou of whom I have already spoken that the Huron say restored the world aided by a rat and a female muskrat. [918] VI. How did they preserve the tradition of their history and of what happened in past times? And what if they did not have alphabetical characters to do so? They learn of their historical traditions through the accounts that fathers gave to their children, and that elders gave to young people, because they do not write or even have letters to do so. Because of this, their traditions are mixed with many fables and irrelevances, which grow over time. They cannot understand how we are able to know what is happening in France and elsewhere simply through the written word. They find strength in faith when they are told that writing teaches us about our divine mysteries. If they find themselves three or four hundred leagues from here, and their people who came here to trade take home letters to the Reverend Fathers who oversee them, they are ecstatic when these Fathers tell them all that they did and said in Quebec. They cannot understand how the letter they carried can reveal such great truths without error. This makes them see the Reverend Fathers as Manitous, from whom nothing is hidden and for whom nothing is impossible. This contributes greatly to their faith. VII. What weapons did they use in war, and with what tools did they make them? They used wooden clubs, bows, and arrows, whose tips are made of moose and caribou bone, or of sharpened stone. They carried them in bundles on their backs when they went to war. VIII. How did they live without cooking utensils or fire? Or, if they had fire, how did they keep the fire going? They used well-made dishes of bark. Before they began trading with the Europeans, they made fire with stones, of which they have many. And to cook their meat, they would either roast it over the fire or boil it in large wooden buckets that they filled with water. Then they would heat several stones until they were red hot and place 69. The “great man” is the hero Kluskap who killed his evil twin Malsum the Wolf, for whom see Charles Godfrey Leland, The Algonquin Legends of New England or Myths and Folk Lore of the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot Tribes (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, and Rivington, 1884), 15–18. The Abenaki were part of the Wabanaki Confederacy which included also the Mi’kmac and other Algonquian peoples of northeastern North America.

100 MARIE DE L’INCARNATION them in the water until it boiled and so cooked the meat. To roast the skin, they made skewers of tender bark to which they attached the meat and suspended it over the fire, then rotated it until it was finished roasting. They also made a nettle yarn which they spun without a spindle, twisting it on their knees with the palm of their hands. With this yarn, they made their little artifacts that they would decorate with black-and-white porcupine quills, mixing them with others boiled with roots, which makes these artifacts as beautiful as the cochineal makes the scarlet hue in France. I showed what I just described to one of our Reverend Fathers who is very learned in these matters, so as to verify the authenticity of my account. I am sending it to you with his approval.

Madame Du Boccage Letters on England, Holland, and Italy

translated by Lauren King and Colette H. Winn

Madame Du Boccage, Letters on England, Holland, and Italy The selection of fourteen letters presented here, addressed by Madame Du Boccage to her sister,1 were written from England (six letters dated from London, April 1–May 12, 1750), Holland (the Netherlands; two letters dated from The Hague and Amsterdam, June 20–June 30, 1750), Italy (five letters dated from Turin,Venice, Rome, and Naples, April 15– October 8, 1757), and, finally, from France (one letter, dated from Avignon, June 15, 1758). In them, she describes, among other objects, cityscapes, architectural monuments, fashion trends, leisure gardens, perilous journeys, museums, libraries, theatrical performances, and striking personalities. The bracketed and bolded numbers interspersed through the text denote pages in the Dresden 1771 edition of Du Boccage’s Lettres de Madame Du Boccage.

First Letter: London, April 1, 1750 [1] I did not write to you while traveling, dear Sister; our journey was filled with obstacles. After three days, we were exhausted from being on the road: eight hours of torment spent on a turbulent sea and twenty-four hours in an uncomfortable carriage from Deal to London. You may be wondering why we did not land in Dover; you should know that the great [2] fear of becoming bored in Calais led us to leave the city in uncertain weather. However, the weather did not remain uncertain for long, with the wind and rain soon intensifying; although the storm that we experienced merits being put into verse, I would waste my time doing so. What could I possibly say after what our great poets have said? The truth written by my hand would pale in comparison to their fictions. Let us simply say that the infernal sound of the waves, ropes, sailors, and my unrelenting seasickness stopped me from expressing my fears. The cruelest thoughts followed my pains. I told myself, “I may never again see my sister or the friends that I have left behind, and I will not see the England I so expected to see. I will be blamed for my boldness and my curiosity, and soon will be forgotten.” While I indulged in these overwhelming reflections, the captain remarked abruptly, “The sea is too agitated; you will not be able to enter Dover tomorrow morning. If you wish, we can take you in a rowboat to Deal, a small port two leagues away from here.” The desire to get out of our state of uncertainty prompted us to accept this dreary proposition. The captain took me in his arms to help me into the rowboat, which the waves [3] kept pulling away from the ship in such a way that on the 1. Widow of a certain Monsieur Du Perron, counsellor of the Parliament of Paris.

103

104 MADAME DU BOCCAGE ladder, my guide slipped and dropped me; thankfully, instead of falling into the sea, I landed on a jittery skiff among the rowers, left to the surging sea and dreadfully fearing that Monsieur Du Boccage would be unable to join me. As he was sending down our trunks, he was horrified to see me overtaken by the waves that were pulling me away. My fear intensified as the oars brought me back, but after once again trying to reach me, he finally did so. The boat transfer gave me hope: a single moment of calm put my mind at ease. I caught a glance of two ships from a small fleet that went down while rounding a cape to enter onto the Thames. This simultaneously horrible and beautiful spectacle seemed like a dream to my troubled soul. However, I was soon pulled out of my reverie by a new misfortune. In the little port that we were searching for, the water was too shallow for the rowboats to dock. The sailors—or, should I say, Tritons2 trudging through the sea up to their knees—brought us to shore. Imagine my impatience to get out of my soaked clothes; my belongings had not yet arrived at the inn, so I was dying of cold, hunger, and fear, alone with my chambermaid, the frightened Ducastel. I was being asked for money for drinks by [4] some twenty sailors and porters, whose language I could not understand, while my travel companion was cursing customs officers who were searching our luggage, handing them money to hurry things along. Finally, after an hour, I dried off; but in the agitation experienced aboard the ship that was long gone—the place where we were supplied the bare minimum—we had forgotten our food supplies. Our modest lodging was, however, better than what we could have found in France in a similar setting. We found the supper and sleeping accommodations to be excellent. When speaking of happy people, we say, “They are like travelers after the storm.” Old proverbs always tell the truth, but our happiness just cost too much. I would not wish the same for you; after this treat, we were fortunate to find in close proximity to the village a carriage, which would take us to Canterbury for dinner. There, we saw the cathedral: it is huge, unmistakably gothic, and built atop a much darker underground church, which seemed to me better suited to the Sacred Mysteries. The druids3—pagan priests—barely lit up their temples, and they were right to do so. Christian churches, apart from the modern ones, all look alike, so I will not dwell on the Church of Canterbury.4 We left this ancient city to go to Rochester, where we slept and ate [5] delicious oysters. In the morning we were served bread and butter with tea, even 2. Triton, the merman the son of Poseidon and Amphritite, a god of the sea; see Hesiod, Theogony, 930. 3. Ancient Celtic priests, highly reputed for their wisdom about the natural world and the traditions of their people. See Barry Cunliffe, Druids: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2010). 4. See the nearly contemporary work on Canterbury by John Dart: The History and Antiquities of the Cathedral Church of Canterbury, and the Once-Adjoining Monastery (London: J. Cole; J. Hoddle; J. Smith; and A. Johnson, 1726).

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 105 though we did not want any. The travelers who were with us told us that the custom was to pay for this breakfast and to eat even though we were not hungry, so as to show appreciation for quality inns and good service. The British, in moments of poetic fervor, which they call “moments of love,” wrote countless verses on the walls of the dining room. Here are several lines worthy of both place and subject which I translated into French to make you laugh, while long awaiting the preparation of our horses: Damon5, while eating Chestershire cheese6 full of worms, says, “Just like Samson,7 I kill a thousand of them in a moment.” “It’s true,” Mélite responds. “You use the same utensil.” The city of Rochester, which is densely populated, is one league long and has a considerable port. From there to the capital, the countryside exhibits the freshest greenery, many flocks larger than ours, and farms that appear much more opulent. Hotels and country houses are clean and modest. We found one to be more lavish on the river’s edge opposite Greenwich, where can be seen a multitude of masts along the Thames. A simpleton, hearing the visitors admiring these masts, complained that they blocked his view of the river. At the foot of the hill that overlooks the river, a long and poorly paved suburb leads to the city, which is just as decrepit. In the new part of town, where we are staying on the side of Westminster, where the court resides, the streets are wider and the houses more beautifully kept. When we meet the people who live in those houses, I will tell you about them.

Second Letter: London, April 8, 1750 I promised, dear Sister, to entertain you in the solitude of your manor house with an account of my activities. Our friendship makes them important to you. My life is as busy as yours is calm: my appearance, correspondences, and visits constantly occupy my time. Fifteen or twenty of the most distinguished ladies did me the [7] honor of informing me of British customs. The tradition here is that those women, who welcome newcomers, ask their friends to pay a visit to them before they are even introduced. Lady Allen and Madame Cleveland—women of remarkable 5. Damon and Mélite: names of characters found in comic plays of the time like Philippe Nericault Destouches’ Le philosophe marié, ou le mari honteux de l’être, performed for the first time by the king’s comedians in 1727. 6. One of the most popular cheeses; for its history see . 7. Reference to Judges 15:14–17, in which Samson kills a thousand Philistines with a donkey’s jawbone.

106 MADAME DU BOCCAGE wit to whom Monsieur de Chavigny (formerly our minister in London)8 wrote kindly in my favor—expressed the desire to be my guide. I first paid my respects to our ambassadress, who was kind enough to invite us for dinner the following day. We adhered to her wishes in order to win her favor. Her merit, equal to her birth and social status, gives her all the rights to everything one can obtain here. Magnificent evening entertainments take up the entire evening, lasting from 7 to 11pm. The British recently adopted this custom from Italy; but they do not have large palaces designated for such events, and their circles are therefore crowded. In the mornings, both residents and visitors gather for a charming breakfast noted for the elegance of the tables, dishes and silverware. We had one today at the home of Lady Montagu9 in a room decorated with wallpaper from Peking [modern Beijing] and beautiful furniture from China.10 A long table was covered with a transparent cloth, and all kinds of magnificent [8] bowls were filled with coffee, chocolate, biscuits, cream, butter, bread prepared in a hundred different ways, and exquisite tea. You should know that good tea can only be found in London.11 The hostess, worthy of being served at the table of the gods, served the tea herself, as is the custom. And according to tradition, the clothing of the British ladies is snug to their waists: white pinafores and pretty little straw hats12 look good on them, not only in their homes but also at noon on the promenade in Saint James’s 8. Anne-Théodore Chevignard de Chavigny (1687–1771), high-ranking diplomat, a native of Beaune appointed Minister Plenipotentiary in London from 1731 to 1737, and author of memoirs. 9. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762), English aristocrat and author, best known for her letters inspired by her travels to the Ottoman empire as spouse of Edward Wortley Montagu, the British ambassador to Turkey, and the introduction of smallpox inoculation to Britain and western Europe. These letters, written after she returned to England, appeared in print after her death in 1762, but they were widely circulated in manuscript during her lifetime. See Mary Wortley Montagu, The Turkish Embassy Letters, ed. Teresa Heffernan and Daniel O’Quinn (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 2013), and Billie Melman, Women’s Orients: English Women and the Middle East, 1718–1918: Sexuality, Religion, and Work (London: MacMillan, 1992; online version Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), 77–98. 10. On the “China craze” in eighteenth-century England and the popularity of chinoiseries, see Olivier Impey, Chinoiserie: The Impact of Oriental Styles on Western Art and Decoration (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 11–28 (on furnishings) and 160–75 (on interior decoration); and David L. Porter, “Monstrous Beauty: Eighteenth-Century Fashion and the Aesthetics of the Chinese Taste,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 35, no 3 (2002): 395–411. 11. This comment perhaps refers to the fact that, at that time, tea was becoming a defining symbol of British identity. On the visible role tea played in Britain’s self-identity as a polite and sociable nation, see Markman Ellis, “The British Way of Tea: Tea as an Object of Knowledge between Britain and China, 1690–1730,” in Curious Encounters: Voyaging, Collecting, and Making Knowledge in the Long Eighteenth Century, ed. Adriana Craciun and Mary Terrak (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2019), 19–43; also Jane Pettigrew, A Social History of Tea (London: The National Trust, 2001). 12. For contrasting French and English attitudes toward dress, see Aileen Ribeiro, The Art of Dress: Fashion in England and France, 1750 to 1820 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995).

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 107 Park, where they saunter like nymphs. This vast and rustic park, which the ladies’ charms embellish, is their favorite place to walk, especially at midday. They do not look as ravishing in the evenings at gatherings and in the mornings at court, dressed like French women.13 I do not know why all of Europe feels so inclined to adopt our fashion trends, considering that our vicissitudes are difficult to follow, even in our own provinces; foreigners only discover our fashions when they are out of season and never follow them in the same way that they were originally intended in Paris.14 Each country has its own language, customs, ideas, and should have its own fashion, always better suited to the body than foreign clothing. But here there are many people whose magnificence, manners, and merit come from all countries: among others, Lord and Lady Chesterfield,15 who overwhelm us with their kindness. [9] His lordship, after having served exceptionally in all of the state’s most important positions, far from missing them in peaceful life, continued to benefit from them for himself and for his friends. He visited all the courts and took away only the good aspects from each of them: a greater understanding of humankind, the art of conversation, the mastery of several languages, a comprehensive library, the most beautiful paintings to decorate his palace, and the desire to build it in a sophisticated architectural taste. I am supposed to be taken to shows and public monuments, which I will tell you about soon. Monsieur Du Boccage helps me put my impressions into words; if only you could be with me, too! Your wisdom and fine mind would keep fixing my gaze on objects of note. I shall tell you frankly of our whereabouts and our observations: you wish for accurate accounts, and you will indeed receive such accounts as well as the letters that people write to me. I have just received one written in verse from an eighty-six-year-old lover from Montauban, who believes me to be in Paris and who has never seen me.

Third Letter: London, April 15, 1750 [10] The kindness that is shown to us, dear Sister, makes our stay particularly enjoyable. Yesterday, I had lunch at the home of Lady Shaub.16 The prince of Wales17 13. The robe à la française enjoyed great popularity at courts and among upper classes throughout Europe. See “Robe à la française,” in Sara Pendergast and Tom Pendergast, Fashion, Costume, and Culture: Clothing, Headwear, Body Decorations, and Footwear through the Ages, ed. Sarah Hermsen, Vol. 3: European Culture from the Renaissance to the Modern Era (Detroit: UXL, 2004), 568–70. 14. On Paris as capital of the fashion world, see Introduction, 27 note 104. 15. On Lord Chesterfield, see Introduction, 13 note 43. 16. Possibly the wife of the British diplomat Sir Luke Schaub (d. 1758), a French widow from Nîmes, a Protestant who had the reputation of being very charming. 17. Frederick, prince of Wales (1707–1751), third son of King George II, created prince of Wales in 1729. According to Antoine Lilti, Madame Du Boccage would have tried in vain to be presented to

108 MADAME DU BOCCAGE came in disguise; I was alerted to this and let him believe that I had been duped. He politely asked me about different subjects (including my books), and thus showed that he was highly learned in French literature; he is undoubtedly well versed in English literature as well. After our conversation, this prince had the mistress of the household introduce me the following day at the princess’s court. I went there this morning. Her Royal Highness’s kindness would have reassured me, if such a thing were possible in the presence of two hundred spectators. How easily our perceptions change! Yesterday, one of the king’s disguised sons did not intimidate me; today, he teased me about it and made me humble: I can see that it is not kings whom we fear, but rather the crowds that surround them. [11] This noble assembly gathers at one o’clock, the ladies in a circle and the men behind them in three rows. Their highnesses, followed by the young princes, enter through one door and leave through another, after speaking to the people on whom they bestow that honor. This seemingly endless ceremony lasts approximately an hour. The time spent waiting before and after compels attendees to rest afterwards. I am resting as I write, trying to remember what I want to tell you about performances. The oratorio18 is a religious concert that we very much like. The English lyrics are sung by Italians and accompanied by a great many instruments. Handel19 is the soul of the performance: two torches are carried in prior to his entrance, and placed on his organ. A thousand spectators applaud him as he sits down and the most precise notes can be heard immediately. In the interludes he plays—alone or with the orchestra—his own compositions admirable for their harmony and execution. The Italian opera in three acts is less entertaining. The lengthiness of the recitatives [12] is too much to endure for the few pleasant tunes that come at the end. The performance hall is stunning, but this year’s actors are mediocre. the king: “Furious, she wrote a letter to Madame de Mirepoix [the wife of the French ambassador in London] in which she accused [her] of not having helped her to be presented. The letter circulated in Parisian circles, accompanied by a letter of the duc de Mirepoix to his mother-in-law informing her of Madame Du Boccage’s misconduct.” See Lilti, The World of the Salons, 88. 18. When the Londoners’ fascination with the Italian opera began to wane, Handel turned to oratorios, several of which he based on the works of well-known poets like John Milton. The oratorio is a large-scale concert piece for orchestra, chorus, and solo voices, the plot usually based on a Biblical or religious theme. See Joseph Otten, “Oratorio,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 11 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911); . According to Jeremy Black, the critique of Italian opera and the development of oratorio evidenced the culture of nationalism that emerged in the 1750s; see Black, “Cultural History and the Eighteenth Century,” 10. 19. George Frideric Handel (1685–1759), German-born organist and Baroque composer, who became a British citizen in 1726. During his lifetime, he wrote a great many orchestral pieces and concerti grossi, as well as over thirty oratorios and fifty operas, many of which were intended for the Royal Academy of Music, London’s first Italian opera company. See Jane Glover, Handel in London: The Making of a Genius (London: Macmillan, 2018).

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 109 Their performances come to an end with the winter, whereas those of the British performers last all the year round. They play the roles of subordinate characters more naturally than the French do. Their acting is so believable that a cobbler and a maid appear to be real in their words and their appearance. The British baron Garrick,20 their great heroic and comedic actor, gives the most touching and accurate performance. In their tragedies, the declamations sound as though they were sung. But I cannot be a fair judge of that because in order to listen to a play at the theater, I feel compelled to bring the book with me; as I read it, I lose sight of the actors’ performance, and as I watch, I can no longer hear them. In their smaller productions, they take delight in putting a ridiculous Frenchman on stage. At first, his excessive powder, his snuffboxes, watches, patch boxes always in hand, and his constant bowing seemed to us an outrageous caricature.21 But little by little, we were sad to admit that this portrait is, in reality, accurate. Our actresses surpass their English counterparts in noble roles and in the manner in which they present themselves. We currently have better actresses than the most celebrated here. Yesterday, we saw [13] a buxom Cleopatra, who would only be good for the role of a wet nurse in France. Because people everywhere are the same, the London theatre,22 while very different from ours, still resembles it in several ways. Here, however, there are performances of which we have no idea. I am not telling you about horseraces,23 20. David Garrick (1717–1779), actor, playwright, producer, theater manager, remembered especially for his ability to reveal through his acting significations in Shakespeare’s text that escape the untrained reader. See “David Garrick” in The Cambridge Guide to Theatre, ed. Martin Banham, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 411–12; Pierre Frantz, “Acteurs et comédiens,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 25–26; and Jean Benedetti, David Garrick and the Birth of Modern Theatre (London: Methuen, 2001). 21. The first printed book on caricature drawing was Mary Darly, A Book of Caricaturas: On 59 CopperPlates, with ye [the] Principles of Designing in that Droll & Pleasing Manner, With Sundry Ancient & Modern Examples & Several Well Known Caricaturas ([London]: John Cornhill, 1762). On the popularity of caricature during the Enlightenment, see Philippe Kaenel, “Caricature,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 188–90; on emblematic imagery and stereotypes of the French in eighteenthcentury England, see Diana Donald, The Age of Caricature: Satirical Prints in the Reign of George III (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996); and “Vive la différence! The French and English Stereotype in Satirical Prints, 1720–1815,” The Fitzwilliam Museum (Cambridge, UK) Online Exhibition (March 20–August 5, 2007): . 22. For eighteenth-century British theater, see Andrew Dickson, “An Introduction to EighteenthCentury British Theatre,” British Library (June 21, 2018): ; and Arthur H. Scouten, The London Stage, 1729–1747: A Critical Introduction (Carbondale, IL: South Illinois University Press, 1968). 23. In the eighteenth century, horseracing became a culturally significant sporting activity; see Mike Huggins, Horse Racing and British Society in the Long Eighteenth Century (Woodbridge,UK: Boydell and Brewer, 2018).

110 MADAME DU BOCCAGE cockfights24 and gladiatorial combat.25 I shall leave it to men to describe these terrible pleasures and I shall focus instead on more pleasant subjects, such as the Vauxhall and Ranelagh Gardens,26 which are situated on the charming banks of the Thames. In the morning there, for a fee of one shilling, an entrepreneur provides music, bread, butter, milk, coffee, tea, and chocolate; in the evening, for slightly more, one can enjoy streetlights, concerts, and all sorts of desirable things. Sometimes there are evening balls27 that can be attended for a guinea, but at that price, you will find an assortment of dishes, underground symphonies, fairs, songs, dances, and masquerades as elegant as the divine jewels of our opera soirées. The ladies do not take off their masks. Balls are rare in these gathering places; but every day, people of all social classes and of all ages, in pretty and simple attire, come [14] from all over to escape their troubles. What appears as a phenomenon to the French eye is the order and silence in the middle of a crowd: in France, any noise is found to be bothersome in the smallest of gatherings. Monsieur de Fontenelle28 maintains that in his time, people did not speak all at 24. Animal baiting and organized blood sports were immensely popular in eighteenth-century England, although by 1770, according to the French travel writer Pierre Jean Grosley, such spectacles may not have enjoyed such popularity. He wrote in his travelogue on London, “D’après le goût connu des Anglais pour les combats d’hommes et d’animaux, et pour ces scènes horribles de carnage et de sang, que toutes les autres nations ont bannies de leurs théâtres, j’avais imaginé trouver à Londres un peuple aussi sanguinaire que haut à la main, . . . mais je me trompais”; see Grosley, Londres, 3 vols. (Lausanne [Paris]: s.n., 1770), 1:83. 25. Boxing and pugilism, which involved fighting with the fists, grappling and even kicking, was popular in the eighteenth century as a type of gladiatorial combat. See Sharon Harrow, “Boxing for England: Daniel Mendoza and the Theater of the Sport,” in British Sporting Literature and Culture in the Long Eighteenth Century, ed. Sharon Harrow (Farnham, Surrey, UK: Ashgate, 2015), 153–78. 26. Vauxhall and Ranelagh were the largest and most spectacular pleasure gardens of London; see David Coke and Alan Borg, Vauxhall Gardens: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011). Since 1660, Vauxhall had been a place for Londoners to gather and buy refreshments, but in 1729, it became a highly fashionable resort for Londoners of all classes, thanks to Jonathan Tyers (1702–1767). Vauxhall’s popularity was due to the variety of entertainment it offered (eating and drinking, art work, operas, masquerades, illuminations, fireworks, dancing, social events) and the large crowd it attracted. Tyers added an orchestra pavilion and all sorts of elaborate walks, fountains, and temples, and had Hendel’s statue placed in the gardens. Paintings by William Hogarth and Francis Hayman displayed in Vauxhall’s supper booths made this garden the first public art gallery in Britain. Ranelagh opened in 1746. One of its attraction was a pavilion in the fashionable Chinese style. The admission fee of two shillings and sixpence, as opposed to the low entrance fee at Vauxhall (one shilling), guaranteed a more selective crowd. 27. Fancy-dress balls or masquerades, also called ridottos, enjoyed great popularity in London pleasure gardens as one of the primary forms of entertainment. See Terry Castle, Masquerade and Civilization: The Carnivalesque in Eighteenth-Century English Culture and Fiction (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1986), 1–50. 28. See Introduction, 12–13 note 42.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 111 once. At that time, since there were only a few people who were half-educated as a result of reading journals and dictionaries,29 there were only a few fools who believed they had the right to prevent men of reason from being heard. You are aware of the fuss that our coach drivers make whenever they get into an argument. We witnessed such incidents between enormous carriages in the narrowest streets of London: at these moments, each coach driver gets out, grabs the wheels, and strenuously removes them from the gutter without uttering a single word. Let us move from Vauxhall to Ranelagh, where things are just as calm. The gardens, which are less ornate, feature an arched amphitheater extending a hundred feet in diameter and with three rows of seats, surrounded by shrubbery; a mat on the ground which allows for easy walking; and, in the center, a four-sided furnace encircled by balustrades, which provides some heat and makes one forget the winter. I [15] prefer this magnificent enclosure to the enticing appearance of the Vauxhall Gardens. Few agree with me, but Lord Chesterfield is of my opinion. He asked me to celebrate the area that he praises as well; the desire to fulfill his wishes encouraged me to describe it. My description is accurate, or at least that is what I am told; you cannot judge it from where you are, but I am sending it to you to give you an idea of the entertainments in this country. Verses on Ranelagh Muse who so enchants my moments of leisure, Come give the French a portrait Of these gardens where pleasure, Laughter, peace, and longings, Never in excess, Bring together all the embellishments That art adds to nature’s designs. It is there that, along the crystalline river, London comes to life every evening At the sound of music: A thousand lanterns hanging from the trees Illuminate all the garden’s pleasures. To paint a picture for generations to come 29. Reference to the movement during the Enlightenment era to systematize knowledge and provide education to a wider audience through dictionaries and encyclopedias, as well as journals published by academies and scientific societies. See Daniel R. Headrick, When Information Came of Age: Technologies of Knowledge in the Age of Reason and Revolution, 1700–1850 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), chapter 5. On the changes in the content and style of dictionaries during the course of the eighteenth century, see Carey McIntosh, “Eighteenth-Century English Dictionaries and the Enlightenment,” in Eighteenth-Century Lexis and Lexicography, ed. Andrew Gurr [The Yearbook of English Studies 28, no. 1 (1998)], 3–18; .

112 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Of Vauxhall and its enchantments, We must imitate the poetry of Voltaire,30 [16] And the precise strokes of Albano.31 But you, charming Ranelagh, Would you be so inclined To allow a less renowned hand sketch, out of love for you, The designs of your monuments? In your contemporary appearance, The grandeur of times past still shines; Under a dome adorned with sculptures, Your balconies, divided into compartments, Adhering to the three ancient architectural orders,32 Give the impression of a vast amphitheater; In the center a perpetual fire Recalls the everlasting winter; And the idol of this altar Is liberty without constraint. This place filled with such power Is not a pagan temple, But the work of a citizen Acquainted with the art of Vitruvius;33 From the public good he makes his own And combines the pleasant with the useful.34 In this Elysian sojourn, Handel’s symphonies resonate, And through their echoes, The sound of the organ Blends with the Italian melody. While the ear delights [17] 30. Pseudonym of François-Marie Arouet (1694–1778), historian, philosophe, and poet. See Édouard Guitton, “Poésie en France,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 880–84. 31. Albano signifies Francesco Albani (1578–1660), Italian Baroque painter, known for his large paintings of sacred and mythological subjects. See Rudolf Wittkower, Art and Architecture in Italy, 1600–1750 (Harmondworth, Middlesex, UK: Penguin Books, 1973), 78–83. 32. The three styles of classical architecture, the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian, which are distinct from each other by their proportions and their specific features. 33. Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, known as Vitruvius (c. 90–c. 20 BCE), Roman military engineer and architect, author of De architectura (30–20 BCE). See Indra Kagis McEwen, Vitruvius: Writing the Body of Architecture (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003). 34. The utile dulci ideal of classical aesthetics; see Horace, Ars poetica, l. 343: Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci . . .

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 113 In the singing of a Paccini,35 The mouth finds just as much satisfaction: Resourceful trading Enriches the bounties of the homeland With the tea36 that a Chinaman offers to Tien,37 The exquisite liqueur from Mocca,38 And the black Indian beverage That the Spaniard calls ambrosia.39 Pleasure under the same roof Eliminates ranks and rights; Indeed, this place full of wonders Satisfies all the senses (sight, sound, and taste) And all the classes, including aristocrats, bourgeois, and commoners. You, Greece, who are so proud of your games, must yield victory to Ranelagh, In your plains, the dust-covered athlete, A fierce champion, Once won glory in the form of a laurel crown. Here, a thousand nymphs enchant onlookers With their mischievous, tender or flighty gaze, Their noble, light, or measured cadence, And their hats adorned with flowers; The only prize they search for Is that which is awarded to youth By laughter, grace, and beauty. This is how one finds great delight, Which can be attained, according to Lucretius,40 [18] 35. Perhaps Luigi Pacini, an opera singer from Tuscany, originally a tenor who gradually became a basso buffo, and the father of the famous Italian composer Giovanni Pacini. 36. See note 11 in this section. 37. Tian, originally referred to the sky or Heaven, which is the Chinese supreme godhead. 38. Port city of Yemen known at the time as the major marketplace for coffee. Coffee was introduced to England in the 1600s but it was when the first coffeehouses opened (around 1652) that it became a popular alternative to tea and alcohol. See Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee; and for the competition between tea and coffee in Britain, see John Burnett, Liquid Pleasures: A Social History of Drinks in Modern Britain (New York: Routledge, 1999). 39. Cacao was cultivated by Amerindians but it was the Spaniards who made it palatable to the civilized nations by adding sugar. See Irene Fattacciu, “Atlantic History and Spanish Consumer Goods in the Eighteenth Century: The Assimilation of Exotic Drinks and the Fragmentation of European Identities,” Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos; . 40. Lucretius (99–55 BCE), a Roman poet and a philosopher whose vast didactic poem De rerum natura (On the Nature of Things) translates Greek Epicureanism into the Roman cultural tradition.

114 MADAME DU BOCCAGE In a state of tranquility,41 Or, according to Zeno,42 through wisdom. This much desired happiness Is one that all are keen to define Without having experienced it, Or having tasted it. The English in this celebrated amphitheatre Succumb to its charms; At least young wealthy men In these places are free of boredom And sadness thanks to Comus.43 Like on the shore of the Lethe,44 Time is forgotten. In the breast of freedom, The stubborn politician Rises above his anger towards France; Phillis45 tempers the tone Of the irritated parliamentarian. The ever-anxious merchant Is suddenly free from his fear of turbulent seas; He who is impassioned by ancient times Can now find joy in the present moment; The old woman, while savoring her tea, Sees Hebe46 dancing and feels no regret; And the cortigiana47 willingly 41. A reference to ataraxia, a state of happiness defined in Lucretius’ De rerum natura as the result of inner peace one can attain when free from emotional disturbance or anxiety. 42. Zeno of Citium (c. 336–265 BCE), Greek philosopher and founder of the Stoic School of philosophy in Athens. He thought that inner peace (tranquility) could be gained from living a life of virtue in accordance with reason. 43. Comus or Komos, son of Dionysus, Greek god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity. 44. One of the five rivers of the Greek underworld, to drink from which causes the new arrival to forget the past. 45. Common name of the beloved (frequently a sherperdess) in pastoral and gallant poetry. 46. The Greek goddess of youth and of the prime of life. Reference to the view common in the eighteenth century on the health benefits of tea. Among those responsible for spreading this idea was the famed Dutch physician Tulpius (Nicolaes Tulp), immortalized in Rembrandt’s “The Anatomy Lesson,” who claimed in his Observationes medicae (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1641) that the regular consumption of tea could help one reach an extreme old age. 47. Cortigiana, Italian for “courtesan.” The prostitutes of Rome claimed the Floralia festival as their feast and, according to Juvenal (Satire VI: 60–81), would have performed naked in the theatrical

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 115 Puts on the mask of prudence. Disappear, games of Flora,48 When Rome once flaunted its opulence! [19] London forbids your indecency! With no elegance or reserve, your songs to Plutus49 Make themselves heard; In debauchery and contempt, Depraved champions won Races and armed combats. During the festivities that I celebrate here, He who remains discreet Will find true, delicate, reserved love, And vibrant, poignant beauty Radiating reluctantly; But in this enchanting temple, This god continues to wonder upon whom To bestow the laurels of triumph. Fourth Letter: London, April 25, 1750 I still have told you nothing of London’s monuments,50 dear Sister; let us start with Saint Paul’s Cathedral. This edifice built with stone from Portland, which resists the destructive smoke of coal, is five hundred feet in length, a hundred in width at the entrance, and 223 feet [20] at the transept. A little square with a medium-sized statue of Queen Anne51 leads to the door. One can enter by twelve steps out front, under a peristyle made up of six forty-foot pillars. The second column reaches the temple’s cornice; and from the floor to the top of the dome, it is 340 feet by fortyfoot pillars. A small tax on coal was almost sufficient to cover the cost of building this vast architecture over forty years; it is still considered to be less grandiose, beautiful, and elegant than its model, Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome.

representations. 48. The Roman name of the Greek goddess of flowers, fertility, and Spring. The Floralia festival of April, in honor of Flora, was celebrated with ludi, or games, such as horseraces and gladiatorial contests, and in time, with bawdy theatrical performances and displays of sexual license. 49. The Greek god of abundance or wealth. 50. For other visitors’ accounts of London’s wonders, see Roy Porter, “Visitors’ Visions: Travellers’ Tales of Georgian London,” in Chloe Chard and Helen Langdon, eds., Transports: Travel, Pleasure, and Imaginative Geography, 1600–1830 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996), 31–48. 51. Queen of Great Britain (r. 1702–1714).

116 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Beyond this cathedral is the famous tower built by our William the Conqueror.52 This fortress is one mile in circumference and holds prisoners of the state, as well as archives, currency, the menagerie of ferocious animals, and the Arsenal, where weapons are aesthetically arranged in the form of suns, serpents, Medusa heads, and other bizarre shapes on the walls. In this room there are lifesized statues of thirty or forty kings on horseback, fully armed. The heroes immortalized in London’s statues [21] must have gained renown through their own reputation, rather than the sculptors’ artistic talents. The best among these statues is that of Charles I on horseback.53 It is made of bronze, which was sold by the pound during the Civil Wars by the members of Parliament. The coppersmith who bought it then buried it and gave it back to the state. It was placed at Charing Cross, a little square where this unfortunate monarch seems to still gaze at the window of Whitehall, from where he descended onto the scaffold.54 A fire consumed this palace, which James I55 began rebuilding in a beautiful architectural style. He was only able to complete the dining room, where his apotheosis is painted by [Peter Paul] Rubens56 on the ceiling. Did he see himself as one of the gods? A Christian king momentarily forgets that God reigns in Heaven. The walls on one side represent the unity of the three kingdoms joined under the same king; on the other side, allegorical depictions of Desire, Heresy, and Discord in chains. Cardinal Wolsey57 bequeathed this palace to Henry VIII.58 The reigning prince should complete it. His lodging, despite the embellishments made there previously, is far from being luxurious and is lacking in external adornments. His predecessors lived in Westminster. One can still see the ruins of this great gothic palace, which burned down in the sixteenth century. Its church contains the [22] tombs of many famous kings and statesmen. Honors provide more incentive than pensions. The English have fewer financial foundations for their scholars than we do, but they are better at flattering them. Distinguishing honors do more to inspire talents than to nourish them. Too much sustenance weighs them down; praise is a light and spiritual 52. “Our” because William the Conqueror (c. 1028–1087) was born in Normandy, now a region of northern France, who after the famous conquest of 1066, reigned as king of England (1066–1087). He had the White Tower of London built in the 1060s to protect London from invaders. 53. Charles I of England, king of England, Scotland, and Ireland (r. 1625–1649). 54. Charles I was convicted of treason and sentenced to death by beheading on January 31, 1649. 55. James VI Stuart, king of Scotland (r. 1567–1625) and, as James I, of England and Ireland (r. 1603–1625). 56. Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640), preeminent master of the Flemish Baroque tradition. 57. Thomas Wolsey (c. 1473–1530), cardinal of the Catholic Church, archbishop of York, royal almoner (1509), and a powerful statesman who occupied a prominent place in the government of Henry VIII’s England between 1515 and 1526. 58. King of England (r. 1509–1547).

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 117 substance, which animates and fortifies them. Hopes for the construction of a tomb in Westminster encourage one to strive for distinction in life. This ground also contains the ashes of extraordinary people such as Thomas Parr whose tombstone reads that he died in 1635 at the age of 15259 after having lived under ten sovereigns, from Edward IV to Charles I.60 We also saw wax statues of several kings in their ceremonial clothes, including that of King George61 in the great hall of Westminster Palace. This is where Parliament meets, and where women are allowed entry on the day when Parliament concludes. Our surprise was great, as we believed to be entering a more majestic place; its name alone filled us with awe. We expected to see [23] the 170 lords (as many clergymen as laymen of the Upper House62) sitting in a dignified manner suited to their important positions. This is not at all what happened: we found them in no order whatsoever, wearing red robes adorned with ermine according to their ranks, and not knowing where to sit. They had given up their seats to the ladies, a group of whom, dressed beautifully, filled the room. The only exception was a little circle reserved for the king, who arrived at the sound of a cannon and sat down under a canopy on his throne, with his crown on his head. Surrounded by the great officials of the kingdom, he sat with the Prince of Wales to his right and the Duke of Cumberland63 to his left: one held a scepter, the other a sword. A deputy of the 558 members of the House of Commons came to the stand to give his declamation. Several actions were proposed to Parliament and the king responded through the chamber clerk as follows (in Old French): May things be done as requested; as the King so desires; or the King thanks you for your kindness. The sovereign then gave a relatively short speech, the two Chambers expressed their gratitude, and His Majesty left at the

59. To judge by William Harvey’s autopsy, he would have been approximately seventy years old when he died (c. 1483–1635). Nevertheless, Parr remained a fascinating case in the eyes of artists such as Anthony van Dyck and Peter Paul Rubens and poets like John Taylor who, in a 1635 poem about Parr, claims that the secret of longevity is a simple rural life. See Taylor, The Old, Old, Very Old Man, or the Age and Long Life of Thomas Parr (London: Printed for Henry Goffon, 1635), online at Archive.org: . 60. He would have lived under three dynasties: the House of York with Edward IV (1461–1470, 1471– 1483) and Richard III (1483–1485); the Tudors with Henry VII (1485–1509), Henry VIII (1509–1547), Edward VI (1547–1553), Jane Grey (1554), Mary I (1553–1558) and Elizabeth I (1558–1603), and the Stuarts with James I (1603–1625) and Charles I (1625–1649). 61. George II, king of Great Britain and Ireland (r. 1727–1760). 62. The Upper House, or House of Lords comprised two chambers: the Lords Spiritual which included the sixty-nine bishops in the established Church of England and the bishops who sat by right of a peerage, and the Lords Temporal composed of secular members including life peers and hereditary peers. 63. Prince William (1721–1765), third son of George II of Britain and Ireland, created duke of Cumberland at the age of four, knight of the garter, soldier by profession; remembered for the repression of the Jacobite rebellion at the battle of Culloden (1745).

118 MADAME DU BOCCAGE sound of the cannon in a large gilded carriage, one of the few in this country, as vehicles so beautiful would not last long. It is said that the city is dirty and poorly paved due to the scarcity of sandstone, and because citizens in a free nation pave the roads as they see fit, each person does so outside his own door: [24] the pavement must often be broken up in order to mend the water pipes; all the houses are supplied with water from the River Thames, which is filtered through a fire pump. The ladies are carried in sedan chairs64 within the space where footmen walk. In the evening, two rows of lanterns attached to posts on both sides of the pavement light up the streets and give them a festive air. The houses have one floor halfway underground, which requires one to walk up several steps to get to the front doors. The same goes for the courtyards, where carriages are unable to enter and must pass by the backroads. The footmen wait in a room heated by a wood furnace at the bottom of the stairs to avoid getting them dirty, while the masters are prevented from removing the polish of the staircase by way of a rug that covers it. There is no antechamber preceding the gathering room, which is adorned with small mirrors and is often adjacent to a solitary study. A dozen so-called palaces, which in Paris would simply be viewed as large houses and which our wealthy citizens would most likely renovate, are worth mentioning in London; but there are several squares which are rather vast. All things considered, the English are still a hundred years behind us as far as luxury is concerned; they therefore imitate us as all the other European nations do, albeit to their detriment. Their rooms display few armchairs: tall chairs, barely padded,65 are suitable for them. Women [25] who wear no blush but yet are still wearing stays66 (as it once was done in France) are fond of these chairs. They resemble our grandmothers, not only in their court clothes (donned as they were in marli67), but also with their air of friendly welcome and their good manners. These beautiful women appear less conceited than French women, who are often excessively so and will do anything to hide a tiny defect of nature. We see here a greater number of women at gatherings and performances than in Paris; they go there in their later years without fear of showing their 64. On this mode of transportation in eighteenth-century London, see Harold W. Hart, “The Sedan Chair as a Means of Public Conveyance,” The Journal of Transport History, vol. fs-5, no. 4 (1962): 205–18; . 65. Chairs had high backs and the seats were made of woven cane, rush, or upholstered in leather. On the various styles of chairs that appeared then, see Herbert Cescinsky, English Furniture of the Eighteenth Century, 3 vols. (London: G. Routledge & Sons, 1909–1911), 3:44–50, 181–200, 309–27. 66. Stays were designed to pull the shoulders back and create a very erect posture and a high full bosom. In the eighteenth century, it was more common to see women wearing stays in England than it was in France, and this was true for all classes of society. See Lynn Sorge, “Eighteenth-Century Stays: Their Origins and Creators,” Costume 32, no. 1 (2013): 18–32; . 67. The French marli designates a gauzy fabric produced in the city of Marly city (Marly-le-Roi) situated near Versailles in France.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 119 wrinkles; mothers bring all their daughters, who live in the public eye and are less constrained than our young demoiselles.68 Yesterday, at the home of the Duke of Bedford,69 I had the pleasure of seeing the Countess of Yarmouth,70 whom I found to have a charming figure. The gathering was exceptional; a row of gambling tables on both sides of the large gallery was a rare sight in London, where apartments are on the smaller side. The Duke of Richmond’s71 home (where we once dined) has a pleasant view over the Thames and is richly decorated; but its magnificence only serves to make the duke’s noble simplicity more noteworthy. His interest in literature led him to entrust his children’s education to Monsieur Tremblay,72 a man from Geneva, [26] famous for his discoveries on polyps. Let us go back to the Duchess of Richmond,73 who combines her likeable qualities with the most singular care for her house. She prepares her daughters herself for their inoculation,74 and during the operation she stays with them at the apothecary’s, for fear that her children in the cradle, nursed under her watch, might contract smallpox before reaching the proper age to be able to endure it. Few of our highborn mothers would deprive themselves like this of pleasure, for six weeks, in order to benefit their families. I share this anecdote to give you an example of the maternal concerns of British ladies of every rank. The satisfaction that they find in this more than compensates the want of those vain amusements, which occupies our minds without satisfying them. . . . 68. Demoiselle designates a woman of the upper class or the bourgeoisie, whether wed or unwed. 69. John Russell (1710–1771), 4th Duke of Bedford, knight of the garter, secretary of state (1749– 1750), member of the Whig party. 70. Amalia Sophia von Wallmoden, Countess of Yarmouth (1704–1765), principal mistress of King George II (1730–1760), to whom she gave a son, Johann Ludwig, created Count of Yarmouth in 1783. See Matthew Kilburn, “Wallmoden, Amalie Sophie Marianne von [née Amalie Sophie Marianne von Wendt], suo jure countess of Yarmouth (1704–1765), royal mistress (1704–1765),” September 23, 2004, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography; . 71. Charles Lennox (1701–1750), 2nd duke of Richmond, grandson of King Charles II, remembered as the longest serving Master of the Horse in the eighteenth century and as early cricket’s most important patron. 72. Abraham Trembley (1710–1784), naturalist from Geneva who won fame for his discovery of the hydra-like regenerative capacity of freshwater polyps. For an overview of natural sciences in eighteenth-century Europe, see Pascal Duris, “Histoire naturelle,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 543–47; on Trembley, see Aram Vartanian, “Trembley’s Polyp, La Mettrie, and EighteenthCentury French Materialism,” Journal of the History of Ideas 11, no. 3 (June 1950): 259–86. 73. Sarah Cadogan (1705–1751), daughter of the 1st earl of Cadogan, wife of Charles Lennox, duke of Richmond. 74. Inoculation against smallpox began to be practiced in England in 1721 thanks to the efforts of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu but it was Hans Sloane who promoted its use. See Robin A. Weiss and José Esparza, “The Prevention and Eradication of Smallpox: A Commentary on Sloane (1755) ‘An Account of Inoculation,’ ” Philosophical Transactions of The Royal Society, Biological Sciences 370 (April 2015), DOI: 10.1098/rstb.2014.0378; .

120 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Fifth Letter: London, May 25, 1750 When I woke up, dear Sister, I received the most beautiful gifts in the world: from Lady Montagu, the superb new edition of Milton in quarto;75 from Lady Allen, two little agate vases; and from the Duke of Richmond, a sweet-smelling pineapple.76 This is a new fruit for me, which I had previously seen only in candied form. [29] Such kindness overwhelms me and is all the more flattering, given that the British are thought to be sincere in their benevolence. They are wrongly accused of being cold to foreigners. I cannot believe that they treat us so kindly. We hardly resemble those French people who rebel against all that is unfamiliar to them. On the contrary, the more we move away from our habits, the more we satisfy our curiosity. We do not visit a country to impose our own fashions, but rather to discover new ways of doing things. Patriotic spirit is far more prevalent here than in France. Under Queen Elizabeth, Gresham77 (a merchant from London) used his own means to build the Stock Exchange, a college,78 and five hospitals. He even set aside funds to feed prisoners. Harvey,79 who first became aware that blood circulates in our veins, 75. The 1750 Glasglow edition of Milton’s First Book of Paradise Lost, in quarto. See Henry John Todd, The Poetical Works of John Milton, With Notes of Various Authors [. . .], 5th ed. (London: Rivingtons, Longman and Co., 1852), 4:528. Two years earlier, Madame Du Boccage had published in French an adaptation of Milton’s Paradise Lost in six cantos: Le Paradis terrestre, Poème imité de Milton (London: s.n., 1748). 76. Originally discovered by Christopher Columbus on his second voyage to the Caribbean region, the pineapple made its way to England in the seventeenth century. In the eighteenth century, it generally indicated wealth because of its high import fees, and was a symbol of hospitality. See Alan Davidson, The Oxford Companion to Food, 2nd ed. by Tom Jaine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 626–27. 77. Thomas Gresham (c. 1518–1579), son of a wealthy textile merchant and banker, the adviser and banker of three Tudor monarchs (Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I), and a wizard of global finance. Between 1566 and 1568, he founded the Gresham Exchange (renamed the Royal Exchange by Elizabeth I in 1571), which was modeled on the Bourse of Antwerp. See John Guy, Gresham’s Law: The Life and World of Queen Elizabeth I’s Banker (London: Profile Books, 2019). 78. Gresham College (founded in 1597) offered instruction in mathematical sciences and a convenient place in central London for those engaged in scientific pursuits to meet. After the Great Fire of 1666, Gresham College housed the Royal Society until the Society could purchase a building of its own in 1710. See Francis R. Johnson, “Gresham College: Precursor of the Royal Society,” Journal of the History of Ideas 1, no. 4 (1940): 413–38; and Francis Ames-Lewis, ed., Sir Thomas Gresham and Gresham College: Studies in the Intellectual History of London in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Aldershot, Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 1999). 79. William Harvey (1578–1657), who made the momentous discovery of the circulation of the blood, considered by some to be the most important since Galen. See Alain Touwaide, “Physiologie,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 804–5, and Fielding H. Garrison, An Introduction to the History of Medicine: With Medical Chronology, Suggestions for Study and Bibliographic Data, 4th ed. (London: W. B. Saunders Company, 1960), 246–49.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 121 donated his house and possessions to the School of Medicine. Lord Middleton,80 saddened to see a district of the city deprived of water, had a river dug at great expense. Lord Cotton bequeathed to the State the Library of Westminster;81 that of the Duke of Norfolk82 is at the Royal Society, founded by Charles II. Monsieur Folkes83 is its president; our wise Fontenelle recommended me to him, pretending that I was his daughter. Imagine the honors I received! Yesterday, [30] he brought Monsieur Du Boccage to one of his gatherings, had us for lunch with his pretty daughter, and showed us on a map of London (where he works) that this capital is the same size as Paris. He also believes the number of residents to be equal. It is said that the walls, built by Constantine,84 increased in size to the point of having thirty thousand towers. The Fire of 166685 engulfed thirty thousand wooden houses, Saint Paul, and other churches. The loss was estimated to be two hundred million in francs. Within three years, ten thousand houses were rebuilt, as well as a hundred public edifices built of stone or brick. This also provided an opportunity to enlarge the streets. The rich citizens wanted to embellish the sections of the city that had been ruined; but their meager efforts show that their sense of architectural design was still very limited. It has developed since then, but not at the same rate as their financial growth. 80. Hugh Myddleton (c. 1560–1643), a Welsh-born goldsmith, merchant-adventurer, and engineer. Between 1605 and 1620, he built “the New River” which brought fresh and ample water from the River Lea in Hertfordshire to central London, and greatly improved the city’s sanitation problems. See “Hugh Myddleton, the New River and London,” . 81. Sir Bruce Cotton (1571–1631), first baronet, politician, and advisor to King James I. His collection is considered to be the largest collection of manuscripts ever assembled in England by a private individual. See C. J. Wright, ed., Sir Robert Cotton as Collector: Essays on an Early Stuart Courtier and His Legacy (London: British Library, 1997). 82. Thomas Howard (1585–1646), earl of Arundel, patron of the arts and the most important art collector in early seventeenth-century England. His sculpture collection was given to Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum; his library went to the Royal Society, and the manuscripts known as the Arundel collection were later transferred to the British Museum. See Linda L. Peck, “Uncovering the Arundel Library at the Royal Society: Changing Meanings of Science and the Fate of the Norfolk Donation,” Notes and Records of the Royal Society 52 (1998): 3–24. 83. Martin Folkes (1690–1754), antiquary, numismatist, mathematician, astronomer, president of the Royal Society from 1741 to 1752. See David Boyd Haycock, “Folkes, Martin (1690–1754), Antiquary and Natural Philosopher,” September 23, 2004, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography; . 84. Flavius Claudius Constantinus, known as Constantine (316–340 CE), second son of Emperor Constantine the Great, became ruler of Britain, Gaul, and Spain at the death of his father in 337 and reigned until his death in 340. The London wall had been built earlier by the Roman occupiers of London, probably between 190 and 225 CE. 85. On the political, legal, and cultural significance of the Great Fire of 1666, see Adrian J. Tinniswood, By Permission of Heaven: The True Story of the Great Fire of London (London: Jonathan Cape, 2003).

122 MADAME DU BOCCAGE I would have thought that the philosophical mind was much more common among the English. We were very surprised the other day to see ten thousand people running to their country houses or sleeping in the fields out of fear of an earthquake, which had been predicted by a soldier.86 This prophecy cost him [31] some time in prison as punishment for the stupidity of gullible people. I believe his prediction would have provoked less terror in Paris. Despite such superstition, books of reason have begun to make their way among the English; but their writing practices as well as their architecture, painting, and sculpture are still in their beginning stages. However, there is a beautiful Doric pillar, two hundred feet by fifteen in diameter, erected in memory of the terrible fire I just mentioned. One of the inscriptions attributes this disaster to the Papists.87 The Gunpowder Plot under James I is one of the crimes for which Calvinists still blame them.88 This monument is located to the right of the London Bridge, where large vessels can be found. On the other side of the river, a thousand boatmen wait to take passengers from one city to another. It is said that in 1200, they found a merman on the Thames, fed him for six months on land, and released him back to sea.89 In 1606, the tide, which was rising noticeably, brought in a whale and subsequently took it back. During nautical jousting, the sailors [32] along with the spectators lining the shores, provide a most pleasant sight. Further upstream we find Chelsea, famous for its magnificent hospital, a manufactory of porcelain,90 and Lord Sloane’s cabinets of curiosity, the most renowned for natural history in all of Europe.91 We went through fourteen rooms, 86. Compatriots of Voltaire thought of England as the land of enlightened people: “Pendant tout le XVIIIe siècle, l’Aufklärung de tous les pays voyait dans le gouvernement, la société et l’opinion anglais, l’apogée des Lumières”; Porter, “Angleterre,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 80. When an earthquake shook Lisbon, costing the lives of some 60,000 people (November 1, 1755), Voltaire addressed the fundamental question of evil in his Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne. 87. Derogatory term for Catholics. 88. The Gunpowder Treason Plot, also called The Jesuit Treason, was a failed attempt on November 4, 1606 to assassinate King James I by a group of Roman Catholics led by Robert Catesby. See Pollen, “The Gunpowder Plot.” 89. The merman: the term is triton in the French original, alluding to Triton, a son of the Greek sea god Poseidon (the Latin Neptune), whose lower body was in the form of a fish. 90. This was the first and most significant porcelain manufactory in England (c. 1743–1769), known for its soft-paste porcelain and its pieces with botanical illustrations based on the plants growing in the nearby Physic Garden; see Chelsea Porcelain Works, at Royal Collection Trust: . 91. Hans Sloane (1660–1753), royal physician to Queen Anne, George I and George II and the first physician to be created a baronet (1716); president of the Royal College of Physicians in London; founder, then secretary, and finally president of the Royal Society. In his will, Sloane bequeathed all his collections to King George II for the nation, and they formed the foundation of the British Museum. See Arthur MacGregor, “Sloane, Sir Hans, baronet (1660–1753), physician and collector,” September

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 123 full of books and rarities, and in the garden we saw a whale skull providing shade for a table with twelve seats. This inquisitive old man wants to leave the abundant fruits of his research to the Royal Society, which is already rich in that field. Doctor Mead, famous in medicine, also possesses literary treasures.92 He showed us the illuminated drawings of all the antique fresco paintings preserved from ancient Rome and a beautiful collection of paintings from various schools: the head of Homer saved from the Fire of Corinth, Egyptian bronze statues, and portraits of the great poets and philosophers of his nation. Such decorations are worthy of a good citizen. He also introduced us to Mexican-style chocolate. I have adapted to these foreign dishes quite easily and even to typical British cuisine, which we normally dislike; their unrefined meat, their pudding, their fish [33] (which is far less expensive than in Paris and therefore served at every meal), and their chicken in a butter sauce are excellent. Just as we do with cherries, they make a wine similar to that of Burgundy, without grapes, and in baskets made of rush or silver, they present small morsels of bread, almost in the same manner in which blessed bread is served; a portion of six would hardly sustain me. I had been told that they rarely invite foreigners for dinner, but I have found that they religiously observe the laws of hospitality. We had not been here more than two days before we were invited for dinner. The mornings are long and they only sit down to eat at four o’clock. Men go out early in the morning in casual attire, either on foot or on horseback, and often return for dinner at the tavern; when six o’clock rings, it is time to get dressed up and the majority go to the theatre incognito or to Vauxhall. It is only necessary to dress formally when one is invited to the opera and for dinner. The lords have a café where an entrepreneur, for three hundred louis per person each year, provides them with light, fire, refreshments, and copious meals in the evenings—just what one needs to experience indigestion. Gambling is ordinarily a sure way of losing one’s fortune.93 These associations are comprised of about one 23, 2004, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography; ; and James Delbourgo, Collecting the World: Hans Sloane and the Origins of the British Museum (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2017). 92. Richard Mead (1673–1754), physician and author of a book on poisons (A Mechanical Account of Poisons), art collector, and philanthropist. Mead was the most prosperous medical practioner of his time and yet his collections were sold and dispersed after his death to pay off his debts. See Ian Jenkins, “Dr. Richard Mead (1673–1754) and His Circle,” in Enlightening the British: Knowledge, Discovery, and the Museum in the Eighteenth Century, ed. R. G. W. Anderson (London: British Museum Press, 2003), 127–35. 93. By the mid-eighteenth century, gambling spread to all levels of society. In London, several exclusive clubs developed out of the coffeehouses and other existing meeting places for the privileged. See Mike Paterson, “Gambling in London’s Most Ruinous Gentlemen’s Clubs,” guest post by Luke Rees in London Historians Blog (June 5, 2014): ; and Jessica Richard, “Introduction: The Gambling Culture of Eighteenth-Century Britain,” in The Romance of Gambling in the EighteenthCentury British Novel (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 1–17.

124 MADAME DU BOCCAGE hundred people; [34] no candidate is admitted without a unanimous vote and bad behavior usually leads to banishment. People from all social classes thus form coteries with rules reflecting their interests. There is currently a rule that allows one to speak only for a few minutes; the president of this club (a well-spoken baker) holds a watch and a gavel, which he strikes as soon as the given time has expired; each person listens in silence and the speaker, eager to express his thoughts, is very concise. Our beaux parleurs (smooth talkers) would often need similar constraints. Fashionable people, eager to come to this gathering, were admitted under the same conditions. In Great Britain, one does not find people from the nobility usurping titles or coats of arms, and commoners show more respect for them than we do, even though they do not require it. The odes and prefaces addressed to the nobility are just as celebratory as those of our writers. At meals where people of letters assemble, we made sure to honor the ingenious authors of Tom Jones and Clarissa.94 I was asked about the author of Marianne and Le paysan parvenu.95 Bradley, the renowned astronomer, continues to be honored at the Royal Society.96 “Parnasse” no longer [35] includes Skakespeare or Adison. Instead, I found Madame Le Prince, from our city of Rouen, who writes excellent treatises for the education of young people and implements them with great success.97 An Italian named Maty publishes a journal that is held in high esteem throughout Europe.98 You are aware of the popularity of Voltaire99 and 94. The picaresque novel Tom Jones was published in 1749 by the English novelist and dramatist Henry Fielding (1707–1754). Clarissa, an epistolary novel by Fielding’s contemporary and rival, Samuel Richardson (1689–1761), appeared in 1748. 95. Unfinished works by the French novelist and dramatist Pierre de Marivaux (1688–1763), a friend of Madame Du Boccage, whom she had met through Fontenelle. 96. James Bradley (1693–1762), astronomer remembered for his discoveries of the aberration of light (1725–1728) and the nutation of the earth’s axis (1728–1748); see Sir Richard Woolley, “James Bradley, Third Astronomer Royal,” Quarterly Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society 4 (1962): 47–52; . 97. Jeanne Marie Le Prince de Beaumont (1711–1780), a teacher and author of essays, epistolary novels, instructional handbooks for teachers and parents, and fairy tales for children like Beauty and the Beast. From 1748 to 1763, she worked as a governess in London. See Marie-Antoinette Reynaud, Madame Leprince de Beaumont (1711–1780): Vie et œuvre d’une éducatrice (Editions Publibook, 2002). 98. Matthew Maty (1718–1776), son of Paul Maty, a Protestant refugee from Dauphiné, physician, contributor to the Bibliothèque britannique (The Hague, 1732–1747) and the Bibliothèque raisonnée des ouvrages des savants de l’Europe (Amsterdam, 1728–1753), fellow of the Royal Society (1751) and the second principal librarian of the British Museum, put in charge in 1756 of the department containing Sloane’s books and manuscripts. See P. R. Harris, “Maty, Matthew (1718–1776), physician and librarian,” September 23, 2004, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography; . According to G. Gill-Mark, Maty would have requested a copy of Madame Du Boccage’s Milton adaptation for the British Museum; Gill-Mark, Une femme de lettres, 55. 99. Voltaire acquired notoriety in England during his sojourn there in the years 1726–1729, where he perfected his knowledge of English and wrote two long essays in this language. Most importantly, his

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 125 Montesquieu100 here; yesterday, at the home of Lord Chesterfield, we toasted them after a copious feast with hardly any philosophical discussion. This well-read nobleman is unfortunate to have a French chef. Lords let themselves be poisoned by rich French cuisine on the recommendation of their physicians who only care about ruining their health. Man’s foolish sense of luxury will eventually infiltrate all nations, but we will not be there to see it: the venom will have annihilated us before their fall. You, who love the frugal life of those who work in your pastures, will applaud my desire to speak against opulence and idleness. My aversion for them comes from my father; I take the liberty of praising him for it; please let him know, it will save me having to write a letter. . . .

Sixth Letter: London, May 12, 1750 [36] You complain, dear Sister, that I do not tell you about my health; it fluctuates so much that whatever I would tell you about it would no longer be accurate when you receive my letter. You wished to hear about the British government, but books would tell you more about it than I could; and yet, they would not reveal my true sentiments on the subject. It seems to me that the various political parties, which are necessary for the balance of power, accustom this country to a contentious mindset, breeding bad faith in disputes. He who is constant in his emotions finds it difficult to remain loyal to the same party, as politics evolves over time. Did we not see the Whigs and the Torys continuously change their opinions in a way that makes it challenging to characterize their objectives?101 It is the same in Italy

exposure to English life led to the publication of his Letters Concerning the English Nation, a major work of the Enlightenment first published in English in 1733. See Anthony Netboy, “Voltaire’s English Years (1726?–1728),” Virginia Quarterly Review 53, no. 2 (1977), reprinted at VQROnLine (2003): . 100. Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu (1689–1755) was already highly esteemed in England for his Lettres persanes (Persian Letters, 1721) before he stayed there for almost two years (1729–1731) on his European tour. From his observations while he resided in England, Montesquieu wrote Notes sur l’Angleterre (Notes on England), a short piece which appeared posthumously and has been seen as “a close precursor of the section on division of power in De l’esprit des lois” (The Spirit of the Laws, 1748). For an open access to the English translation of the Notes on England, see Iain Stewart, “Montesquieu in England: His ‘Notes on England,’ with Commentary and Translation Commentary,” Oxford University Comparative Law Forum 6 (2002); . 101. Rival political factions, whose names derived from the conflict between those who supported the future King James II, eventually forced to abdicate, and those who wanted him to be excluded from the royal succession because he was Catholic.

126 MADAME DU BOCCAGE with the Guelphs and the Ghibellines,102 and it will always be this way with large factions. Here, the love of freedom seems to make slaves of its defenders. Thanks to their status as noblemen, the members of the Upper House [37] do not need to run in order to be elected; but their credibility increases in Parliament only in relation to their support from the Lower House. The need to have their brothers or friends elected obliges them to take the voices of the commoners into account, as every vote matters. In the cities where elections are about to be held, he who is willing to buy the next round for club patrons, obtains the most votes for the candidate that he supports. The cost can be exorbitant when one’s opponents are resilient and wealthy. If the Parisian Parlement were elective, our ladies would scheme to place their own candidates. Here, women have little influence in public affairs, but can wear the crown and govern the nation; the lords’ wives have seats on the dais and wear distinctive symbols of honor during great celebrations. Women in France (a country renowned for its gallantry) have no specific rank; they do not have access to the throne and are forbidden from filling seats in the Academy.103 Let us forget for a moment these contradictions (the world is full of them) and come back to the guineas that the lords spend on elections. When they are absent from their country houses, they are still obliged to have a table set for the neighboring nobility. Here is what [38] one must do to maintain local support! A lady of the court, whose attire I was admiring the other day, told me, “If one of my farmers fancied having lunch at my table, I would have to tolerate it in order to win his vote.” The French bow down to the greats and the English do so to the people; yet the subordinates here need the protection of the lords and willingly pay them homage. This mutual need produces the best of governments, if it were possible to eliminate this type of abuse, but where is this possible? The world is full of such practices; our neighbors, who have long resisted the yoke, make it more difficult to reign over them and they therefore retain the right to choose some of their leaders. The mayor of London, head of a vast jurisdiction, is elected by the city. His one-year term is brief yet impressive; a large palace built for him, but where he does not live, serves as a place for ceremonies. On the day of his installation, he entertains there lords and the royal family. In 1356, a mayor named Picard had the honor of seeing four monarchs at his table: Edward III, king of England;

102. Opposing factions, supporters alternately of the pope (the Guelphs) and the Holy Roman emperor (Ghibellines), whose conflicts divided and devastated Italy from the twelfth through the fourteenth centuries. See Edmund Gardner, “Guelphs and Ghibellines,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 7 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910); . 103. The Académie française, established in 1635 by chief minister Cardinal Richelieu with the mission to establish French as a national language and to develop a dictionary and maintain linguistic standards.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 127 the unfortunate Jean, king of France; David II, king of Scotland; and Hugh IV Lusignan, King of Cyprus.104 [39] The sovereigns in London are viewed differently than are those in Paris. The spirit of liberty makes the people less inclined to praise lavishly and allows for the practice of all religions: Presbyterians, Anabaptists, Catholics, Episcopalians, Jews, etc. The other day, we attended a gathering of Quakers. I put on the modest clothing of a Quaker woman, assumed her grave air, and was thus placed on the side of the women. If there are some among them who are enlightened by a prophetic knowledge, they rise like Pythia,105 twist into a thousand contortions and preach on a footboard instead of a three-legged stool. We wished to see a woman in such a trance but instead, the Holy Spirit only allowed us to hear men who poorly relayed her unintelligible gibberish.106 Perhaps outsiders should be kept away! We are outsiders ourselves, but the Quakers have a slow way of speaking that makes their English easy to follow. From this gathering, we went to the Jewish synagogue. However, the awful sounds of the Hebrew prayers made us leave as soon as we could.107 I told you about what surprised us the most in London during such a short stay; but let me now share with you our short trips in the surrounding areas. [40] We dined yesterday three leagues away from the city at the Chief Justice’s home. His clothing as well as his noble and simple demeanor are those of a true senator. His wife fits the same profile, and so does their country mansion. Its structure is conventional and the large rooms are solidly furnished. In the traditional dining room, two large buffets contain abundant silverware and the table abounds with good food (excluding stews). According to British customs, the vast park is home to herds of deer, whose tender meat people here crave. We have different dishes, values, and prejudices; even their medicine is distinct from ours. I am skeptical about the fact that a distance of a hundred leagues can make such a difference, and I would be tempted to consider their medicine a science in its own right. In Italy, beef broth is preferred for the sick; in France, veal; in London, lamb. No one eats the meat used to make the broth; it is considered overdone and the broth from the meat cooked to eat is ordinarily thrown away. 104. The royal figures named are King Edward III (1312–1377); King Jean II, known as Jean le Bon (1350–1364); King David II (1319–1371); and King Hugh IV (1295–1359). Sir Henry Picard, who hosted them, was Lord Mayor of London (1356–1357). 105. Priestess of the sanctuary dedicated to Apollo at Delphi, who delivered oracles in a frenzied state. 106. Compare Du Boccage’s observations to Voltaire’s favorable view of the Quakers in Letter Two of his Letters Concerning the English Nation. 107. Madame Du Boccage’s comment shows how complex the theory and practice of toleration was during the Enlightenment. By going to the synagogue, she appears to advocate toleration, and yet she makes disparaging remarks about the Jewish worship. Similar paradoxes can be found in Voltaire’s writings on Jewish themes; see Adam Sutcliffe, “Myths, Origins, Identity: Voltaire, the Jews and the Enlightenment Notion of Toleration,” The Eighteenth Century 39, no. 2 (1998): 107–26.

128 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Lobster, crab, and large radishes, thought to be good for digestion, are served everywhere. Doctors, whose fees are very high, [41] are not keen on bloodletting or enemas.108 In England, beer, bread and butter are common refreshments; in Holland, cheese and tea are customary; in Ireland, Jerusalem artichokes are a typical dish. And yet, humans die all the same. Travel, books, and life experiences teach one that no matter how one approaches enjoyment, physical activity, health, lodging, diet, problem solving, and self-deception, all the above amount to the same thing. One may then wonder, “why travel”? It is good to experience what reason calls into question. Indeed, the extremes in almost every realm are closely linked. For example, the need for bread among commoners and for fame among courtesans reduces both to the same baseness; but one finds people of different types in the middle class, where human nature is more conditioned by local traditions. But farewell, I am being pulled away from my lessons in morality to be taken to Kingston, the king’s country house at the gates of the city. I must leave you for now.

Letters on Holland (June, 1750) Tenth Letter: The Hague, June 20, 1750 [61] I have not written to you, dear Sister, since I was in London, so that I would have more things to share with you. We were so uncomfortable during our trip from Calais to Dover that we did not dare risk a longer one from Harwich to Holland. A calm sea led us to Calais to take the carriage awaiting us. While passing through Dunkirk, I thought of the unfortunate time when the English took over, forcing us to destroy the city;109 we should fear that our neglecting the navy might again plunge us into a similar demise. The sight of Ypres [62] also recalled the evils done to us by its bishop, Jansen.110 He died there of the plague, no doubt a punishment for the harm that he had caused. All perishes and passes. Ghent, the large city that is home to the 108. We refrained from translating the remainder of this sentence due to a lack of clarity in the original French: “L’émétique des mourans sont les vesicatoires.” 109. Reference to the Battle of the Dunes on June 14, 1658, which ended the Spanish domination of Dunkirk. But Louis XIV awarded the city to Charles II in gratitude to England for forming an alliance with France against Spain. See Roy Morris, Jr., “Dunkirk and the Dunes,” MHQ—The Quarterly Journal of Military History 31, no. 2 (2019). Reprinted at Historynet.com: . 110. Cornelius Jansenius (1585–1638), bishop of Ypres and founder of Jansenism, the theological movement that was named after him. See Jacques Forget, “Jansenius and Jansenism,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 8 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910); .

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 129 ancient counts of Flanders, is half empty.111 The churches filled with paintings by the great masters still retain an air of gothic grandeur. After admiring them, we wanted to take a walk; the coach driver took us through a maze of streets. We kept seeing the same carriages again and again, and finally asked when we would arrive at our destination. We were told that we had been traveling for an hour; this is called balocher.112 This fad originated in Spain during a time when their ladies were strictly controlled. This is, I believe, still popular in Madrid, but I cannot see myself wasting time all over town for pleasure’s sake. The morning following this leisurely visit, we traveled to Anvers by passing through Flanders. The fear of boredom is for us always disastrous. We had to cross the Scheldt River, which is very wide in this area and therefore extremely agitated. The ferry was on the other side; how could we possibly spend two hours waiting for it? We resolved to leave our carriage with those accompanying us, and to imprudently entrust our lives to a flimsy skiff. The swells threw us perilously into the air a thousand times, preventing [63] us from reaching the shore. We had to climb a ladder from our little boat to a vessel attached to the port, which was quite embarrassing. We finally arrived, and as we no longer had a carriage, we crossed the city on foot and were able to see the gothic gables of the houses, which are higher than those in Ghent and in a better state as well. In terms of health I am a bit fragile, but a fortunate habit of mine (walking and avoiding idleness) and the garment that I wore (short and snug to the waist as in Great Britain) prepared me for all the difficulties that we encountered on the road. I easily reached the inn with an appetite that would have made the fish of Anvers seem excellent to me, even though it might not have been; and the following morning, we visited churches and saw great paintings which were well-preserved. Today there are fewer celebrated artists in the homeland of van Dyck, Rubens, and a painter named Smitt who is famous for his camaieu works.113 Commerce has been declining there since Amsterdam and Rotterdam have become prosperous. We reached this last city through Moerdijk, where we left our carriage to get into a boat, whose captain would have made an excellent subject for the portrait of Charon.114 The wind was strong. As if to reassure us, he made 111. From the time it was built in 1180 until 1353, the Castle of Ghent, named the Gravensteen, was the residence of the rulers of the county of Flanders, the so-called Counts of Flanders. 112. balocher: idling about town carelessly and merrily. 113. Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641), Flemish Baroque artist who in his later career became court painter in England; and Aernout Smit (1641–1710), Dutch painter who specialized in seascapes, beach scenes, and landscapes, for whom see The Kremer Collection: . Camaieu is a technique of monochromatic painting. For Rubens, see note 56 in this section. 114. The irascible ferryman of Hades whose duty was to carry the souls of the newly deceased across the Acheron River that separated the world of the living from the world of the dead; see Dante, Inferno, Canto 3:82–99.

130 MADAME DU BOCCAGE sure we were aware of the unfortunate death of [64] the Prince of Orange, who drowned in 1711 on this little sea.115 We were still better off there than in that dreadful postal carriage, which rattled all the way to the Meuse River. We crossed it twice in order to reach the homeland of Erasmus, whose statue we could see from the windows of our inn.116 Rotterdam is a rich city. It is densely populated and well-built, being divided by large canals filled with the cool water of the Meuse River, which brings the largest vessels to the center of town. We were pleasantly surprised by the combination of masts, trees bordering the canals, steeples, and belvederes. We were just as amazed by what we found at the home of Monsieur Bischop, a shopkeeper who works in his wool dressing gown in the humblest of boutiques.117 To satisfy our curiosity, the old man briskly directed us to a small and dark staircase leading to a room lined with unappealing wardrobes containing his treasures, which he showed us. These included a hundred boxes filled with the greatest Flemish paintings, antique vases of gold and enamel, porcelain from Japan, and the most exquisite dishware from Saxony that I had ever seen. There were also a number of lifelike miniatures in the form of flowers and fruits by a pastry chef, and paintings of natural scenes by a cook, that an optical glass extends and deepens infinitely. The owner of [65] these works of art has a secondary residence with just as many rarities, but which is as vast as his shop is compressed. This unique situation sheds light on the mores of a country where the rich citizen does not sacrifice a single moment that might increase his wealth simply for the sake of pomp. While leaving Rotterdam, we passed through Delft where we heard the sound of a clock with a thousand bells chiming in unison. We saw the tombs of Grotius118 and of Admiral Tromp,119 as well as those of a hundred-year-old couple 115. John William Friso, Prince of Orange, Stadtholder of the provinces of Friesland and Groninger in the Dutch Republic, accidently drowned on July 14, 1711, at the age of 23, while trying to cross the Holland Diep, a large river near Moerdijk in the Netherlands; see . The French painter Bernard Picart painted the scene in 1729. 116. This is supposed to be the oldest statue of Erasmus in the Netherlands. Made out of bronze by the Dutch artist Hendrick de Keyser, it shows Erasmus turning the pages of a huge scholarly tome. It was unveiled in April 1622 in the Grote Market; see Jeroen Giltaij, “Erasmus,” Sculpture International Rotterdam: . 117. Pieter Anthony de Huybert van Kruiningen (1693–1780), Dutch writer and friend to Lord Chesterfield. 118. Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), Dutch scholar, author of a vast correspondence with French humanists (Epistolae ad Gallos, 1648), and jurist, whose major work, De jure belli ac pacis (On the Law of War and Peace, 1625) is still viewed as having laid the foundation for modern international law. See John D. Haskell, “Hugo Grotius in the Contemporary Memory of International Law,” Emory International Law Review 25, no. 1 (2011); . 119. Maarten Harpertszoon Tromp (1598–1653), Dutch army general and admiral, the highest ranking sea commander under the Stadholder during the first Anglo-Dutch War in the mid-seventeenth

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 131 who died not even a month apart from one another after spending seventy-five years together in harmony. Being familiar with the strong and tender ties that develop in marriage, we hardly glanced at this monument and were enthralled by a more magnificent one, built in the memory of the Prince of Orange assassinated in Delft.120 At his feet is a dying dog, heartbroken over the loss of his master. What invaluable lessons a thinking mind can draw from the nothingness of human glories by looking at these representations! We reflected on this while traveling three leagues down a charming path, which leads to the most beautiful village in Europe. The Hague, from where I am writing to you, contains squares, beautiful streets, slightly muddy canals, [66] and palaces, which are not as well-built as they are clean. Ambassadors, state deputies, and the richest nobles live there. We only expected to see the French Minister, but Lord Chesterfield,121 without warning us, wrote on our behalf to the Count of Holderness, the British Ambassador.122 No one in his nation looked so worldly, as we say. His merit reflects his magnificence and his kindness towards us goes beyond what I could tell you. The beauty of the countess (enhanced by a noble simplicity) and her politeness are not any easier to describe.123 I had not brought appropriate clothes to accompany her to the princess’s court, where she kindly planned to introduce me. Our Minister took my travel companion to the Stadtholder. Their Royal Highnesses addressed him and others in the circle in their respective tongues, as easily as if all languages were natural to them: their children are skilled at learning languages and they demonstrate intellectual talents. The people of this court, like those of others, perform, walk, pass time, go to the French Comedy in an impressive theater, and attend Italian operas. Gatherings are like those in London, [67] and we had the pleasure of finding here the same warm welcome as we do there. The Spanish Ambassador, Del

century; see David Plant, “Maarten Harpertszoon Tromp, 1598–1653,” at the BCWProject: . 120. William the Silent, Prince of Orange (1533–1584), main leader of the Dutch Revolt against the Roman Catholic Habsburg King Philip II of Spain that triggered the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648) and eventually led to the formal independence of the United Provinces (1581). In 1584, William who, by then, was seen as a traitor to the king and an enemy of the Catholic Church, was assassinated by Philip II’s Catholic subject and supporter, Balthasar Gerard. See Herbert H. Rowen, The Princes of Orange: The Stadholders in the Dutch Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1900), 8–31. 121. Lord Chesterfield served as ambassador to The Hague on two separate occasions. 122. Robert Darcy (1718–1778), 4th earl of Holderness, British diplomat and politician, appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to the Dutch republic from 1749 to 1751. See H. M. Scott, “D’Arcy, Robert, fourth earl of Holdernesse (1718–1778), politician,” September 23, 2004, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography; . 123. Mary Doublet (1720/21–1801), a wealthy heiress, daughter of Francis Doublet, and a member, of the States General of Holland. See Scott, “Darcy, Robert.”

132 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Puerto, invited us to an elegant dinner with forty guests.124 Our dinner today at the home of the Prince of Nassau was just as magnificent.125 It is there that they drink the real wine of Cap;126 ours is merely an imitation. Despite the fatigue that I feel, I have the strength to keep going. How can one fully enjoy so many pleasures? I try my best to do so, considering the time of our departure is approaching. We did not plan to come back, but Lady Holderness ordered otherwise and invited us to stop by after we visited the other cities of Holland. Everyone begged us to return and I could not resist such solicitations. This morning we traveled two leagues to see the Chateau Rijswijk made famous by the Peace of 1697127 and we are leaving this evening for Amsterdam, from where I shall write to you if I get the chance. Traveling and entertainment leave me hardly any time to breathe. . . . [68] In the end, this worldly life is only a short pilgrimage; on this subject, I shall translate for you a telling fable that I came across this morning in the Spectator.128 A dervish traveling in Persia arrives at the capital city; assuming that the influential people of that country often spend their wealth building lodgings for travelers, he confuses the king’s palace for one of these [69] magnificent inns. With a distracted mind he crosses the first and second courts, reaches the galleries, drops off his luggage, and makes a bedside table out of his bags. One of the guards notices, tells him about the place that he is disrespecting, and immediately chases him out. As this goes on, the monarch passes by, laughing at the traveler’s error and asking him how on earth he could mistake the home of a sovereign for an ordinary inn. “Sire,” the dervish says humbly, “dare I ask you a question: who were the masters of these beautiful places before Your Majesty?” The king 124. Joaquin Ignacio Barrenechea y Erquinigo, Marquis del Puerto (1681–1753), ambassador of Spain to the United Provinces (1746). See Didier Ozanam, Les diplomates espagnols du XVIIIe siècle: Introduction et répertoire biographique, 1700–1808 (Madrid: Casa de Velàsquez; Maison des pays ibériques, 1998), 176–77. 125. William IV of Orange-Nassau (1711–1751), prince and first hereditary Stadholder of all the United Provinces of the Netherlands. See Rowen, The Princes of Orange, 163–85. 126. South African wine, first produced at the Cape of Good Hope, a port on the Spice route between Europe and Asia, founded by the Dutch East India Company. See Christiaan Louis Leipoldt, Three Hundred Years of Cape Wine, 2nd ed. (Cape Town, South Africa: Tafelberg, 1974). 127. The Treaty of Rijswijk, signed September 1697, ended the Nine Years’ War (1688–1697) between France and the Grand Alliance. See Linda Frey and Marsha Frey, eds., The Treaties of the War of the Spanish Succession: An Historical and Critical Dictionary (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1995), 389–90. 128. Daily periodical published in London from 1711 to 1712 by the politicians Joseph Addison and Sir Richard Steele, and revived in 1714; one of the bestsellers of the eighteenth century for its essays on society, morals, manners, and literature. See Jamie Pratt, “ ‘To Enliven Morality with Wit’: The Spectator,” History Magazine (Oct.–Nov. 2001), . According to Ros Ballaster, this story from John Chardin’s account of his Persian travels would have appeared in Spectator no. 289 (Thursday, 31 January 1712). See Fabulous Orients: Fictions of the East in England, 1662–1785 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 30.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 133 responds that his father, grandfather, and all of his other ancestors preceded him. The dervish then asks him to whom, after the king, these immense roofs will be passed down. “To the prince, my son, of course!” the surprised monarch exclaims. The pilgrim then remarks: “A house whose host changes so often may bear the prestigious name of a palace, but it is no different from a roadside inn.”

Eleventh Letter: Amsterdam, June 30, 1750 Throughout Holland, dear Sister, there are small boats which depart every hour on the hour. We took one [70] headed for Leiden and hoped to see the famous Musschenbroek upon arrival, but because of his old age and the late hour, his bed was calling him.129 Not wanting to inconvenience him, we spent the evening at the home of Monsieur Allamand, a professor of physics.130 He performed several experiments for our entertainment131: one concerned the new and artificial magnet (comparable in strength to the natural magnet) and another the ancient catapult, which is said to be as powerful as the canon. The latter is used for demolishing the walls around a besieged city and is easier to transport. We enjoyed looking at these machines and having a good supper. The following morning, we were intrigued by what we saw in the Anatomy Room, including a cat, a flying monkey from the Indies, the hand of a sea nymph, and the skeleton of a young man who swallowed a knife in the seventeenth century while attempting to dislodge a bone that he was choking on. To remove this morsel that was impossible to swallow, his stomach was opened and he went on to live for eight more years. Among such wonders, we were shown near The Hague the place where Mathilde was long ago condemned to give birth to three hundred children for envying a poor woman’s fertility. In Leiden, a loaf of bread was once transformed 129. Pieter van Musschenbrock (1692–1761), Dutch mathematician, physicist, and inventor, credited for his discovery of the principle of the Leyden jar (device for storing static electricity). See Edward G. Ruestow, Physics at Seventeenth and Eighteenth-Century Leiden: Philosophy and the New Science in the University (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1973), 113–39. 130. Correcting Ballemand. Jean Nicolas Sébastien Allamand (1716–1787), appointed in 1749 as professor of mathematics and philosophy at the University of Leiden and later put in charge of the Cabinet of Natural History maintained at the university. His reputation in Europe was mainly based on his additions to the Histoire naturelle of Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (36 vols., published 1749–1789) but he also wrote on other subjects, including physics. See L. C. Roomaker, “J. N. S. Allamand’s Additions, 1769–1781, to the New Edition of Buffon’s Histoire naturelle published in Holland,” Bijdragen tot de Dierkunde 61, no. 3 (1992): 131–32; . 131. The French says “pour nous amuser,” which shows that Madame Du Boccage, like the educated public of her time, was interested in experimental physics, not in scientific physics, because she viewed it as “fun,” amazing, spectacular. On the interest in experimental physics, see Georges Gusdorf, Les principes de la pensée au siècle des Lumières (Paris: Payot, 1971), 174–77.

134 MADAME DU BOCCAGE into stone to punish a young girl who refused to share bread with her sister during a famine. The university of this city boasts a great number [71] of intellectuals from every country and of all types, including Grotius, Heinsius, Vossius, Burman, Scaliger, Descartes, Saumaise, Gronovius, Groevius, Bayle, Basnage, Leclerc, etc.132 During the 1512 Raid of Roerden, Federigo de Toledo spared only the life of the scholar Hortensius.133 Antiquity gives us similar examples. Knowledge, handy as it is, can save our lives. Muses, Cicero says, nurture youth, delight us in old age, and make the future brighter. They also provide comfort during times of adversity, offer asylum to the unfortunate, facilitate commerce, and accompany us in our travels and our rural labors.134 I feel that this wise Roman statesman is right: studies and work, more certainly than pleasure, make hours feel like moments. Idle life, on the contrary, flows slowly like a peaceful river; it always presents the same surface and offers neither fear nor surprise, ultimately leading to languor. While working, time is like a torrent whose agitation awakens the soul, banishes the memory of past evils, the fear of the future, and current worries. The soul is therefore filled with desires and hope, our sole resource. [72] From the famous museum, which led me to these thoughts, we went to the botanical gardens. Coffee plants, cultivated in greenhouses, bear a cherry-like fruit. Bohea tea has round leaves whereas green tea has pointed ones; the leaf of the cinnamon tree resembles that of the bay tree; sugar cane, a sort of reed, has narrow and long leaves. Art controls nature; fruits of all climates grow here: we have been eating cantaloupe, pineapple, grapes, and large peaches, which ripened by way of costly woodburners. It is common to see medium to large gardens, 132. Most of those named were Dutch classical scholars: alphabetically, Pieter or Petrus Burman (1668–1741), classical author in Utrecht and librarian of Leiden University; Jacobus Gronovius (1645–1716), Dutch classical scholar, editor of the Thesaurus graecarum antiquitatum; Daniel Heinsius (1580–1655), classical scholar and librarian of Leiden University; Joseph Justus Scaliger (1540–1609), French humanist and Calvinist leader, who spent his last fifteen years in Leiden as the world’s first research professor, known today as the founder of modern chronology; and Gerardus Vossius (1577–1648), Dutch classical scholar and theologian, regent of the theological college of the States-General at Leiden. Others listed are Jacques Basnage (1653–1723), Protestant pastor who fled to The Hague after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685), and a French historian known for his History of the Reformed Churches; Pierre Bayle (1647–1706), French philosopher, forerunner of the Encyclopedists, who moved to the Dutch Republic to flee religious persecution and taught at the École illustre of Rotterdam; René Descartes (1596–1650), French mathematician, philosopher, and natural scientist, who spent a large part of his active life in the Dutch Republic; Jean Leclerc (1657–1736), Genevan theologian and biblical scholar; Claude Saumaise (1588–1653), French classical scholar and philologist who became professor at Leiden University in 1632, succeeding Scaliger. Groevius is not identified, but may duplicate Gronovius. For the famous Dutch jurist Grotius, see note 118 in this section. 133. This event and these persons cannot be identified. 134. Paraphrase from Cicero’s oration Pro Archia poeta 7.16, a work in defense of the Greek poet Aulus Licinius Archias and in praise of good literature.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 135 whose upkeep costs approximately fifteen thousand livres. The workers earn up to four livres per day. They spend a part of their time smoking and drinking tea as well as coffee: the masters are obligated to give some to the servants. These beverages are sold in public squares, as lemonade is in Paris at midday. It is strange that it is only through eating foreign food that the whole of Europe lives pleasantly: coconut, American sugar, Arabian saps, leaves of Chinese shrubs, and so forth. How can produce from these remote areas sustain countries like ours, abundant with vases, fabric, clothing, etc.? The Chinese say, “We pity those poor Europeans who, due to the sterility of their land, are forced to put all [73] their efforts into building vessels so as to come all the way to our ports in search of their needs.” Utensils from the Indies are common.135 Everything can be found in Holland even though nothing grows there. The four elements are lacking: the air is bad for health near the swamps; the water tastes so foul that I am forced to drink that of Bristol,136 which is as expensive as wine; fire is made by burning peat instead of wood; and the earth looks like a dried-up bog despite the fact that the dykes are always on the verge of breaking. Men work diligently to maintain them, especially near Harlem; it is accessible by way of a lock, where the sea is higher on one side than on the other. The only remarkable thing about this city is the resounding tune of its church’s organ, whose pipes are as tall as a man. Amsterdam is located three leagues away. Three large canals, bordered by trees and situated at a large distance away from the homes, surround this capital. These houses, which are adorned with marble, paintings, and rich rugs, seem more remarkable for their cleanliness than for their architectural style. Three hundred thousand hardworking residents collect treasures from both the Indies and Europe. The sight of numerous public edifices is pleasing to the eye: but they have no tall bell towers because the sandy terrain could not support the weight. [74] One of the Dutch churches contains the tomb of Ruyter, who started as a sailor and went on to become an admiral.137 After completing ten voyages in the Indies 135. The “Indies,” or “East Indies,” refers generally to the Asian regions at this time frequented by European merchants and travelers. The period considered to be the golden age of Dutch trade and commerce began in 1602 with the foundation of the Dutch East India Company (the Vereenigde Landsche Ge-Oktroyeerde Oostindische Compagnie, abbreviated VOC), a state-chartered consortium of independent trading companies which controlled trade with Asia. See René Favier, Les Européens et les Indes orientales au XVIIIe siècle: Aspects maritimes, commerciaux et coloniaux (Paris: Ophrys, 1997), esp. chapter 2. 136. Probably a reference to water piped into the city of Bristol from 1695 to 1782 by the Bristol Waterworks Company; see . 137. Michiel de Ruyter (1607–1676), Dutch admiral who distinguished himself at the Raid on the Medway, an attack on English battleships by the Dutch army under his command, and led the Second Anglo-Dutch War to a rapid end in June 1667. See Kennedy Hickman, “Biography of Michiel de Ruyter, Great Admiral of the Netherlands” (July 25, 2019), at ThoughtCo.com: .

136 MADAME DU BOCCAGE and enduring eight naval battles, he was killed in the seas of Sicily while fighting against our Duquesne, another man who became a hero by chance.138 Few men at sea are of another kind. This profession requires a huge amount of time, which our aristocrats, too fond of pleasure and court life, do not have. The Dutch owe their great assets in Asia to their naval skills.139 In accordance with the Dutch tendency for hyperbolic expression, they go by the following titles: “Sovereigns” of [the Indonesian islands of] Java, Ambon, and other islands; “Commanders” of all the seas in the world; “Protectors” of European kings and princes; and “Supreme Regulators” of all Christian affairs. Their East India Company includes fifty ships at sea and fifty thousand men on foot; this company earns large sums of money, whereas ours has always lost money over the ten years since it began trading with the East Indies. I did not expect to come across beggars in England or in Holland; they are everywhere, and for the sake of humanity, they should only be allowed at the hospitals that provide food for them. In Amsterdam, amidst the many permitted religions, there are also [75] partisan disputes, which have plagued us for a long time. Several churches (nine Jansenist and thirteen Molinist) were established there. These controversialists remain at odds and hate each other more than they do the Calvinists and the Lutherans.140 The mutual desire that so many tolerated sects have to establish themselves possibly contributes to the severity of Dutch moral standards. Public spectacles are rare and pleasure is scarcely sought; love may exist, but its zeal seldom overcomes the coldness and virtue of beautiful women. Idleness does not drive their husbands to search for pleasure elsewhere: they are too keen on public affairs to waste time on love. At the home of one of these hardworking bankers, I had the pleasure of meeting three men of merit from different walks of life: Monsieur de Saint Sauveur, a consul of our country;141 Monsieur Tronchin, a famous doctor;142and 138. Ruyter was fatally wounded during the Franco-Dutch War at the battle of Agosta (April 22, 1676) while he was fighting against the French fleet under the command of the French naval officer, Abraham Duquesne (1610–1688). 139. In the middle of the seventeenth century, the Dutch navy was the most powerful in the world. See Jaap R. Bruijn, The Dutch Navy of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993), 57–125. 140. On these controversies, see Introduction, 25 note 94. 141. Perhaps André I Grasset de Saint Sauveur (1724–1794), Consul General of France, appointed Secretary to the General Governor of New France in 1750. See Anne Mézin, Les consuls de France au siècle des Lumières, 1715–1792 (Paris: Ministère des affaires étrangères, Direction des archives et de la documentation, 1998), 326–27. 142. Théodore Tronchin (1709–1781), born in Geneva into a family of Protestant refugees from Languedoc, renowned physician, Fellow of the Royal Society, promotor of the inoculation against smallpox, close friend to the French philosophers. See F. C. Shattuck, “Théodore Tronchin,” Transactions of the Association of American Physicians 23 (1908): 124–37.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 137 the Chevalier de Jaucour, as well-known for his knowledge as for his lineage (he travels modestly and is all the more respected for it).143 These wise men were willing to spend time showing us first the office of Monsieur Grankam, owner of many Flemish paintings and the greatest work of van Huysum, which [76] I was able to see;144 then, the silk manufactures; next, the picturesque country house of Monsieur Pinto, a man of letters and good taste;145 and finally, the beautiful and modern City Hall, which is a hundred ten feet long and eighty feet wide. However, I find it to be too low despite being built on thirteen thousand stilts. The nightguard makes his patrol around this building where huge sums of money from the bank are kept. The dark rooms are decorated with portraits of the most illustrious mayors, some of which were painted by van Dyck, Rembrandt, and Rubens.146 The senators, elected by the people, govern the city and send deputies (as do the six other provinces) to the States Provincial, which subsequently send a few of them to the States General of The Hague. The Stadtholder—whose rank is hereditary, an honor that even extends to his daughters—has no voice, yet wields a great deal of power. He governs simply by his influence. I could not begin to explain this sort of authority: it is felt from within and cannot be explained. Before the last war, the families who alternately held the mayors’ elective seats sent their younger sons (those lacking talent for public affairs) to serve their country. Ignorance reigned among the troops while discord ruled the Senate; to eliminate this disorder, they took up arms. The province of [77] Amsterdam wanted to preserve its previously republican constitution, but those who won reinstated the House of Orange as their leader. The reformed constitution that the House wanted to establish did not lower the price of food, which is outrageously expensive here; taxes, which are necessary for the maintenance of dykes, exceed the revenue of the land. As a result, commerce fails 143. Louis de Jaucourt, better know as Chevalier de Jaucourt (1704–1779), scholar and avid writer who contributed some 17,000 articles in physiology, chemistry, botany, pathology, and political history to the Encyclopédie; Fellow of the Royal Society and good friend of Tronchin. See Thomas Ferenczi, “Le Chevalier de Jaucourt: A Soldier for the Enlightenment,” Le Philosophoire 47, no. 1 (2017): 77–133. 144. Jan van Huysum (1682–1749), a painter from Amsterdam, known as the still-life specialist of his time. See “Huysum, Jan van,” Enycyclopaedia Britannica (1911), 14: . 145. Isaac de Pinto (c. 1715–1787), born into a prosperous family of Portuguese Jewish origin; internationally renowned economist and financier, a philosopher who engaged in dialogue with such writers as Hume, Voltaire, Diderot; author of books on Jewish questions, public credit, the tax system, games and speculation, etc. See José Luís Cardoso and Antonio de Vasconcelos Nogueira, “Isaac de Pinto (1717–1787): An Enlightened Economist and Financier,” History of Political Economy 37, no. 2 (2005): 263–92. 146. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606–1669), Dutch Baroque painter and printmaker, known chiefly for his portraits and history paintings, considered one of the most important artists in the Dutch tradition. For van Dyck and Rubens, see notes 56 and 113 in this section.

138 MADAME DU BOCCAGE throughout Europe. The residents of Amsterdam think that the already-diminished magnificence of their country will continue to decline; but the port, at first glance, does not show this deterioration: prosperity arrives with the vessels that come from every nation. While sailing yesterday toward North Holland, we admired the multitude of masts along the shoreline. We arrived in the only vehicle ever used here. Just imagine the structure of a carriage on a sled similar to those that transport merchandise in commercial cities. Presently, several people are granted permission from the government to have wheels, but sleds still persist. We used one of these vehicles; a large horse with a collar, led very slowly by a man on foot, pulled us and tore up the cobblestone until we reached the shore. Then, we took a sturdy boat [78] to Sardam, the village where the Tsar Peter [the Great of Russia] spent two years disguised as a carpenter to learn about the construction of war vessels.147 One day, His Majesty accidentally took the tools of one of his plebeian companions, who responded with insults. Rather than complaining about this, the royal “carpenter” admitted his wrongdoing and awaited his punishment. This was to be expected of a prince who was as fair as he was courageous. In the places that I have described, one can pay homage to him for his virtue and kiss the ground he walked on. The brick-paved streets are always cleaner than sparkling dishes. Women carry their husbands on their backs when there are no slippers around to keep them from getting the floor dirty. Even the cowsheds are scrubbed, and the cows’ tails are rolled up so that they will not get dirty. No servant in all of Holland would want a master who would forbid their moving the furniture to the attic on Sundays so that the house could be cleaned from top to bottom. Every day, windows and walls are clean inside and out; they are repainted often along with the shutters and doorframes to give them the look of newness. The little ceramic tiles that pave the [the floors of the] inn where we stayed in Sardam are lovely to look at. Perch and [79] eels cooked in water satisfy the taste buds. These are indeed “water-fish.” After dinner, we went to see all kinds of mills: paper, saw, and those where mustard and other grains are ground. Here, the machines act like men and men like machines. These heavyset people do not seem equipped for thinking. As we continue through North Holland, we find the same industriousness, cleanliness, and passion for gardening. The residents of the North love fruit and flowers, which are scarce here. The register of Alcmaer indicates that at a public sale in 1737, the price of a hundred twenty tulip bulbs went up to 200,000 livres. These Batavians, who essentially cleared the land they now cultivate, take good care of it and keep

147. On his incognito tour of Europe of 1697–1698, known as the Grand Embassy, Tsar Peter I (the Great; r. 1682–1725) studied shipbuilding in Zandaam (in North Holland; here Sardam) and Amsterdam in the Dutch Republic.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 139 expanding at Neptune’s expense.148 When raging waves crash into the dykes, the residents attempt to stop them from flooding the land and employ [windmills with] huge sails to control the sea (and most likely utter a few magic words as well). Each region has its own story. It is said that in the fifteenth century, a group of young girls found a mermaid in the reeds on the shores of the Zuiderzee. They taught her to spin thread and to curtsy, but despite their efforts and [80] chattering, she remained as silent as a fish. This magnificent land gave birth to the House of Hoorn and to [Willem Cornelisz van] Schouten who miraculously traveled the world and, in 1616, discovered a passage beyond the Strait of Magellan that bears his name.149 There you have it! This is all that I have discovered in this canton. We are going to Utrecht to explore further, so I will have much to tell you concerning our return to The Hague.

[103] Letters on Italy (1757) Sixteenth Letter: Turin, April 15, 1757 You would like, dear Sister, an account of my travels in Italy, similar to the one I wrote seven years ago about my travels in England. Will I always be a slave to my word? The task is longer and more difficult this time. Learned people of all sorts speak about this beautiful country; what could I possibly add to their observations? If I resolve to write about my travels, our friendship will make it more interesting to you; however, my letters [104] will bore those with whom you share them. It is true that the tendency to speak constantly about oneself, seen as vain in all other situations, can hardly be considered so in a correspondence, the point of which is to share the things that affect us the most. I will do my best to entertain you while describing the wonders that strike my fancy. A hundred people watch the same object and contemplate it from many different perspectives; may my own enhance the pleasure you find in reading about these places!

148. The “Batavians” refers to the Dutch who, as they expand the land under cultivation, building dykes to hold back the sea, prosper at the expense of Neptune, the Roman sea god. 149. The House of Schouten was a prominent family of Hoorn, the Netherlands. Willem Cornelisz van Schouten (c. 1567–1625), the Dutch explorer and navigator for the Dutch East India Company, was famous for his discovery in 1616 of a new passage around the southern tip of South America between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, which he called Cape Hoorn (or Horn) after the name of his native city. See Max Quanchi and John Robson, Historical Dictionary of the Discovery and Exploration of the Pacific Islands (Lanham, MD: The Scarecrow Press, 2005), 151–52; and Michiel van Groesen, “Changing the Image of the Southern Pacific: Willem Schouten, His Circumnavigation and the De Bry Collection of Voyages,” The Journal of Pacific History 44, no. 1 (2009): 77–87.

140 MADAME DU BOCCAGE Last Easter, Monsieur Du Boccage and I departed; those who knew of our fragile health disapproved. We were already tired from our travel preparations, upset to leave our friends and the charming house where we lived, but full of a desire to see new things. Despite being worried about the dangers of our journey, we were very eager to leave. You are familiar with these contradictory emotions. In the chaos of our thoughts and the traffic congestion in Paris, we crossed the city in silence. We had barely passed the city gates when the wind, hail, and snow submerged us, penetrating the interior of our Italian carriage. We had been told that it would hold up for a thousand leagues; we believed at the very least that [105] even if the hinges were poorly attached, the body of the carriage would not break off right away. The moment that we reached the first carriage post, a small wheel broke; we spent two hours mending it. What a way to start our trip! If this had occurred in the time of fortune tellers, we would have turned back; but since we live in this so-called philosophical era, we bravely made the journey to Fontainebleau. We were forced to stay there to have new wheels made. No day had ever seemed as long or as trying as the two that we spent in a place where in any other circumstance the location and its majestic views would have made me want to stay. To entertain myself, I talked to an old man who told me that since the time of Louis le Jeune,150 this castle was the kings’ hunting lodge. Saint Louis151 retreated there to pray, as did François I152 to indulge his passion for the fine arts. From Bologna, he brought Primaticcio,153 a student of Giulio Romano,154 to decorate the castle, and sent him to Rome to build the Laocoön, Trajan’s Column, etc. This monarch wished to build the Column in marble at Fontainebleau. By his order, the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, an imitation of the one on the Capitoline Hill, was erected in the fountain courtyard, which was built by

150. Louis VII, called the Younger or the Young (1120–1180), son of Louis VI, king of France (1137– 1180). In 1137, he would have signed two charters at Fontainebleau. See M. A. Bray, “Les origines de Fontainebleau: Fontainebleau avant François I,” Bulletin monumental 94, no. 2 (1935): 175; . 151. Louis IX, called Saint Louis (1214–1270), king of France (1226–1270), leader of the Seventh Crusade (1248–1250). In 1259, he had a hospital built next to the Château of Fontainebleau and a convent, the Couvent des Trinitaires, with a chapel that was replaced in 1509. See Bray, “Les Origines de Fontainebleau,” 176–77. 152. François I (1494–1547), king of France (1515–1547), Renaissance patron of the arts and letters. After his return from his captivity in Madrid in 1527, he moved permanently to Fontainebleau. 153. The Italian artist, Francesco Primaticcio (1504–1570), is associated with the first School of Fontainebeau. In 1532, he was commissioned by King François I to redecorate the ceilings, walls, and arches of the Château of Fontainebleau. See Louis Dimier, Le Primatice, peintre, sculpteur et architecte des rois de France (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1900), 33–54. 154. Giulio Romano (1492/99–1546) was a Renaissance painter and architect, an heir of Raphael, and one of the initiators of the Mannerist style.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 141 Philibert de l’Orme.155 Pillon, the sculptor of the beautiful Fontaine des Innocents, decorated it with [106] statues during the reign of Charles IX.156 During that of Louis XIII, Fréminet painted the vault of the chapel.157 Henri IV built the canal.158 Each prince was keen on doing his part to decorate this charming place and their different designs make up its beautiful irregularity. I walked around for a long time, awaiting the moment of departure, while the carriage dispatcher told me that he was forbidden from indicating the best route to Lyon. For no particular reason, we preferred the route leading to Burgundy and found it to be a good one. There is nothing special about it apart from Dijon, which is well built, heavily populated, and home to the Bossuets, Crébillons, Rameaus, Buffons, etc.159 The vineyards supply tasty wines to all of Europe and can be found across the country all the way to Mâcon, where the peasant women are beautifully dressed. The road, however, is mucky; the way to Moulins might therefore be better in the winter. The Burgundy route enters Lyon through an ugly gate. Long, narrow roads lead to the city’s fashionable center. We stayed there too briefly for me to be able to speak about it, so I will describe it upon my return. We took carriages as is customary there (traveling on horseback would be impossible on harsh and mountainous paths). Still, a reliable route led us all the way to the Alps. We had dinner at Pont Beauvoisin, at the border of the Dauphiné and [107] Savoie, where I learned that some kinds of goat cheese are preserved for a hundred years and served as a delicacy at wedding parties; that bread is baked for one year, or at least for six months; and that the residents of the valleys (although they are afflicted with goiter like those who live in the mountains) treat them contemptuously like mountain people and do not associate with them. 155. Philibert de l’Orme or Delorme (1510/1515–1570) is one of the most famous Renaissance architects and the author of the Book of Architecture (1567). 156. The French Mannerist sculptor, Germain Pilon (1535–1590), was very active at Fontainebleau. Today he is best remembered for his Fontaine des Innocents as well as his sculpture of the Three Graces and his funeral monuments. 157. Martin Fréminet (1567–1619), historical painter and engraver associated with the Second School of Fontainebleau. 158. In addition to this 1200-meter-long canal, Henri IV (1553–1610), first king of the Bourbon monarchy (1589–1610), made significant expansions at the Château de Fontainebleau. See Vincent Droguet, ed., Henri IV à Fontainebleau: Un temps de splendeur: Château de Fontainebleau, 7 novembre 2010–28 février 2011 (Paris: Réunion des musées nationaux, 2010). 159. Du Boccage refers to Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet (1627–1704), French theologian chiefly remembered for his eloquent sermons and his funeral panegyrics on important figures; Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon, also called “Crébillon père” (1674–1762), French poet and tragedian and Claude-Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon, also known as “Crébillon fils” (1707–1777), French novelist and academician; Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683–1764), French composer of the late Baroque period; and Georges Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707–1788), French naturalist, cosmologist, and mathematician, author of a Histoire naturelle (Natural History) in 36 volumes (1749–1788).

142 MADAME DU BOCCAGE After we reached the French border, we traveled along the edge of a precipice on a narrow path beneath the rock. There we heard the roaring of a torrent rushing between two boulders. So as to reassure the princesses heading to Turin, a railing was built out of stone and wood; but its unstable structure in some places hardly appeased the frightened passenger. Near Chambery, Duke Charles Emmanuel had an arch carved into the mountainside (eighty feet in height and a quarter of a league in length), allowing two vehicles to pass. The good deeds of this prince are immortalized in an inscription from 1670.160 The noble actions of kings are engraved in bronze, whereas ours are preserved in sand. Our glory is all the greater as we do good without the hope for something in return; but as we are traveling, this is not the time for reasoning. After leaving this narrow pass, where the caves resembled the homes of gorgons, we found waterfalls that [108] fell a hundred feet and formed multiple waterfalls, which we repeatedly crossed on shaky bridges. In this way we followed, high and low on steep and rocky edges, the course of the water which first hollowed out these paths. The Château of Chambery, where the old dukes of Savoy resided, is nothing special. Montmélian is a fortress in ruins; we dined there and spent the night in Aigue-Belle after a narrow and rapid descent. We normally proceed on foot. Traveling on such treacherous routes gave me a headache. Fatigue forced me to remain for a day in this unpleasant inn. All you could see from there was a high mountain dotted with thatched cottages, where winter is spent under the snow. The only thing one could see from this narrow valley was an enormous rock that had fallen from the mountains into the middle of the river. We then went to Saint Jean de Maurienne. We found a bridge and a nasty stone path that leads to Saint Michel, where the Ambassador of Sardinia (sent to Spain) was good enough to advise that I travel the three remaining leagues to Mont Cenis in a sedan chair. His suggestion was very useful to me. Monsieur Du Boccage regretted remaining in the carriage; my porters, faster than his driver, carried me in my chair through mountains and [109] valleys. Accompanied by a single servant on horseback, I was soaked by a storm, congested with a cold, and in a state of fear and discomfort such that you can well imagine. Oh, how obliged I am to these mountain people! They could have taken me wherever they wanted. Their good nature led me to Lanslebourg, where I frantically waited one hour for my travel companion. Like me, he had attempted to cross the treacherous mountain pass of Termignon. We made a feast out of a terrible meal and in our exhaustion slept better on an iron bed than anyone else would on a featherbed. While we were sleeping, our vehicles were disassembled so that they could be taken on the back of a mule to Mont Cenis, to which we were carried first thing in the morning by our porters. I took six of them with me to reassure 160. The monument to Charles Emmanuel II (r. 1638–1675), duke of Savoy was carved on the rock in 1674 to memorialize his support for the rebuilding of the highway.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 143 myself. Despite the fact that they were up to their knees in snow, I found that the dangers that I had been told about were greatly exaggerated; but although I had been warned about the cold that reigns there year-round, I was not dressed appropriately for such a harsh climate: the bitter cold bit my face and my hoarse voice prevented me from being heard by my porters. I would be dead without the charitable friars who welcomed travelers in their heated abbey at the top of the mountain. A neighboring lake would have provided me with good trout if it had not been frozen, but I was too sick to care. I barely had enough energy to rejoice over not having to climb the mountain that I saw before me, [110] as large as a giant, which rose on the shoulders of the one we were ascending. I positioned myself as best I could in order to reach the valley. What did I see at the bottom of the immeasurable abyss next to which I found myself? A black and muddy waterfall was rushing and howling, covering the rocks obstructing its path with foam. I knew then that this was the Cocytus.161 The height of the ladders that I was climbing as well as the demonic look of my porters confirmed my belief that I was descending into Hell. The jolts of the chair had given me a migraine; while looking at the chasm, I was blinded by the snow and the rushing water; I felt as though I was surrounded by a thousand wandering ghosts. You cannot imagine the sheer immensity of these mountains unless you have climbed them. The views from the mountaintops—both frightening and beautiful—fuel the imaginations of poets; but their descriptions fail to recreate reality and deter me from sketching it for you. The representation of the Alps by the ingenious and talented Haller focuses more on the bliss of the residents of Switzerland—Haller’s homeland—than on the image of some hundred mountaintops, whose summits, covered by an eternal snow, seem to stop the heavens, forcing them to dissolve and create chasms where water collects and runs from all sides to fertilize the plains.162 What [111] more is there to say after what was written by the Latin poets, who were so enamored by these mountains? But I wrote so many verses! You would not forgive me for glossing over such a picturesque subject. . . . The desire to describe the labyrinth of the Alps (of which I have given you just an idea) has caused me to forget to tell you about our arrival in Turin. We passed through a country house in Rivoli where [112] Victor Amadeus sadly spent the rest of his days after his abdication.163 From this beautiful castle, an 161. One of the four rivers of Hades in Greek mythology, also known as the River of Lamentation. 162. Albrecht von Haller (Albertus de Haller; 1708–1777), distinguished anatomist, physiologist, botanist, and poet, highly esteemed for his Swiss poems, Die Alpen (1732), which depict the natural beauties of the Alps. See Ann B. Shteir, “Albrecht von Haller’s Botany and ‘Die Alpen,’ ” EighteenthCentury Studies 10, no. 2 (Winter 1976–1977): 164–84. 163. Victor Amadeus II (1666–1732), duke of Savoy (r. 1675–1730), king of Sardinia (r. 1713–1730). He abdicated in 1730 for health reasons, but the following year, he wanted his throne back. His son Charles Emmanuel III (r. 1730–1773), who succeeded him, had him arrested and taken to the Castle of Rivoli, where he finished his life.

144 MADAME DU BOCCAGE avenue of elms (seven miles long and a hundred feet wide) leads to the evenlybuilt and well-fortified city. On the neighboring hills, the country houses overlook the Po River, which flows over the ramparts planted with trees. I admired this promenade upon our arrival, and despite my headache, I was able to see that same evening our kind ambassador, the Chevalier Chauvelin, whom I had met long ago.164 Since my arrival three days ago, I had the pleasure of enjoying his company and that of the Marquis de Caracciolo, plenipotentiary of Naples, whose witty humor is widely celebrated.165 I had appreciated this humor back in Paris, and the moment was lovely when we found ourselves far from the place where we had first met. I shall now describe the charms of Turin. The king’s palace166 is nothing special in terms of its appearance, but its interior is impressively decorated. The bedroom displays the four elements of Albani. The studies contain celebrated works, including Girardon’s The Woman with Dropsy, many magnificent Flemish paintings, and stunning miniatures.167 The facade of the Duke de Chablais’s palace is of an elegant architectural style, the opera hall is beautifully structured, and the university courtyard is well-built.168 The king wants to create a place where the arts may flourish. His [113] antique expert is a man of merit named Bartoli,169 who is also devoted to writing poetry. I plan to return to Turin at the end of my trip and will tell you more about it then. Our ambassador made me promise that we would spend two weeks there. His merit and character contribute equally to his popularity. Yesterday, on the promenade, I saw many magnificent carriages and beautiful ladies; one woman was so eager to please him that she threw a note with a poem on it into his carriage where I was; he read it fervently and saw this as an act of spontaneity. This was not at all the case: it was a compliment that the gallant Monsieur de Voltaire sent me

164. Germain Louis Chauvelin (1685–1762), marquis de Grosbois, occupied the most important legal posts of his time including councilor to the Grand Conseil, avocat général to the Parlement of Paris, and président à mortier. 165. Domenico Caracciolo (1715–1789), Neapolitan ambassador in Paris (1752–1754), Turin (1754–1763), London (1764–1774), Viceroy of Sicily (1780), Prime Minister of the kingdom of the Two Sicilies (1786), Fellow of the Royal Society, friend of D’Alembert, Diderot, Condorcet, and other Encyclopedists. See Archibald Geikie, Annals of the Royal Society Club: The Record of a London DiningClub in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (London: Macmillan, 1917), 89–90. 166. From the eleventh century, the rulers of Turin were the counts and dukes of the House of Savoy, who became kings of Sicily and then Sardinia early in the eighteenth century, when Madame Du Boccage would have visited that city. 167. The French artist François Girardon (1628–1715), famed for his statues and busts, many done for the French royal court. 168. Prince Benedetto, duke of Chablais (1741–1808), the youngest child of King Charles Emmanuel III of Sardinia. 169. Francesco Saverio Bartoli (1745–1806), Italian actor, playwright, and writer.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 145 ten years ago with his Semiramis.170 How did this poem get here? I have no idea: I did not give it to you, or to anyone else. Since this is a well-known poem, I am proud to have inspired it. . . .

[114] Seventeenth Letter: Venice, two days before the celebration of Ascension Day, 1757 After leaving Turin, dear Sister, we took seven ferries to cross the rivers and went through shady and fertile fields, often submerged in water. The rice that grows there needs damp ground: it is drained by ditches, which border the road all the way to Milan (you can find its description everywhere). The cathedral is of a handsome gothic style, adorned inside and out with local marble. Its design is remarkable for its six domes, three hundred sixty pillars, and four thousand statues, the majority of which were built by skilled hands. The following words were engraved at the bottom of the statue of Saint Bartholomew so as to honor its beauty: Non me Praxiteles; sed Marcus finxit Agrati.171 Three hundred years have passed and a great deal of money has been spent on finishing this vast edifice, and yet time blackens these masterpieces. The hooves of the horse that carried Constantine to victory [115] decorates the vault; they are taken down and put back up ceremoniously once a year. The underground tunnels preserve the opulent tomb of Saint Charles [Borromeo], the patron saint of the church. The Ambrosian Library houses another treasure, which was given to the public by Cardinal Borromeo, the nephew of Saint Charles:172 it is a scholarly manuscript,173 written by the left hand of the painter and genius Leonardo da Vinci, who died in the arms of François I.174 170. A tragedy in five acts, composed by Voltaire in 1746, first performed in 1748, and published in 1749. It recounts the story of the legendary Queen of Assyria who achieved remarkable power during her lifetime. 171. “I was not made by Praxiteles but by Marco d’Agrate.” Praxiteles is the most renowned of the Attic Greek sculptors of the fourth century BCE. Marco d’Agrate (c. 1504–c. 1574) was best known for this statue of Saint Bartholomew Flayed (1562), which is located in the transept of the Cathedral of Milan. 172. On the Biblioteca Ambrosiana, one of the first public libraries in Europe, and the printed and manuscript books housed there by its founder, Federigo Borromeo (1564–1631), cardinal and archbishop of Milan, and nephew of Carlo Borromeo, cardinal and saint, see J. Dalton, “Cardinal Angelo Mai, and the Ambrosian Library, Milan,” The American Bibliopolist 1 (1870): 84–85. 173. The Codex Atlanticus, which is the largest existing collection of Da Vinci’s drawings and writings, is today entirely digitized at OpenCulture.com: . 174. Leonardo da Vinci died on May 2, 1519 at the Clos Lucé, in the center of Amboise, where today, one can see models made by IBM from Da Vinci’s sketches and drawings and 3D animations about

146 MADAME DU BOCCAGE It is said that this large city, more than any other in Italy, offers entertainment similar to ours. I am fortunate to have been recommended there to the Countess Simonetti, promoter of everything Parisian. She has her clothes made there, speaks the language well, and is every bit as refined as the French. She was kind enough to lend us her box at the theater. The way it was lit up and filled with refreshments was marvelous. This lady allowed me to accompany her to the promenade where, for the first time, I saw carriages that appeared to roll along without moving. We stopped outside a church in a square. This unexpected stop surprised me; I took the liberty to ask what we were waiting for and why the other carriages were stopped as well. I was told that we were getting some fresh air, as is the custom of almost the entire country. Trying to guess the source of such a custom, we assumed that it came from the constraints once imposed on Italian [116] women. The pretext of taking a breath of fresh air gave us the opportunity to speak from the door of our carriage to gallant chevaliers, whom we could not have met otherwise. And although all women here are currently free, traditional gender constraints remain; our discussion on this matter took quite a while. My kind guide instructed me on the customs of her country and invited me as well to her table and her circle. She also wanted us to spend the night at her castle in Vaprio, where we ate very well and enjoyed ourselves greatly: an orangery on the terrace, extending the length of the castle, looks over a navigable canal used for all of Milan’s commercial activities; and surprisingly, the Adda River flows thirty feet below, only separated from the canal above by a wall twelve feet in width. On the other bank are two villages full of pretty houses; beyond, a rich prairie, woods, and rolling hills that direct the eye to the Alps, whose summits, covered by snow mixed with clouds, constitute a most lovely sight. Upon leaving this beautiful place, we found a route built by the noble Erizzo, the current ambassador in Paris.175 He had built it during his governorship [117] in Bergamo, an ancient city known for its many festivals and harlequins. This route was quite treacherous, with the exception of three leagues. From there, a rocky path led us to Brescia, which the Cardinal Quirini (the city’s former bishop) adorned with a magnificent church that is still under construction.176 He began by having his tomb sculpted in the surrounding wall and his bust on the door. The his inventions. The famous painting by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, “The Death of Leonardo da Vinci” (1818), represents Leonardo on his death bed with François I holding his head and receiving his last breath. 175. Nicolò Erizzo (1722–1802), Venetian Ambassador to Paris (1754–1760); see Giuseppe Gullino, “Erizzo, Nicolò,” Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 43 (1993): . 176. Angelo Maria Quirini or Querini (1680–1755), cardinal of Brescia, where he founded the Biblioteca queriniana; appointed Head of the Vatican Library in 1730; see Nicholas Weber, “Angelo Maria Quirini,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 12 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911): .

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 147 desire to be known in this world and the fear of suffering in the other both lead to the charitable donations that are made everywhere. From this fortified and rather notable city, we walked in the direction of Verona on an even rougher road, where carriages, which are extremely low and pulled by six or eight oxen, get stuck in the mud. The Venetians, who otherwise strictly observe the law, apparently do not have any regulations for the maintenance of their roads and the pavement of their cities. However, the city that we are about to visit deserves to be better kept. There, one can see beautiful palaces and remarkable ancient monuments, including the amphitheater built under Augustus;177 its interior is intact with the exception of the first row of seats, which have sunken into the ground with the passage of time. The Marquis de Maffei, a refined gentleman, had its forty-four steps repaired, which are twenty-five inches wide and eighteen in depth.178 I climbed them to the top; I could imagine fortyfive thousand people on those marble steps [118], the arena filled with ferocious beasts, while the most magnificent spectacle took place. Sometimes people gathered there for games. How much I would have liked to attend such festivities! . . . The homeland of the Marquis de Maffei is filled with signs of his refined tastes: he had embedded in the walls of the academic theater ancient marble engraved with inscriptions and a number of bas-reliefs. His lifelike marble bust, mounted above the door, majestically overlooks the square of the city hall. It is a flattering manner of honoring celebrated men, that is too often neglected. Would not the busts of Corneille, Molière, La Fontaine, Bossuet, Colbert, Turenne, etc.,179 bring more pleasant ideas to mind than the large Chinese monkeys that currently fill [119] our houses at great expense? In order to give me a view of the entire country, Monsieur Zenobrio, governor of Verona, was kind enough to take me to Chateau Saint Pierre, built upon the ruins of an ancient theater from which one can see the Adige River flowing through the city and watering the fertile plains.

177. Caesar Augustus, the first Roman emperor (r. 27 BCE–14 CE). 178. Francesco Scipione Maffei, marchese (1675–1755), antiquarian, dramatist, art critic, writer who published on many subjects, including the history of his native city, Verona illustrata (1732); see Blanche Mary Kelly, “Marchese Francesco Scipione Maffei,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 16 (Index) (New York: The Encyclopedia Press, 1914): . 179. Du Boccage names a series of writers and officials: Pierre Corneille (1606–1684), one of the greatest seventeenth-century French dramatists; Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, known as Molière (1622–1673), the most popular comic playwright in seventeenth-century France; Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695), French poet best known for the fables he adapted into free verse from ancient Greek stories, Indian tellers, and various folk tales; Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619–1683), controller-general of finances and first minister of state under King Louis XIV (1661–1683), responsible for expanding France’s trade, industry, and its merchant navy; Henri de La Tour d’Auvergne, viscount of Turenne (1611–1675), marshal general (from 1643) and France’s military hero, leading its armies into victory in most of the great wars of the seventeenth century. For Jean-Bénigne Bossuet, see note 159 in this section.

148 MADAME DU BOCCAGE We wanted to see the dark and narrow cathedral up close, where the tomb of Pope Lucius III reads: OSSA LUCII.180 My passion for short epitaphs inspired me to transcribe it. The epitaph of the Scaligers, formerly lords of the area, is located in Santa Maria Antica. (They are the descendants of those pretentious Scaligers who died in France and Holland.)181 You may know that Vitruvius, Fracastoro, Cornelius Nepos, Pliny the Elder, the gallant Catullus, and the emperors Vespasian and Domitian were born here.182 I shall not tell you about the paintings done by the greatest masters of the Lombard School,183 or about the curiosity cabinets184 that can be found in this city; there are many books on this subject. But since you want to accompany me in my travels, let us now move on to Vicenza. Everything there indicates that this is the homeland of the famous Palladio, who died in 1580.185 The sketches that remain of his most magnificent buildings include a triumphal arch and a room in the form of a half-circle, based on the [120] description that Vitruvius gives of these sorts of theaters. Pliny says that in Rome, Scaurus had two built out of wood which turned on a pivot and joined together to form an arena for the chariot races.186 We

180. “The bones of Lucius,” likely Ubaldo Allucignoli, who reigned as Pope Lucius III, 1181–1185. 181. Julius Caesar Scaliger (1484–1558), Italian physician and classical scholar who immigrated to Agen (France), known for his scientific and philosophical writings and his controversies with Erasmus, Rabelais, and Lorenzo Valla. Joseph Justus Scaliger (1540–1609), son of Julius Caesar Scaliger, philologist and historian, converted to Calvinism in 1562 and spent the last sixteen years of his life in the Netherlands, where he became a professor at the University of Leiden. 182. Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, a Roman military engineer and architect who lived during the first century BCE, remembered for his influential De architectura; Girolamo Fracastoro (1478–1553), Italian physician who presaged the germ theory of disease in his De contagione et contagiosis morbis (1546); Cornelius Nepos (110–25 BCE), Roman historian and the first chronicler of the lives of famous men; Gaius Plinius Secundus, known as Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE), Roman author of the multi-volumed encyclopedia Natural Philosophy; Gaius Valerius Catullus (84–54 BCE), Roman lyric poet whose surviving works greatly influenced both Roman and Renaissance poets; Vespasian (9–79 CE), military commander and ninth emperor of Rome (69–79 CE); Domitian (51–96 CE), son of Vespasian, succeeded his brother Titus as Roman emperor (81–96 CE). 183. School of architecture, sculpture, and painting comprising artists active in Lombardy (northern Italy), among them Leonardo da Vinci and Caravaggio. 184. On collecting in eighteenth-century Europe and an overview of the most famous collections including those from Italy, see Krysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux: Paris, Venise: XVIe–XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Gallimard, 1987); Olivier Bonfait, “Collection, curiosité,” in Delon, Dictionnaire européen des Lumières, 232–35; and Strien-Chardonneau, Le voyage de Hollande, 86–101. 185. Andrea Palladio (1508–1580), Italian architect noted for the palaces and villas that he designed such as the Villa Rotonda near Vicenza, and for his theoretical work I quattro libri dell’architectura (The Four Books of Architecture) published in 1570 and often reprinted and translated. 186. For the Theater built by Scaurus, see Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 36.24.13–14.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 149 were invited to go to the Olympic Theatre;187 I had heard people talk about all the wonders of Italy, but never about this one. I thought I had found an enclosure where young people were competing in physical games for prizes. What a nice surprise! Unbeknowst to me, I had actually entered a Roman performance. On the stage, you could see five streets decorated with houses, leading to a square with the most beautiful architecture. At the foot of this forestage was the orchestra, where the consuls and the vestals formerly presided. Around this first floor were, in the shape of a half-circle, sixteen rows of seats surrounded by a railing, where thirty oversized statues stood, all the color of white marble. The space left between them, and the colonnade that surrounded them, allowed us to go back down to contemplate the decoration of the theater and walk through the different streets where the Davus’s and Chremès’s, arriving on stage, could speak without seeing each other.188 I suddenly understood why their lengthy aside did not compromise their credibility. To understand how the actors succeed in making themselves [121] heard in such vast areas, we visited the nooks where the voice resonates. This peculiar theater, whose architectural design I am taking with me, only serves to host dances in the famous fairs, held in every city of the Lombardy region. I would have liked to be present when they attempted to put on a comedy there.189 Our guide, the Marquis de Capra, invited us to have refreshments at his country house. This charming chateau, which contained the portraits of Scamozzi and Palladio (the architects who built it), served as a model for the chateaus of Marli, Navarre, and Burlingtown:190 I described these during my trip to London. Before leaving Vicenza, we pay homage to the genius of Palladio by stopping across from the little palace built by him and where he resided. As we left this city, we passed through different countryside landscapes, arranged like a chessboard, similar to the rest of the country. Vines climb up the trees and garlands run between them. The plowed land under the shade is all the more fertile. This 187. One of three Renaissance theaters still in existence, and the most ambitious theatrical project undertaken by the influential Renaissance architect, Andrea Palladio. Among the Teatro Olimpico’s special features are its curved and highly-decorated auditorium and its trompe-l’œil onstage scenery by Palladio’s collaborator, the architect Vicenzo Scamozzi (1548–1616). See Javier Berzal de Dios, “Palladio, Teatro Olimpico,” at KhanAcademy.org: . 188. Typical names of characters in Roman theater (i.e., Plautus’ and Terence’s plays): Chremes plays the role of an aged citizen of Athens, and Davus that of a servant. 189. We have omitted the remainder of this sentence, due to the ambiguity of the syntax and the difficulty in distinguishing between figurative and literal meanings: “Et regrette bien de ne l’avoir point fait eclairer (pour en voir l’effet à notre retour).” 190. This country house was called the Rotonda, for which see Gabriel Faure, Wanderings in Italy (London: W. Heinemann, 1919), 169–71.

150 MADAME DU BOCCAGE garden-like area led us to Padua, a city famous for its university, its size, its streets lined with porticos, its botanical garden, and the immense vault of its city hall, where one can see the sarcophagi of its founder Antenor,191 Titus Livy192 (born on these banks), and the Marchesa di Dobizzi who, more chaste than Lucretia and Suzanne, preferred to die than to commit adultery.193 We ran haphazardly into the Contarinis, noble Venetians whom we had met in Paris.194 They introduced us to all these beautiful things and showed us Petrarch’s tomb in Arquà, near Padua.195 There is a river that surrounds the city; in ancient times, it was called the Timavo,196 and today it is known as the Brenta. We took handy boats down this river all the way to Venice by way of a canal as charming as the one that connects Amsterdam to Utrecht; the houses are not surrounded by formal hedges as those are, but they are larger and of a more elegant architectural style, the statues much more exquisite, and the gardens better designed, especially at the homes of the noblemen Pisani and Loredano. After walking through these superb abodes, we got back into our boat. Near Venice, my travel companion noticed several black gondolas and thought it was a funeral convoy: several lamps attached inside, which he took for a stoup, confirmed his belief; but while moving along, we saw that all the gondolas were of this dark color. The cluster of islets separated gradually before our eyes, [123] like the clouds in a painting, to reveal a floating city which we entered by a large canal bordered with enchanting palaces, including those of Grimani, Pisani, Foscarini, Morosini, Cornaro, and a hundred others. Everyone knows the description that Sannazaro gave of this beautiful and unique city without fortifications, and yet impregnable simply because of its geographical location.197 . . . 191. Wise elder of Troy, counselor to King Priam of Troy, companion of Aeneas in Homer’s Iliad, and according to Virgil, Aeneid, 1.243, founder of Padua. 192. Titus Livius, anglicized as Livy, renowned Roman historian (ca. 59 BCE–ca. 17 CE). 193. The same anecdote with many more details and the complete inscription of December 31, 1661 appeared in Misson, Nouveau voyage d’Italie, 1:182–84. 194. The Venetian noble family Contarini, which boasted several doges, was one of the original founders of the city. 195. Francesco Petrarcha (anglicized as Petrarch; 1304–1374), Italian poet and scholar, best known as the initiator of the philosophical movement of Renaissance humanism, the inventor of the sonnet, and the author of the Canzoniere, a collection of poems, to Laura, his beloved. He spent his last years in a house in Arquà in the Euganean Hills, hosted by his patron Francesco il Vecchio da Carrara. 196. According to Virgil, Aeneid 1.244–46, the Timavo River is formed from nine springs. 197. Reference to Jacopo Sannazaro’s famous epigram (Epigrammi 1.35), in which, comparing Rome to Venice, he claims that Rome was built by man, whereas Venice was built by the gods. See Jacopo Sannazaro, Latin Poetry, trans. Michael C. J. Putnam (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 252; . Built amidst waves, whilst Neptune pleas’d surveys, Fair Venice sovereign of the Adrian seas.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 151 We are staying at the Hotel d’Angleterre (Hotel d’Inghilterra), whose owner François feeds us well at great cost due to the Ascension Day celebration which is starting tomorrow. At other times, one can stay here quite affordably. The gondolas only cost six pounds per day. They are light boats; in order to easily pass under four hundred bridges that cut across the canals, they must be low and pointed and glide like fish. One gondolier in the front and another [124] in the back use long oars to carefully free themselves from the sea of gondolas. The use of carriages seems to me more practical and much faster. I would also prefer a dwelling with a solid bottom to a city built on stilts, which gives the impression of always being submerged in water. On one side of the houses, the water goes right up to the doors; on the other side, one can escape by very narrow streets paved with large stones.

[190] Twenty-Fourth Letter: Rome, August 5, 1757 I am thankful that my mother warned me about the fatigue caused by the summer heat that I have had to endure. Please reassure her, dear Sister, about my heath: exercise gives me strength and the heat makes my headaches go away. The air of Rome is very good for me. You keep up with our travels from a distance; how much I would have liked for you to accompany us! Yesterday we saw the mountain that the peasants feared due to the oracles of the god Vaticanus, who gave his name to the palace built by Pope Symmachus and embellished by Sixtus V.198 Kings have also long trembled at the decrees made there by our pontiffs; today these decrees are received with as much respect, but with less fear. This immense Vatican, painted by the great masters, disappoints by its emptiness. The popes removed the furniture and abandoned the Vatican for the Quirinal (Palazzo del Quirinale); but its library, rather than falling into ruins, has been rejuvenated in the hands of the illustrious scholar who is in charge of it.

No more, said he, let Jove or Mars presume To boast the dome and tow’rs of rival Rome Tho’ Tiber more than stormy Adria please, View both these cities with impartial eyes; With wonder struck, this difference you’ll assign, This built by mortal, that by hands divine. 198. Pope Symmachus (498–514), whose pontificate was marked by a violent schism over papal succession. On the building activity ascribed here to Pope Symmachus, see Joseph D. Alchermes, “Petrine Politics: Pope Symmachus and the Rotunda of St. Andrew at Old St. Peter’s,” Catholic Historical Review 81, no. 1 (1995): 1–40. Pope Sixtus V (1585–1590) was known as the pope who excommunicated Queen Elizabeth I of England and King Henri IV of France.

152 MADAME DU BOCCAGE This cardinal agreed to take me there and to have us for dinner in his Belvedere apartment. The name itself199 indicates its splendid location. In order to avoid the heat and remain a while longer, [191] we went there early in the morning. The first thing I did was look at the numerous books and manuscripts that time, gold, and care had assembled there. Although I had been told about the vastness of the galleries, I was surprised when I saw them. The pillars that support the immense width of the vault, along with the paintings that decorate them, took my breath away. When I was able to speak again, I could only find the words to ask my wise guide for a tent so that I could spend my life in this beautiful place. My enchantment pleased him all the more so because he had a part in it. It was he who ordered that the bare wooden cabinets, which held books and lined the walls as well as the pillars where the vaults rest, be painted in a manner like that of the ceiling, paneling, and window shutters. These literary treasures are not put on display as they would be in the Royal Library. They are shielded from view so as to preserve them. Monsieur Assemanni oversees the Section of Oriental Languages; Monsieur Bottari, that of the Italian and Latin Languages. Monsieur Guillelmi, Assistant Librarian, offered me his fine translation of Euripides’ Electra and showed me (among the sixteen thousand manuscripts entrusted to him) a work by Pliny representing all animal species; a text by Terence adorned with his portrait and theatrical masks, dating back to the fifth century; a [192] splendid edition of Tasso,200 whose tomb is in Sant’Onuphrius al Gianicolo; a Virgil from the time of Septimius Severus with no periods or commas; his translator Annibale Caro201 and our famous Poussin202 are buried in San Lorenzo, formerly the temple of Juno. If it were impossible to print replicas of these magnificent manuscripts, and if only the popes had access to them (like the Medici to their Venus, or a similar sovereign to a unique medal), how much the collection of His Holiness would prevail over all others! Fortunately, we can create infinite editions of the works of great authors without diminishing them. A poetic adaptation is worth as much as the original; it is a tremendous advantage that poetry has over the other arts.

199. “belvedere” means “a beautiful view.” 200. Torquato Tasso (1544–1595), Italian poet, writer, and playwright, remembered for his epic poem, Gerusalemme liberata (Jerusalem Delivered, 1581). 201. Annibale Caro (1507–1566), Italian writer and poet, greatly admired for his translation into Italian of Vergil’s Aeneid. 202. Nicolas Poussin, leading painter of the classical French Baroque style, died in Rome where he had spent most of his active years and was buried on November 19, 1665 in the Church of San Lorenzo di Lucina.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 153 The Vatican library, enriched by those of the dukes of Urbino203 and of Queen Christine,204 possesses a number of Etruscan vases and medals given by Clement XII. We saw there a transparent alabaster pillar, fluted in a spiral line of five palms in circumference, the precious remainder of an oval temple located near the Gardens of Sallust and dedicated to Venus. One may think that having such a library at one’s disposal would exempt Cardinal Passionei from having one of his own;205 this is not at all the case. His personal library is worthy of a sovereign. There is none more celebrated than this one; he even calls it his wife. His insatiable thirst for knowledge drives him to keep gathering the best editions [193] from France, England, and Holland in many languages. Five large rooms are adorned with these editions from floor to ceiling and can no longer hold the yearly harvest of new book acquisitions. The beauty of the books and manuscripts contained in this part of the Quirinal Palace is matched by the beauty of its location: the pope’s residence is to its right, the view of the countryside facing, and in the center of the courtyard are seen two marble horses, from which this place takes its name: Monte Cavallo. Tiridates, king of Armenia, gave them to [Roman emperor] Nero and [Pope] Sixtus V took them from the same Quirinal hill where Constantine built his thermal baths.206 A Greek engraving claims that they were made by Praxiteles and Phidias;207 scholars are skeptical but admire them all the same. This sight greatly enhances the general appearance of the Passionei Library. His Eminence’s favorite place is the aesthetically pleasing museum. Its treasures 203. Renaissance humanist and patron of the arts, Federico da Montefeltro (1422–1482), duke of Urbino (1444–1482), commissioned the construction of a magnificent library containing over nine hundred volumes, the bulk of which eventually passed to the Vatican Library. See Marcello Simonetta, ed., Federico da Montefeltro and His Library (Milan: Y Press; Vatican City: Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, 2007). 204. Queen Christina of Sweden (1626–1689), among the most learned women of the seventeenth century, abdicated her crown and retired to Rome where, having been the guest of several popes, she was buried in the Vatican grotto. Her library, like Montefeltro’s, was added to the Vatican Library. See Annie Bitbol-Hespériès, “Christina, Queen of Sweden (1626–1689),” The Cambridge Descartes Lexicon, ed. Lawrence Nolan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 108–9; . 205. Domenico Silvio Passionei (1682–1761), cardinal (1738) and librarian of the Holy Roman Church (1755). His personal library in his residence at the Palazzo della Consulta contained some 32,000 volumes and was open to the public. See Umberto Benigni, “Domenico Passionei,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 11 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911); . 206. Cassius Dio gives an account of Tiridates’ visit to Rome and Emperor Nero in Roman History 63:1–4, but does not mention a gift of marble horses. 207. Greek sculptor (ca. 490–430 BCE), most renowned for his statues of the goddess Athena and his contribution as supervisor to the rebuilding of the Parthenon. Only copies of his works survive. See Donald L. Wasson, “Phidias,” World History Encyclopedia (July 07, 2017); . For Praxiteles, see note 171 in this section.

154 MADAME DU BOCCAGE are not hidden away in cabinets as at the Vatican; instead, they are put on display for curious onlookers. Their owner has read everything and forgotten nothing. A person with a good memory never ceases to amaze me; mine is so unreliable. I keep forgetting to tell you many things that my ciceroni208 teach me and [194] will continue to teach me. But my digression has taken you to the Quirinal. Let us return to the Vatican. After dinner, we saw all the precious things preserved at Belvedere Court, locked away in niches that form the wall. They are hidden by doors which, once opened, reveal the beautiful Antinous, favorite of [Emperor] Hadrian;209 a statue of Venus coming out of her bath, found underneath the Church of Santi Marcellino e Pietro a Laterano; the Laocoön saved from the ruins of [Emperor] Titus’s palace—a masterpiece, as Pliny says,210 that Athenodoros and Polydorus created to decorate this emperor’s baths; the most exquisite Apollo discovered in the gardens of Hadrian’s Villa near Tivoli, and made, I would say, by a genius. Humans can only with difficulty shape marble in their image; how, then, could they possibly give this Apollo such a celestial expression? In the same place, one finds a granite tank sixty feet in circumference, and the Tiber and the Nile made of basalt; Pliny said elsewhere that Vespasian placed this Egyptian river in the Temple of Peace.211 Children who play around it acknowledge its various swells. Under Hadrian, it increased to sixteen cubits and the harvest that year was all the more fruitful. The city of Alessandria minted a medal to commemorate the memory of this flood. These rivers found near [195] [the statue of] Minerva are imitated by Coustou in the Tuileries Gardens.212 It is difficult to imagine that such beautiful gardens could one day suffer the same fate as the Vatican gardens, once highly praised and now in ruins. The popes, who no longer live there, neglect them. You can still see a small body of water where an armed galley sails; the water thrown impetuously by its equipment and cannons sounds like the howling of the sea; and the high artificial rock into which the vessel risks crashing produces abundant springs on all sides. In case of 208. The cicerone, or “Cicero,” was the name given to tourist guides or guidebooks. 209. Roman emperor Hadrian (Publius Aelius Hadrianus, r. 117–138 CE), who reigned during the Pax Romana, an era characterized by apparent peace and prosperity. See Joshua J. Mark, “Hadrian,” World History Encyclopedia, . Hadrian’s Mausoleum in the post-Roman age was known as the Castel Sant’Angelo. 210. Pliny, Natural History 36.4.(4.). 211. Pliny, Natural History 36.4.(4.). 212. Guillaume Coustou the Elder (1677–1746), French sculptor of the late Baroque or Rococo style, brother of Nicolas Coustou, also sculptor; notable for his monumental equestrian sculptures originally created for the royal chateau at Marly. The bronze figure of Minerva, mentioned here, was created in 1733–1734 and located with that of Mars at the entrance of the Hôtel des Invalides. See “Guillaume Coustou,” at the Encyclopedia of Sculpture: .

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 155 a rebellion, the popes would seek shelter by following a long and covered gallery that leads from the Vatican to Hadrian’s Mausoleum, formerly adorned with seven hundred statues. Gregory I had a vision of a celestial figure standing on top of it to announce the end of the plague;213 immediately, this pope had an angel put there instead of the bronze pinecone containing Hadrian’s ashes, and he named this large tower the Castel Sant’Angelo. He gave the same name to the bridge nearby, previously called the Aelian Bridge. The iron railings, consisting of cords braided with knots, serve as parapets. These support the statues of both Saint Peter and Saint Paul as well as ten marble angels sculpted by the greatest artists. I climbed to the top of this fortress, from where one can see the entire countryside and the city buildings. Rome’s magnificent appearance adds much grandeur to public celebrations. On Sunday, the flooding of Piazza Navona created a spectacle [196] that far exceeded my expectations. Before I describe it to you, here is description of the area. In the center of the long square of an ancient racecourse, the Cavalier Bernini214 built a fountain decorated with four gigantic rivers flowing from a rock topped with a large obelisk from the Circus of Caracalla.215 Below, there are also two spurting fountains built by Michelangelo at an equal distance from the one in the center.216 This square is surrounded by splendid churches and palaces, and the front door of the church of Sant’Agnese in Agone is its principal decoration. The inside of the church matches the outside: the walls are covered with marble, bronze, and gilt as artistically as a snuffbox would be. Instead of being painted, the altarpieces display scenes sculpted in marble, where the deterioration of the colors is becoming evident. On days when the Holy Sacrament is displayed, the dazzling glimmer of a thousand candles, and the reflection of a sun that shone like a diamond on the massive silver altar, are blinding. When music resounds in it, this house of God gives one [197] a sense of what his celestial home really is like. The Pamphili family enriched it at their own expense and built it near their palace to have it serve as the family chapel.217 Here, the unholiest places are sumptuously 213. Pope Gregory I (c. 540–604 CE, r. 590–604), called Gregory the Great. For an account of his vision of the archangel Michael atop Hadrian’s tomb and the naming of the Castel Sant’Angelo, see Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William G. Ryan, 2 vols. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 1:174 and 2:202–3. 214. Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598–1680), an outstanding architect and leading sculptor of his time; credited for creating the Baroque style. 215. The so-called Fontana di Quattro Fiumi (Fountain of Four Rivers) was built in 1651. The Circus of Caracalla is properly the Circus of Maxentius. 216. The Fontana del Moro, at the southern end, and the Fontana del Nettuno, at the northern end. Both were created by the Roman architect, Giacomo della Porta (c. 1537–1602), a follower of Michelangelo. 217. The Pamphilj were one of Italy’s oldest and wealthiest families, many members of which were created cardinals; see at Sant’Agnese in Agone, “The Pamphili Family,” .

156 MADAME DU BOCCAGE sanctified. The church’s underground chapel once served as a sanctuary for pagan courtesans; as for Saint Agnes, she was doomed to lose her virginity.218 I do not know whether it is for the purpose of recreating the ancient naumachia219 that they now flood the square in front of Sant’Agnese, the Piazza Navona,220 but every Sunday of this month, the three fountains that gush into this long and sunken square, over the course of an hour, form a lake that does not quite reach the houses; the space left to fill is equivalent to four or five rows of people. The carriages interrupt the flow of the water and create a stream around the fountains; their tapestry-draped windows are magnificent. It is from these windows that the ladies who fear getting water in their vehicles let their eyes wander and show off their jewelry. The other day, something peculiar happened: a stag was set loose and was chased by dogs. At the end of the square that remained dry, one could hear a puppet show, the sales pitches of merchants and imposters, the cheerful cries of the people, and even the voices of the preachers attempting to guide their flock back to Christian norms. This bizarre celebration, a yearly event much enjoyed by Italians, is an exciting form of entertainment for a foreigner. This recreation of Roman games, Conceived to please the crowd, Similarly enchants those who aim To relive and revel in ancient fame. I would like to write a poem on such a pleasant subject, but my lengthy digressions may put you to sleep. Farewell!

[219] Twenty-Seventh Letter: Naples, October 1, 1757 Before our departure from Rome, where I hope to return soon, dear Sister, we thought that we would take the road to Monte Cassino so as to avoid the damp air near the sea and so be able to sleep in the mountains. This is where the majority of the country’s cities and villages are located, protected from torrential floods and boasting plenty of fresh air. 218. As a last attempt to stain her virginity, her judge sent Agnes to a public brothel, but as before, she was miraculously saved. On this episode, see The Life of St. Agnes of Rome, Virgin and Martyr (Philadelphia, PA: P. F. Cunningham, 1857), 21–32. 219. The term naumachia can designate the site for a naval spectacle as well as the spectacle itself. The spectacle, which consisted of the staging of naval combat, was a mass entertainment much enjoyed in the ancient Roman world. See K. M. Coleman, “Launching into History: Aquatic Displays in the Early Empire,” The Journal of Roman Studies 83 (1993): 48–74. 220. Navona means large ship, a name assigned because it described the shape of the Piazza.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 157 The first place where we stayed was at the Pamphilj Chateau in Valmontone. The following day, while walking in the evening, I noticed a fortress rising above the clouds. “What a nice surprise it would be,” my travel companion said, “if a bed was waiting for us there!” I believed it to be impossible, but indeed it was not [220]: we ended up in Frosinone, where we spent the night. We had begun to climb up the mountain when I saw a group of women going up and down the hill: they were strong, tall, and had black hair. These beautiful women held their uncovered heads high and carried a large vase with two handles that they supported with one hand. Yes, morning and night, without a word of complaint, these nymphs descend from the clouds to the river, collect water, and go back up while singing and dancing, under a weight that would knock us out. This sight, as charming as it was surprising, made me forget for a moment that I myself was climbing this hill to the heavens. The governor of the area, Monsieur Finochetti, did us the honor of coming to greet us.221 We exchanged compliments as we were climbing; but at the entrance to the city, the wheel of our carriage hit the curb and got stuck. If the road had been less narrow, our carriage would have been overturned. We finally reached the castle on foot; the mountainous terrain made the pathway narrow. There, we found comfortable beds, a polite host, and delicious ortolans. These fat little birds are common in Italy in this season. The third day, we spent the night at the foot of Monte Cassino; but at daybreak, [221] I took the abbey’s sedan chair and went through a one-league detour on a good albeit steep path to the Benedictine convent, which enjoys an income of 500,000 pounds.222 Its church is built with marble of all colors, as beautifully assembled and as nuanced as the damask floral patterns made in Lyon. I had forgotten to ask the pope for permission to enter the monastery; therefore, I could only see the architecture, pray at the church’s magnificent altars, and admire the rare paintings in the external apartments, as well as the radiant Virgin by Raphael.223 This large and sumptuous place of solitude overlooks a vast landscape, but because of the elevation, it is difficult to see the surroundings clearly. The monks graciously told me the legend of their founder, which goes as follows: in the year 529, Saint Benedict, guided by two angels, came to this rock with his disciples Saint Maurus and Saint Placidus, and the three blackbirds he had raised (whose descendants have been kept in the community for five hundred

221. According to Lord Chesterfield, Monsieur Finochetti would have been the Neapolitan minister at The Hague in 1749. See “Letter to My Son, July 30, 1749,” in Philip Dormer Stanhope Chesterfield, The Works of Lord Chesterfield, including His Letters to His Son (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1860), 264. 222. Perched on the mountain-top of Lazio, half-way between Naples and Rome, this Benedictine monastery was in the Middle Ages the wealthiest in the world. 223. Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino (anglicized as Raphael; 1483–1520), great master painter and architect of Italian High Renaissance classicism, best known for his madonnas and his frescoes in the Vatican.

158 MADAME DU BOCCAGE years).224 As ordered by these angels, he destroyed the famous temple of Apollo and founded an order that was just as renowned; where there had once stood a false prophet, a holy one, he himself, came to take his place. Upon hearing of his miracles, Totila, king of the Ostrogoths, came to visit him.225 He was enthralled and highly impressed by Saint Benedict’s predictions of the future—prophecies being more powerful than preaching. In the sixteenth century, the tomb of this founder was located at the Sanctuary of the Muses.226 [222] Instead of remaining silent about the saint who had knocked over their altars, the Muses wrote the following verses in his honor: Nursia me genuit, specus obtulit, alta Casini Me rapuit vertex, Aula beata tenet. [Nursia gave birth to me, a cave presented me, the lofty peak of Montecassino snatched me away, now the blessed court holds me.]227 I spent an entire day roaming around this hospitable sanctuary, where all travelers are well received. I thought I might have to come back the following day because our horses were unable to climb the hill. Slanderous people claim that the miserly monks made that hill impassable in order to discourage pilgrims from crossing. Oxen, better suited to pull a plow in the valley, came to our rescue. We lacked harnesses to attach them to the axis; thus, instead of pulling forward, they threw the vehicle from one hurdle to another. Forced to get out of it, the only shelter I had from the scorching sun was a flimsy umbrella and my chambermaid for company; the others began to panic and yell at the animals, who did not go any faster. This debacle went on for a couple of hours. The remainder of the trip was not any better, and we had to spend the night in a mule driver’s den, where 224. For St. Benedict (480–547) as the founder of the abbey of Monte Cassino, see Hugh Ford, “St. Benedict of Nursia,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 2 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1907); . 225. Totila, king of the Ostrogoths (r. 541–552 CE). The Ostrogoths were a Germanic people who invaded the Western Roman Empire and succeeded Odoacer, who had deposed the last Roman emperor. 226. St. Benedict was buried in Montecassino in the same grave with his twin sister St. Scholastica beneath the high altar in the oratory dedicated to St. John the Baptist, which had been built on the remains of the temple of Apollo. 227. For these verses, see Flavio della Marra, Descrizione istorica del sacro real monistero di Monte Casino, 2nd ed. (Naples: Fratelli Raimondi, 1775), LII. Like the epitaph on Virgil’s tomb in Naples, it evokes important stages in the deceased’s life, each with its place: St. Benedict’s birth, early career, death, and life after death. The cave is that of Subiaco, where Benedict is buried, near the abbey of Monte Cassino; and the “blessed court” that holds the saint is Heaven. I thank Stephen Murphy for this information and this translation.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 159 there was nothing but manure. I woke up as tired as [223] I was when I had gone to bed, and arrived in Capua for Mass, where I saw a lady flaunting a pet-en-l’air jacket,228 with a ragged squire helping her. She was succeeded by a forty-year-old valet as well as two servants carrying long swords at their sides. The marchesa’s haughty demeanor and her ragged company gave me a pretty good idea of the country’s nobility. Not far from the famous vineyards of Falerna, Monte Massico,229 and the new Capua was the old city of the same name. We saw the ruins of its gates and amphitheaters on our way to Caserta, along with a superb palace that the Sicilian king230 is having built. The ground floor is finished all the way to the first floor: the surrounding wall will consist of four large courts, joined by four-sided marble porticos built in a beautiful architectural style. In ten years, it will be the most magnificent palace in Europe. An aqueduct, comparable in its form and length to those built by the Romans, provides abundant water. From there, a nice road stretching eighteen miles through the most fertile countryside led us to Naples; it was once known as Parthenope after the name of a Siren, whose songs made seafaring travelers forget the horrors of shipwreck.231 Today, sirens can be found all over town; this is, after all, the hub of female opera singers. At little cost, we are staying comfortably at the home of an Englishwoman [224] near the Marquis d’Ossun, our ambassador, who showed us much kindness.232 He lives here opulently and is highly regarded by the courtiers and citizens. 228. Female garment which became very popular in the eighteenth century. This term designates a short coat, hip length, with a sacque back, that is, with watteau pleats at the back, and three-quarter sleeves with flounces: see “Pet en l’air Jacket” at . 229. Massic wine, that is the wine produced at Monte Massico, was called massacano. See Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert, Encyclopédie (1751) 10:180, at ARTFL: . 230. Charles III (1716–1788), Bourbon king ruling Naples as Charles VII and Sicily as Charles V (r. 1734–1759). Construction of this late Baroque palace began in 1752. See Livia Hengel, “A Brief History of Reggia di Caserta” (August 30, 2017), at . 231. The Via Partenope, today part of the city of Naples, was named after Parthenope, one of the three Sirens, daughters of the muse Melpomene and the river god Achelous. Strabo mentions a monument to Parthenope, who is celebrated with gymnastic games; Strabo, Geography 5.4.7. The legend is that Parthenope threw herself in the sea after failing to lure Ulysses by her voice. 232. Pierre Paul d’Ossun (1713–1788) served in the French royal army, entered the diplomatic corps in 1751, and in 1778 became minister to the Council of State under king Louis XVI. When Madame Du Boccage met him, he was ambassador to the Kingdom of Naples and The Two Sicilies. A brief biography is given with the description of his portrait by César van Loo (c. 1780) in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, at the Web Gallery of Art: .

160 MADAME DU BOCCAGE The king’s visit presently keeps the Marquis in Portici, two leagues away from the city. All the ministers invited us to dinner so as to please him: we therefore often made this little trip back and forth along a pleasant seaside route. On my way back, I paid my regards to the ladies, who visited me on behalf of the princess of Colubrano, a great geometrician who, in recognition of my modest talents, was kind enough to be my guide.233 The day after my arrival, I went with her to the Saint Januarius’s Ceremony of Knights. The king and the entire order wore red jackets with golden fleur-de-lis and their frocks and silver vests were embroidered with gold. This uniform, to which almost all add a diamond plate, is a splendid sight to behold. The queen and the princesses, filled an entire row of seats, and all the ladies sat below, behind the knights’ benches. In Naples, there are many nobles who look majestic thanks to both their clothing and their entourage of servants. The city is said to be six leagues in circumference and to contain 500,000 people. Although the streets are in the shape of an amphitheater and paved with large flat lava stones from Vesuvius, the small [225] horses of this country are so agile that they scale them like goats. There are few magnificent palaces, except for that of the king; but the houses, which look all the same with their terrace rooftops, are quite impressive. Via Toledo, which serves as a promenade for carriages, is astonishing for its size and its crowd of passersby. The children of commoners go entirely naked, and adults go half-clothed to avoid the heat. The churches are more renowned for their silver, flowers, gilts, and paintings than for their architectural style. The fountains and the obelisks are far from elegant. It is difficult to believe that here, a mere fifty leagues from Rome, the true beauty seen there is so little imitated. The church of the Holy Apostles, built by [the Emperor] Constantine on the site of a pagan temple and painted by Lanfranco,234 holds the ashes of the knight Marino, who died in 1625.235 The churches of Santa Chiara and of the Jesuits are the most noteworthy. These Fathers are praised everywhere for the beauty of their houses and the richness of their chapels. That of

233. Correction for Colombrano. Faustina Pignatella Carafa, Princess of Colubrano (1705–1769), a mathematician and scientist from Naples, who participated in a Newtonian intellectual circle, was the second woman to be elected to Bologna Institute of Sciences. See Findlen, “Women on the Verge of Science,” 271–72. 234. Giovanni Gaspare Lanfranco (1582–1647), student of Annibale Carracci, member of the Bolognese School, then of the Carracci Studio, mainly known for his Mannerist and Baroque frescoes, although he painted in oil as well. See Maria Farquhar, Biographical Catalogue of the Principal Italian Painters, with a Table of the Contemporary Schools of Italy, ed. Ralph N. Wornum (London: John Murray, 1855), 81–82. 235. Giambattista Marino (1569–1625), Neapolitan poet, highly praised in his time especially for his epic L’Adone and his Rime; associated today with excessively witty and ornate poetry. See Marzio Pieri, ed., Il barocco: Marino e la poesia del Seicento (Rome: Istituto poligrafico e Zecca dello stato, 1995).

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 161 Sant’Ignazio in Rome is priceless: its massive silver statue [of Ignatius of Loyola] is embellished with a stole covered in gemstones. While I was on the mountain today, I was unable to see the Carthusian sanctuary that houses the crucifix by Michelangelo; it is said that he himself murdered the model in order to make the agony more lifelike. Although these [226] Carthusian hermits fear that women may disturb their peaceful retreat, I was allowed on their terrace. From there, Naples looks like an amphitheater: the ocean is the arena and the surrounding hills are the stands and adornments. The shore is crowded with vessels: at times, the swells engulf the shore; at others, a rock resists their efforts and floats on the water. To the east, one cannot see very far because the air is thick with the smoke from Vesuvius; at sunset, the view of the rich gardens on the mountain of Posillipo and the buildings that cover it is eye catching. The islands of Ischia, Procida, and Caprera, where Tiberius indulged in lecheries and where Augustus sometimes vacationed, appear in the distance.236 In order to better discover these breathtaking sights, we climbed above the monastery, up to the rooftop of the Castel Sant’Elmo. I came back drained and as I am writing to you, I am still exhausted; your letters were forwarded to me here, so I stay awake to respond to them. My extreme agitation reminds me of the verses from my youth, and despite my fatigue, I shall transcribe them exactly as I wrote them then. Compare to them the lengthy poems I write now and my endless voyages and you will see how much age can alter our sentiments! Oh, how fickle humans are! I fail to understand who I really am: [227] I have always undertaken the riskiest of tasks and yet I am the timidest of persons; I am living in the world and yet I love solitude. I often have somber thoughts. Judge from these rhymes how somber my ideas were at the age of twenty: The longer I live, the more I hold in contempt All passions that burn like fire. In renouncing all that may tempt, I will one day transcend all desire. The only love I will foster in my soul Will be that of idleness; I wish, through an eye of justness, To take either praise or blame in whole; And for all earthly needs (albeit simple and plain) To guide my fragile frame, Without despair and without pain, Until Nature takes the reins And eases our strains. All mortals spend their days Acting out the motions without cease; 236. Tiberius and Augustus: respectively the second and first Roman emperors.

162 MADAME DU BOCCAGE As for me, I find less disarray Wandering through life at peace. The proverb says: “Let him who stands well, stand still.” [228] I made the proverb lie because I felt at ease; yet I changed places, and I did not feel bad about it.

Twenty-Eighth Letter: Naples, October 8, 1757 Your brief reflections, as well as my mother’s, are more noteworthy than my lengthy stories, dear Sister, but you say that you like them; the pleasure of entertaining others is so rare that your appreciation of my stories makes writing to you twice as pleasurable. Since your affection for me makes you want to know what concerns me, I shall let you know how extensively I am spoiled here. I am sure you will be interested to hear how much I am sought after. Yesterday, the duchess of San Teodoro— sister-in-law to the marchese di Caracciolo, whom you saw in Paris—after hosting a large dinner for us, called me onto her balcony;237 she wanted to point out to me a nun from her family, who wanted to see me from her neighboring tower. In my astonishment, I kept offering humble curtseys. Then, this lovely duchess brought me to see the majestic palace of justice, where a lawyer interrupted [229] his defense in order to honor me with a compliment. You know how easily I blush: there were lots of people, so you can imagine how embarrassed I was. Every morning, a marquis, a sixty-year-old man of wit and intellect, sends me liqueurs, perfumes, candy, rare editions of Latin and Italian books, and silk gloves. You are familiar with the moss that covers certain shells; here, those who have the patience to gather enough of it, spin it so as to make a fabric softer, shinier, and warmer than silk. When I attend a school play, verses written in my praise are recited on stage. When we go to the ceremonies of taking the veil (where all the ladies gather), bouquets, knots of ribbons, and flattering compliments await me. I undoubtedly owe all these kindnesses to the consideration shown by our ambassador as well as the princess who serves as my guide here. By the way, women here are all highly praised as persons of stature. Whereas too many compliments are made about their appearance, too few concern their intellect. Those of our sex condemn, out of jealousy, women who have merit; the other sex indiscriminately attributes women’s accomplishments to their male friends’ good advice. In our absence, men compensate in this way, [230] since, in our presence, they feel obligated to constantly praise us; but this excessive flattery, which one may consider to be without consequence or simply done out of habit, 237. For Domenico Caracciolo, see note 165 in this section. Maddalena Moles Trivulzio, duchess of Parete (d. 1774), was married to Domenico’s elder brother Tommaso, duke of Teodoro.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 163 weakens our reason to the point that we do not know what to think. All beautiful women are compared to Venus or Minerva,238 the soldiers to Caesar, and the poets to Homer. Such a pernicious abuse of terms makes it impossible for one to find the proper ones to celebrate the true heroes. The hyperbolic usage of these terms has become so universal that those from the better class can no longer indulge in such vanity; but let us return to our religious ceremony! Here, as in Venice and Rome, girls are placed in convents at great cost. Those who are destined for the cloister attend these rituals (before their entrance to the novitiate) as brides of Christ, and are presented everywhere in courtly attire. At the religious ceremony I attended, I had the pleasure of hearing Cafarelli, a conductor of two choirs.239 This chorus of voices on the right and the brightlyilluminated altars on the left gave the impression of celestial symphonies. I liked the concerts more in church than at the theater. The vaults amplify the sounds and make them softer to my ears. The grand opera’s orchestra is not currently in Naples. I could only see the immense hall with six rows of theater boxes; but there was an excellent opera buffa [231].240 Naples is the center for beautiful music. Its schools, called conservatories, provide all of Europe with musical inspiration.241 We stayed across from one of these schools for children, whose destiny is not to produce beautiful music, and yet we could hear their concerts throughout the whole neighborhood. Several days ago, the Marquis d’Ossun played a piece for us with just a few instruments, but they were exquisite. I told him sincerely that I prefer this to more complete symphonies. Soon after, he generously gave the

238. A reference to her admirers’ motto: Forma Venus, Arte Minerva. See Introduction, 11 note 39. 239. Gaetano Majorano, better known as Caffarelli (1710–1783), Italian mezzo soprano with an extensive range (he was castrated at the age of ten), considered to be one of the finest singers of his time; see Winton Dean, “Caffarelli [Cafariello, Cafarellino, Gaffarello]” (2001), Grove Music Online, . 240. Opera buffa, a type of comic opera, originated in Naples in the mid-eighteenth century. See Piero Weiss and Julian Budden, “Opera buffa (It.: ‘comic opera’)” (2001), Grove Music Online, . Apparently, Madame Du Boccage was not all that keen on comic opera, at least French comic opera, as she comments in her Lettre de Madame *** à une de ses amies sur les spectacles, et principalement sur l’Opera comique ([Paris]: s.n.: 1745), 17–18. 241. The word “conservatorio” [conservatory] meant to conserve and save the children. In the sixteenth century, four music conservatori were founded in Naples to house, nurture, and train orphan boys: Santa Maria di Loreto, Sant’Onofrio a Porta Capuana, Poveri di Gesù Cristo, and Pietà dei Turchini. The city of Naples gained particular renown for its exceptional training of musicians. See Robert O. Gjerdingen, Child Composers in the Old Conservatories: How Orphans Became Elite Musicians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), 9–73.

164 MADAME DU BOCCAGE same performance in Pozzuoli. Our gathering began with eating oysters at Virgil’s Tomb.242 Commoners believe that the remains buried there are those of a holy man or magician, and that by the power of his wand Virgil pierced the Posillipo;243 and they revere Virgil even more, as Addison244 says, for this achievement than for his Aeneid. . . . [Here Du Boccage quotes the verses engraved on the mausoleum and verses composed for her by a chivalrous priest.] [232] After lunch, we went under this tomb through the Posillipo on a dusty ancient paved path that penetrated almost two miles into the mountain. The only light comes from its two extremities and from a hole pierced in the middle. After we left, we looked into the Grotta del Cane and saw one of those dying animals [233] being revived by the lake nearby,245 and in Pozzuoli, we saw Trajan’s Arch built in honor of that emperor. In this ravishing place, we saw the ruins of ancient Roman temples. Those of Isis and of Osiris still have wooden floors, an altar, two high pillars, and damaged walls (all in marble), as well as British-style baths, where it is thought that priests made their ablutions there. On the neighboring hill is the first gallery of an amphitheater and the pillars of a temple of Jupiter now dedicated to the Virgin. This shore provides sandy earth, named pozzolana after the place where it is found;246 it contains a cement that hardens when mixed with water and becomes a permanent mortar. The shore is full of palace walls eaten away by the sea. The waves often bring in engraved stones: some will be left unset, whereas others are set on enormous rings according to ancient custom. Local people, who have become experts by habit, sell them based on their beauty. They showed some of them to us and to the duchess of Calabretta who is not only witty and charming, but also very knowledgeable about these rare objects. She was kind enough to give me a ring, which is all the more precious to me because of the person who gave it to me rather than because of its old age. The duchess had planned [234] to show me all the wonders of the region and to teach me about them. Music after dinner and looking at jewelry took too much time; we had to pass an inlet, which took us a while; we were therefore only 242. Since Dante’s time, Virgil’s final resting place was thought to be at the foot of Posillipo Hill. See J. B. Trapp, “The Grave of Vergil,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 47 (1984): 1–31. 243. On the legend concerning the wonderworkings of the poet-magician and the attribution to Virgil of the construction of “Grotta vecchia” (the Roman tunnel mentioned in the next paragraph), see J. B. Trapp, “The Grave of Vergil,” 4, 6–7. 244. Joseph Addison, Remarks on Several Parts of Italy, etc., in the Years 1701, 1702, 1703 (London, Jacob Tonson, 1705), 216–17. 245. Du Boccage refers here to the experiment dogs were subjected to at the Cave of Dogs for the gratification of the visitors. They were made to lie down within the mouth of the cave long enough to breathe toxic carbon dioxide emitted from the cavity. As the dogs began to gasp for air, they were allowed out of the cave to revive and receive a treat. 246. Basaltic composition, made of fragments of magma projected in the atmosphere during a volcanic eruption. It was used as natural cement in ancient times.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 165 able to see the Solfatara, an inactive volcano, whose crater spans a thousand feet in diameter.247 The stones that are dislodged and fall into the openings from where smoke evacuates indicate that the fire is still hollowing out the area below. The odor of sulfur was suffocating, and it stopped me from going across the burning and unstable turf. Rumor has it that demons give serenades there at night. We left this bituminous circus and returned to Naples in the evening with the firm intention of coming back to Baia another day. But since the sea was agitated, it was impossible to go. Regretfully, we were unable to see the one hundred brick rooms from which Daedalus formed the labyrinth, the voluptuous tunnels of the Temple of Venus, or the hot baths of Tritoli248 that would have been destroyed, so it goes, by today’s physicians because they heal their sick patients too quickly. Places covered with walls, vaults, knocked-down pillars; places where Caesar, Pompey, Cicero, Marius, and Sulla249 once had their pleasure houses; where Piso plotted his conspiracy against Nero;250 and the location of the thermal baths of this cruel emperor and of Domitian, his uncle, whom he had poisoned there.251 These [235] coastlines, so sought after by the Romans that they would travel 150 miles to breathe the fresh air, are considered today to be unhealthy.

247. On the importance accorded in earlier travelogues to the volcanoes of southern Italy and volcano myths and legends, see Michel Bastiaensen, “Voyageurs de la Renaissance and phénomène volcanique en Italie,” in Monga, L’Odeporica/Hodoeporics, 362–97. For an interesting study on the British fascination with Vesuvius and the nascent science of geology, see Richard Hamblyn, “Private Cabinets and Popular Geology: The British Audiences for Volcanoes in the Eighteenth Century,” in Chard and Langdon, Transports, 179–206. 248. In Greek mythology, the labyrinth is a maze-like construction built by the legendary artisan Daedalus at the request of King Minos of Crete in order to imprison the dreaded Minotaur; see Ovid, Metamorphoses 8:160–70. The temple of Venus is an octagonal building with eight large arched windows and a balcony overlooking the bath’s swimming pool. Because of its exceptional natural beauty, Baiae was often associated with Venus, the goddess of beauty and love, and is described by Martial as “the golden shore of blessed Venus”; see Martial, Epigrams 11.80. The hot baths of Tritoli are the ancient baths on the Lucrine Lake, between Baiae and Pozzuoli which, during Roman times, became known for their therapeutic power; for which see Fikret K. Yegül, “The Thermo-Mineral Complex at Baiae and De balneis puteolanis,” The Art Bulletin 78, no. 1 (1996): 137–61. 249. Julius Caesar (10–44 BCE), Gnaeus Pompey Magnus (106–48 BCE), Gaius Marius (157–86 BCE), and Lucius Cornelius Sulla (138–78 BCE) were great Roman generals and statesmen, while Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BCE), also a statesman, is primarily known as the greatest orator of Roman antiquity. 250. On Gaius Capurnius Piso’s conspiracy in 65 CE against the despotic Nero, see Tacitus, Annals 15.48–61. 251. Perhaps Madame Du Boccage means Domitia, Nero’s paternal aunt. According to Dion Cassius (Roman History 61.17), Nero poisoned her in order to inherit the magnificent Baia villa.

166 MADAME DU BOCCAGE How sad it also is not to have seen this Lago di Averno, feared in ancient times by fish and birds alike and currently a great place for fishing;252 or the Via Appia Antica (which does not interest anyone); or the tomb of Agrippina253 (who, on her son’s orders, had been sent out to die at sea on a boat intended to sink); or the craggy promontory of Capo Miseno that was described by Virgil254 (from whose summit one can still admire what is left of the Gardens of Lucullus,255 where the Tiber River tapers off and where Messalina killed Valerius256); or the famous ruins of Baia where Hadrian died,257 and where Caligula (following the example of Xerxes) built a bridge more than a league long over the sea,258 so as to triumphantly cross over into Pozzuoli, and where Caesar, Antony, and Pompey met;259 or Lago di Lucrino,260 renowned among the Romans for its delicious oysters and now nearly buried under Monte Nuovo, which, on Saint Michael’s day in 1538,261 suddenly rose three thousand paces high and four hundred wide and, with loud crashes of thunder, burst into flames. It ravaged the entire six-mile stretch, destroyed the village of Tripergole, and forced the tide to recede; or Cumae, where the secret

252. The name, from the Greek, would mean “bird-less,” due to the fact that the waters of the lake exhaled gaseous materials extremely harmful to birds. In Greco-Roman antiquity, the name also designated the gateway to the Underworld. Virgil (Aeneid 6.236–63) situates the entrance of Hades where Aeneas must go in close proximity to this dark lake. 253. The name of Agrippina was given to this tomb because she was assassinated nearby by order of her son Nero. On the episode evoked here, see Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars 6.34. 254. See Aeneid 6.156–82. 255. The Horti luculliani were laid out about 60 BCE by the Roman politician, Lucius Licinus Lucullus (118–57/56 BCE), on the Pincian Hill on the edge of Rome, and he had similar gardens installed at his villa in Naples, where he ordered a channel cut through a mountain on the estate to allow seawater into his fish pond; see Plutarch, Life of Lucullus 39:2–4. 256. Messalina coveted the beautiful gardens which Lucullus had laid down and which their new owner, Valerius Asiaticus, continued to embellish. To take possession of the gardens, she had Asiaticus wrongly accused of conspiracy against the emperor. Asiaticus was sentenced to death, but was allowed to commit suicide instead, which he did. See Tacitus, Annals 11.1–3. 257. Nero had a magnificent villa built there (Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars 6.31), and it was on this estate that Hadrian died in 138 CE; Historia augusta 25.6–7. 258. On the construction of this extraordinary pontoon bridge and Caligula’s motivations, see Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars 4.19; Dion Cassius gives a slightly different version in his Roman History 59.17. 259. This meeting took place probably in August, 39 BCE, at the promontory and mole of Misenum; Plutarch, Life of Antony 32.1–2. 260. The name of Lago di Lucrino derives from the Latin lucrum, meaning wealth, in reference to the abondance of oysters and the lucrative commerce from the fish farms set up around the lake. 261. This eruption took place on September 29, 1538.

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 167 winding passages in the Sibyl’s cavern [236] lead to the Temple of Apollo,262 which sits atop the neighboring mountain! Martolomeo, a learned canon from this area, wrote about the ruins of Pozzuoli, using ancient ink and paper. He told me that he was presently writing a book to prove that the areas surrounding Naples are what inspired all the stories in the Odyssey and the Aeneid. Indeed, the Laestrygones,263 residents of Formies, are from Campania. The islands of Circe,264 the Sirens, the Cyclops,265 and the three-bodied Geryon266 can still be seen in the neighboring seas. Polyphemus reigned in Sicily;267 it is there that Pluto abducted Proserpine;268 Alphaeus followed Arethusa there;269 Charybdis and Scylla guard the strait that separates it from Italy.270 Sybil, the golden bough, the gates of Hell, and the Elysian Fields271 all can be found on the shore of Cumae. Miseno served as the resting place for a companion of Aeneas;272 a thousand other incredible facts which now escape my memory draw out these banks full of marvels. On the other side of the gulf, at the end of which is Naples, one can see Mount Vesuvius, which I will soon climb. Everything changes: names, forms, 262. The Sybil’s cavern is a cave carved into a huge rock near the seaside, described by Virgil (Aeneid 6.45–99) as home to the Cumaean prophetess who acted as guide to the underworld. The Temple of Apollo is a Roman temple built in 120 BCE in honor of Apollo, god of the sun, later renovated by Emperor Nero after the earthquake of 62 CE. 263. The fabulous race of cannibal giants who once inhabited southeast Sicily and the northeast coast of Sardinia. See Homer, Odyssey 10.63–99 and 118–124. 264. Daughter of the god Helios and the Oceanic nymph Perse, goddess, enchantress, and sorcerer. Odysseus visited her island, Aenaea, on Monte Circeo (Homer, Odyssey 10.100–41). Monte Circeo is an isolated promontory in the Lazio region on the southwest coast of Italy on the Tyrrhenian Sea. 265. Wild race of giants, sons of Uranus and Gaea. The cyclops lived on islands off the eastern coast of Sicily. See Virgil, Aeneid 3.548–87. 266. Three-bodied and four-winged monster, grandson of Medusa, nephew of Pegasus, and the adversary of Heracles in the Tenth Labor that he performed. Geryon was the king of Erytheia, one of the islands of the Hesperides, beyond the Pillars of Hercules. See Virgil, Aeneid 7.662 and PseudoApollodorus, Bibliotheca 2.106–9. 267. This one-eyed cyclops, son of Poseidon and the nymph Thoosa, is described by Homer in Odyssey 9.181–440 and Virgil in Aeneid 3.655–91. According to the legend, he lived, herding a flock of sheep, in a cave on the island of Hypereia, which was later identified by the Greeks as Sicily. 268. Aeneid 6.384–416. 269. On the love of Alphaeus, son of the Ocean, for the beautiful nymph Arethusa, see Aeneid 3.694 and Ovid, Metamorphoses 5.572–999. 270. Sea monsters living in the Strait of Messina, channel that separates Sicily and Italy. See Odyssey 12.31–303. 271. On the temple at Cumae, the Sibyl’s cavern and her prophecy, the golden bough with which Aeneas will pass through the underworld safely, the entrance to Hades, and the Elysian Fields, see Aeneid 6.1–97, 98–159, 264–94, and 628–78. 272. Misenus, after whom this place was named, was Aeneas’s trumpeteer. He was drowned there by Triton after challenging the gods to a trumpet competition. See Aeneid 6.156–82.

168 MADAME DU BOCCAGE situations, mountains become lower, valleys grow higher, the sea gives lakes to the earth while the earth gives the sea islands, rivers dry up, and new springs are born, but my affection for you is eternal.

Thirty-Ninth Letter: Avignon, June 15, 1758 [328] I am now, dear Sister, at the home of the Vice Legate [Ludovico Passionei], the nephew of Cardinal [Domenico Silvio] Passionei, whom I expected to bother for only three days. But [329] my travel companion began to suffer from gout the very day of our arrival, which kept him in bed for the past three weeks. I really like the city and the house where I am staying; but the obstacle that is holding us back and the fear of inconveniencing my kind host constantly worry me. I did not write to you earlier, waiting until I could tell you that we were leaving. I hope it will be soon. I am taking advantage of a leisurely moment to give you the account of my travels since Genoa, where I left off describing my journey in a rowboat. Seasickness and sadness embarked with me. I could neither read nor write, as I feared that Algerian pirates or English privateers would take us away. In thinking of the difficulty of following this coast on ground (our armies previously passed here), I could not help admiring the strength of our rowers, and I finally consented to continue by sail so as to alleviate their pain. Their appetite for black bread and cooked onions, which they eat entirely (even the green part), reinforced my belief that to eat too many different dishes can be both useless and dangerous. I find the sight of their naked legs, feet, and arms, as well as the canvas shorts they wash every day, less repulsive than the distasteful clothes of commoners. While I was absorbed in these thoughts, we arrived [330] at Antibes. But we were imprudent and, instead of taking the post carriage, we continued our voyage on our sailboat, driven by a strong wind which became so furious that the waves submerged us. In truth, we spent the morning in agony. The captain himself suggested that we stop near Fréjus. But this was not really a port, hence the difficulty in coming ashore. We hurried to set foot on land. At noon, I found myself on a scorching sand far from all shelter. Where could we go? Without the good woman who offered to let me stay in her cabin while she went to Mass, I do not know what we would have done. Monsieur Du Boccage, who had remained on shore, sent for help in town (one league away) in order to put our carriage back together after it had shifted away from the boat’s masts. He became irritated with incompetent workers who made him wait, one to go to dinner, the other to vespers. The carriage post people did not have a harness for this carriage and the customs officers wanted to search Monsieur Du Boccage. He was frying in the sun, consumed by hunger and overtaken by worry. Three or four hours of this caused him to have the gout that still afflicts him. As for me, I was with my faithful Du Castel in a spotless hovel. We had bread and hard-boiled eggs which we

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 169 found in the kitchen, where the hostess’s soup was simmering. A small window looking out on the sea allowed some air to enter, cooling us off. [331] The rocks and the flocks which were covering the meadow on the banks of this little gulf formed such an appealing sight that if my kind hostess had had one or two small bedrooms to spare, I would have asked her to allow us to stay a few days. A week of tranquility in her cottage would have been greatly appreciated after the hustle and bustle of the palaces and our journey on a turbulent sea. At last, everything worked out. We did not have time to visit the ancient monuments in Fréjus. A rocky and hilly road led us to Toulon, whose port I found to be less magnificent than I had been told. We left Toulon for Marseille. We arrived there by a long road between two walls where I found it hard to breathe because of the heat and dirt. I do not know if the headache that I had then put me in an antagonistic mood or if I had preconceived notions of this port, but it was not what I expected. The platform is quite narrow due to the dormitories of galley slaves who were transported there from Toulon, making it very difficult to go through it. The new part of town has perfectly aligned streets, but the old part’s winding streets are better suited for a country that is burned by the sun and battered by the wind. Our ancestors were more often right than wrong to avoid the uniform layout of our straight avenues, and the rarity of their intersections was a form of protection [332] against the heat and the cold. We wanted to see Monsieur de la Visclede,273 a celebrated member of the Academy of Marseille. But he had gone to the countryside. Monsieur Barthe,274 a young man who won several prizes for his poetry, is presently away in Paris. The vivacious Annibal, a 118-year-old soldier born under King Louis XIII, lives too far from the city for me to see him.275 I stayed there for too short a time to tell you about its residents. On our way out of town, we saw their country houses, which, as you know, are highly praised. I do not know how anyone can possibly live in them. Their reduced living spaces are better suited for Lilliputians; their location on scorching sand is ideal for salamanders, and the dry and infertile land with no shelter is more suitable for sylphs. This abundance of homes provides a pleasant view, but we had to leave to go to Aix, where we would see a famous procession of virgins, angels, devils, and friars. We arrived there the day before this bizarre spectacle. As we looked for a place to stay, we found the city to be well-built. I was surprised to see so many sedan chairs there, carrying lovely women in beautiful clothes. I was told that “Monsieur de Villars, who is well-known here, is hosting a large 273. Antoine-Louis de Chalamont de la Visclède (1692–1760), poet and a founding member of the Académie of Marseille. See Abbé Louis Toussaint Dassy, L’Académie de Marseille: Ses origines, ses publications, ses archives, ses membres (Marseille: Barlatier-Feissat, 1877), 43–50. 274. Nicolas-Thomas Barthe (1734–1785), poet and playwright. See Œuvres choisies de Barthe (Paris: Librairie de Lecointe, 1831), 5–13. 275. The remarkable Annibal is unidentified.

170 MADAME DU BOCCAGE ball this evening. There are so many people [333] coming to the party, and the next day’s procession is so large, that you will not be able to find a place to stay.” I have since learned that I could count on the duke’s protection. However, for fear of bothering him, we ran around all night long in search of a place to stay. We stopped for a moment to mend the harness. I had never before heard the songs of nightingales so distinctly in the moonlight. This nocturnal melody in the silence of the woods delighted me. I wonder whether Philomela, who loves hot countries, sings as harmoniously in our cold climates. The trotting sound of our horses deprived me too quickly of this serene concert. We spent the night a few leagues away from Avignon, where we arrived the following day. The beauty of the walls of this city—founded by the [ancient Greek] Phocaeans and sold to Pope Clement VI by Joanna I, queen of Naples276—is striking; the rampart, planted with trees all around, constitutes a charming promenade where one can see many ladies dressed like those at the Tuileries Gardens. None of our provincial cities attract so many elegant and well-known aristocratic ladies. Members of France’s high nobility, which has distinguished itself in service, marry in Paris and retire in southern France. In the evening, the Marquise de Vaucluse holds a gathering there. One can dine, play games, and find people of good company, among whom [334] there are several talented poets. . . . [Here Du Boccage cites a gallant poem that she had received from Marquis Perussi, Lieutenant General.] The Marquis de Cambis,277 who cultivates the arts and cherishes ancient monuments, taught me that Alain Chartier (secretary to kings Charles VI and VIII), who was from our native Normandy, was buried in 1449 in the Church of Saint Antoine in Avignon. . . . [Here Du Boccage quotes a few words written above a Latin epitaph.] [335] In the Monastery of the Celestins, there is a representation of Death, painted in the fifteenth century by René of Anjou, king of Naples. It depicts a woman in a coffin, half-eaten by worms and dressed in the style of the time: from

276. On June 9, 1348, Pope Clement VI (1342–1352) bought Avignon from the Queen Joanna I of Naples, Countess of Provence. A man of taste and arts, he made the city a center of European cultural exchanges and built the New Palace by enlarging and embellishing the Old Palace built by Pope Benedict XII, the two palaces together comprising the Palace of the Popes. See Diana Wood, Clement VI: The Pontificate and Ideas of an Avignon Pope (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). 277. Member of an old Florentine family established in Provence since the thirteenth century. JosephLouis-Dominique de Cambis, Marquis de Velleron (1706–1772), an art-lover who owned one of the most important collections of early illuminated and text manuscripts formed in eighteenth-century provincial France. See the Catalogue raisonné des principaux manuscrits du Cabinet de Monsieur Joseph-Louis-Dominique de Cambis, Marquis de Velleron, at the Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America: .

Letters on England, Holland, and Italy 171 the top of her hood (in the form of a cone278), a neck curtain279 hangs down on her back all the way to the floor, a garment typical of women of the nobility; bourgeois women only let it fall down to their shoulders. . . . [Du Boccage cites the verses written by King René—this woman’s lover—underneath her portrait.] [336] King François I also handwrote the epitaph on the tomb of the beautiful Laure, who was buried in 1348 at the Cordeliers of this city. In this restricted space you can see How much is meant by the word “renown”; Pen, labor, language and knowledge Were all conquered by the lady’s lover. Oh, gentle soul! You are so worthy of praise; Who could possibly give you the recognition you deserve? For the tongue should be held When the subject of praise surpasses he who speaks. The Vice Legate had these verses copied for me from a manuscript, which is kept in the sacristy and is on the verge of turning into dust. Several days ago, this prelate was also kind enough to take me to Vaucluse, six leagues away from here, the place where the poet [337] Petrarch, a canon of the church, pined after Laura for over twenty years: however, this did not make him any less devout. In the past, people loved God and their lady simultaneously and much more fervently than today: we are driven by reason rather than by emotions. In the old days, cardinals and even bishops wrote love sonnets. This was acceptable as long as the authors were imitating Petrarch. The verses of this exceptional lover, who mourned his love for ten years, are everywhere. The ruins of his mansion can still be seen on a rock near this fountain, of which you have read many laudatory descriptions. At its source, clear water forms a bubbling brook, which then encircles the city and gives the island its name. It flows through the surrounding fields and trees, creating a truly lovely place and providing the residents with excellent trout and crayfish. My generous driver fed us some. The marquise de Montagu280 was part of this group: [338] she willingly endured this horrible heat to accompany me while climbing to the enchanted springs of Vaucluse. I frequently take long and 278. When women went out, the hood, tied loosely around the neck, that they wore, could be topped with the fashionable sugar loaf hat. The sugar loaf hat is characterized by a broad brim and a conical crown. See Jill Condra, ed., Greenwood Encyclopedia of Clothing (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 2008), 2:173. 279. The hanging fabric at the back of the bonnet to shade the neck was called a bavolet or a neck curtain. See Joan Nunn, Fashion in Costume, 1200–2000, 2nd ed. (Chicago: New Amsterdam Books, 2000), 124. 280. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu; see note 9 in this section.

172 MADAME DU BOCCAGE pleasant walks outside town with my amiable host, whose company pleased me infinitely. . . . [She writes a few verses about this.] We must leave so many wonderful places behind. We are finally departing; my traveling companion’s gout will have to heal on the road.

Madame de La Tour du Pin Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815

translated by Elizabeth Hagstrom and Colette H. Winn

Madame de La Tour du Pin, Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 Madame de La Tour du Pin’s Journal, which she began in 1820, looks back on the experiences of the previous fifty years and carries on until 1815, thirty-eight years before her death in 1853. The selections presented here include extracts from the sixteenth chapter of the FIRST PART, recounting her family’s escape from France, and from the first six chapters of the SECOND PART, recounting the family’s two-year stay in the new United States and their eventual return to a France more stable than the one they had left. In sum, this narrative depicts the transatlantic world of the late eighteenth century, with striking contrasts between the turbulence of revolutionary France, still riven by social divisions between aristocrats and commoners, and the earnest nation-building in process in North America, already stamped, as from its earliest years, by the boundaries between European, indigenous, and African peoples.The bracketed and bolded numbers interspersed through the text denote pages in the 1913 edition of the Journal.

FIRST PART Chapter Sixteen [369] I have already said how, two months before, I had obtained a certificate of residence in the name of Dillon Gouvernet attested by nine witnesses.1 All that was left then was to obtain a passport2 in the name of Latour and to avoid that of Dillon,3 which was too well known in Bordeaux. I decided to replace the name

1. The certificate of residence authorized domicile in particular places and was required for receiving some payments (pensions and so forth) from the public purse. Its main objective, however, was to deter undesired migration to the city, especially Paris. It was issued by the municipality where the person was actually domiciled and was to be requested, signed, and registered by two different agencies. See John Torpey, The Invention of the Passport: Surveillance, Citizenship, and the State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 30–31. 2. “The French revolutionary regime was a pioneer in bringing forward modern means of border control.” From early 1791 on and especially after the flight of King Louis XVI on June 21, 1791, the French leaving the country and especially those who opposed the Revolution had to obtain an external passport issued by the nearest city capital. See Steffen Mau, Heike Brabandt, Lena Laube, and Christof Roos, Liberal States and the Freedom of Movement: Selective Borders, Unequal Mobility (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 16. On the debate over passport controls between 1791 and 1797, see Torpey, The Invention of the Passport, 21–44. 3. Dillon is her maiden name.

175

176 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Dillon with that of Lee, which my uncle, Lord Dillon,4 added to his name after he received his inheritance from Lord Litchfield, his great-uncle and my great-greatuncle. There was no going back. The passport bureau closed at nine o’clock and we went to the commune at eight-thirty. It was completely dark. [370] It was March 8, 1794. My husband walked rather far ahead with Bonie.5 I followed accompanied by a friend of the latter, carrying in my arms my six-month-old daughter6 and holding my son, who was not yet four,7 by the hand. Because of the English or American name that I wanted to take, I was dressed like a demoiselle,8 although I was very poorly put together and coiffed with an old straw hat. We entered into a crowded room in the hôtel de ville [City Hall]. There, you received your card or permit which, upon presentation, would allow you to obtain a passport from the bureau. I trembled at the thought that some resident of Saint André-de-Cuzbac or Bordeaux might recognize us. Thus Monsieur de La Tour du Pin and I were very careful to stay far away from each other and to avoid the well-lit parts of the room. With this card in hand, we went up to the passport bureau and as we were entering, we heard the employee exclaim, “My God! That’s enough for today, the rest will have to wait until tomorrow.” Any delay would have cost us our lives, as we will later see. Bonie threw himself towards the desk saying, “If you are tired, citizen,9 I’ll do the writing for you.” The other agreed and Bonie wrote out the collective passport for the Latour family. The office was still so crowded. When the municipal officer, in a red bonnet,10 said, “Citizen Latour, take off your hat so that 4. Robert Lee (1706–1776), son of Edward Henry Lee and Charlotte Fitzroy (an illegitimate daughter of King Charles II of England), 4th earl of Lichfield, member of Parliament in the Oxford constituency. See The Peerage.com (by Daryl Lundy), M, #76402, updated February 20, 2018): . 5. A young friend of the La Tours du Pin. He lived in Bordeaux, where he sheltered Monsieur de Chambeau and later Madame de La Tour du Pin and her children in his small apartment house. 6. Séraphine, born in 1793, died of yellow fever in 1795 while the La Tours du Pin lived in America. 7. Humbert (1790–1816) was said to be a precocious child. 8. See in this volume Madame Du Boccage, Letters on England, Holland, and Italy, 119 note 68. 9. The title citizen promoted the principle of equality in reaction against the fundamentally inegalitarian legal structure of Ancien Régime society. It implied that all Frenchmen were equal before the law, that they enjoyed common rights, and were bound by common obligations. On the concept of citizenship, see Williams Rogers Brubaker, “The French Revolution and the Invention of Citizenship,” French Politics and Society 7, no. 3 (1989): 30–49. 10. The bonnet rouge in the form of a soft woolen conical cap with the top pulled forward, was part of the uniform of the militant sans-culotte. Also known as the Phrygian, or liberty cap, it became, from early 1792 on, a political statement promoting one’s sympathies with the new regime as well as “a symbolic attempt at abolishing both the hierarchical and esthetic aspects of dress in general.” See Jennifer Harris, “The Red Cap of Liberty: A Study of Dress Worn by French Revolutionary Partisans, 1789–1794,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 14, no. 3 (1981): 283–312, at 310.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 177 we may write your description,” my heart started beating so violently that I nearly fainted. Luckily, I was sitting in a dark corner of the office. At the same moment, [371] my son lifted his eyes up to me and dove into my lap, hiding his face in his little hands. But I thought that he might have only been scared of these men in red bonnets and said nothing to him. Once the passport was signed, we left with great relief, even though we were far from being safe. We had agreed that, to avoid being found together in the same house, or having to cross Bordeaux the next morning in broad daylight, Monsieur de La Tour du Pin would spend the night at the home of the Dutch Consul, Monsieur Meyer,11 a devoted friend of ours who lived in the most remote house of Quai des Chartrons.12 Monsieur de Brouquens13 was waiting for us in the street and took Monsieur de La Tour du Pin there. As for me, after taking my children home, I went to Madame de Fontenay’s residence,14 where I had hoped to meet Tallien15 who was to validate our passport. I found Madame de Fontenay in tears. Tallien had been recalled and had left two hours before. She, too, planned to leave the following day, and she didn’t hide her fears that the cruel Ysabeau, Talien’s colleague, would refuse to validate our passport.16 But Alexandre, Tallien’s secretary, swore on his life that Ysabeau would validate it. According to Alexandre, Ysabeau would always sign at ten o’clock in the evening upon his coming out of the theatre, and as he was in a hurry to eat supper, he would barely take the time to look at the papers that were presented to him. Providence, in its generosity, had willed 11. Casparus Meyer served as consul in Bordeaux from 1795 to 1798. 12. Some of these private residences give the district of Chartrons in the city of Bordeaux its unique personality. The name Chartrons comes from the Carthusian monks, or Chartreux, who established a convent there in the fourteenth century. 13. A friend of the La Tours du Pin, Director of Food Supplies in Bordeaux. 14. Teresia Cabarrus (1773–1835). After obtaining a divorce from Monsieur de Fontenay in 1791, she had taken refuge in Bordeaux, where she lived under the protection of her brother, Dominique Cabarrus, a wealthy merchant. That is where she met Jean-Lambert Tallien and had an affair with him. Socially prominent, she was firmly convinced of her ability to change her destiny. On her revolutionary political engagement, see Amy Freund, “The ‘Citoyenne’ Tallien: Women, Politics, and Portraiture during the French Revolution,” The Art Bulletin 93, no. 3 (2011): 325–44. 15. Jean-Lambert Tallien (1767–1820) became known to the revolutionary leaders for his invention of a journal-affiche titled Ami des citoyens, journal fraternel. He was one of the most active popular leaders of the Insurrectional Commune in Paris (1792). As a deputy to the National Convention of the Department of Indre-et-Loire, he voted in favor of the execution of King Louis XVI, and was one of the instigators of 9 Thermidor Year II (July 27, 1794), which overthrew Robespierre. See Laura Mason, “The Thermidorian Reaction,” in McPhee, A Companion to the French Revolution, 311–27. 16. Claude-Alexandre Ysabeau (1754–1831), deputy to the National Convention of the Department of Seine-et-Oise, who voted the death of Louis XVI, and one of the instigators, alongside Tallien, of the Thermidorean Reaction. See Hugh Gough, The Terror in the French Revolution (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 46.

178 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Ysabeau to request that Tallien leave behind his secretary, who was not only useful but had also found the way to make himself indispensable. [372] As I was entering Madame de Fontenay’s home, Alexandre was leaving with papers to be signed. He took our passport and put it among many others. That evening, Ysabeau, who was extremely preoccupied with the expected arrival of a new colleague the next day, signed without paying any attention. As soon as Alexandre was free to go, he rushed to Madame de Fontenay’s home where I was waiting for him, more dead than alive. I found that I was not alone. Someone that I didn’t know and that had a rather suspicious air was there as well. This man was none other than Monsieur de Fontenay.17 Neglecting the most elementary manners of politeness, he had come to ask his wife to save him. Alexandre arrived with the opened passport in his hand. He was so out of breath that he fell into an armchair, unable to articulate anything other than, “Here it is!” Madame de Fontenay embraced him with all her heart, I did as well, since he was, in reality, our savior. I never saw him again after that; he may have paid with his life for the services he rendered to so many people who did not even remember him. The young emissary from the Convention who arrived the next day was named Julien de Toulouse.18 They had sent him [373] to Bordeaux to revive patriotic fervor. He was nineteen years old and his cruelty surpassed all the atrocious things that occurred in these terrible times. In fleeing the country, we had the honor of causing him some bitter consternation. He tore out his hair in rage upon learning that we had escaped him, for as he declared, we were mentioned in his notes. . . . [374] I spent the night packing several effects that Zamore took away early in the morning.19 I pretended to get undressed and I was careful not to wake my maid. As soon as we were alone, my son, who laid in the bed next to mine, sat up and called for me. I was very worried that he might be sick. I rushed to him immediately and he threw his little arms around my neck and leaning close to my ear, he said to me, “I saw papa at the office, but I didn’t say anything because of

17. Jean-Jacques Devin Fontenay, the last Marquis de Fontenay (1762–1871), a wealthy aristocrat who had fled at the outbreak of the Revolution and was trying to leave for America. See Freund, “The ‘Citoyenne’ Tallien,” 328. 18. Jean Julien known as Julien de Toulouse (1750–1828), deputy to the National Convention for the department of Haute-Garonne. See Dictionnaire des parlementaires français, ed. Adolphe Robert, Edgar Bourloton, and Gaston Cougny, 5 vols. (Paris: Edgar Bourloton, 1889–1891), 3: 446. 19. Madame de La Tour du Pin fears that her maid may betray her to the revolutionary authorities. Instead, she entrusts her black servant, Zamore, with various arrangements for her flight to America. One may wonder whether the sympathy she expresses for Zamore reflects “her progressive response to Blacks.” As Kadish argues, Madame de La Tour du Pin would have related her own life to that of less fortunate members of society and, in particular, to that of slaves; hence the construction of her journal as a slave narrative; see Kadish, “Henriette de La Tour du Pin and Slavery,” 3.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 179 those mean people!” The Terror20 at the passport bureau had affected even a child who was barely four. All of our baggage had been on board the ship for three days, without my spy suspecting that all of the cabinets and drawers had been emptied. I bade a tender adieu to my maid Marguerite. Thinking only of me, [375] she was happy to see me escaping from danger. I left her under the protection of Monsieur de Brouquens, who was well aware of my fondness for her. Finally, on March 10, picking up my daughter and holding my son’s hand, I told their nurse that I was taking them to the Allées de Tourny,21 which was at that time the customary place to take children for a stroll, and that I would be back in an hour or two. Instead, I went towards the barbican of the Château Trompette,22 to join Monsieur de Chambeau,23 whom I had planned to meet. He had also obtained passage on our boat. . . . [377] When the captain grabbed hold of the helm and shouted “Off ”! an indescribable feeling of joy overwhelmed me. Sitting across from my husband whose life I had saved, and with my two children on my lap, nothing seemed impossible to me. Poverty, work, misery, nothing would be difficult with him by my side. Ah! Without question, the time when the sailor pushed us off the bank [378] marked the happiest moment of my existence. . . . The Diane had come down with the previous tide to Bec d’Ambez, where we were supposed to meet her. . . . we went on board somehow. The second tide downstream brought us to Pauillac, where we were subjected to the inspections of two other guardships. My husband, already sea sick, [379] was lying in bed. The officers who came on board were very polite, but intrusive nonetheless. . . . [381] Luckily, the rocking of the ship put my poor little daughter to sleep. She napped almost the entire day. But because of that, when she felt me lying next to her during the night, she would not let me rest, and I was unable to sleep for more than a half an hour at a time. Fearing that I would smother her by rolling on 20. On the meaning of the term “Terror,” see Introduction, 5 note 16. Here, it implies the overall sense of insecurity and violence that reigned at the time. 21. Famous boardwalk in Bordeaux, laid out in 1747 by Claude-Louis-Urbain Aubert, Marquis de Tourny (1695–1760) who initiated several urban development projects in Bordeaux and greatly contributed to the embellishment of the city. 22. The Château Trompette, implanted in the heart of Bordeaux, was built during the reign of Charles VII and reconfigured in 1649 as a military construction in order to ensure the protection of the city. See Christian Taillard, “De l’Ancien Régime à la Révolution: L’histoire exemplaire des projets d’aménagement du Château Trompette à Bordeaux,” Revue de l’art 83 (1989): 77–85; online at Persée: . 23. A friend of the La Tours du Pin and a relative of Monsieur de Brouquens. Monsieur de Chambeau had emigrated in 1792, but he then returned to France and was living in hiding in Bordeaux at the time. When he heard that his father had been arrested and put in prison, he knew that he had to flee again. Shortly after his arrival in America, he learned that his father had perished on the scaffold.

180 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN top of her in my sleep, I found a way to attach myself to the side of the bed with a band of cloth that circled around my waist, in a way that kept me from turning or changing position. In this way, my little girl had all the space that she needed. At first, this way of sleeping was [382] a real torture but I quickly became accustomed to it, and in a few days, it seemed as though I had never slept any other way. At that time, the Americans were at war with the Algerians, who had seized several of their ships.24 Our captain was so afraid of those privateers25 that, at two leagues from the tower of Cordouan,26 he changed the course northward and declared that nothing in the world would reassure him until he reached the north of Ireland. He had little faith that the French navy would protect him from pirates, but instead placed his trust in the English navy, which, he thought, the Algerians would not run the risk of provoking. During a dreadful equinoctial gale, at twenty leagues from the French coast, we were lashing about, which nearly scared us to death. We had heard that, in Pauillac, a French frigate—the Atalante, I believe—had met, while leaving the port of La Rochelle, an American ship with many French people on board, who were taken prisoner and brought to Brest where they were guillotined.27 This cheerful anecdote made me shiver at the thought of being so close to French shores. But no matter how many times I approached the captain to try to persuade him to sail towards his homeland, he could only think of the Algerians and slavery. Monsieur de La Tour du Pin, of the same opinion, encouraged the captain to keep his course northward. 24. Repeated seizures of American ships by both Morocco and Algiers between the years 1784 and 1794 led to the so-called Barbary Wars of 1801–1805 and 1812–1815. 25. Privateers captured commercial vessels, confiscated their cargoes, and sold them for profit. Unlike pirates, privateers acted independently and within the law of nations. They had a license to sell their prizes legally. If caught, privateers were accorded the same rights as captured officers or crew of the US Army. Pirates, on the other hand, operated outside the rule of law and were hanged when caught. See Alexander Tabarrok, “The Rise, Fall, and Rise Again of Privateers,” The Independent Review 11, no. 4 (2007): 565–77, and P. W. Singer, Corporate Warriors: The Rise of the Privatized Military Industry (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003). 26. The Cordouan Tower is considered to be “the Versailles of the sea,” the oldest French lighthouse, and the first one to charge a fee to pass. It is situated near the mouth of the Gironde estuary at about four miles from the shore. In the 1782–1790s, it underwent important renovations under the supervision of engineer Joseph Teulère (1750–1824). See Joseph Teulère, architecte de la tour de Cordouan, inventeur des phares tournants (Bordeaux, chez Feret fils, 1884); and Anastase Raymond and Renée Leulier, Le Phare de Cordouan (Paris: La Martinière, 2012). 27. The guillotine was a machine of execution by beheading, which came to be associated with the Reign of Terror. It was first used in 1792 at the suggestion of Dr. Joseph Ignace Guillotine who thought that this was a quick and less painful death. See Daniel Arasse, La guillotine et l’imaginaire de la Terreur (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), and Laurent Bihl and Annie Duprat, “La veuve et ses amants. L’imaginaire de la guillotine aux XIXe et XXe siècles,” in Visages de la Terreur: L’exception politique de l’an II, ed. Michel Niard and Hervé Leuwers (Paris: Armand Colin, 2014), 223–38.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 181 [383] One day, the wind was pushing water against the portholes and we were forced to close the hatches. We were shut away in our cabin in broad daylight, when the lookout, in a muffled voice, uttered these frightening words: “French man of war ahead.” The captain jumped on the bridge, ordering us to remain hidden. A cannon shot was heard. It was the beginning of a dialogue initiated by the frigate, which meant life or death for us. She declared her French nationality and displayed her flag. We quickly showed ours, and while we could not make out the questions coming from the French ship, we heard our captain respond after the customary questions, “no passengers, no cargo.” To which the Atalante replied, “Come aboard.” The captain said that the sea was too rough. It was indeed agitated, and as we were forced to halt, we were thrown about so much that we could not stand up without holding onto something. The imposing interrogator ended the conversation with the single word, “Follow,” and continued on its route. We unfurled our only sail to trail in its wake submissively. Coming back down, the captain gleefully told us, “In an hour, it will be dark, and there is fog ahead.” [384] Never has fog been greeted with so much joy. Soon, we lost sight of the frigate in the darkness. We were using the sail as little as possible, despite a cannon shot from the frigate as if to say, “Come along!” Clearly she was pulling farther ahead of us little by little. She signaled to us that she was going to Brest and that we were to follow her there. As soon as it was night, we went in the exact opposite direction, unconcerned with being on course for Boston or not. A very strong and favorable wind took us northwest with all sails unfurled. . . . [386] My life on board the ship was difficult, but it forced me to forgo all the little pleasures of which you never know the price until you have lost them. I was deprived of everything including a moment of rest: since boarding, I had no time between tending to my children and my sick husband to care for myself or even to take off the madras kerchief tied around my head. The frivolous style of the day continued to call for a woman to apply powder and pomade.28 One day, after the incident with the Atalante, I wanted to take the time to do my hair while my daughter was asleep. I found my long hair so matted that, despairing of ever being able to untangle it and apparently anticipating the Titus haircut,29 I took a pair of scissors and I cut it short, which angered my husband. I threw my lovely 28. This was a widespread fashion throughout the 1700s, and not to follow it was seen as a breach of social etiquette. Pomade or pomatum, whose recipes incorporated apples, was first applied to the wig to help the powder to stick to it. Powder, made from flour or starch, was used then to make wigs heavier. On the Titus cut and the use of pomatum in eighteenth-century France see Richard Corson, Fashions in Hair: The First Five Thousand Years (London: Peter Owen, 1965), 331–32, 366–69, and 463. On the treatment of the wig in the 1700s and the role it played in establishing and even constituting the identity of its wearer, see Lynn Festa, “Personal Effects: Wigs and Possessive Individualism in the Long Eighteenth Century,” Eighteenth-Century Life 29, no. 2 (2005): 47–90. 29. On the origins and the vogue of the so-called Titus haircut, see Introduction, 15–16 note 51.

182 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN blonde curls into the sea, and with them all the frivolous ideas that they had ever fostered in me. . . . [388] Finally, on May 13, 1794, at the break of day, the temperature being warm and the sea calm, we came up to sit on deck with our children to have a moment of peace and a breath of fresh air. The fog was still very thick, and the captain insisted that whichever land we were approaching, it was still at least fifty or sixty leagues away. I noticed, however, the agitation of the dog, a black terrier that I loved very much and that had become my friend, to the annoyance of the captain, his owner. The poor creature would walk ahead of us, barking, and then run up to me, lick my son’s hands and face, and then repeat it all over again. This particular behavior had gone on for a good hour [389] when a small-decked ship—a pilot boat—passed nearby and the man on board shouted in English that if we didn’t change direction, we would wreck on the cape. So we threw him a rope and he jumped on board. It is impossible to describe our joy in seeing this pilot from Boston. Without knowing it, we had arrived at the mouth of this magnificent harbor, to which the most beautiful body of water in Europe cannot compare. Leaving behind a tempestuous sea whose waves furiously broke against the rocks, we sailed into perfectly calm and mirror-like waters through a bottleneck, in which two ships could not pass together. A gentle wind rose to show us, like a scenery change at a theater, the friendly land that was about to greet us. I cannot describe my son’s excitement at that moment. All he heard for sixty days was talk of the dangers from which, thank heavens, we had escaped. In the mind of this four-year-old, we would have to do without many of our comforts from now on in order to get away from these red-bonneted men who scared him so and who were threatening to kill his papa. The memory of hearty white bread and fresh milk would often distract his young imagination. He was very upset to no longer have these things, and the vague memory of them would often make him cry out of nowhere. But as soon he saw from this bottleneck the green fields, the flowering trees, [390] and the beauty of all the most luscious plants, his joy was unmatched. Our joy, despite the fact that we saw things through adult eyes, was just as great. •

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 183 SECOND PART Chapter One All our thoughts, I admit to the shame of us rational people on board, were concentrated entirely on the pilot’s enormous freshly-caught fish that, with a jar of milk, fresh butter, and white bread, was to compose what the captain called a welcome breakfast. While we were eating with a voracious appetite, we entered this magnificent bay, towed by our rowboat. At two cable’s lengths30 from [3] land, our captain dropped the anchor, then left and promised to come back that night after finding us a place to stay. With no letter of reference, we were enthusiastically awaiting his return. Fresh supplies were pouring in from all over. Several Frenchmen, eager to hear news from the homeland, assailed us with questions to which we could only give incomplete responses. One wanted to know what was happening in Lille, another in Grenoble, a third in Metz, and they were all surprised and almost angry to only hear about what was happening in Paris or in France in general. They were mostly common folks, impoverished merchants, or laborers looking for work. They seemed to us to be more or less sympathizers of the revolution and they saw us as aristocrats who escaped from the torment, which in their view, we well deserved for our past tyranny. They left infuriated and we were rid of them for the remainder of our time in Boston. We spent the rest of the day putting our effects in order. That night, the captain returned. He had found us a small place to stay off the market square, and the owner of his ship had asked him to offer us his services. My husband planned to talk to him the next day as we were leaving the boat. The captain told us that he was a wealthy and respected man and we were glad to be under his protection. [4] As you can well imagine, I was up at dawn the next morning. I got my children up and dressed. As soon as the rowboat was ready, I bid farewell to the entire crew, giving each a wholehearted handshake. These good old fellows had been nothing but kind to us. The ship’s boy cried hot tears upon parting with my son. Everyone had something that they did not want to leave: I, for one, was so sad to leave behind the dog, Black, who had befriended me. I had asked my friend Boyd if the captain would willingly give her to me. He told me no, therefore I did not dare to ask for her. In order to understand the joy I felt as I set foot on this friendly land, one would have to have been subjected to the hardships I had endured the last two months: the constraints imposed on me earlier, the threats to my own safety, the anxieties caused by my husband’s precarious situation, and the constant fear of an imminent death that would result in the abandonment of my poor children, 30. About 400 meters or one-quarter mile.

184 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN left me without help or support. Our good captain was just as overjoyed as we were. First, he took us to one of the best inns, where he had ordered an excellent lunch, and we found there all that which we had been deprived for so long. Such a powerful reaction might appear trivial to those of you who have never lacked anything. Allow me to express how I felt at the sight of such a bountiful table: my pleasure at that moment was so great, I don’t recall having experienced something as powerful as that ever before. We then went on to the small place that our good captain picked out for us, and my husband left me there to go speak with the ship’s owner. Mister Geyer was one of the richest landlords in Boston. Even though he had come back since the Peace to attend to his fortune in his native land,31 he had sided with the Loyalists and had taken no part in the insurrection against his motherland.32 Like many other merchants from Boston, he had even taken his family to England. My husband was greeted so warmly by Mister Geyer that he was at once beguiled. . . . Madame de La Tour du Pin describes the house that the captain has found for them. Three generations lived there, Madame Pierce, her mother, and her daughter. The dog, Black, who had managed to escape from La Diane, suddenly appeared at the La Tours du Pin doorstep. The captain came to fetch her but when he saw how attached the dog was to Madame de La Tour du Pin and her family, he did not have the heart to part Back from them. Black stayed with the La Tours du Pin during the entire time they spent in America and when they returned to France, they took her along with them. [7] The morning after our arrival, Mister Geyer came to see me with his wife and daughter. He spoke French rather well, but the women did not know a word. They were delighted to see that I spoke English as well as they. They did not need a letter of reference to extend their warm hospitality to us. The dangers that we had faced in France inspired a general sense of sympathy, and everyone thought that we slightly embellished our story. My hair cut short at the nape appeared to them as a sign that I was destined to the guillotine, which heightened everyone’s interest 31. Article V of the September 3, 1783 Treaty of Paris stipulated the restoration of Loyalist confiscated property, and exiles were given one year to attempt recovery in the courts. For the Treaty of Paris, see the US Department of State Archive: . 32. The Loyalists who supported the British cause during the American Revolutionary War (1775– 1783) were violently opposed by the Patriots. On New England Loyalists after 1783, see Thomas N. Ingersoll, The Loyalist Problem in Revolutionary New England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 274–306.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 185 in us. I tried very hard to explain to them that this was not the case. However, there was no way to convince the Bostonians that they were wrong. Forty-five years ago, the city still had [8] the appearance of an English colony. Yet it was there that the initial uprising against the motherland began.33 The Bostonians showed us with pride the column erected on the top of the hill where they gathered to enact the first resolutions against the unjust taxes that England forced upon the colonies, the part of the harbor where they threw two shiploads of tea into the sea rather than pay the exorbitant tariff placed on it,34 the beautiful village green35 where the first troops were assembled, and the spot where the first battle took place: Bunker’s Hill.36 The most wealthy and distinguished Bostonians opposed the country’s separation from the motherland but they kept silent about it and conformed to the authority of the new government. They still enjoyed affectionate and familial ties to England. They maintained English customs and traditions, and many of them, after finding refuge in England, did not come back to America until after the Peace. These people were called Loyalists.37 Among them was Mister Jeffreys, brother of the famed editor of the Edinburgh Review,38 and the Russell family, who made sure no one would forget their close family ties to the

33. The first incident that led to a confrontation between British troops and Colonists occurred on March 5, 1770 and is generally referred to as the Boston Massacre. It began as a skirmish on King Street but rapidly escalated to a bloody massacre. On this event and the way it was used to inflame the passions of the colonists, see Neil Longley York, The Boston Massacre: A History with Documents (New York: Taylor and Francis, 2010). 34. Reference to the so-called Boston Tea Party, which resulted in the Boston Port Act of 1774. See David L. Ammerman, “The Tea Crisis and its Consequences, through 1775,” in Greene and Pole, A Companion to the American Revolution, 194–215. 35. Beacon Hill, originally used as a place to pasture horses and cattle, remained pastoral until the construction of the State House in 1795. 36. The Battle of Bunker Hill on June 17, 1775 during the Siege of Boston (also known as The Battle of Breed’s Hill because most of the fighting took place on this nearby hill) is generally viewed as the bloodiest battle of the American Revolution. Even though the Americans were defeated, this battle proved to be a morale-builder for them for it showed them that their patriotic dedication could overcome the British’s military might. See Terry M. Mays, ed., The Historical Dictionary of the American Revolution, 2nd ed. (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2009), 42–44. 37. Robert M. Cahoon defines this term as follows: “The Loyalists were colonists who by some overt action, such as signing addresses, bearing arms, doing business with the British Army, seeking military protection, or going into exile, supported the Crown during the American Revolution.” See Cahoon, “Loyalism and Neutrality,” in Greene and Pole, A Companion to the American Revolution, 235. 38. John Jeffrey (1775–1848), brother of Francis Jeffrey (1773–1850) who was a judge, a literary critic, and one of the founders as well as the first and longtime editor (1802–1829) of the liberal periodical, the Edinburgh Review.

186 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Duke of Bedford.39 All these people welcomed us with exceptional kindness and had our well-being at heart. Mister Geyer offered us a place to stay on a farm of his about eighteen miles from Boston. Perhaps we should have accepted but my husband wanted to be closer to Canada, where he had hoped to settle down. He [9] did not speak English very well, even though he understood it perfectly, and thus he wanted to live close to Montreal because French was, and still is, the everyday language there. . . . Upon the recommendation of Madame Church, a friend of her aunt, and the younger daughter of General Schuyler who lives in Albany, Madame de La Tour du Pin and her family decide to move to Albany. [10] Before sending our effects ahead, we had to unpack all of our trunks so that we could repack them. Zamore, in his haste to fill the trunks, did not have sufficient time to sort them properly. These trunks contained a number of things, useless for those of us who were preparing to live in the countryside like European peasants. We could not predict whether the revolutionary torment in France would allow us to return to Europe soon,40 and I was happy, I must say, that my husband was so welcomed in the United States that he no longer considered going to England, which I feared would have been resented by my family. In Boston, I sold everything of any worth that we had. As the Diane had sailed to Boston without cargo, our baggage cost us nothing, and it was of considerable volume. We rid ourselves of half of it. Stylish clothing, fine fabrics, lace, a piano, music, pieces of porcelain, all these things that would be superfluous in a small household were converted into money, and then bills of exchange signed by trustworthy people in Albany. . . . Before moving to Albany, the La Tours du Pin stop in Boston where they spend a month or so visiting the surrounding areas including the charming village of Wrentham. [14] The three of us adults left with the children in early June, and fifteen days later we arrived in Albany. To get there, we went through the entire state of Connecticut, admiring the fertile fields and enjoying the fresh air. . . . Monsieur de La Tour du Pin has learned that his wife’s father had been guillotined, but he is awaiting the propitious moment to tell Madame de La Tour du Pin about 39. Descendants of John Russell (1710–1771), 4th duke of Bedford, who signed the definitive Treaty of Paris on February 10, 1763. 40. For nearly all who still remained abroad, the signal to return was the general amnesty for émigrés, promulgated in the form of the senatus-consult of April 26, 1802 (6 Floréal, Year X). On the problem of return, see Boffa, “Émigrés,” esp. 330–31, and Greer, 92–108.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 187 it. He breaks the sad news when they reach Northampton, the capital of Connecticut. Even though this loss is not unexpected, Madame de La Tour du Pin is deeply saddened when she hears the news. [15] In spite of everything, I was distracted from my grief, as it happens when one is in a state of discovering new things, by the beautiful forests we went through to reach Lebanon [Connecticut], the last stop before arriving in Albany. I had an extraordinary view of something I had never seen before: a massive forest fifty miles across, which separated the state of Connecticut from that of New York, and which undoubtedly no longer exists; a forest presenting vegetation in all its different stages, from a new tree sprouting to a fallen one. The road winding through these lovely woods was only wide enough for two carriages. It had been cleared only by cutting the tree trunks to the ground, right and left, without removing the stumps, to make space for easy travel. Heaven knows how bumpy our ride was when the stumps were left. The prodigious fertility of this virgin land had allowed the spread of many invasive plants: wild vines that crept from one tree to another. In unshaded places, thickets [16] of blossoming rhododendrons, some with deep purple flowers, others with pale-violet ones, and rose bushes of all kinds formed colorful flowerbeds in the middle of fields adorned with moss and flowering grasses, while in the lower areas, furrowed and sustained by little streams called creeks, every type of aquatic plant bloomed. I found this fresh natural scene so enchanting that I spent the entire day in a continual state of ecstasy. Towards the middle of the day, we stopped for lunch at an inn that had just opened in the middle of these immense woods. In America, when a rustic cabin is erected somewhere close to a trail where perhaps one person passes per year, the owner first purchases a sign and his first task is to install a post upon which to hang it. Next, he nails a mailbox onto the post, under the sign, and by doing so, this place that one might just pass by without noticing, and where the road is hardly marked, is already indicated as a town on the map of the country. The wooden house where we stopped had reached the second degree of civilization as it was a frame house,41 meaning that it had glass-paned windows. But it was the image of the exceptional family living there that is engraved so permanently into my memory. Three generations lived there together. The household included the man and his [17] wife, forty to forty-five years of age. Both were models of strength and elegance and were in such an exquisite and perfect physical health as only can be found in the works of master painters. Around them were their eight or ten boys and girls of all ages, from an adolescent girl

41. On colonial timber-frame houses and the Hudson Valley architectural history, see Clifford W. Zink, “Dutch Framed Houses in New York and New Jersey,” Winterthur Portfolio 22, no. 4 (1987): 265–94.

188 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN who looked similar to the beautiful virgins painted by Raphael,42 down to the little children with the faces of cherubs that Rubens43 would have loved to paint. Finally, in the same home, lived a grandfather of the most venerable appearance. His hair was white with age but he showed no sign of infirmity. After we finished lunch, which we all ate together, the grandfather stood, took off his cap, and pronounced these words with an air of respect, “Let us drink to the health of our beloved President.” One could not have found a single home then, even one as isolated in the woods as this one, where one would not end each meal with this gesture of reverence for the great Washington.44 Sometimes they also added, “to the health of the Marquis . . .” Monsieur de La Fayette was very beloved in the United States.45 . . . In Lebanon, the family stops at an inn to spend the night. Because the bed in Monsieur de Chambeau’s room is unusually large, he is forced to share it with another traveler.

Chapter Two [29] September of that year, my husband entered into negotiations with a farmer whose land was on the other side of the river, on the road from Troy to Schenectady, two miles inland. Its dominating position on the hilltop over a large spread of land appealed to us. The house was new, charming, and well-maintained. The land was only partially cultivated. The farm had 150 acres of sowed land, with just as much acreage in wood and pasture, a small garden about a quarter acre large that was filled with vegetables, and finally a beautiful orchard planted with red clover and full of apple trees, about ten years old and producing fruit for cider. They wanted 12,000 francs for it. General Schuyler46 did not think the price exorbitant. The property was about four miles from Albany on a road being built to connect the 42. For Raphael, see in this volume Madame Du Boccage, Letters on England, Holland, and Italy, 157 note 223. 43. For Rubens, see in this volume Madame Du Boccage, Letters on England, Holland, and Italy, 116 note 56. 44. George Washington (1732–1799), commander of the Continental army during the American Revolutionary War, and founding father who served two terms as the first president of the United States (1789–1797). 45. French aristocrat, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette (1757–1834), remained for Americans a hero of the American Revolutionary War. On the relationship between America and the French aristocrat Lafayette, see Lloyd S. Kramer, “America’s Lafayette and Lafayette’s America: A European and the American Revolution,” The William and Mary Quarterly 38, no. 2 (1981): 228–41. 46. Philip John Schuyler (1733–1804), key general in the French and Indian War, appointed the first northern department commander, named representative to the first Continental Congress in Philadelphia, and adviser to George Washington. He remained active in the New York State legislature

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 189 city to Schenectady, which was growing steadily, or as the Americans would say, was in a “thriving situation.” The proprietor did not want to move until the first snow had fallen. As we had already lived with the van Buren’s for two months (they were obviously tired of us), we had to find somewhere else to stay from the first of September until the first of November. We found in Troy, for a modest rent, a little wood house in the middle of a large yard surrounded by a wooden fence. We settled in and, since we had to buy some furniture for the farm, we acquired a few things immediately. These, along with what we had brought from Europe, allowed us to make it like home right away. I had hired a white girl who was a very hard worker. She was engaged to be married in two months’ time. She agreed to enter into my service while she waited for her intended to build them the log house where they would live after their wedding. [30] Here is what was considered a log house.47 A drawing, rather than a description, would give a better idea of what it looks like. One begins by leveling a plot of land of about fourteen or fifteen square feet and building a brick chimney, which is the home’s most comfortable place. Next, one raises the walls, which are made of large logs still covered in their bark and are notched in such a way that you can join them exactly one to the other. On top of the walls, one constructs the roof, leaving room for the chimney to pass through. A door is then placed facing south. Such houses can be found in Switzerland, in the pastures high in the Alps, where they are used as shelter for shepherds and their flocks. In America, they constitute the first stage of land ownership, and often the last, because there are poor people everywhere, and when the town becomes prosperous, these log houses become the refuge of the destitute. Betsey was then waiting for her future husband to build the house in which she was supposed to live. He was a handy man, working odd jobs in the small gardens of those merchants who sold all kinds of things including nails and ribbon, muslin and salted pork, needles and plowshares. Otherwise, he occupied himself doing whatever was needed. This man earned as much as a dollar or a buck (piastre) per day. By now, he must be a wealthy landowner in his own right. [39] For three or four months, we were impatiently waiting for the first snowfall and for the river to freeze over. The river freezes all at once. To ensure that it is solid and that the ice is two to three feet thick, one needs to wait twentyfour hours. This particular situation is due not to the latitude of Albany, but to its throughout his life. See Don R. Gerlach, Philip Schuyler and the American Revolution in New York, 1733–1777 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1964). 47. The resources needed to build a log house were fairly easy to come by, and their construction did not require special skills. See Alison K. Hoagland, The Log Cabin: An American Icon (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2018), chapter 1; and C. A. Weslager, The Log Cabin in America: From Pioneer Days to the Present (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1969).

190 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN location and to the huge wooded areas that cover this immense continent across the north and west of American territory. It is very probable that the region’s climate has notably changed by now (in 1843), given that the Great Lakes are almost entirely surrounded by farmlands. Whatever the case, life was as follows. From the twenty-fifth of October to the first of November, the sky was covered in a mass of clouds so thick that it was dark even during the day. A horribly cold northwesterly wind blew them along violently and everyone was preparing by bringing everything inside that was not supposed to be covered in [40] snow. From the river, they brought in the boats, canoes, and ferries, and they raised the keels of the undecked boats in the air. Everyone was overwhelmed with things to do. Then the snow began to fall so heavily that you could not see a man standing ten feet in front of you. Usually, the river froze completely over in two to three days. The first thing to do was to mark the riverbanks with pine branches. The townspeople even marked the places where the banks were not steep and where one could walk on the frozen water. It would have been dangerous to tread elsewhere as the ice lacked solidity in many places along the riverside. We bought ourselves moccasins, which are buffalo skin slippers made and sold by the natives.48 The price of these slippers are sometimes rather high, depending on whether they are embroidered with died bark or with porcupines’ quills. It was when I purchased these slippers that I saw these natives for the first time. Those living in this area were the last survivors of the Mohawk nation,49 whose territory had either been bought or seized by the Americans after the Treaty of Paris.50 The Onondagas, who were settled next to Lake Champlain, were also selling their forests and dispersing during this period. Some passed by from time to time. I must admit, I was a little surprised when I saw for the first time a man and a woman, totally naked, walking peacefully along the road, without anyone

48. For descriptions of these Indian moccasins, see “Moccasin,” 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica, 18:637: . 49. The Mohawk (as mentioned in Marie de l’Incarnation’s Correspondence, 85, note 39) and the Onondaga were two of the original six constituent nations of the Iroquois Confederacy in northeast North America. On the Iroquois Confederacy, the most famous Indian Confederacy in North America, see Colin G. Calloway, Indians of the Northeast (New York: FactsOnFile, 1991), 29. 50. The Treaty of Fort Stanwix of 1784 (October 22) between the United States and representatives from the six nations of the Iroquois Confederacy addressed the status of Indian lands that had been ignored in the Treaty of Paris. In the 1784 treaty, the Iroquois Confederacy relinquished the Ohio territory, a strip of land along the Niagara river and the territory west of the mouth of Buffalo creek. In Pennsylvania, the land acquired at that time is generally referred to as the “Last Purchase.” Some of the native representatives disagreed with such provisions and various treaties and land sales ensued in the last decade of the century. See Chuck Hagy, “Spoils of War: Taking PA in the Treaty of Ft. Stanwix,” at the Pennsylvania Center for the Book: .

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 191 else finding it odd. But I soon became accustomed to it, [41] and when I had settled in at the farm, I saw natives passing by almost every day in the summer. We took advantage of the first opportunity when the road was plowed and cleared to start moving. The funds from Holland that we were awaiting had arrived. My grandmother, Lady Dillon, who was still living,51 had sent me, even though she had never met me, three hundred louis, with which we bought our farming tools. We already had four good horses and two work sleds. We owned a third for personal use, which was called “the pleasure sledge”52 and could hold six people. It was a sort of box that was very low to the ground. At the back of it was the first bench, a little wider than the body of the sled. This bench was on top of a trunk in which one could put little packages and it had a backboard which raised above our heads and protected us from the wind. The two other benches were made of simple planks. Buffalo and sheepskin kept our feet warm. We would hitch two horses to this sled and off we’d go. When this team was hitched up, we moved to the farm, even though the owners were still there. But they were in no hurry to leave, completely ignoring the inconvenience of it. We found ourselves compelled to literally push them out. Meanwhile, we bought a black man, and this purchase, which seemed to be the simplest thing in the world, caused such a new feeling in me that I will always remember the precise circumstances of it.53 [42] It had been decided by law, as I said earlier, that a black man born in 1794 would be freed at twenty years of age.54 But some had already been emancipated, either by their master as a reward, or for some other reason. In addition, a custom was established, which no master would have dared to oppose for fear of public animosity. When a slave was dissatisfied with his condition, he would go to a judge and serve his master with an official plea to sell him.55 According to this custom, the master was expected to allow the slave to find another master willing to buy him at a given price. The owner could demand a delay of three to six months for the transfer, but this was rarely done, as a master would not want to keep a worker or servant who wanted to leave. On the other side, the slave had 51. Lucy Cary died in 1804; see Introduction, 14. 52. “Sledge” is the British equivalent of “sled.” 53. On Madame de La Tour du Pin’s ambivalent attitude toward slavery, see Introduction, 35–39 notes 146, 149-50, 154–55. 54. On this policy see Introduction, 37 note 148. 55. The origin of this practice may have been a variant of the “half freedom” granted to enslaved Africans by the Dutch West India Company in the 1640s. Half-free slaves enjoyed new liberties, but this status could not be passed along to their children. On half-freedom see McManus, Black Bondage in the North, 57–58; on the practice of finding a sympathetic owner in New York in the 1770s, see Shane White, “Slavery in New York State in the Early Republic,” Australasian Journal of American Studies 14, no. 2 (1995): 18–24.

192 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN to find someone willing to purchase him. Ordinarily, he would find a new master before he approached his current master. This is what happened with us. Betsey, who garnered an impeccable reputation, had sung our praises and was sorry to have to leave us. With a few ribbons and some old dresses that I had given her, I had easily bought myself the reputation of a generous lady. This renown had spread as far as the farmers of the old Dutch colony.56 A young slave wished to leave the master whom he had been serving from birth in order to escape his strict parents (slaves themselves). He came with the written authorization to find a new master. We gathered, after checking, that he was treated with extreme severity, and upon his father’s request that we take him, we agreed to do so. We rode our yellow and red sleigh, pulled by our two excellent black horses, the four miles from our farm to a tract of land with eight to ten farms closed to each other, and whose owners were all named Lansing. This particularity comes from the fact that the first colonist bought a piece of land, when it was originally covered with forests, and went for four to five sous an acre. He started clearing this land and his children continued to do so. On these cleared parcels of land, they then built houses in exactly the same style as the original one. Consequently, it is not rare to spend an entire day roaming from farm to farm without finding the person you are looking for but meeting landowners who share the same name everywhere. Nevertheless, since we knew the baptismal name of our slave, assuming he was baptized, we arrived at Monsieur Henry Lansing’s beautiful home, which was constructed with bricks, a great honor that we did not possess. [44] There, we asked Madame Lansing for the slave Mink, who offered to enter into our service. As a Dutch woman who had not assimilated to American culture, she inquired in rather poor English whether we had brought money. My husband counted on the table the one thousand francs that I had hidden in my coat when Monsieur Lansing appeared. He was a tall man, well dressed in gray homespun fabric. He called Mink into the room, and taking his hand, placed it in my husband’s, saying, “this is your new master.” With this done, we told Mink that we were leaving. But since Madame Lansing had served us a glass of Madeira and a biscuit, we absolutely had to stay, otherwise they would think us bad neighbors. During our conversation, Monsieur Lansing learned that my husband had represented the king of France in Holland, his mother country, as he called it.57 This fact considerably heightened his respect for us. We then left and found Mink already in the sleigh. 56. For a brief history of the Dutch settlement in America, see at The History Files (UK): . Farm products contributed to the agricultural development of the province of New York, but it was the more lucrative fur trade that Dutch settlers especially pursued that helped made New York and Albany cities of consequence. 57. In 1791, Monsieur de La Tour du Pin was appointed Minister to the Court of the Low Countries at The Hague. He returned there in February 1816 to take up his duties as Minister Plenipotentiary.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 193 He had gone to his room and dressed in his finest clothes, which truly belonged to him, as he did not bring any of the effects bought by his master, not even his moccasins. In the sleigh’s trunk, he put the rest of his personal effects, which could have fit inside a hat. He then returned, tipping his cap, as the most stylish English coachman might have done, [45] and asked me, pointing to the horses, “Are these my horses?” Upon hearing they were, he took the reins and left in a hurry for his new home, much less preoccupied than I was, since, never having bought a man, I was still astonished by the manner in which it all happened.

Chapter Three [56] It is interesting to note how swiftly Spring arrived in this area. The latitude, 43 degrees, became apparent then and retook its character. The northwesterly wind, after blowing the whole winter long, ceased completely on the first days of March. Instead, the inland breeze began to blow, and the snow melted so quickly that the roads turned into torrents within two days. Since our land was at the top of a hill, we were soon rid of our white blanket. The snow, which was three or four feet deep, had preserved the grass and plants from the winter frost. Therefore, in less than a week, the fields were green and covered in flowers, and a huge number of plants, of kinds unknown in Europe, filled the woods. The natives, who had disappeared all winter, started visiting the farms again. At the beginning of winter, one of them had asked me for permission to cut branches from some kind of willow, whose offshoots are as thick as a finger and five to six feet long, in order to weave baskets58 for me during the cold season. I did not count on his promise, since I did not expect natives to keep their word, even though I was told that they did. I was wrong: the snow was gone for barely one week when he came to see me with a load of baskets. He gave me six, stacked on top of each other. The top one was round, huge, and so tightly woven that it held water like a clay jar. I offered to pay for them but he firmly refused and accepted instead a jar of butter milk, which they loved. I had been warned never to offer rum, which they consumed immoderately,59 and I had witnessed for myself the terrible consequences of this in Troy.

58. On woodsplint basketry, see Turnbaugh and Turnbaugh, Indian Basketry. On the high level of skill achieved by Indian basket makers, see Colin G. Calloway, New Worlds for All: Indians, Europeans, and the Remaking of Early America (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), 48–49, and Calloway, Indians of the Northeast, 34–37. 59. What concerned colonists most was not the amount Amerindians drank, but the way they behaved after they consumed alcohol. However, colonial traders would offer them alcohol, knowing that this was a sure way to maintain trade. On Amerindian consumption of alcohol and the specific circumstances in which they drank, see Mancall, Deadly Medicine, 63–84.

194 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN A native, passing through town with his wife, had stopped outside of a shop being decorated by a painter. Some young people dared him to paint his skin in black and red, as he would when going to war. He accepted, on the condition that they would give him a quart of rum. This English measurement is the equivalent of a liter and a half in France. Then he sat down on the bench with much gravity, and his wife traced with precision crescent moons, serpents, and images of the sun, along with many others figures on his skin. He then let out a war cry, indicating a call, an attack, etc. . . . So far, there is nothing very amusing about this. But he demanded what was promised to him and they brought him his quart of rum. He took it and gulped it down without leaving a drop. He fell down immediately, as if dead, laying on the sand of the riverbank. His wife, with the prodigious patience only native women are known for, sat by him and stayed there for hours without moving. When he came to, he rushed into the river to wash off all the colorful drawings covering his skin. But instead of being diluted by the water, the colors spread all over his body. This was a horrible sight. He understood then that he had been fooled, which is something natives never forgive. He left cursing and threatening the youths, and the wiser folks warned them that if that native had the chance to avenge himself, even if he had to wait twenty years, he would do so. Therefore, I was careful not to give them rum. But in an old box were left some artificial flowers, feathers, pieces of ribbons of all colors, and glass beads that were once fashionable. I gave them to the women who loved them so.60 Among them was an ugly old woman. She was called the Old Squaw, and when she was around, my slave girl felt uneasy. She was thought to be a witch who cursed people. If the Old Squaw was around when the hens were laying eggs, the cows and sows were about to deliver, the fields had been sown, or when a thorough cleaning was underway, it was absolutely necessary to give her some present in order to acquire her favor. Even among civilized folks, an old woman is always an ugly sight to behold. Picture this Old Squaw: She was about seventy years old, and her skin so tanned it was black. She spent her entire life with her nude body exposed to all the elements of the seasons and her head was covered in a mass of gray hair that had never been combed. All she had to wear was a sort of apron made of a large blue cloth and a small woolen blanket, which she wore until they fell off her body in rags. The blanket hung around her shoulders and was attached under her chin with a wooden broach, a nail, or an acacia thorn. This woman, who spoke English rather well, loved jewelry passionately. She would make anything into an accessory. The tip of an old pink feather, a tangle of ribbon, or an old flower pleased her greatly. If you let her look at herself in the mirror, you could bet that she would bless your brood and your cows, that your cream would keep, and that your butter would be a beautiful yellow. 60. Northeastern Indians were fond of decoration including necklaces, earrings, bracelets obtained from Europeans. See Calloway, Indians of the Northeast, 33–34.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 195 However, these natives, who barely knew a few words of English and who passed their summer going from farm to farm, were as much attuned to etiquette or to a friendly greeting as a nobleman at court would have been. They quickly understood that we were not from the same class as the other farmers in the area. Thus, they would say of me, “Misses Latour . . . [60] from the old country . . . great lady . . . very good to poor squaw.” The word “squaw” means native. It pertains to any being or object coming from lands where European civilization has not yet penetrated. In this way, it applies to the migrating birds: squaw pigeon, squaw turkey, and to the objects brought by the natives: squaw basket, etc. . . . [65] A beautiful wagon filled with ripe vegetables often passed by our yard. It belonged to the Shakers, who had settled about six or seven miles from us. This wagon’s driver stopped at our home each time he passed by and I always chatted with him about their way of life, customs, and beliefs. He invited us to visit their settlement and one day, we accepted. It is well known that this sect of Quakers belonged to the Reformed branch of the old Quakers who had taken refuge in America with Penn.61 After the Seven Years War,62 an English woman took it upon herself to spread the Word.63 She gained many disciples in the states of Vermont and Massachusetts. Several families put their wealth together and bought some land in the parts of the country that were not yet inhabited. But as more land was cleared and people settled around it, they would sell their settlement to retreat further into the wilderness. Meanwhile, they would only decide to move when an outsider to their group became an immediate neighbor. [66] These people were protected on all sides by several miles of woods. Therefore, they had no immediate fear of having neighbors. On one side, their settlement was separated by 20,000 acres of woods, which belong to the city of Albany, and on the other side by the Mohawk River. Probably they no longer live in the area where I first met them and have settled beyond the Great Lakes. The 61. On the Quakers settlement in the 1680s after William Penn (1644–1718) received the charter to develop Pennsylvania, see Richard C. Allen, “Restoration Quakerism, 1660–1691,” in Stephen W. Angell and Pink Dandelion, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 29–46, esp. 38–40. 62. The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763), an international conflict that had begun earlier in America as the French and Indian War (1754–1763), in which Great Britain opposed France over the control of their respective colonial empires. See Fred Anderson, The War That Made America: A Short History of the French and Indian War (London: Penguin, 2006). 63. Ann Lee (1736–1784), also called Mother Ann, in 1774 led eight of her Shaker followers from England to the American colonies, with the goal of establishing the first millennial church in the New World. Soon Shakers from other settlements joined the group and the Shaker movement rapidly spread throughout New England. On Ann Lee’s revelations and her vision of the heavenly kingdom to come, see Testimonies of the Life, Character, Revelations and Doctrines of Mother Ann Lee, and the Elders with Her, 2nd ed. (Albany, NY: Weed, Parsons, 1988; reprinted New York: AMS Press, 1975).

196 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN settlement that was in the large forest that we crossed through on our way from Boston to Albany was a branch of the largest congregation in Lebanon. Our slave, Prime, who was familiar with all the trails in the area, took us to them. We spent three hours going through the woods following a trail that was hardly marked; then, after we entered the gate that delineated the limit of the Quakers’ property, the trail became much clearer and better kept; but we still had to cross through another thick forest, punctuated here and there by clearings, where cows and horses grazed free. Finally, we arrived at a huge clearing, with a creek running through it and surrounded by woods on all sides. In the middle was the settlement composed of many beautiful wood houses, a church, schools, and the community building which was built of brick. The Quaker we had met welcomed us warmly, if with a certain reserve. The Quakers showed Prime a shack where he could put the horses because there were no stables. [67] We had been warned that no one would offer us anything and that our guide would be our only interlocutor. First, he took us to a superb vegetable garden that was perfectly maintained. Everything was in the most robust condition, but lacked all sense of esthetic. A great number of men and women were busy weeding and hoeing; the sale of these homegrown vegetables provided most of the community’s income. We visited the schools for the boys and girls, the large communal barns, and the dairy farms where they made butter and cheese. Everywhere there was a sense of quiet and order. The children, boys and girls, were all dressed in the same style and color. The women, no matter their age, were all dressed similarly in grey wool, and looked very tidy and clean. Through the windows one could see looms, pieces of fabric that had just been died, and the workshops of tailors and seamstresses. But one heard from within no words or songs.64 Finally, we heard a bell ring. Our guide told us that it announced the time to pray and asked us whether we wanted to attend. We agreed readily, and he took us to the largest house that was undistinguishable from the others by any exterior sign. At the door, they separated me from my husband and from Monsieur de Chambeau, then they seated us at the extreme opposites of a huge room, on each side of a fireplace where a magnificent fire was burning. It was early spring and still cold in these thick woods. [68] This room could have been 150 to 200 feet long and fifty feet wide. You could enter through two side doors. It was very bright and the walls, which were free of any ornamentation, were perfectly smooth and painted light blue.65 At each extremity was a pulpit on which was a wooden armchair. 64. The Quakers embraced the ideal of simplicity and lived lives uncluttered by needless possessions and outward distractions. See Emma J. Lapsansky, “Plainless and Simplicity,” in Angell and Dandelion, The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies, 335–46. 65. The Quakers held decorative adornment in distrust. See Roger Homan, “Quakers and Visual Culture,” in Angell and Dandelion, The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies, 492–506.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 197 I was seated at the side of the fireplace, and our guide advised me to remain silent, which was easy to do since I was by myself. While staying completely still, I took the opportunity to take a closer look at the floor, which was made of magnificent pine free of knotholes, evenly stained and perfectly assembled. On this beautiful floor, various lines were traced in many directions with shining copper nails whose heads touched just above floor level. I was trying to think of the purpose of these lines, which seemed to be randomly placed, when, at the bell’s last toll, the two side doors swung open, and some fifty to sixty young girls and women entered my side of the room, led by an older woman who sat in one of the armchairs. They were no children with them. Some men came in and stood in the same way on the opposite side, where Monsieur de La Tour du Pin and Monsieur de Chambeau were. I noticed that the women were each standing on the lines marked by nails, while being careful not to step in front out of them. They remained still until the woman in the armchair let out a sort of [69] a groan or shout that did not sound like either a song or a chant. The women all changed their places and I realized that the muffled cry that I had heard must have been some sort of command. After this had been repeated several times, they stopped, and the old woman mumbled yet again another line in an unintelligible language, which seemed to be mixed with a few English words. Afterwards, the recessional occurred in the same manner as the procession. Having thus visited the Quaker settlement and all its components, we left our hospitable guide and went back home in our wagon, unimpressed by the Quakers’ welcome. Whenever this Shaker passed in front of our farm with his vegetable cart, I would always buy something from him. He never wanted to take money from my hand. If I ever complained that the price was too high, he would reply, “Just as you please.” Then I would put on the corner of the table the sum that I thought appropriate. If he found it sufficient, he would take it; if not, he would get back in his wagon and drive away without saying a word. He looked like a very respectable man, always perfectly dressed in a gray tail coat, a jacket, and trousers made of fabric homespun in their own factories.

Chapter Four [77] Steamboats were not yet invented,66 even if that engine’s driving force was already in use in several factories. We even had a very efficient “steam jack” that we used every week, be it for making roast beef on Sunday or for cooking brown and white turkeys, which are much better than those in Europe. But Fulton had not 66. Steamboats had been built in the eighteenth century, but the first successful model was developed in 1807 by the American engineer Robert Fulton (1765–1815).

198 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN yet applied his invention of the steam engine to boats,67 and, since I have begun speaking about this subject, I will tell you how the idea came to him. [78] Between Long Island and New York, there exists an approximately one-mile-wide Sound that small boats cross whenever the weather allows it.68 Since there is no current, as it is not a river, the tide is only noticeable when the water levels change, which does not disturb traffic. A poor sailor had lost both legs in a fight. Still young, he was in good health and had very strong arms. He had the idea to attach from one side of his wooden canoe to the other a round rod, with wings on the left and right sides, that he could move as he pleased while sitting in the back of the boat.69 One day, as Fulton was taken by this poor sailor to Brooklyn by way of the Sound, he noticed this ingenious system, which gave him the idea to apply the steam engine to sailing. Commerce in Albany was thriving and goods were carried by large ships known as sloops and brigs. Almost all of them had nice rooms and a pleasant sitting area in the back available for passengers. The trip down to New York would last about twenty-six hours, but we had to drop anchor when the current was unreliable. On such trips, we would sleep onboard one of these brigs and leave Albany at dawn. Before sunrise, we were long gone. The Northern River, or Hudson River, is incredibly beautiful. Its banks, bordered with homes or pretty little towns, widen before reaching the high and steep mountain range that runs across [79] North America from north to south. These mountains were called the Black Mountains, the Appalachians, or the Alleghenies. Before flowing into the gorge, the river forms a large basin several miles wide, resembling the part of Geneva Lake named le Fond du Lac. Here the difference is that the mountains begin at the very end of the basin, and the mouth of the river, situated between two steep rocks, is only visible when you are nearby. The water is so deep there that a large frigate could drop anchor along the bank without fear of running aground. The next day, we sailed all morning through these beautiful mountains. Then, at low tide, we disembarked to go and visit its historical West Point, notorious for General Arnold’s treason and the execution of Major André.70 67. Robert Fulton tested his first steamboat, the Clermont, on the Hudson River. See “Robert Fulton and the Steamboat” at Legends of America: . 68. Long Island Sound, a tidal estuary of the Atlantic Ocean lying between Connecticut to the north and New York to the south. 69. In mounting paddlewheels on the two ends of the rod he had installed, this sailor actually anticipated on the mechanism of the power-driven steamboat. 70. Benedict Arnold (1741–1801), military commander during the American Revolution. He fought in the battle of Saratoga under the orders of General Horatio Gates, broke the British advance, and was wounded in the leg. President Washington rewarded him with command of the Hudson River fortress of West Point, one of the main fortifications in America. But soon after, Arnold who saw an opportunity to salvage his career and the failing cause of the revolution, defected to the Loyalists with whom he agreed to surrender West Point. The British officer John André (1750–1780), aide de camp

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 199 This story is certainly well-known, but I will briefly recount it anyway. The American General Arnold up to this point had given no reason to doubt his loyalty to the cause for American independence, and he was entrusted with the defense of the Hudson River’s passage through the mountains. This was the same fort that Burgoyne had planned to storm if General Schuyler had not beaten him at Saratoga.71 The English General Clinton72 was holed up in New York, [80] where the American army, led by Gates, blocked him. Control over West Point was of the utmost importance to the English as it would have reestablished their lines of communication with Canada, which had been in their possession since the humiliating Peace of 1763.73 Capturing this fort would have been a godsend for Great Britain. The British officers apparently had reason to believe that Arnold’s ambition would be much stronger than his patriotism. The open negotiations between the British and Arnold were to be finalized by young André, a Major in the English army, who had already visited Arnold at West Point several times. As soon as General Gates discovered the plot, he sent an armed boat to the place where André was supposed to rejoin his boat. The sailors on André’s rowboat alerted him to the presence of the Americans and suggested that he dressed in sailor’s clothes, without anticipating the sad consequences of their advice. The boat had not gone a quarter of a mile when it was captured by the American craft and Major André was taken prisoner. Since he was disguised, he was charged as a spy and, as such, was condemned to hang. of General Henry Clinton, was on his way to deliver the plans of West Point when the plot was discovered. André was arrested and charged with treason. On October 2, 1780, Washington had him hanged as a spy rather than as a British officer. On the Arnold/André Affair (September 1780), see Margaret Sankey, “Arnold, Benedict,” in Conspiracy Theories in American History: An American Encyclopedia, ed. Peter Knight (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-Clio, 2003), 1:92–94. 71. British general John Burgoyne (1722–1792) had been appointed to command the northern invasion force, which moved from Canada through the Hudson River Valley with the intent of cutting off New England from the rest of the colonies, but he was defeated at the Battle of Saratoga on October 17, 1777. See Mays, The Historical Dictionary of the American Revolution, 44 and 228–29; and Max M. Mintz, The Generals of Saratoga: John Burgoyne and Horatio Gates (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 187–227. 72. General Sir Henry Clinton (1730–1795), British army officer, who succeeded William Howe as commander-in-chief of the British army in America (1778–1782). See Andrew Jackson O’ Shaughnessy, “ ‘To Gain the Hearts and Subdue the Minds of America’: General Sir Henry Clinton and the Conduct of the British War of America,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 158, no. 3 (2014): 199–208. On his failed attempt to support Burgoyne in the Saratoga campaign see Mintz, The Generals of Saratoga, 203–5 and 221–23. 73. On February 10, 1763, the Treaty of Paris, which ended the Seven Years War (1756–1763), was finally signed. Its terms and conditions were particularly harsh for France. Among other things, the French surrendered their claim to the British parts of Canada and North America (east of the Mississipi River).

200 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN General Gates proposed to exchange André for the traitor Arnold, who had taken refuge in the mountains. The English refused. They still needed Arnold’s services too much to hand him over. They sacrificed André, whose plight inspired numerous polemical works in prose and [81] verse. This young man, only twenty years of age, looked very distinguished and had received a remarkable education. His death was used to justify various reprisals by English forces. In my many voyages, I have never seen anything comparable to the vista at West Point. It may have lost by now some of its beauty, especially if the magnificent trees with their ancient branches dipping into the river have been cut down. However, these steep mountains were unfit for cultivation. Therefore, I hope, for the sake of nature, that the compulsive trend of clearing land has not yet reached this place. We arrived in New York in the morning of the third day, and there we found Monsieur de Talleyrand74 at Monsieur Law’s75 home. They greeted us most amicably. Both of them fussed over the changes in my weight and figure. They would not hear of my trip via stagecoach to Philadelphia, for which I would have had to spend two nights on the road. Therefore, my husband went on the trip alone and I was left in the good care of Madame Foster, the housekeeper of Monsieur Law. For the sake of my health, this great woman tried out all of the restorative recipes [82] that she knew. Four or five times a day, she would bring me some kind of broth in a small cup, and with a slight curtsy, would say, “Pray, Ma’am, you had better take this.” I would willingly submit to this, for I was so weary of Monsieur de Talleyrand’s comments on my weight loss. The last three weeks we spent in New York have remained in my mind as one of the best times in my life. My husband came back to New York after four days. He had enjoyed visiting the beautiful city of Philadelphia. But what I envied most was that he had the opportunity to meet the great Washington, who was my hero. To this day, I still regret that I could not lay eyes on this great man, whom his friend, Monsieur Hamilton, often mentioned to me.

74. Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (1754–1838), ex-bishop (1788–1791), Minister for Foreign Affairs (1797–1799 and 1807–1814), held several important positions in the various political regimes of his lifetime. In 1806, he was ennobled to Prince of Benevento. See Yann Kerlau, “TalleyrandPérigord,” in Dictionnaire des ministres de 1789 à 1989, ed. Benoît Yvert (Paris: Perrin, 1990), 85–87. This wily diplomat and skilled negotiator had emigrated to America as well. Lucie had become acquainted with him as a child; in America, he became her close friend and mentor. 75. Thomas Law (1756–1834) resided in India from 1773 to 1791, where he became collector of revenue for the East Indian Company. In 1794, he emigrated to America and went first to New York where he met Talleyrand and Madame de La Tour du Pin. In 1795, he married the oldest granddaughter of general Washington’s wife and then moved to Washington where he played an important role in the social, political, and economic life of the city. See George Alfred Townsend, “Thomas Law, Washington’s First Rich Man,” Records of the Columbia Historical Society 4 (1901): 222–45.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 201 In New York, I saw the whole Hamilton family again. I greeted them when they arrived in Albany in a wagon driven by Monsieur Hamilton himself. He had left the Treasury to go back to practicing law, which would allow him to leave a small inheritance for his children. Monsieur Hamilton was then between thirtysix and forty years old. Even though he had never visited Europe, he spoke French like a Frenchman. His refined and lucid mind complemented nicely Monsieur de Talleyrand’s erratic nature and Monsieur de La Tour du Pin’s vivacity. Every [83] evening, these three distinguished gentlemen, Monsieur Emmery,76 a member of Congress, Monsieur Law, and two or three other people would meet after tea. They would sit on a terrace under the stars of the 40th parallel and converse until midnight or later. Sometimes, Monsieur Hamilton would tell stories about the beginnings of the War of Independence, whose intricacies were well-known because of La Fayette’s tedious memoir.77 Other times, Monsieur Law would recount his visit to India under the Patna administration, of which he had been governor, and would tell of its elephants and palanquins. Or my husband would stir up some argument about the absurd theories of the congressmen, that Monsieur de Talleyrand did not care to support. Conversation never wavered. Monsieur Law enjoyed those gatherings so much that he would become extremely sad when we spoke of leaving, saying to his butler, “Foster, if they leave me, I am a dead man.” We had made the acquaintance of a fascinating family of French merchants, Monsieur and Madame Olive. They had eight charming children, the eldest of whom was not even ten years old and the youngest only eight or ten months. The husband was very witty and the wife looked like one of Raphael’s beautiful madonnas, so kind and so gracious! I often visited them in their lovely countryside summer home. [84] I went there in Monsieur Law’s carriage, which he let me use as I pleased. As if to give us a sense of the general spirit of New York, we had the opportunity to see a popular uprising. This revolt was provoked by a recently signed trade deal between the state of New York and England, if I remember correctly.78

76. Jean-Louis Emmery, comte de Grozyeulx (1742–1823), politician and lawyer, member of the Third Estate of the French Estates General. 77. There remain today several drafts of his memoir, documenting his role as major-general in the revolutionary army of the United States. See the exemplar dated 1824 at Gutenberg.org: . 78. The Jay’s Treaty, officially known as the “Treaty of Amity, Commerce, and Navigation between His Britannic Majesty, and the United States of America,” was signed in London on November 19, 1794, by King George III and George Washington. It was intended to reduce the tensions that had built up between the two countries since the end of the Revolutionary War. See “John Jay’s Treaty, 1794–95,” at the US Department of State, Office of the Historian: .

202 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Monsieur Hamilton supported this deal and a certain Colonel Smith,79 who was a leader among the people, opposed it. Everyone was gathering in public squares. The two leaders harangued their opponents. I was sitting with a few other women on a door step, from which Monsieur Hamilton addressed the crowd in the square. Someone threw a stone at his head, but he was not badly hurt. He continued all the same, which garnered great enthusiasm. Then everyone went home, and Monsieur Hamilton calmly offered me his arm, yet he avoided the streets where Smith’s supporters were rallied. I greatly enjoyed comparing the formation of this republican government with that of France. The Americans had created a free government without a revolution, while we French created a revolution without a government. Three weeks passed when news spread one night that there was an outbreak of yellow fever80 on the street where we were staying, very close to Broadway. That same night, my husband and I felt terribly ill, be it because we felt the first symptoms of this illness or that we had eaten too many bananas, pineapples, and other tropical fruits brought by the boat that spread the fever. [85] Fearing quarantine, I decided to leave immediately, and at sunrise, with our cases packed, we secured passage onboard a departing sloop. We then went to Monsieur Law’s home to say our goodbyes. He decided to leave as well, under the pretext of visiting the properties that he had bought in the new town of Washington, which was just being built. It was in these property acquisitions that Monsieur Law wasted the bulk of his fortune. Our departure was so hasty that I did not even see Monsieur de Talleyrand, who was just waking up when we were already far from New York. We saw again the beautiful passage at West Point, now from the opposite side, with just as much appreciation. This time we took a long walk during the six hours that our boat had dropped anchor. We climbed to the inn at the top of the hill where the last meeting between Arnold and André took place. While in New York, I had seen old General Gates.81 He had known all of the French officers and enjoyed talking about them. I had been warned not to bring up the subject of Major André, which was still painful for him, not because he regretted his condemnation, which was strictly in accord with military justice, but because

79. William Stephens Smith (1755–1816), United States representative from New York, brother-in-law of President John Quincy Adams, was on the staff of General Lafayette in 1780–1781. See “Smith, William Stephens” at the Biographical Dictionary of the United States Congress: . 80. On the yellow fever epidemic of 1795 in New York, which claimed thousands of lives, see the unpublished paper of Bob Arnebeck, “Yellow Fever in New York, 1791–1799” (2005), online at . 81. Horatio Lloyd Gates (1727–1806), British-born soldier who fought during the French and Indian War and served as a leading American general during the Revolutionary War.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 203 it reminded him of the terrible reprisals by the English, during which several American prisoners had been executed. [86] We had reached the large basin upstream from the passage through the mountains when our sloop was stopped by low waters, which are common in the summer. As we arrived at the mouth of the basin, the sloop ran aground on a sand bank and, even though there was no damage, we were stuck in the middle of the river. The captain thought that the tide would not be high enough to set us afloat and that we would most likely have to wait for another boat going downstream to tow us into the channel, out of which we had been led due to poor steering. The prospect of being stuck in the middle of that large river for several days did not appeal to us. I suddenly remembered that some friends of Monsieur Bonamy, creoles from Saint-Domingue,82 had settled on the banks of a nearby river in the proximity of a town that we had just passed. The captain informed me that we were just across from the mouth of this river and he offered to lend us his rowboat to visit these people. We promptly accepted and a minute later, we were in the boat with a trunk that contained all we had with us. We sailed for three or four miles on this narrow river between two banks bordered by steep rocks, which were so close to each other that the creepers and wild vines could cross over from one side to the other like garlands. This was marvelous. [87] Our trip ended at a small farm. There, we were lent a wagon to take us to our destination. Our two compatriots, still rather young, were just as pleased to see us as they were surprised. They were not familiar with their surroundings. Because they knew very little English and found no use there for their native farming techniques, they nearly died of cold and boredom in the winter. They had managed to save from the fire set by the rebellious slave83 many useless trinkets, which looked out of place in this poor and disorderly household, where the only feminine presence was an old slave woman. We spent the night there, after chatting for a long time about their farm and settlement. The next morning, they offered us tea in mismatched and chipped porcelain cups to which I would have preferred our set of plain earthenware. Then they took us in their wagon onto the main road, and from there we went home. Upon our invitation, they accompanied us to Albany, and then to the farm, where they were surprised to find us in a position to sell them several sacks of oats and a dozen bushels of potatoes. 82. The long struggle fought in the French colony of Saint-Domingue on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola led to a first wave of emigration in 1793 to the east coast of the United States. In 1804, Saint-Domingue won its independence and was renamed Haiti. Creoles were persons born in the Americas of mixed European and native or African descent. 83. The male slave Pomp was accused by two white men who had been quarelling over a woman, of having set fire to the stable of Leonard Gansevoort. Pomp was hanged on Tyburn Hill on April 11, 1794. On the circumstances of the arson, see Joel Munsell, The Annals of Albany, 2nd ed. (Albany: J. Munsell, 1871), 3:117–18.

204 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN I found our house in good order even though Monsieur de Chambeau was not expecting us [88], and my poor little girl was quite healthy. This month-long separation seemed endless to me despite the good company I found in New York. That year, yellow fever was particularly severe there, so I was happy to have had the good sense to leave when I did. I took up my country chores with a new energy, as my fever had disappeared with the clean country air and my strength had returned. I resumed my work at the creamery, and the pretty little marks that I imprinted upon my butter churns indicated that I was back. We were expecting a good harvest from our apple orchard, and our barn was filled with enough grain to last the remainder of the year. Our slaves, inspired by our example, were happy to work hard. They were better clothed and fed than any of our neighbors’ slaves. I was quite satisfied with my present life when God struck me with the most unexpected, and, as I saw it then, the fiercest blow one could endure. Alas! Since then, I have endured this hardship several times but it is never any easier to bear. My little Séraphine was taken from us by a sudden illness, which is very common in that part of the continent: an abrupt paralysis of the stomach and intestines, without fever or convulsions. She died within a few hours, fully aware of her pain. The doctor in Albany, whom Monsieur de Chambeau had rushed off on horseback to fetch, dashed away our hopes of her survival as soon as he saw her. He said that this illness was widespread throughout the country and that there was no [89] cure. The little Schuyler boy, who just the day before had spent the entire afternoon playing with my daughter, succumbed hours later to the same illness and joined her in heaven. His mother adored him and called him my sweet daughter’s little husband. This tragedy caused us deep sorrow and great despair. We brought Humbert84 back home and I tried to distract myself from my grief by focusing entirely on his education. He was five-and-a-half years old then and highly intelligent. He was fluent in English and read perfectly. There was no Catholic priest in Albany or anywhere in the surrounding area. My husband, who did not want to call a Protestant minister, gave our daughter the last rites himself and buried her in a small plot in the middle of our woods, set aside as a cemetery for the farm’s residents. I went there nearly every day to kneel on the ground that was the final resting place of my adored child, and it was there, my son,85 that God alleviated my grief. Although I had never been impious, far from it, I was never all that religious until this point in my life. During my education, no one had ever spoken to me about faith. In the early years of my youth, I was exposed to the worst types of 84. Later we learn that their little boy, Humbert, was tall for his age and extremely bright; see the Journal, Part 2, Chapter 3, page 64. 85. This apostrophe “my son” indicates that the book was indeed intended for her only surviving son, Aymar.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 205 sin. In Parisian high society, I had witnessed so many scandals that I had become accustomed to them, [90] and my heart became numb to any sense of morality. But the time had come when I was forced to fear the hand that had stricken me! I am not sure that I could describe exactly the transformation that took place in me. It seemed as though a voice called upon me to change my entire being. Kneeling on my child’s grave, I begged this voice, sent by God, to grant me his forgiveness and comfort me in my despair. My prayers were answered. God blessed me with the grace of knowing and serving him. He gave me the courage to bow humbly under this blow and to prepare myself to endure in silence the new burdens, which he would judge fit for me in the future. From this day on, I was submitted and resigned to the will of God. Even though our joy had disappeared, we still had to keep on working and my husband and I forced ourselves to keep busy in order to distract ourselves from our sorrows. The apple harvest was approaching. Due to the orchard’s beautiful appearance, we were expecting an abundant crop. There were just as many apples on the trees as leaves. We had practiced the previous fall what was called in Bordeaux une façon. This consisted of digging [91] a square about four or five feet wide around each tree. No one had ever done this to the trees in this orchard. In fact, the Americans had no idea how this could benefit the trees, and remained skeptical when we would tell them that we used this technique three times before. But in the spring, when they saw our orchards blossoming, they thought we were magicians. We were renowned for another one of our farming tricks. Instead of buying new barrels made from porous wood for our cider, we looked in Albany for empty barrels of Bordeaux wine and some others marked cognac, two spirits that we knew very well. Then we arranged our cellar as though it would contain Medoc wine. We borrowed a press for our apples. A twenty-three-year-old horse that General Schuyler had given to me was hitched to it. I have not yet told the story of this horse. Here it is. He had been active in battle throughout the war and it was decided to leave him to die of natural causes. He was about to expire when our slave Prime saw him in the pasture, barely alive, with his skin stuck to his bones. He urged me to ask for this horse from the General, who willingly gave him away. He was a magnificent, purebred horse, but he had no teeth. Prime had a hard time getting him to walk the four miles [92] between the pasture and our stables. Every day, he fed him a mixture of oats, boiled corn, ground hay, carrots, and so forth. With these abundant treats, this beautiful animal regained the energy of his youth. After a month, I could ride him every day and soon, he was able to take me at a gallop to Albany with ease. We could not believe this was the same horse. This feat greatly increased Prime’s reputation. But let’s get back to our apples.

206 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN The press was very primitive: it was made of two fluted pieces of wood that press together by means of our horse turning in a circle, hitched to a bar. Apples would fall from a chute into the machinery, and when the juice had filled a large tub, it was brought to the cellar and poured into barrels. This operation was simple, and with the fine weather, this harvest was an enjoyable pastime. My son, who sat all day on the back of the horse, thought that nothing could have been done without his help. With this work done, we were left with eight to ten barrels to sell after taking our share. Because we were known as honest people, everyone believed that we had not added water to our cider, and this raised its price to more than double the average. It sold out all at once. We treated what we kept for ourselves as we would have our white wine in Bouilh.86 [93] The corn harvest followed that of the apples. We had plenty of corn, because it grows well in its native America. Since one is not supposed to leave the husk on the ear for more than two days, neighbors gather in order to take care of it all at once. This gathering is called a frolic.87 First, the floor of the barn is swept as if there were going to be a ball. At nightfall, candles are lit and people (black and white) gather and set to work. There is always one person singing or telling a story. Towards the middle of the night, a cup of warm milk mixed with cider is served. The wealthier farmers add five or six pounds of brown sugar, and those who are more modest, add an equal amount of molasses, then spices like clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, etc. To our great pride, our workers drank the entire contents of an immense laundry tub of this mixture with toasted bread. These wonderful people left our home and went into a frigid cold at five o’clock in the morning, saying, “Famous good people, those from the old country!” Our slaves were often invited to such frolics, but my slave woman never attended. Having brought in all our crops, we began to work our land and do the chores to prepare for winter. We collected in a sheltered area [94] the wood we planned to sell. The sleighs were repaired and repainted. I bought a large length of blue and white checked flannel to make two shirts for each of my slaves. A tailor came to the farm during the day to make them fine vests and thick coats. This man ate with us because he was white. He certainly would have refused if 86. Bouilh: the La Tours du Pin’s family estate. Construction of a half-moon shaped chateau had begun in 1787 but was interrupted by the Revolution. 87. Frolic: a private gathering usually away from white gaze, in which slaves could sing and dance to the hornpipe or the fiddle. Considering frolics that came at the conclusion of corn husking or such social occasions, some historians maintained that “New York slaves had ‘more of life’ than any other labouring class.” In the eyes of Shane White, however, “[t]he idea of a benevolent slave society was a chimera, a self-deceiving myth propagated by New Yorkers in a vain attempt to distance themselves from the evil that they perceived to exist in the South.” See White, “Slavery in New York State in the Early Republic,” 24, and Shane White and Graham J. White, The Sounds of Slavery: Discovering African American History through Songs, Sermons and Speech (Boston: Beacon Press, 2005), 38–53.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 207 we had suggested that he eat with the slaves, even though they had better clothes and manners than he did. But I remained quiet about this custom. My neighbors did the same and I followed their example. Since we were of a similar position in America, I always avoided talking about my social status in France. I was the owner of a 250-acre farm. I lived exactly like those who had as much as we did, no more, no less. My humility earned me more than I would have gotten for putting on the airs of a lady. The chore that tired me the most was the laundry. Judith and I took on the entirety of this work. Every fortnight, Judith washed the slaves’ clothes, both those of the field and the kitchen. I washed mine, those of my husband, and those of Monsieur de Chambeau, and I ironed everything. This last task was very much to my taste. I excelled in it like the best ironing woman. In my early youth, before I married, I would often go to the laundry room at Montfermeil,88 where, as if by intuition, I had learned [95] how to iron. As I was naturally dexterous, I was soon just as good at ironing as the girls who had shown me how to do it. I never wasted time. Every day, I got up at dawn, both in winter and summer, and I got ready very quickly. Before going to work, the slave men helped the slave woman to milk the cows; we had up to eight at once. During this time, I tended to skimming the milk in the creamery. Twice a week, on the days when we made butter, Mink stayed there to turn the crank since it was too hard a task for a woman. The rest of the butter making fell to me, and it was tiring. I had a remarkable collection of bowls, spoons, and wooden spatulas, made by my good friends the natives, and my creamery was the cleanest, perhaps even the most elegant, in the country. Winter came quickly that year. In the first days of November, the line of dark clouds that announced a snowfall began to rise in the West. Depending on whom you ask, there were about eight very cold days and in twenty-four hours, three feet of ice froze on top of the river before the snow even fell. When it started to snow, it came down so violently that you could not see someone standing ten feet in front of you. Prudent people were careful not to hitch up their sleighs in order to plow pathways. [96] This task was left to those who were in a hurry and needed to go to town or down by the river for business. Therefore, before taking the chance of going down to the river, one had to wait for the paths to be marked by pine branches. Without this precaution, it would have been very dangerous to risk it and every year, there were unfortunate accidents caused by carelessness. Indeed, with the high tide rising seven to eight feet between Albany and the confluence of the Mohawk, the ice often did not form on top of the water. 88. Commune near Livry, five leagues from Paris (today, department Seine-Saint-Denis), where Lucie spent part of her youth with her grandmother. In 1783, they left the Chateau de Hautefontaine where Lucie was born and took residence in the commune of Montfermeil at their recently purchased property called Folie-Joyeuse. See Recollections of the Revolution and the Empire, Part 1, chap. 2, 17–18.

208 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Also, there were times when foolish people, driving their sleighs down to the river at a trot or gallop, broke through the ice instead of gliding on top of it, and thus perished without there being any hope of saving them. Our second winter passed as the last one. We often went for supper at the homes of the Schuylers and the Rensselaers, whose friendship remained strong. Monsieur de Talleyrand, who was again living in Philadelphia, had managed to lay his hands on some of my belongings: a cameo representing the queen, the purse that you still have, and a watch from my mother. I had informed him that my banker from The Hague had told me that he had entrusted these objects to a young American diplomat—I forgot his name, luckily for him—and asked him to return them to me. But, no matter how hard Monsieur de Talleyrand searched for him, he could not find him. Finally, one evening, while visiting a lady acquaintance of his in Philadel-[97]phia, the hostess spoke to him about a medallion representing the queen that Monsieur X had found in Paris and had given her to show her friends. She wanted to ask Monsieur de Talleyrand if this portrait truly resembled the queen. As soon as he saw it, he knew that it was mine. He seized it, telling the lady that it did not belong to the young diplomat. Then, he went immediately to the young diplomat’s home and, with no introduction, demanded that he give him back the purse as well as the watch that the banker of The Hague had entrusted to him along with the portrait. The young man, disconcerted, gave everything back. Monsieur de Talleyrand sent all these objects to our farm.

Chapter Five [99] Towards the end of the winter of 1795–1796, I came down with the measles. I was very sick, especially since I was in the early stages of pregnancy. We were afraid that Humbert would catch it as well, but he did not, even though he slept in my bedroom. I soon recovered, and it was at that time that we received letters from Bonie89 who was in France. He informed us that, in joining forces with Monsieur de Brouquens,90 they succeeded in taking Bouilh out of impound. Restitution had been made to the condemned nobles of the properties confiscated during the Revolution. My mother-in-law, in concert with her son-in-law, the Marquis de Lameth,91 [100] and on behalf of his children, regained possession of his lands of Tesson and Ambleville, and of his home in Saintes, which had 89. A young man who lived in a small apartment house in Bordeaux, where he sheltered Monsieur de Chambeau and later Madame de La Tour du Pin and her children. It was he who took Monsieur de La Tour du Pin to Bordeaux so he could join his family and emigrate to America. 90. Possibly Joseph-Gabriel Boubée de Brouquen, receveur général des finances (de Bordeaux); see . 91. Augustin-Louis-Charles, Marquis de Lameth (1755–1837), field marshal, husband of Cécile Suzanne de La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, sister-in-law of Madame de La Tour du Pin. See Louis de

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 209 been confiscated by the department of Charente-Inférieure. But when they asked for the seals to be lifted from Bouilh, their request was rejected on account of the owners being absent. My family responded, saying that my husband went to America with a passport and that neither Monsieur de La Tour du Pin nor I, the owner of a home in Paris, were on the list of émigrés. After a long process, the government by a year postponed the date at which we had to appear. Failing to arrive on the appointed date would result in Bouilh being sold as national property, unless Monsieur de Lameth tried to gain the property rights for his children, who were the grandchildren of the previous owner. Consequently, our family urged us to come back as soon as possible. At the same time, though, since the French government still was considered unstable, they recommended that we arrive at a Spanish port rather than a French one, as the French Republic had just concluded a peace treaty with Spain that seemed as though it would last.92 These dispatches burst right into the middle of our tranquil lives like a firebrand that lit in all those around me hopes of returning to the fatherland, having a better life, fulfilling dreams, in short, all of the sentiments that animate humans. As for me, I felt a completely different sensation. France had left me with memories of horror. [101] I had lost my youth there, broken as it was by innumerable and unforgettable terrors. Since then, I cared only about my husband and children. My faith, that had become the sole motivation for my actions, drove me to support wholeheartedly our departure even though it scared me and cost me dearly. A kind of intuition let me foresee a new series of troubles and worries. Monsieur de La Tour du Pin had not the slightest idea of how sad it made me to envision the time when we would have to leave the farm. I had only one condition for our departure: I wanted to free our slaves. My husband agreed and gave me the pleasure of telling them. These poor people, seeing letters arrive from Europe, suspected that there would be some changes in our existence. They were extremely worried, and came shaking into the sitting room where I had called all four of them together; Judith, who was about to give birth, was holding in her arms her little three-year-old Maria. They found me alone. I said to them with great emotion, “My friends, we are about to leave for Europe; what should we do with you?” At these words, the poor souls were distressed. Judith fell into a chair, sobbing; the three hid their faces in their hands, and they all were still. I continued, “We have been so happy La Roque, Bulletin héraldique de France, vols. 9–10 (Paris: Administration du Bulletin héraldique de France, 1890), 435–36. 92. The Peace Treaty of Basel, concluded on July 22, 1795, ended the War of the Pyrenees. By its terms, France lost those parts of Catalonia, Navarre, and the Basque Country occupied by French troops, and received the eastern two-thirds of the island of Haiti, which by then had been renamed Santo Domingo. See Denis Richet, “Treaties of Basel and The Hague,” in Furet and Ozouf, A Critical Dictionary of the French Revolution, 151–54.

210 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN with you, it is only fair that you be rewarded. My husband asked me to tell you [102] that he grants you your freedom.” Upon hearing these words, our good old servants were so astounded that they were speechless for a few seconds. Then, all of a sudden, all four of them knelt at my feet and cried, “Is it possible? Do you mean that we are free?” I replied, “Yes, upon my honor, from this moment on, as free as I am myself.” Who could describe the poignant emotions felt in such a moment! In my entire life, I never felt anything so powerful. Those I had just freed were embracing me tearfully; they were kissing my hands, my feet, my dress, and suddenly their joy subsided, and they said: “We would prefer never to be free if it meant that you would stay here.” The following day, my husband took them in front of a judge in Albany for the manumission ceremony that was to be public. All the slaves in town gathered to watch. The judge, who also took care of Monsieur Rensselaer’s affairs, was in a terrible mood. He tried to argue that, because Prime was fifty years old, he could not legally be freed without us paying a pension of one hundred dollars for him. But Prime had anticipated this obstacle, and he showed his birth certificate, which stated that he was only forty-nine. They were made [103] to kneel before my husband, and he put his hand on their heads to grant them their freedom, just as it was done in ancient Rome. We leased our house and its surrounding grounds to the people from whom we bought it, and we sold most of our furniture. The horses sold for a good price. I gave away as keepsakes various porcelain trinkets that I had brought from Europe. I left my dear Judith some old silk dresses that she has probably passed down to her children. Towards mid-April, we embarked on a ship in Albany to go back to New York, after having bid farewell to all those who, over the course of two years, showered us with care, friendship, and attentions of all kinds. How much, two years later, forced again into a new exile, did I miss my farm and my good neighbors! In New York, we went to visit Monsieur and Madame Olive, who greeted us in their lovely little country home. There, we found Monsieur de Talleyrand who had decided, like us, to go back to Europe. Madame de Staël,93 who had returned to Paris where she had settled in with Benjamin Constant,94 was pressing him to 93. Anne-Louise-Germaine Necker, known as Madame de Staël (1766–1817), daughter of the Swiss statesman Jacques Necker, who was Director of Finance under Louis XVI, married in 1786 to the Baron de Staël, the Swedish ambassador to the French court. She emigrated to London after the September Massacres of 1792, but returned to Paris after Thermidor. See Mays, The Historical Dictionary of the French Revolution, 302–3. 94. When she returned from London, Madame de Staël established a salon on the rue du Bach (in Paris), which became the gathering place of political liberals. It is then that she became the lover of Benjamin Constant (1767–1830), whom she had met in Switzerland in the late 1794. See Mays, The Historical Dictionary of the French Revolution, 302–3. Constant was the son of a Swiss officer

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 211 come back and serve the Directory,95 which needed his acumen. [104] We thought for a moment that we could make the voyage on the same ship as Monsieur de Talleyrand. But when he learned of our intention to debark in a Spanish port and then go on to Bordeaux, he changed his course so that he would not have to be, even momentarily, under the authority of a Catholic king, who would have found, for good reasons, that he was not an exemplary bishop.96 He found passage on a ship to Hamburg. There were no ships going to Corogne or Bilbao, as we had hoped. A single ship, a superb English craft of four hundred tons, was going to Cadiz and was scheduled to leave soon. For lack of a better option, and despite the long detour that we would have to make to go through Spain, we decided to take this ship. It sailed under a Spanish flag, even though the ship and its cargo (wheat, I believe) belonged to an Englishman. The owner was traveling onboard as a passenger. His name was Monsieur Ensdel. He was an old shipowner in the whaling business. He did not know a word of French. But the captain, originally from Jamaica, spoke English. From the start, he found a very apt interpreter in my son who, despite being only six years old, was very useful to him. We spent three weeks at Madame Olive’s home in the company of Monsieur de Talleyrand while we were taking care of our affairs and securing our place onboard the ship. In the harbor, there was a French sloop of war, commanded by Captain Barré, whose father my husband knew [105] while he was in the service of the old duke of Orléans. He was a very friendly man, despite being an old seadog, and he took us out every day in his boat to all of the landmarks along the harbor. He was careful not to approach Sandy Hook, where the Captain, later Admiral, Cochrane had been waiting for two months to catch him, if he dared to leave the harbor. We visited his sloop, armed with fifteen cannons. It was a jewel of order, cleanliness, and care. How I would have liked to return to France onboard that beautiful ship! But the Maria-Josepha was waiting for the four of us.97 We boarded on the sixth of May 1796 and set sail the same day. Several other passengers were already on board. Among them was Monsieur de Lavaur, an émigré and once an officer and businessman, the author of political essays and pamphlets in 1796–1797, and best known for his psychological novel, Adolphe. 95. The Directory, the French revolutionary government set up by the Constitution of the Year III, comprised an executive body composed of five directors, and a legislative body made of two councils: the Council of Five Hundred, consisting of five hundred “young” (thirty years of age) delegates who proposed the legislation, and the Council of Elders, composed of 250 “older” delegates (forty years of age or over) who had the power to accept or veto the proposed legislation. For an overview of the Directory see Martyn Lyons, France under the Directory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975). 96. By his father’s influence, he had been appointed bishop of Autun in 1788, but had resigned his bishopric in 1791. In 1802, he was laicized by Pope Pius VII and permitted to marry Madame Grand. See Kerlau, “Talleyrand-Périgord,” 86. 97. Monsieur and Madame de La Tour du Pin, their son Humbert, and Monsieur de Chambeau.

212 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN in Louis XVI’s Constitutional Guard. He had escaped the perils of the Massacres on August 10.98 As he was from Bordeaux, a sort of friendship sprung up immediately between him and my husband. There was also a French couple, a merchant and his wife.99 The latter was, like me, in a peculiar situation, but her pregnancy was much more advanced than mine. The husband had been unsuccessful in his ventures in New York and was on his way to Madrid to see if he could do better. The wife was a young, kind, rather well-brought-up woman, but lazy as can be. Finally a young [106] man from Paris named Lenormand, who was not very bright, became our whipping boy for the entire trip. The people I just mentioned, along with Monsieur Ensdel and the captain, made up the captain’s table. I was not seasick at all, the weather was superb, and I kept busy the entire day. This way, I quickly finished up the work for myself and my husband that I had brought along. I became the ship’s seamstress and I announced to everyone that they could give me work. Everyone brought me something. I was given shirts to make, cravats to hem, and linen to embroider. The passage lasted forty days, because the captain, rejecting Monsieur de Ensdel’s advice, had turned south and the ship became trapped in the currents. This added time allowed me to repair all the crew’s clothing. Finally, around June 10, we caught sight of Cape Saint Vincent, and the following day we entered into the harbor of Cadiz. With his foolish maneuvers, the captain had prolonged our trip by at least fifteen days, after he led the ship off the coast of Africa, where the currents prevented it from going northward. He believed that we were so far from land that he did not even think of putting a lookout on deck. When, at dawn, we discovered Cape Saint Vincent, which rose up high in the distance, he was dumbfounded. [107] We anchored alongside a triple-decked French ship called the Jupiter. She was there with a French flotilla, cornered by English war ships, far more numerous, that sailed by, almost in view of the harbor, every day. The health officials’ boat visited, warning us that we would have to spend eight days on board in quarantine. We preferred this to going to the lazaretto and being eaten up by all the insects that abound in Spain. If there had been a ship going to Bilbao or Barcelona, we would have taken it. The trip would have been much shorter, cheaper, and less tiring. Monsieur de Chambeau’s name was not removed from the list of émigrés and therefore he was unable to reenter France. He wished to go to Madrid, where he knew people, but he would have liked to accompany us to Barcelona,

98. On August 10, 1792, armed revolutionaries stormed the Tuileries Palace, the official residence of Louis XVI and the home of the Legislative Assembly. See the Decree of the National Assembly for Suspending the King, at The History Guide: . 99. Monsieur and Madame Tisserandot.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 213 which would have brought him closer to Auch, a town in which he owned some properties. During the ten days of quarantine, we kept talking about the uncertainty of our situation. Our waiting could have gone on much longer due to the desertion of one of the sailors and to the impossibility of turning him into the authorities. This man, of French origin, had been captured after a battle on a sloop of war. On the [108] Jupiter, he recognized a sailor he knew and who was nearby and talked to him on a loud-hailer. The same night, he swam over to the Jupiter, and when the health officials called out his name next morning, all that was left was his shirt and trousers. It was all that he owned. The incident prolonged our quarantine until the day when he was found on board the French ship. I almost died in quarantine. All day long fruit vendors came onboard, and I spent my time, along with Madame Tisserandot, lowering a basket tied on a rope to buy figs, oranges, and strawberries. Gorging on these fruits gave me a terrible case of dysentery. Finally, we were allowed to go free. The captain brought us to land and never in my life have I been more embarrassed than I was at that moment. Upon disembarking, Madame Tisserandot and I were told to go into a little room that opened onto the street while our personal effects were being searched with the most exaggerated rigor. Our colorful gowns and our straw hats soon attracted an immense crowd made up of people of all ages and walks of life: sailors and monks, porters and gentlemen, all eager to see what they no doubt considered to be two animals in a zoo. As for our husbands, they were held in the room where our trunks were being checked. The two of us then were by ourselves with my son. He was not scared, but he had a thousand questions, especially pertaining to the monks, whom he had never seen before. Suddenly, he cried out [109] as a young, smooth-faced monk walked by, “Oh! I see now, that one is a woman.” This indiscrete curiosity convinced us to start dressing like Spanish women at once. Before even going to the inn, we went to buy ourselves a black skirt and mantilla so that we could go out in public without scandalizing the entire population. We took a room in the hotel reputed to be the best in Cadiz, but even so, its filthiness disgusted me so much, especially after I had become so accustomed to the exquisite cleanliness of America, that I would have rather returned to the ship than stay there. I remembered that one of the sisters of poor Théobald Dillon, who was massacred in Lille in 1792,100 had married Monsieur Langton, an English merchant 100. Count Theobald Dillon (1745–1792), Marechal de Camp (Brigadier General), and Arthur Dillon’s cousin. The incident evoked here occurred on April 29, 1792 at the Battle of Marquain, which opposed Austrian troops to the French. Dillon led a small force from Lille toward Tournai. Following a skirmish, he was lynched by his own troops. For a more detailed account of this incident, see .

214 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN living in Cadiz. I had written him a friendly note, and he came at once and was very kind to us. Madame Langton was staying in Madrid, at the home of her daughter, the baroness of Andilla, along with her youngest daughter, Mademoiselle Carmen Langton. Monsieur Langton nevertheless invited us to dinner. He even wanted us to stay at his home, but we did not accept. I was too sick to sacrifice my comfort to be a polite guest. It was agreed that the dinner would be postponed to the first day that I felt better. The day after our arrival, my husband took our passport to the French consul general for validation. His name was Monsieur de Roquesante, formerly a count or marquis who had metamorphosized into a fierce Republican, if not a terrorist. [110] He asked my husband a hundred questions, taking note of each response, which highly resembled an interrogation. Then, no doubt to trick him, he said, “We have received excellent news from France today, Citizen.” They were still using that term! “That criminal de Charette has finally been captured and shot.” “Too bad,” replied Monsieur de La Tour du Pin, “we lost a good man.” At that, the consul fell silent, signed the passport, and reminded us that we would have to present it for validation again at the embassy in Madrid.101 Later on, we learned what he said about us to the officials in Bayonne. Upon concluding peace with the French Republic, Spain had discharged the majority of its army, most likely with no pay. The highways were full of bandits, especially in the Sierra Morena mountains, which we had to cross. Travelers went in convoys composed solely of several carriages and no military escort, which might have sided with the bandits. Those traveling on horseback were careful to arm themselves heavily. A convoy would ordinarily consist of fifteen to eighteen covered wagons hitched to mules. This was the way that we left Cadiz. We were stretched out on our mattresses in the wagon or carro with our luggage strapped in the undercarriage and covered with a straw mattress that filled [111] the empty spaces between our trunks. Our wagon had a cover made of rods that were artistically assembled and was lined with a weatherproof canvas for protection against the sun during the day and the humidity at night. There were several days when we preferred to stay inside the wagon rather than at an inn. But I got ahead of myself in telling about our trip, as we stayed in Cadiz for eight days. Every evening, we would take a stroll on the beautiful Alameda promenade that overlooks the sea and where one goes for fresh air after spending 101. François Athanase de Charette de la Contrie (1763–1796) was the leader of the royalist rebellion in Vendée. In March 1796, he was captured and executed in Nantes. See Georges Goyau, “Baron Athanase-Charles-Marie Charette de la Contrie,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 16 (New York: The Encyclopedia Press, 1914); . In mentioning Charette’s execution, the consul perhaps hoped to find out the political leanings of Monsieur de La Tour du Pin. The revolutionary government was aware of the existence of a clandestine network of royalists plotting from abroad in order to place Louis XVIII on the French throne.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 215 a day in 35° heat.102 My little Humbert was with me, and one day we met a sevenyear-old lord, powdered like a fresh snow, dressed in embroidered silk, with a sword at his side and a hat under his arm. My son looked at him in astonishment, wondering whether this was one of those trained monkeys that I brought him to see in New York, and exclaimed, “But, is it a real boy, or is it a monkey?” A spectacle that neither he nor I ever forgot was the magnificent bullfight on Saint John’s Day.103 This Spanish national holiday is so well known that I will not try to describe it here. The arena was huge and held approximately four to five thousand people seated in rows, protected from the sun by an awning like the velum in Roman amphitheaters. A light rain coming from pumps was directed at the awning to keep the people cool. Thus, even though the fight started [112] after noon prayers and lasted until sunset, I don’t recall suffering from the heat at any time. They killed ten purebred bulls, so beautiful that they would have made the fortune of an American farmer. The matador, a handsome twenty-five-year-old young man, was the first of his kind at the time. Despite the terrible risk he was taking, we had no fear for his safety because of his incredible agility. Of course, at the moment when the two opponents, facing each other, fixed their gazes before the bull charged the matador, the most poignant emotion seized all the spectators. You could hear a pin drop. But you must understand that the matador does not stab the bull himself, but directs the blade of the sword towards the bull, which then runs into it. This spectacle impressed deeply into my mind. I recall every detail as vividly after so many years as if it were yesterday. On the scheduled day of our departure, we let the convoy go on ahead and dined with Monsieur Langton instead. He arranged for a barge to bring us to the other side [113] of the bay, where we could rejoin our caravan at their stopping point for the night, Sainte Marie. This was possible because, during the entirety of this long voyage, the caravan could not move faster than a man could walk. I was suffering so much from a terrible case of dysentery, complicated by a fever, that my husband was hesitant to let me go, but at the same time there was no way to postpone any longer. Our baggage was loaded up. We had already paid for half of the trip up until Madrid. Our passport had been validated, and Monsieur de Roquesante, the Republican consul, would have taken offense in our delay. He would have attributed it to some pretext, I do not know which; and as I always believed that you can get over any illness, whatever it may be, so long as it is not a broken leg, the thought did not even come to me to stay in Cadiz. We dined at the home of Monsieur Langston, after attending the send-off for our travel companions, who were going to spend the night at Port Sainte Marie. . . .

102. Centigrade; 35 degree centigrade is the equivalent of 95° Fahrenheit. 103. The feast day of Saint John the Baptist on June 24.

216 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN Madame de La Tour du Pin gives a description of Monsieur Langton’s home and recounts their excursion to Port Sainte Marie. Madame de Tisserandot gives birth before they reach Cordoue. The young mother becomes very ill. The people at the inn where they stop to spend the night in Cordoue think that someone tried to kill her. They don’t want to have to testify (which is required in the country when someone witnesses a murder), and therefore flee. The next day, the new baby is baptized in the magnificent cathedral of Cordoue. After the ceremony, the La Tours du Pin continue their voyage and pass through the beautiful little towns of La Carlota and La Carolina. They avoid Toledo to the great disappointment of Madame de La Tour du Pin.

Chapter Six [119] The next day, we arrived in Madrid, after being stopped for two hours in Puerta del Sol, waiting for the people and effects in our caravan’s fourteen wagons to be checked, searched, and examined. It was forbidden for those who had already been searched to leave. It is impossible to shake that Castilian composure. It would have been useless to have complained. The customs officers would not have understood. Finally, we were given the signal to go on, and we were brought to the Saint Sebastian hotel, a mediocre inn situated on a little street. We had a fairly nice room. At once, my husband sent the letters and packages that Monsieur Langton had charged us to send to his wife and two daughters. Then, I cleaned up with much more care than I was able to do in the wagon, with the intention of going to see these ladies after dinner. However, they contacted us first. A half an hour had hardly passed when the two most beautiful women in the world walked in, the baroness of Andilla and [120] Mademoiselle Carmen Langton. Their mother, who had fallen ill, was unable to come see us. They were accompanied by their brother-in-law, Monsieur Broun, the widower of the third Langton girl, who was rumored to have been even more beautiful than her sisters. They displayed an unmatched spirit of generosity and kindness, and their brother-in-law suggested that we stay in the little townhouse close by where these ladies lived. He took care of all the necessary arrangements and made himself available to us for our entire time in Madrid. Our stay could have lasted as long as four to six weeks, as we were waiting for replies from Bordeaux in response to the letters that we had written in Cadiz. Meanwhile, my pregnancy was advancing, and I wanted to be at Bouilh before November 10 so that I could give birth there. My husband went to the ambassador of the Directory the next day to validate our passport. Because he remembered vividly the way that Citizen de Roquesante, previously Count or Marquis, had greeted him, he was pleasantly surprised by the ambassador’s

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 217 friendly welcome. This was General Pérignon, who since then has become Marshal.104 Once, he had been under my father’s command, where he received assistance that advanced his career. He had never forgotten it and, therefore, gave my husband a warm welcome. All the same, he was not so grateful as to honor me with a visit. The old seigneurial manners were not yet in style, as they would be later. [121] We stayed in Madrid for six weeks, showered with the care, attention, and thoughtfulness of the Langtons and Andillas. The son-in-law of Madame Langton, Monsieur Broun, whose wife had died the previous year, showed us all of the interesting parts of the city, and every evening, Madame d’Andilla brought us to the Corso, then took us to eat ice cream in a stylish café, located at the end of the rue d’Alcala. Monsieur Broun showed us a portrait of his wife. She was just as beautiful, if not even more so, than her sisters. He could not recover from having lost her, at the age of twenty-two. Mademoiselle Carmen Langton’s beauty was as exquisite as that of an angel. She had been engaged to a young Spanish nobleman. He fell ill and died a few days before the date of their wedding. Mademoiselle Carmen Langton was devastated by this loss. One night, as we were driving home, the coachman made a wrong turn and we passed in front of the home that she would have occupied with her fiancé and where he died. This incident shook her. A deaf and long moan rose from her chest, and her beautiful face turned white like an alabaster statue. This charming person was just as distinguished by her sensitivity and wit as she was by her beauty. . . . The La Tours du Pin depart from Madrid and Monsieur de Chambeau goes his own way. Bonie joins them when they arrive in Bayonne. [124] At a quarter of a league from Madrid, the coachman realized that he had forgotten his overcoat. Despite the stifling heat, he did not want to take one step further before the postilion went on a mule to fetch it. This delayed us greatly, and we did not arrive in Escorial before late evening. We spent the next day almost entirely visiting the admirable monastery, which many have described. [125] No one description among those that I have read since seemed spiritually accurate to me. None of them capture the somber religious contemplation that this place, this masterpiece of all the arts, in the middle of a desert, inspires in a soul. All of these marvels seem to have been gathered in this solitude only to remind us of the vanity of Man’s works. Since then, after 104. Catherine Dominique de Pérignon (1754–1818), who had served in the 1790s as commander of the Army of the Eastern Pyrénées, helped defeat and then negotiated with the Spanish. In 1804, he was created Marshal of the Empire. See Nathan D. Jensen, “Marshal Catherine Dominique de Pérignon” (2019): .

218 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN the events that devastated Spain, I was struck by the prophetic declaration pronounced by the priest as he showed us the underground chapel where all of the Spanish kings since Philip II had been buried.105 After he showed us all the tombs, which looked the same to us, he pointed to one that was empty: the one destined for the reigning king, Charles IV.106 Putting his hand on the sarcophagus, which was held open by a wedge of marble, he said to us in Italian, “Who knows if he will ever lie there?” At that moment, I paid no attention to this utterance, but, much later, when I heard of this poor prince being chased from his throne, this prophetic phrase came back to me. Since the discovery of America and of the Peruvian gold and silver mines, the Spanish kings have given every year a magnificent gift in gold and silver to the church at the Escorial. This monastery’s treasure thus became the richest in Europe. All of the pieces coming from this copious donation, organized in order of the years in which they were donated, testify to the observer the steady decline in taste, from the first pieces, signed by Benvenuto Cellini,107 [126] to those received in recent years. Even though the top of the high altar, with its silver bas-relief representing the apotheosis of Saint Lawrence, patron saint of the Escorial,108 is of an unusual magnificence, it would not satisfy an art specialist. I say “would” because one can presume that the unrest in Spain has led to the destruction of all these masterpieces. The various objects used in the church service were kept in display cases made of glass and the most magnificent wood from the East Indies. I have an accurate memory of a holy ciborium, in the shape of a globe, surmounted by a cross, whose crux was adorned with an enormous diamond and whose arms bore four large pearls. There were monstrances shining with jewels. We were shown the Easter altar runner made of red velvet and entirely embroidered with fine pearls of differing sizes, according to the design. Many people might not have appreciated this magnificence (any silver-threaded fabric received more attention), and yet there were several million pearls on this solid red cloth. We went up to the chancel screen, where one could see the ornate church books made of vellum paper whose margins were illustrated by Raphael’s students, 105. Philip II (1527–1598), king of Spain (r. 1556–1598) and, as Philip I (r. 1580–1598), king of Portugal. 106. Charles IV (1748–1819), son of Charles III, king of Spain (1788–1808), called El Cazador (the Hunter) as he seemed to prefer hunting to governing the state. 107. Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571), Florentine sculptor, one of the most important Italian Mannerist artists; see at the J. Paul Getty Museum website, . 108. San Lorenzo, patron of the monastery, was martyred by being roasted on a grill in the third century, hence the gridiron scheme conceived for the ground plan of the monastery by its first architect, Juan Bautista de Monegro. Monegro’s huge statue of San Lorenzo adorns the Escorial’s west façade; see at El Escorial: .

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 219 in imitation of his designs. These volumes, in large folio, embellished with silver corners and bound with an inside-out leather cover, were placed in a sort of open sideboard, separated by a thin piece of wood. Because of their [127] weight, it would have been difficult to take these books out of their cases. To remedy this inconvenience, there had been placed on the bottom of each case little ivory rollers which moved up and down iron rods. In this way, one only needed to exert a minimal effort to bring one of these books closer. I have never seen this apparatus employed in any other library. The beautiful silver, lifesize statue of Christ by Benvenuto Cellini is located in the high gallery of the Escorial. After I roamed all over and admired this magnificent church, I stayed there by myself while my husband and Monsieur de Lavaur went to visit the convent and the library, where one could see Raphael’s beautiful painting, the Pearl.109 Nobody had warned me in Madrid that a woman was not allowed to visit the convent’s library without special permission. I was very disappointed. I waited for my travel companions long enough to have the leisure to meditate. I thought about the beauty of this edifice, then about the battle of Saint Quentin lost by the French,110 and in commemoration of which the Escorial was built by the fierce father of don Carlos. Thus, when my husband came back and tapped me on the shoulder, [128] saying, “Let’s go and see the Prince’s home!” I was almost annoyed to be interrupted in my thoughts. My son, being a boy, had accompanied his father and was very proud to tell me about everything that he had seen. We went then to the Prince’s house, built by Charles IV when he was the Prince of Asturias, and to where he would retreat, when the court was at the Escorial, in order to escape the formality of the Spanish court.111 It looked like an elegant little cottage, but so small that a modest merchant would have trouble settling for it today. With its fine furniture, trivial paintings, gaudy decorations, and a quantity of awful looking drapes, it had the appearance of a young girl’s 109. The name, The Pearl, was given by Philip IV to this painting of the Holy Family, as it was his favorite; see at the Prado Museum, . Raphael’s work was completed by his pupil Giulio Romano. 110. On August 10, 1557, the Feast Day of San Lorenzo, the Habsburg Spanish force led by Duke Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy defeated the French army under the command of Duke Louis Gonzaga and Duke Anne de Montmorency. King Philip II had the Escorial built to commemorate the Spanish victory; Charles III is usually credited for later additions. See Thomas H. Poole, “The Escorial,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 5 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1909): . 111. Charles IV was prince of Asturias in the years 1764–1765. See his portrait when in that role at the Prado Museum: .

220 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN room. What a contrast with the amazing church that we had just left! I had a very unpleasant impression of this cottage. Soon after we returned to the inn, we left for Granja, where the court resided, to stay the night. We had to bring packages from the American minister there, Monsieur Rutledge, for his consul in Bayonne. He invited us for dinner, and the next day, we went to Segovia, a picturesque little town with a castle of which we could only see the courtyard, surrounded by Moorish arches. The remainder of our trip went on uneventfully. We were obliged to spend one full day in Vittoria, to service [129] la generala (we were unable to go any further without it), then another in Burgos, where I went to see the cathedral. Finally, we arrived in Saint Sebastian, where Bonie was waiting for us. I took no pleasure in coming back to France. On the contrary, the hardships I had endured during the last six months there had left me with a feeling of horror and terror that I could not overcome. I imagined that my husband would find that his fortune was lost, that he would be occupied with unpleasant and difficult affairs, and that we would be condemned to live in the ruins of our large château, since everything had been sold at Bouilh. My mother-in-law was still alive. She had regained possession of Tesson and Ambleville. Lacking all common sense, and very suspicious and obstinate, she did not trust anybody with her affairs. How I missed my farm and my tranquility! It was with a heavy heart that I crossed the Bidassoa Bridge and set foot on the land of the [French] Republic, united and indivisible. That evening, we arrived in Bayonne. Hardly had we walked into the inn when two national guards came to fetch Monsieur de La Tour du Pin to take him to the authorities, which were, at the time, the President of the Department. This unexpected welcome shook me. He was accompanied by Bonie as he was brought before [130] members of the assembled tribunal, where he was questioned about his political opinions, plans, actions, and his reasons for leaving and returning to the country. He quickly realized that he had been turned in by Monsieur de Roquesante, and declared that, on the other hand, he had only found praise from the ambassador in Madrid. My husband came back after negotiating for two hours. It seemed to me like a century, worried as I was, waiting alone at the inn. We were authorized to continue our journey to Bordeaux, but we were given a piece of paper detailing the official route and all of the checkpoints where we would have to stop to get this paper validated. This restriction was such that, if I had become tired or sick and needed rest during the journey, which was not impossible considering how far along I was in my pregnancy, the authorities of the given place would have had to record it officially on this paper. Bonie left us and returned to Bordeaux by post. We took an awful coachman who drove slowly. Only one interesting thing happened during our journey. At Mont-de-Marsan, a hairdresser whom I had called to style my hair offered me, to my surprise, two hundred francs for my locks. Blonde wigs were very stylish in

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 221 Paris,112 he told me, and he certainly would make a profit of at least one hundred francs if I agreed to sell him my hair. I refused this offer, of course, but after that, I felt a great respect for my hair, which was at that time, in all modesty, very beautiful. [131] We found in Bordeaux dear Monsieur de Broquens. His commerce had prospered during the war against Spain and he had been rehired by the supply company for the Army of Italy. He welcomed us with that unfailing, affectionate friendliness that was characteristic of him. But I was impatient to get home, and I made plans with Doctor Dupouy, who was supposed to come to treat me. Then, once the business of getting our home out of impoundment was taken care of, we arrived at Bouilh and had the seal removed. Laying eyes on Bouilh after so long, I admit, was a real challenge to my faith. I had left this house well-furnished, and if the furniture was not all that elegant, it was at least practical and plentiful. I found my house completely empty: there was not a chair to sit on, not a single table or bed. I was on the point of giving up but complaining would have been useless. We began unpacking our trunks from the farm, which had arrived in Bordeaux before we did, and the sight of these simple pieces of furniture, placed in this spacious château, led us deep into philosophical reflections. The next day, many of the residents of Saint André, ashamed of having obtained our furniture at auction for next to nothing, came to offer us, so we might have them back, the price they had paid for them. In this way, for reasonable prices, when we believed that the pieces had been bought out of mere cowardice, we bought back those that were most useful. As for the good Republicans, they would not submit themselves to such antinational decency. The cookware, [132] among our most valuable possessions, was very beautiful. They had sent it to the district of Bourg, with the intention of sending it to the Mint. It was returned to us, as well as our library, which had also been brought to the district. We enjoyed putting the books back on the shelves, and, before Doctor Dupouy arrived, everything was in its place as though we had been living in Bouilh for a year. The arrival of my dear, good maid Marguerite filled me with an immense joy. Upon her release from prison in Paris, Madame de Valence had invited her to her home to take care of her two daughters. But as soon as Marguerite heard of my return, nothing could stop her from coming to join me. I was ecstatic when I saw her. She had escaped the dangers of the Terror, despite her white pinafore, indicating her service to the aristocracy. A month after I left for America, she arrived in Paris, where a bourgeois friend of hers gave her asylum. A few days later, she went out dressed as usual like a maid for the nobility, with a pinafore as white as snow. Hardly had she taken a few steps when a woman cook, holding a basket, pushed her into a dark back alley and said to her, “Oh, poor soul, don’t you know 112. For the taste for blonde wigs, see Corson, Fashions in Hair, 297–98.

222 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN that you will be arrested and guillotined with a pinafore like that?” My poor maid could not believe that she had risked the death penalty just for a daily habit. She thanked this woman for [133] saving her life, and after hiding her antirepublican dress, she bought a few lengths of fabric to disguise herself, as she put it. A little while later, she saw, as she passed by the Place Vendôme, two six- or seven-year-old children playing outside a carriage door, and, finding them cute as can be, she talked to them. She learned from them that they stayed with their disabled grandfather and that there were guards at their home, that their papa and mama were in prison, that all of their servants had fled, and that they were alone with their grandpapa. That was enough to move Marguerite to tears. The children led her to their home and their grandfather confirmed that their story was true. She offered to enter into his service and to care for him and the children. He happily agreed and two hours later, she began her service. She stayed there until the death of Robespierre.113 At that time, she entered into Madame de Valence’s service. And when I returned, as I said, she came to find me. She arrived at Bouilh just in time to welcome my dear daughter Charlotte, who was born November 4, 1796. I called her Charlotte because she was Monsieur de Chambeau’s goddaughter. She was registered in the commune’s records under the name of Alix, which was consequently the only name that she could use in legal matters. . . . Madame de La Tour du Pin recounts some of the horrors that occurred during the Terror and the devastated state in which she found her homeland. She tries to evaluate her financial loss. She thinks with regret about her life in America, her farm, and her slaves. [138] We stayed at Bouilh for the whole winter and part of the spring. Around July of 1797, my husband had to go to Paris to settle some business with Monsieur de Lameth. I had a premonition and asked to accompany him. Madame de Montesson,114 always so generous towards me, asked Madame de Valence to offer me a place to stay while in Paris. Madame de Montesson herself was spending the summer in a home that she had bought in the country near Saint Denis. We did not need much baggage for the six weeks that we had planned to spend in 113. Maximilien Robespierre was guillotined on July 28, 1794 (10 Thermidor Year II) on the Place de la Concorde in Paris, where, a year earlier (January 21, 1793), King Louis XVI had been executed; see Bill Potter, “The Death of Maximilien de Robespierre, July 28, 1794,” at Landmark Events/History Highlights: . 114. Charlotte-Jeanne Béraud de La Haye de Riou (1738–1806), wife of the Marquis de Montesson, who died in 1769, mistress, then wife of Louis-Philippe d’Orléans. She was imprisoned during the Terror, and released after the fall of Robespierre. See “Montesson, Charlotte Jeanne Béraud de la Haye de Riou, marquise de,” 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica, 18:778: .

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 223 Paris before returning to Bouilh for the grape harvest. We only brought what was absolutely necessary for us and the children. A great number of émigrés had returned under false names. Madame de Hénin115 came back under the name of a clothing merchant from Geneva, Mademoiselle de Vauthier had gone to live with Madame de Poix116 in her home in Saint Ouen. Madame de Staël, protected by Director Barras,117 was in Paris, along with many others. Monsieur de Talleyrand invited us to come to Paris and encouraged my husband in particular to see him. There were whispers of a counter-revolution, which everyone believed would occur. The government was formed. The two assemblies and the Council of Five Hundred, along with that of the Elders, counted many Royalists among them. Barras’s salon, [139] hosted by the Duchess of Brancas, was always crowded because he was the most influential Director. And, even though the other directors did not seem to be willing to follow their colleague’s example, it is certain that the Bourbon cause never had a greater chance of success than during this period. My husband, my maid Marguerite, my children, and I left in a small carriage. My son, Humbert, was seven-and-a-half years old and my daughter Charlotte, whom I was nursing, was eight months old. We spent a few days in Tesson. The château was in an awful state of dilapidation. Not only had all of the furniture been taken, but all of the wallpaper had been torn, all of the locks taken from the doors, the Venetian blinds from the windows, the iron utensils from the kitchen, and the grills from the stoves. The home was truly devastated. Happily, Grégoire118 had piled all of the mattresses

115. Adélaïde Félicité Étiennette de Monconseil (1750–1823), wife of Charles-Alexandre de HéninLiétard d’Alsace, Prince d’Hénin, and Madame de La Tour du Pin’s aunt. She had emigrated to England at the beginning of the Revolution but her husband, who had remained in France, was executed on July 7, 1794, in the final days of the Reign of Terror. The Princesse d’Hénin was a lady of Marie Antoinette’s household. See Eugène Welvert, “La princesse d’Hénin,” Revue de l’histoire de Versailles et de Seine-et-Oise (1923 and 1924): 93–104. 116. Anne Louise de Beauvau (1750–1834), daughter of the Prince de Beauvau, wife of Philippe-LouisMarc-Antoine, Comte de Noailles, Prince-Duc de Poix, the eldest son of the Duc de Mouchy. See Léontine de Noailles, Vie de la princesse de Poix, née Beauveau (Paris: Ch. Lahure, 1855). 117. Paul Barras (1755–1829), an adroit politician from southern France who became the most prominent member of the Directory, serving as one of that five-man-executive committee. See Paul R. Hanson, ed., Historical Dictionary of the French Revolution (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2004), 25–28. On the major role he played as main executive leader of the Directory regime of 1795–1799, see Jean Paul Garnier, Barras, le roi du Directoire (Paris: Perrin, 1970). 118. Grégoire: the concierge of Monsieur de La Tour du Pin’s father at the Chateau of Tesson. He and his wife known as Madame Grégoire were extremely useful when Monsieur de La Tour du Pin sought refuge at the Chateau of Tesson; see the Journal, Part I, chap. 14 and 15.

224 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN that he could save onto his bed, along with those of his wife and daughter. These served as our beds during our stay at Tesson. I was greatly moved seeing the Grégoire family, who had hidden my husband with such care and loyalty. Some time before, when passing through Mirambeau, I had visited the locksmith Potier and his wife, who had housed Monsieur de La Tour du Pin for three months and hidden him in a basement where it was too dark to even read. How many times have I thanked God for protecting my husband from all the dangers he faced during that dreadful era of the Terror. This memory has stayed so engraved in my mind that I still had frequent [140] nightmares. I imagined that revolutionaries were looking for my husband, chasing after him from room to room, and suddenly I would wake up in a cold sweat, my heart beating violently. We finally arrived at our destination. Madame de Valence received me with open arms and Madame de Montesson, who had not yet left for the countryside, welcomed me with great kindness. In Paris, any singularity commands attention: thus I immediately made a great impression. Monsieur de Talleyrand arrived as I got out of the carriage with my husband to dine with Madame de Valence in her home. He was very happy to see us but a moment later he said, “Say, Gouvernet, what do you intend to do?” “Well,” my husband replied with surprise, “I have come back to put my affairs in order.” “Oh!” Monsieur de Talleyrand replied, “I thought . . .” And then he changed the subject to something pointless and unimportant. A few moments later, he turned to Madame de Valence with a nonchalant air, which you have to have seen to understand what I mean, and he told her, “By the way, you know that the new ministers have been named?” “Ah really, who are they?” she replied. Then after a moment of hesitation, as if he had forgotten the names and was trying to recall them, he said, “Ah! Yes, so-and-so is the Minister of War, so-and-so is at the Navy, so-and-so at Finance . . .” “Oh! And who is the Minister of Foreign Affairs?” “Well, I am, of course!” he responded. He then took his hat and left. [141] My husband and I exchanged glances, unsurprised, since Monsieur de Talleyrand could never shock us, but this time he had acted in poor taste. He remained an eminent nobleman while at the same time serving a government composed of a rabble of scoundrels. The next day, he was established in the Foreign Affairs office, as if he had been there for ten years. He was made minister thanks to the recommendation of Madame de Staël, who was all-powerful at that time due to her relationship with Benjamin Constant. Monsieur de Talleyrand had gone to her home and thrown his purse, which contained only a few louis, onto her table, and said, “This is the last of my fortune! I must be a minister by tomorrow or I will put a bullet in my head.” None of this was true, but it was dramatic, and Madame de Staël rather liked that. Besides, the nomination was not difficult for her to obtain. The members of the Directory, especially Barras, felt honored to have such a minister.

Journal of a Fifty-Year-Old Woman, 1778–1815 225 I will not recount the story of the 18th of Fructidor.119 It can be found in contemporary memoirs. The Royalists had so much hope, and there was so much plotting. Many of the émigrés had returned. They wore symbols of solidarity, all well-known to the police: the black velvet collar on a frock coat, the knot, I don’t know of what kind, in the corner of a handkerchief, etc. etc. It was by absurdities of this kind that they believed they would save France. Madame de Montesson came back especially from the country to host a dinner for the sympathetic deputies. Monsieur de Brouquens, our dear friend, was also a gracious host of one of these dinners, [142] where people spoke with incredible imprudence. Every day, my husband and I ran into more people that we knew in Paris, and the oddity of the life that we had led in America, and the wish I had to return, made me very popular for an entire month. Madame d’Hénin, our aunt, had come back, as I said, under a false name and with a Genevan passport. She was staying at the home of Madame de Poix, who herself was living in a house in Saint Ouen that someone had lent her for the summer. We stayed there for a few days to the great enjoyment of Humbert, who was always bored in Paris, where he had to stay inside. I was shocked by the great imprudence with which people spoke at dinner, in front of the servants, of the Royalists’ plans and hopes. They would name aloud the clandestine émigrés they had met that same morning. They would be just as indiscreet about the deputies whom they believed they could trust among the Council of Five Hundred or that of the Elders. I was seen as foolish or pretentious when I asserted that Monsieur de Talleyrand knew exactly what they were plotting, if indeed a plot there were, and that he did not care. I also saw Madame de Staël almost every day. Despite her close relationship with Benjamin Constant, she supported the Royalists and their transactions. One day, I was having dinner at her home with [143] eight to ten of the most distinguished deputies, including Messieurs Barbé-Marbois, Portalis, Villaret de Joyeuse, Dupont de Nemours, and the queen’s defender, Tronson du Coudray.120 The latter said to Benjamin, “You talk to Barras every day, you must know that we must take the safe side.” To which the other responded by this verse of Monsieur de Lally: “They won’t touch a hair on your head.” 119. The coup d’état of September 4, 1797, orchestrated by the firmly Republican directors, Barras among them, was intended to eliminate from both the Councils and the Directory the Royalists who were gaining power. See Mays, The Historical Dictionary of the French Revolution, 28. 120. François Barbé-Marbois (1745–1837), member of the Conseil des Anciens during the Directory; Jean Étienne Marie de Portalis (1746–1807), diplomat; Louis Thomas Villaret de Joyeuse (1747–1812), deputy of Morbihan to the Council of Five Hundred and admiral in the French navy during the Revolution; Pierre Samuel Dupont de Nemours (1739–1817), government official and FrenchAmerican writer; and Guillaume Alexandre Tronson du Coudray (1750–1798), lawyer. All were prominent Royalists.

226 MADAME DE LA TOUR DU PIN “Well, I would think so, since I wear a wig!” Tronson de Coudray replied. This is the way these unfortunate people would joke about their affairs, not knowing that two weeks later they would be sent to Cayenne.121

121. French penal colony, located in the Salvation Islands of French Guiana, commonly called Devil’s Island.

Appendix 1 Cécile de Sainte-Croix, The Story of Her Crossing and Arrival in Quebec (September 2, 1639) translated by MacKenzie Gleason, Elizabeth Hagstrom, Christie Wan, and Colette H. Winn Cécile Richer (ca 1609–September 15, 1687) felt at an early age that she was called to the religious life and joined the Ursulines of Dieppe, where she took the habit under the name of Cécile de Sainte-Croix. In April 1639, she met Marie Guyart de l’Incarnation and Marie de Savonnières de La Troche de Saint-Joseph, two Ursulines of Tours who were preparing to embark for Canada with the mission of founding a monastery devoted to the education of young Amerindian girls. Eager to accompany them, she sought permission from François II de Harlay of Champvalon, Archbishop of Rouen, to bring the Gospel to New France. Upon her arrival in Quebec City on August 1, 1639, she lived with the two other Ursulines in a small house in the Lower Town, where she began learning the indigenous languages and teaching Algonquian and Montagnais. In 1642, the year when the first monastery of her order was built, she moved to Upper Town to pursue her work. Eight years later, she witnessed the fire that destroyed that building. During her long religious career, she filled the office of assistante from 1645 to 1651, from 1652 to 1654, from 1657 to 1663, and from 1672 to 1675. In 1660–1661, she assumed the office of novice mistress. On the death of Marie de l’Incarnation in 1672, she became the last representative of the founders of the first Ursuline community in Quebec. In the Annales du monastère des Ursulines de Québec, Cécile de Sainte-Croix is remembered as “a true Ursuline” and is highly praised for her fervent devotion and her humility, demonstrated by her diligence in teaching the poor and her preference for menial and lowly tasks over more glamorous ones.1 The only writing we have by Cécile de Sainte-Croix is the letter translated here, which relates her crossing of the Atlantic, her arrival in Quebec City on August 1, 1639, and her settlement in a small house in the Lower Town.2 We attempt to replicate the 1. Cécile Richer (ca. 1609–1687), Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec; . 2. Cécile de Sainte-Croix’s Lettre à la Mère Supérieure des Ursulines de Dieppe, 2 Septembre 1639 is translated from Oury’s edition in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 951–58. For a brief summary of Cécile de Sainte-Croix’s life and an earlier translation of her letter into English, see A Letter from Mother Cecile of the Holy Cross to the Superior of the Sisters of Dieppe (1639), in Women of Faith and Audacity, at Ursulines of the Canadian Union: Remembering, ; and Mère Cécile de Sainte-Croix, The Voyage Out, in Early Voices: Portraits of Canada by Women Writers, 1639–1934, ed. Mary Alice Downie and Barbara Robertson, with Elizabeth Jane Errington (Toronto: Dundurn Press, 2015), 69–74.

227

228 Appendix 1 author’s informal tone. As this register, however, along with grammatical and orthographic errors and inconsistencies, make the text difficult to read at times, it has been necessary to refine some of this linguistic awkwardness, to shorten some sentences, and to alter verb tenses for clarity and legibility. The bold and bracketed folio numbers at the head of the text and interspersed throughout are from the original manuscript, and are replicated in Oury’s edition.

[fol. 1r] September 2, 1639 Quebec, From Mother Cécile de Sainte-Croix to the Mother Superior of the Ursuline nuns of Dieppe My dearest Mother, The peace and love of our Lord be with you! I had planned to save your letter as the last to write in order to devote the most time to you, but when I realized how little time I had, I gave up on the others. My suffering is not so great that it excuses my writing to you in such haste, but knowing that you are impatiently awaiting this letter, I beg you to forgive me for those letters that I still must write, such as that to Monsieur de la Tour. I am writing to you on the seas, about a five hundred miles from Dieppe, according to the fishermen. I do not know if you have received my previous letter. Thank the Lord, we were saved from the dangers of the seas I mentioned, but we have encountered others that I will relate to you. It often crossed my mind, especially while I was enduring seasickness, from which I suffered greatly and at length. I will try my best to tell you everything, so that you know what to expect when you come. Regarding the food that is usually endured at sea, and of which I have heard many complaints, we have been spared this trouble; we were treated much better than we would have been in our own homes, particularly aboard the ship of Monsieur Bon-Temps, who had given orders that we should be refused nothing we asked for. What we eat is, thank God, the least of our sufferings. We found ourselves happier having some cod without butter than we were when we had an abundance of food. It often crossed my mind, I would say, that experiencing the inconveniences of being at sea is entirely different from only hearing about them. It is quite shocking to find oneself on death’s doorstep. I am sure that the others, who have experienced more suffering, will have an easier time with these trials, but I am telling you of my frailties. A great comfort is that when all this is over, there will only remain the joy of having been in danger for God. You wouldn’t want to miss such a joy; it seems as though our Lord awards us this recompense. If I were not telling you how little I have suffered and if I were not in the company of my dear Sisters, I would not think that I was outside of France. Those who believe that we suffer greatly here are mistaken. The first lesson that I learned from the

CÉCILE DE SAINTE-CROIX , The Story of Her Crossing and Arrival in Quebec 229

Reverend Father Le Jeune and that I found very true is that the only cross you bear in Canada is the one you bring from France. I experience this every day. Soon after I last wrote to you, there was a furious storm that lasted fifteen days with few breaks, so that the whole week of Rogations,3 including Ascension Day, we were unable to hear Holy Mass or receive Holy Communion. We suffered in the same way on Pentecost; the ship shook so much at this time that it was impossible to stand up, to take the slightest step without a support to lean on, or even to sit without holding onto something, lest we find ourselves thrown to the other side of the cabin. We were obliged to take our meals down on the floor, holding one dish between three or four people, and even then we could hardly prevent it from spilling. Most of us were so ill that some of the most afflicted, among them Madame de la Pelterie, who usually thinks of Canada with longing, no longer thought of going there, but just of having a bit of calm; and indeed, as soon as the calm returns, we are healed [fol. 1v]. Madame de la Pelterie was among those most nauseous, and I leave you to imagine the relief to her delicate nature once this sickness ended, after which the greatest inconveniences on the boat have been the stench and squalor of tobacco and tar. The passage from the New Testament that our Mothers from Tours used to teach for the Sisters, that “to he who has, more will be given,” was verified here with me: since my body retains a good amount of humidity from the sea, I was so incommoded my entire time on the ship by a quantity of water that came out of my mouth, particularly when I was lying down. I don’t believe I’m exaggerating when I tell you that I spat out a bucket of water, so that I had no greater enemy than my bed. Thus, throughout the storms, I didn’t lie down at all; I preferred to lean all day and night against some support, for there was no other way to keep my head up straight. Also, I would have needed a large quantity of linens to stay in my bed. Remember how hesitant you were to allow me to put a plank under my mattress; here, on the sea, it’s impossible to lie down otherwise. There is no way to sleep just on a mattress. All I could do, from morning until night, was to prepare myself to go to confession on the appointed day, and I do not recall having such difficulty fasting except last Pentecost. The day of Holy Trinity, around 10 o’clock in the morning, as we were attending Mass, we heard terrible screams coming from the sailors. We ignored these cries, not knowing their cause, when suddenly the Reverend Father Vimont descended into our cabin and said, “We are dead if our Lord does not have mercy on us: there is an iceberg as large as a city that will strike the ship and it is but ten steps away.” And kneeling down with us, he said these words that Saint Francis Xavier once spoke while facing a similar peril: “Jesus, my Redeemer, have mercy on us!”4 My Mother of Saint-Joseph said to him, “Father, let us make a vow,” but he responded, “We must do nothing but that which is most appropriate,” 3. Three days of prayer and fasting preceding Ascension Thursday. 4. From the Litany of Saint Francis Xavier: .

230 Appendix 1 remembering that in a similar case he had made such a vow, which he had great trouble accomplishing; but he decided to make one only for those of us present in the cabin, requiring that two masses be said in honor of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph and that each person receive communion twice on the first land we reached. Having done this, he told us, “I am going to the sailors, and then I will return here to give you absolution. We still have a half hour.” He also gave orders to send for the good Brother who was with him so that we could all die in the same place. When I heard from the Father, “We are dead!,” I felt I had never known fear before; I did not think at all of my sins, nor feared Judgment or Hell, but I was seized by the singular fear of dying at sea, which lasted until the Father came back; at that moment, I began to reflect and ask myself if I wanted to die in this state of mind. I hardly had time to think it over when Monsieur Bon-Temps entered the cabin and told us, “We are saved! It is a miracle.” And instantly, he showed us the iceberg behind the ship, whose tip we could not see because of a fog so thick and so persistent that we believed ourselves to be in danger once again, close to lands that we could not see. We attributed our salvation to the prayers you said for us, and indeed I heard the most experienced sailors [fol. 2r] say that they had never been in such danger and that, honestly speaking, it would have been impossible to escape, since we were on the open sea and there would have been no time to reposition the sails. At the high speed the ship was going, she would have vanished into the iceberg, but the one man who held the rudder turned the ship around so dexterously that he accomplished a feat which we had held to be impossible for a single man to achieve. The next day we again encountered several icebergs, but, as we noticed them from further away, we were able to avoid them. We saw them fairly close by, and one in particular was said to be as big as a small city. Unlike the others that seemed to be entirely covered with snow (though in reality it was only the sun reflecting on them that gave this impression), this one was crystal clear. A few minutes before we caught sight of these icebergs, it became as cold as in the month of January. As for me, from that moment on, I could no longer feel pain. Here is some consolation. Since we embarked, from the day of the blessed Aloysius Gonzaga until the day of our arrival,5 we hardly missed a mass or a daily communion, unless we were all ill. The Reverend Father Vimont never missed an occasion to explain the importance of prayer to us. He told us that one of the reasons why people of the cloth do not benefit from prayer is because they change the content too often and, indeed, the entire time that we were at sea, he hardly ever changed it. On any given Saint’s Day, such as that of Saint Peter,6 he kept the substance of the prayer but related it to the celebrations. He had established a set

5. From June 21 to August 2. 6. June 29.

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of rules for the daily duties. A Mother, changing from week to week, would lead us saying the Divine Office,7 and it was up to her to enforce these rules. We said the Divine Office and did our readings twice a day on the deck of the ship. We also did this at the dinner table, one after another. He had ordered that, from evening break until the next day after the prayer, we speak as little as possible, and he had the habit of telling us that, as much as we might try to retain the religious spirit, we would still lose much of it. We confessed whenever we wished, every day if we made our devotion, even though we did not receive communion. We had sermons on holidays and Sundays. With this, the Father continued with the same benevolence that he had at the harbor. I think we would be dead without him; I have never seen such a man. The first time that we saw the natives, we were only a few leagues from Tadoussac. There was a chief named Jouënchou (he is known to the French and is the father of the native who went to France to greet the king on behalf of his whole nation8), who brought onto our ship the Jesuit Reverend Father Gondouin,9 so that from then on we had two Fathers in our company. The natives who came from Miskou were a little more civilized than those from this country. They were surprised and overjoyed, which they said through the Reverend Father Gondouin who had lived among them for a long time. It was to him that the king had given clothes to take to the natives—from what we could see there were male as well as female converts—and since then, they have come to see us in Quebec. And [Gondouin] said once more that if [fol. 2v] we wanted to go to his country, he would make sure that we would have all we might need. He gave us an account of all there was to eat there. We arrived at Tadoussac on July 20th, all three ships together. I’ll leave you to imagine our joy. The next day, we left the Admiral to embark upon the Saint Jacques, which was the only one of the three ships to continue on to Quebec, captained by Monsieur Ançot. There we were in such close quarters that when we were all sitting around the chest which we used for saying our four daily masses (we were so lucky!) and for eating our meals with the four Fathers—the Reverend Father Vimont, Father Gondouin, Father Poncet, and Father Chaumonnot10—and the 7. Also called Liturgy of the Hours or the Breviary; the official set of prayers marking key moments of the day. 8. According to Lucien Campeau, he was a Gaspesian or Micmac captain; see Monumenta novae franciae, vol. 4, Les grandes épreuves, 1638–1640 (Montreal: Éditions Bellarmin, 1989), 774. 9. Nicolas Goundouin or Gondouyn (1601–1647), a Jesuit missionary who arrived at Miscou in 1637; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, 959n13. 10. Pierre-Joseph-Marie Chaumonot (1611–1693) entered the order of Rome on May 18, 1632 and arrived in Quebec on August 1, 2019. See Anthony P. Schiavo and Claudio R. Salvucci, eds., Iroquois Wars, vol. 1: Excerpts from the Jesuit Relations and Primary Sources from 1535 to 1650 (Bristol, PA: Evolution Publishing, 2003), 420. For Vimont and Poncet, see in this volume Marie de l’Incarnation’s Correspondence, 71 note 16 and 74 note 22].

232 Appendix 1 good brother Claude,11 so, as I was saying, when we were all sitting around the chest, the person sitting at the end couldn’t get up without forcing the others to do so as well, because each had only their spot, and a very tight one at that. And to sleep, we had to put planks on the chest and throw our mats on top. To eat, we had, at first, cod preserved in vinegar, without butter or even a bit of lard, which we had for the rest of the journey and moreover with a pleasure that I can’t even begin to explain to you. The first time we set foot on land, it was the day of Saint Anne,12 when the vow I mentioned earlier was partly accomplished. Again, we thought we would die; as we disembarked from the ship to the dinghy, we almost capsized. We stayed on the Saint-Jacques until Friday the 29th of July, when we left due to headwinds and boarded another boat headed to Quebec. There was no place of shelter except for a small cabin filled almost to the ceiling with codfish, such that we could only sleep one on top of another, packed like bread in the oven.13 And since there was no way to stay there any longer, due to the heat and the stench of the packed codfish, a group of us was forced to stay on the deck in the rain, which was very unpleasant, at night as well as during the day. Without a doubt, it was truly less of a mortification to stay out in the rain than to suffer the discomfort of the cabin, for those coming out of it stank so much that we could hardly bear it. On the afternoon of Saint Ignatius Day,14 we expected to arrive at Quebec but couldn’t, because the weather didn’t permit—the rain started and lasted for five or six hours without stopping, and since I was one of those who could not stand to stay in the cabin, I had no choice but to get completely soaked. Like several others, I was so soaked that my dress remained wet for several days until we arrived in Quebec. It was no small humiliation to appear so dirty in front of so many fine people. The Reverend Father Vimont, with his Reverence and the others, seeing that we were so drenched and that there was no way of making a fire on the rowboat to dry us off, asked the captain to bring us to shore, which was fairly close to us, and he did so. They lit up a good fire for us and we partially dried off. We ate supper ashore and had dried cod without butter. They made a hut for us in the style [fol. 3r] of the natives, and even though our beds consisted of merely a blanket on the ground, I slept quite well. The next morning, we returned to the rowboat and arrived in Quebec around 8 o’clock on the morning of the Day of Saint Peter in Chains.15 11. Claude Jager (1598–1676), a Jesuit missionary who spent a large part of his active life in Canada. See Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, 959n17. 12. July 26. 13. The common expression “packed like sardines” only originated in the late 1700s with the invention of canning. 14. July 31. 15. August 1.

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As soon as our small boat was spotted, the governor16 sent two men in a canoe to see who we were, and being assured of our identity, he sent us a rowboat to bring us to shore. He approached us with Monsieur de Lisle,17 his lieutenant. I cannot begin to describe the courtesies we received from them. As soon as we set foot on land, we knelt down and the Reverend Father Vimont said a prayer for us all. We went straight to church, sang the Te deum,18 heard Holy Mass and took Holy Communion, then we went to greet the governor in his house, where we dined. From there, we accompanied the Hospitallers as they were taken to a house near the fort that the governor gave to them to stay in while they waited for their own building to be finished. Then we went to Madame de la Pelterie’s house, which she is renting from the Jesuit Fathers, and which is situated on the banks of a great river and consists of two rather large bedrooms, a cellar, and an attic. We have the most beautiful view in the world. Without going out of our room, we can see the ships arrive that stay in front of our house for the whole time they’re here. A picket fence, about the height of a short wall, was raised for us.19 If you look carefully, the pickets are not so close together that you can’t see through them. The fence separates us from the secular people who will no longer enter our house once the door at the chapel when the work is done.20 We had quite a few visits from both the native women and the French ladies living here. It was a struggle to feed ourselves because, as the small boat brought only our bodies to Quebec, for some time we had no means of cooking. The governor had those implements lent to us and to the Hospitallers as well, which we kept until we told him that our supplies had arrived. The night of our arrival, we made bonfires for the birth of the dauphin king.21 Permission was obtained from the Reverend Father Vimont for us to attend the celebration since we were not yet enclosed. He sent Monsieur de Lisle to fetch us. We went there. You will read all about it in The Jesuit Relation. The next day, we were made to go to Sillery, where a number of natives—both Christian converts and catechumens—live. There is a residence for the Fathers. 16. Charles Huault de Montmagny (1601–1654); see in this volume Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondence, 82 note 34. 17. Achille Bréhault-Delisle, professional soldier, Knight of Malta, lieutenant of Governor Huault de Montmagny, judge at Quebec in 1638; he was very much esteemed by the Jesuits. See Raymond Douville, “Bréhault-Delisle, Achille,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (1969, rev. 1982), . 18. Te deum: a hymn of praise. 19. A fence is raised so that their residence would be properly enclosed, as then required by Catholic practice. 20. Once the convent has been completed, the nuns will be enclosed, and will receive no visitors but clerical ones. 21. They had arrived August 1, 1639, nearly a year after the birth of the dauphin, later King Louis XIV, on September 5, 1638, news of which event did not reach New France until much later.

234 Appendix 1 The church is like a small native parish. This place is, by boat, about a league and a half from Quebec. The governor general lent us his rowboat once again. There we learned from the soldiers who took us that as soon as the governor had heard we were coming, he had refreshments sent ahead to greet us. For as soon as we arrived in Tadoussac, a little boat was sent out and reached Quebec after only a few days of travel, while we spent eight days on the Saint Jacques, which did not move at all due to unfavorable winds. These good people told us that they had come from twenty leagues away and that they were forced to go back when they did not see us. We made our confessions in Sillery. Afterwards, a ten-year-old native girl was baptized there. Madame de la Pelterie was her godmother and named her Marie. Then she was placed in our spiritual care. She was the first. Just imagine our joy to have been able to carry out our mission, from the second day after our arrival, with this newly baptized little being. Most of those in attendance were crying with joy during the ceremony. Before the beginning of the service, with the natives sitting in rows on the benches, the Reverend Father Le Jeune had them pray to God in their language, and then sing in that tongue the Credo and a kind of hymn he had composed. If time had permitted, I would have proposed to write out that hymn and send it to my Sisters. This could be done another year. I find nothing as pleasant as hearing the natives sing, as they sing quite sweetly and in harmony. I admired the kindness of this good Father, who took the trouble to sing with them and, on another occasion, when a native girl took communion, got down on his knees beside her and teased out her thanksgiving word by word. Indeed, he is an apostle to this country and a Father to the natives. The next day, the 3rd day of August, we went out again to go to NotreDame-des-Anges, about half a league from Quebec. It is the largest residence of Fathers. While passing through, we saw the building of the Hospitallers. The next day, which was a Thursday, we went to look at a place to erect our building. I went out to accompany our Mother. It is a very pleasant place and rather close to the fort; some of the grounds have already been cleared and the governor, who was with us, said that he had it done a while ago with the prospect of building a house for the Ursulines there. We went out again on Friday and on Saturday to go to Holy Mass and we have not gone out since. Starting on Sunday, Mass took place in our house. We have it every day in the same place, in a small corner by the hearth that has been boarded up, where there is just enough room for the altar and the priest, and for him who helps to say Mass; and we are blessed to have our Lord nearby to whom we can tell our needs. You understand that it is the Blessed Sacrament that we take in this small place. On the day of Assumption, there was a general procession for the French and the natives. Madame de la Pelterie served as the leader of the female natives; she walked at the front with two of our little seminarians by her sides. The procession came to our house; we had dressed the room and the altar inside.

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The Reverend Father Le Jeune had the natives sing and pray; we sang along. Everyone is so excited to hear our Mothers. On every holiday and Sunday, people come to us to hear Vespers being sung. There are five of us: our Mother on one side, Madame de la Pelterie, my Mother of Saint Joseph and my Sister Charlotte22 on the other; and as for me, I am next to our Mother. It is a pleasure to see the native men and women next to the viol while it is being played; they find such joy in it. One of the first Christian converts among them (named Nouel,23 who is mentioned in The Jesuit Relation), said that his daughter should be taught how to play it. We only use the viol to attract more natives and we will continue to do so. More of them are being baptized, young and old. Since our arrival, the Reverend Father Le Jeune has baptized up to seven of them per night and if it were not for a contagious disease among them [fol. 4r], much like smallpox, which keeps them from assembling, there would most certainly be many other conversions. Madame de la Pelterie served as godmother to many. Among others was Pigarouich, the shaman of whom so much has been said, and who is now a good Christian. We already have six native boarders in our continuous care, and many others at intervals, and if we had the means to feed and clothe them, we would have even more. It is such a pity to see so many souls lost because of the lack of a bit of bread. Our Mothers of Tours urge all the Sisters of their community to each ask their parents, as alms, for a shirt to clothe the little natives. I am making the same request of you and of all our Mothers in other convents, if you judge it to be appropriate, just as I also ask for lambs as alms from you: the natives are very fond of them. Pigarouich, presently named Estienne, having lost the lamb we had given him, came the very next day to ask for another. We also have little French girls as day pupils; there are already seven or eight of them. I believe we hadn’t yet been here for eight days [fol. 3v] when they were sent to us. Imagine if we would even have time to catch our breath once the house opens. Madame de la Pelterie has chosen to assume the task of waking and dressing the little natives; we have some two or three-year-olds who are no small job even for those who try their best. My mother of Saint Joseph’s duties are the sacristy and the laundry; she has plenty to do. She and I share the task of caring for the day pupils; the Sisters who have free time give us a hand. I was given the responsibility for managing expenditures. As you can imagine, there are not always people to do the cooking, so I am typically responsible for this as well. Even though it is not a very big job, there is much to keep me busy. I am not the best cook, but I have already learned to make the sagamité24 of the natives: it is the greatest feast that we can treat them to.

22. Sister Charlotte: see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 960n33. 23. The Algonquin chief Noël Négabamat; see Oury, in Marie de l’Incarnation, Correspondance, 960n34. 24. See Introduction, 8 note 27.

236 Appendix 1 We found the Reverend Father Le Mercier25 here. I have never seen anyone humbler than this good father; just seeing him inspires devoutness. He came to us to say Mass and brought us Joseph, who already has the air of a saint. He was filled with joy in seeing us and in learning why we had come. We gave him some kind of small present . He did not even know how to thank us, the poor man. Not only explaining to us in words what he wanted to say, he spoke to us with his eyes, just as he is described in The Jesuit Relation. I still have much to tell you, if only time permitted it, but I must end this letter. Adieu, my dearest Mother. I hope that you will always accept me for who I truly am, my dearest Mother, Your very obedient and unworthy Daughter in Christ, Sister Cécile de Sainte-Croix

25. François-Joseph Le Mercier (1604–1690), Jesuit missionary in the Huron country and superiorgeneral of the missions of New France. See Lucien Campeau, “Le Mercier, François-Joseph,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (1966, rev. 1979).

Appendix 2 Glossary of Places A Coruña (Corogne): city port in the Galicia region (northwest Spain). Adda River: a tributary of the Po in the Lombardy region (northern Italy). Adige River: a 255-mile river, which originates in the Tyrol area (French Alps) and flows through northeastern Italy to the Adriatic Sea. Aigue-Belle (Aiguebelle): commune in the Savoie region (southeastern France). Aix (Aix-en-Provence): medieval Provençal city 20 miles north of Marseille in southern France. Alkmaar (Alcmaer): city located in the province of North Holland, 35 miles North of Amsterdam. Alleghenies (Alleghanies): part of the Appalachian mountain range in eastern North America. Alps: extensive mountain range stretching from Italy through France and other European countries. Ambleville: land of the La Tours du Pin Gouvernet family in southwestern France. André-de-Cuzbac: city of southwestern France located 20 miles from Bordeaux. Antwerp (Anvers): port city on the Scheldt River, which was then located in the Zeelandic Flanders, north of Brussels. Appalachians: mountain range in eastern North America, situated mostly in the United States. Appia Antica (Via) (Champs Élysiens): the most important military and economic artery of ancient Rome and one of the oldest roads still in existence; it spans some 350 miles from the Roman Forum to modern day Brindisi in the Apulia region of southern Italy. Arch of Trajan (Arco di Traiano): triumphal arch erected in honor of Roman Emperor Trajan between 114 and 117 CE; located in Benevento in southern Italy. Auch: municipality in the Gers area in southwestern France. Averno (Lago di) (Lac Laverne): volcanic lake, the second in size of the lakes present in the Campi Flegrei, west of the city of Naples.

237

238 Appendix 2 Baiae (Baïes): ancient city on the west coast of the golf of Pozzuoli in the Campania region, 10 miles west of Naples. Barcelona: seaport in the Catalonia region (northeastern Spain), located approximately 90 miles south of the French border. Bayonne: city in the Basque country, located at the confluence of the rivers Adour and Nive (southwestern France). Bec d’Ambez (Bec d’Ambès): the confluence point of the Dordogne River with the Garonne River in the Gironde estuary, located 15 miles north of Bordeaux. Bergamo: city in the Lombardy region (northern Italy) 25 miles northeast of Milan. Bilbao: port city in the province of Biscay (northern Spain). Bisassoa (Bidasoa): river in the Basque country, which runs in northern Spain and southern France. Black Mountains: mountain range in western North Carolina; part of the southern Appalachians; the highest mountain range in the eastern United States. Bordeaux: port city that lies along the Garonne river in southwestern France. Boston: important industrial city and port of the New England region; center of resistance to the British, where the American Revolution erupted. Bouilh: commune of André-de-Cuzbac located 21 miles from Bordeaux. Brescia (Bresse): city located at the foot of the Alps in the Lombardy region (northern Italy), famous for its well-preserved Roman public buildings and monuments. Brest: port city in Brittany (northwestern France); in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a major naval base. Cabo de São Vicente (Cape Saint Vincent): the most southwesterly point in mainland Europe (southern Portugal). Cadiz: port city in the Andalucia region (southwestern Spain). Campania: region of southern Italy that stretches along the Tyrrhenian Sea; highly celebrated for its beautiful landscapes and remains of classical antiquity. Campi Flegrei: vast area in the gulf of Pozzuoli, east of city of Naples, known since antiquity for its lively volcanic activity. Canterbury: city located in the county of Kent, 62 miles from London. Canterbury (Cathedral of): one of the oldest Christian churches in England; originally founded in 602 CE by St. Augustine. After St. Thomas Becket’s martyrdom in 1170, it became a major pilgrimage destination.

Glossary of Places 239 Caprera: the second largest island in the archipelago of La Maddalena off Sardinia’s northern coast. Capua (Capoue): city in the province of Caserta (southern Italy), 16 miles north of Naples. Caserta (Caserte): city in the province of Caserta (southern Italy), 22 miles north of Naples. Castel Sant’Angelo (Château Saint Ange): originally intended to be used as mausoleum for Emperor Hadrian, later served as a fortress and a castle; at the time, the tallest building of Rome. Castel Sant’Elmo (Château Saint Elme): fourteenth-century fortress located on a hill in the western part of Naples, offering a magnificent view of the city. Celestins (Monastery of the): monastery in Avignon, commissioned in 1393 by Cardinal Robert of Geneva (later Pope Clement VII) and King Charles VI. Chambéry: historic capital of Savoie, home to the dukes of Savoie, crossroads to the Alps. Chambly: fort established in 1665 along the Richelieu River to provide French colonists protection against frequent Iroquois raids. It was named after the French captain, Jacques de Chambly. Charing Cross (Place): junction in the city of Westminster (London), named after one of the twelve memorial crosses King Edward I had installed in 1290 at each stopping point of Queen Eleanor’s funeral procession. Château Trompette: immense rectangular citadel in Bordeaux, symbolic of royal power, rebuilt after the 1649 rebellion of the Ormists. Chelsea: situated in southwest London, praised for its pleasant situation on rising ground which gently sloped down to the Thames, home to the Chelsea Waterworks, the Chelsea porcelain factory, the Chelsea Bun House, and the pleasure garden of Ranelagh; a fashionable residential area. Cumae or Cuma (Cumes): ancient city of Magna Graecia on the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea approximately 12 miles west of Naples, celebrated for its remains of ancient and medieval fortifications and graves. Dauphiné: former province of southeastern France encompassing the present departments of Isère, Hautes-Alpes, and Drôme. Deal: port on the border of the North Sea and the English Channel (Kent), approximately 8 miles from Dover. Delft: small town in the province of South Holland, located between Rotterdam and The Hague; home to the reigning House of Orange-Nassau.

240 Appendix 2 Dieppe: a port city on the Normandy coast of France. Dijon: city in the Burgundy region (eastern France), 120 miles from Lyon. Dover (Douvres): port in Kent (southeast England) facing France across the Strait of Dover, approximately 27 miles from Calais. Dunkirk (Dunkerque): fortified port city in northern France approximately 6 miles from the Belgian border. El Escorial (Escurial): municipality in Extremadura (central-western Spain), site of the Monasterio de San Lorenzo, which used to be a royal residence of the Spanish kings. Falerna ( Falerne): city in the Calabrian region (southern Italy). Fontainebleau: residence of French monarchs from Louis VII to Napoleon III. Formia (Formies): city on the Mediterranean coast of Lazio (south-central Italy), halfway between Rome and Naples. Fréjus: ancient port town in southeastern France, filled with monuments from Gallic and Roman times. Frosinone: town on a hill overlooking the valley of the Sacco River, 47 miles southeast of Rome. Genoa (Genova, Genes): important seaport in Liguria (northwest Italy). Ghent: city in the Flanders region, approximately 35 miles from Antwerp. Gianicolo (Janiculum, Janicule): known as the eighth hill of Rome in the western part of the city. The name once designated an ancient town founded by the god Janus. Granja or La Granja: municipality in the province of Segovia (Spain). Greenwich: district of London situated on the south bank of the River Thames, best known for its naval connections and its green spaces. Grenoble: city in southeastern France located at the foot of the French Alps. Grotta del Cane (Grotte du chien): small cave on the eastern side of the Phlegraen Fields near Puozzoli. Hoorn (or Horn): town in the province of North Holland, 22 miles north of Amsterdam. Ischia: volcanic island, the largest of the Phlegrean islands off the coast of Naples in the Campania region of southern Italy. Lanslebourg: mountain village in the Savoie region (southeastern France). Leiden: city in the province of South Holland, 27 miles from Amsterdam.

Glossary of Places 241 Lille: city in northern France near the Belgium border. Lucrino (Lago) (Lac de Lucrin): natural basin on the coast of the Campi Flegrei, west of the city of Naples. Lyon: highly-populated city in the southeast of France, important commercial center, and silk-weaving capital of Europe. Mâcon: city in the Burgundy region, 77 miles from Dijon. Madrid: large city in central Spain, chosen in 1561 by Philip II to be the Spanish capital. Manche (la) (English Channel): part of the Atlantic Ocean that separates southern England from northern France; named after the shape of the channel (a sleeve). Marseille: major port city on the Mediterranean’s Gulf of Lion in southern France. Massico, Monte (Massicus mons, Mont Massique): mound north of the Campania region (today near the village of Mandragone) where massacano wine was produced. Metz: city in northeastern France situated at the confluence of the Moselle and the Seille rivers. Meuse River: a 590-mile river rising in France and flowing through Belgium and the Netherlands. Milan: large city in the Lombardy region (northern Italy), 88 miles from Turin. Mirambeau: commune in the Nouvelle Aquitaine region (southwestern France). Miscou: Canadian island in the gulf of Saint-Lawrence in northeastern New Brunswick. Miseno, Capo (Misene): promontory looking over the Tyrrhenian Sea, 3 miles south of the ancient city of Baia in the Campania region of southern Italy. Moerdijk: municipality in the province of North Brabant in the southern part of the Netherlands. Montauban: fortified town situated on the banks of the River Tarn in southwestern France (today the Midi-Pyrénées region). Mont Cenis: high mountain in southeastern France, and a pass over the French Alps to Italy. Mont-de-Marsan: town south of Bordeaux, located at the confluence of the rivers Douze and Midor (southwestern France).

242 Appendix 2 Monte Cassino (Mont Cassin): rocky hill (516 meter high) 75 miles southeast of Rome, best known for its Benedictine abbey founded by Benedict of Nursia in 529. Monte Nuovo: active volcano in the quiescent phase, part of the Campi Flegrei, located in the municipality of Pozzuoli. Montfermeil: commune near Ivry, in the eastern suburbs of Paris, where Madame de La Tour du Pin spent part of her youth. Montmélian fortress: ruins of the stronghold built in the eleventh century on the Rocher de Montmélian, 6 miles southeast of Chambéry. Moulins: city on the Allier River (central France), 86 miles from Mâcon. Naples: large city and port on the Tyrrhenian Sea in southern Italy. Padova (Padoue): city in the Veneto region (northern Italy), approximately 31 miles from Vicenza, famous for its rich history, its university (one of Europe’s oldest), and the magnificent Basilica of Saint Anthony. Paris: capital city of France; center of the European Enlightenment in the eighteenth century; and center stage of the French Revolution with the Fall of the Bastille, symbol of royal power in 1789, and the execution by guillotine of thousands of people during the Reign of Terror. Partenope (Via) (Parthenope): gorgeous stretch of road that follows the Tyrrhenian Sea, today part of the city of Naples. Pauillac: small town situated on the west bank of the Gironde estuary. Philadelphia: city located in the province of Pennsylvania between the Delaware and the Schuylkill Rivers; founded in 1682 by William Penn. Pont Beauvoisin (Le Pont-de-Beauvoisin): commune in the Savoie area (southeastern France), 13 miles from Chambéry. Po River: a 405-mile river that flows eastward across northern Italy. Portici: small town in southern Italy, southwest of Vesuvius and southeast of Naples; home to the Portici Royal Palace. Port Sainte Marie: commune in southwestern France, today in the Lot-andGaronne department. Posillipo (Capo): hill that rises over Naples, offering a stunning view of the gulf of Naples and the islands of Capri, Ischia, and Procida. Pozzuoli (Pouzzol): main city of the Phlegrean Peninsula nearby Baia in the Campania region of southern Italy.

Glossary of Places 243 Procida: one of the Phlegrean islands off the coast of Naples in the Campania region of southern Italy. Puerta del Sol: today important public place in Madrid; in the eighteenth century a focal point of transportation where the original post office building was erected (1768). Quirinale (Palazzo del Quirinale): built by Pope Gregory XIII in 1573 as his summer residence; became the official papal residence until 1870. Ranelagh: pleasure garden in Chelsea (London), especially popular among the upper classes. Reggia di Caserta (Chateau de Caserta): royal palace of Caserta in the late Baroque style, which served as the main residence of the kings of Naples. Rijswijk (Castle): a fourteenth-century manor house located in the province of Gelderland (western Netherlands). Rivoli: Italian city in the Piedmontese region, 10 miles west of Turin. Rome (Roma): capital city of Italy and of the Lazio region; seat of the Roman Catholic Church; viewed in the eighteenth century as one of the most desirable places to visit for its archeological remains from ancient times, its grandiose palaces and its religious buildings (baroque churches and basilicas), and the Vatican library. Rotterdam: in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the largest port city of the Netherlands, seat of the six chambers of the VOC, approximately 49 miles from Amsterdam. Saint Denis: commune north of Paris, 5.8 miles from the center, today in the Seine-Saint-Denis department. Saint-Domingue (today Haiti): France’s most prosperous colony on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola (West Indies). It gained its independence in 1804. Saint James Park: the oldest of London’s royal parks, located in the city of Westminster. Saint Jean de Maurienne: small commune in the Maurienne Valley (Savoie region, southeastern France). Saint Michel (de Maurienne): small commune 7 miles from Saint Jean de Maurienne in the Savoie region (southeastern France). Saint Ouen: commune north of Paris, approximately 4 miles from the center, today in the Seine-Saint-Denis department.

244 Appendix 2 Saint Paul’s Cathedral: located atop Ludgate Hill (central London); rebuilt by Christopher Wren after the Great Fire of 1666 in a style that incorporates Neoclassical, Gothic, and Baroque elements. San Lorenzo in Damaso (Saint Laurent): titular church in central Rome dedicated to Saint Lawrence, deacon and martyr. San Sebastián: city in north-central Spain on the bay of Biscay, east of Bilbao and near the French frontier. Sant’Agnese in Agone (Saint Agnès): seventeenth-century Baroque church in Piazza Navona (Rome) dedicated to Saint Agnes, virgin and martyr. Santa Maria Antica: Roman church in Verona (Italy). Sant’Onofrio al Gianicolo (Saint Onulphe): fifteenth-century cloistered monastery and titular church in Trastevere (Rome). Sardam: small village in the province of North Holland in the northwest part of the country, famous for its shipyard and windmills. Scheldt River (Escaut): a 220-mile river that crosses northern France, western Belgium, and the southwestern Netherlands. Segovia: city northwest of Madrid in the Castile and León region (central Spain). Sierra Morena Mountains: a mountain-chain in Spain, which divides Andalusia from Estramadura and New Castile. Sillery: settlement near Quebec (a section of modern Quebec) founded in 1637 by the aristocrat Noël Brûlard de Sillery for the purpose of converting the Algonquins and Montaignais who came to fish there. Solfatara: live volcanic crater at Pozzuoli, part of the Campi Flegrei volcanic area. Tadoussac: a trading post chosen for its strategic location at the mouth of the Saguenay River (1600); a mission established by the Récollet religious order in 1615. Termignon: picturesque village in the Upper Maurienne Valley (northern Alps), 81 miles from Chambéry and 65 from Turin. Tesson: land of the La Tours du Pin Gouvernet family in southwestern France. Thames: a 210-mile river that travels through southern England, including London. The Hague: large city on the North Sea in the province of South Holland, approximately 13 miles from Rotterdam; seat of the States of Holland as the States General of the Dutch Republic.

Glossary of Places 245 Tiber River: the second longest river in Italy after the Po (252 miles), flowing from the Apennine Mountains through Rome and into the Tyrrhenian Sea at Ostia. Timavo River: river that flows from the head of the Adriatic Sea to the Gulf of Trieste (northeastern Italy). Tomba di Agrippina: ruins of a tomb named after Agrippina, half a mile or so from Cape Miseno. Toulon: port city on the Mediterranean coast, about 40 miles southeast of Marseille. Tower of London: fortress on the north bank of the Thames (central London) composed of several buildings. The central tower (known as London Tower or the White Tower) served various purposes throughout history. Tripergole (Tripercole): medieval village on the Lago di Lucrino. It was entirely destroyed during the Monte Nuovo eruption of 1538. Tritoli (Bagni di): also called Nero’s baths; located on the Lago di Lucrino between Baia and Pozzuoli (Phregraean Fields, Campania). Trois Rivières: small town (about 600 people and 110 homes) at the confluence of the Saint Lawrence and the Saint Maurice Rivers, where the latter divides into three branches, hence the name of the town; it was founded by Laviolette in 1634. Tuileries Gardens: created in 1564 with the Palais des Tuileries in Paris, but redesigned in 1664 by André Le Nôtre, Louis XIV’s famous gardener, who gave them their current French formal garden style; located between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde. Turin: large city in the Piedmontese area (northern Italy) situated on the western banks of the Po River; famous in the eighteenth century for its palazzi and gardens. Valmontone: small locality approximately 28 miles southeast of Rome. Vaprio: small town located 19 miles northeast of Milan. Vauxhall (Faxhall): the first and most popular of the eighteenth-century pleasure gardens, located near Lambeth in Kennington, on the south bank of the River Thames. Venice (Venezia): city built in the lagoons of the Adriatic Sea (in the Veneto region), famous for the Piazza San Marco and its Byzantine basilica of San Marco, as well as its art-filled palazzi. Verona: city on the Adige River in the Veneto region (northern Italy).

246 Appendix 2 Vesuvius (Mount) (Vesuve): still-active volcano above the bay of Naples (southern Italy). It first erupted in 79 AD, causing the destruction of the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Vicenza (Vicence): city located in the Veneto region (northern Italy) between Venice and Verona, a fine exemplar of Palladian architecture. Vitoria: city in northern eastern Spain, southwest of San Sebastián. West Point: commanding plateau on the west bank of the Hudson River considered the most important strategic position in America. The fortress was built in 1778, and George Washington transferred his headquarters there in 1779. Whitehall Palace (Whitall): former residence of the English monarchs, destroyed by fire in 1622. Zuiderzee (meaning Southern Sea in Dutch): large inland sea in the North Sea, formed as the result of floods in the northwestern Netherlands.

Appendix 3 Table of Currencies and Values guinea: a coin of one quarter ounce of gold minted in Great Britain between 1663 and 1814, worth 22 shillings. league (lieue): approximately the distance walked in an hour or roughly 2.5 miles. livre: a French monetary unit, worth 20 sous. louis or louis d’or: a coin worth 20 livres and, after 1726, 24 livres. mile: the English statute mile of 5,280 feet or 1,760 yards. piastre: a name of Italian origin (iastre=plate or leaf of metal) for the Spanish peso duro, a piece of eight pesos, from which the Turkish coin derived. quart: approximately 1.06 liters. shilling: unit of currency introduced during the reign of Henri VII, worth approximately 12 pence. There were 20 shillings in a pound. sous: a small monetary unit. The French livre was worth 20 sous. toise: French unit of length equal to 6 French feet or 6.939 US feet.

247

Appendix 4 Chronology Year

Historical Events

1534– 1535

Jacques Cartier’s first voyage to Canada

1599 1608

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Birth of Marie Guyart at Tours Champlain founds Quebec (July 3)

1617

Marie marries Claude Martin

1619

Birth of their son Claude (April) Death of Claude Martin (October)

1620

Champlain lieutenant general

1621

Marie’s conversion Marie starts working for Paul Buisson

1624

Richelieu first minister

1625

Arrival of Jesuits in Canada

Paul Buisson entrusts Maries with entire responsibility for his business

249

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

250 Appendix 4 Year

Historical Events

1627

Richelieu founds the Compagnie des Cent-Associés

1631

1632

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Maie enters the novitiate of the Ursulines of Tours (January 25) Treaty of SaintGermain-enLaye: Quebec is given back to France Paul Le Jeune founds the first mission in New France Jesuits begin publishing reports on new missions in Huronia

1633

Champlain governor of New France

1634

Smallpox epidemic

Marie takes her vows

Hurons drive out Jesuits 1635

Jesuits found College of Quebec Death of Champlain

Marie reads the Relation seeking schoolteachers for Quebec

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

Chronology 251 Year

Historical Events

1638

Birth of Louis XIV

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

1639

Marie leaves for Quebec with Cécile de Sainte-Croix and Madame de la Peltrie

1640

Claude Martin enters the Benedictines of Saint-Maur

1641

Beginning of French and Iroquois Wars (June 13)

1642

Death of Richelieu

1643

Mazarin minister

1649

Iroquois destroy Huron settlements

Ursulines move to their newlybuilt convent (November 21)

Iroquois masters of the fur-trading routes 1650

Fire destroys Ursuline convent

1651

Erection of new convent Jean de Lauzon governor of New France

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

252 Appendix 4 Year

Historical Events

1652

Claude Martin promoted to the office of Superior

1653

Population of Quebec stands at 2,000

1654

Coronation of Louis XIV

1659

François de Laval first bishop of New France Louis XIV imposes direct royal rule on New France

1661

Louis XIV assumes power

1663

Withdrawal of the Compagnie des Cent-Associés New France becomes a royal province under Louis XIV Mgr. Laval founds theological seminary at Quebec

1665

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Jean Talon intendant of New France

Marie sends Claude her second spiritual autobiography

Ursuline convent besieged by Iroquois

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

Chronology 253 Year

Historical Events

1666

Rémy de Courcelle governor of New France

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Arrival of the CarignanSalières Regiment led by Prouville-Tracy for subduing the Iroquois Expedition of Courcelle and Tracy into the Iroquois cantons 1667

Colbert plans peopling New France

Ursulines are forced to turn away pupils

1,500 settlers land in Canada Arrival of the first of the “King’s Daughters” to find husbands 1672

Marie dies at the convent of Quebec (April 30)

1676

Claude publishes Marie’s Life

1681

Act of affiliation between Ursulines of Quebec and those of Paris finally signed

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

254 Appendix 4 Year

Historical Events

1710

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage Birth of Anne-Marie Le Page in Rouen (November 22)

1713

War of the Spanish Succession

1715

Death of Louis XIV

1723

Louis XV becomes king

1727

Anne-Marie marries Joseph Fiquet Du Boccage

1733

The Du Boccages move to Paris but return regularly to Rouen

1745

Mme Du Boccage wins prize at Academy of Rouen

1748

Publication of Mme Du Boccage’s Paradis terrestre in imitation of Milton

1749

Publication of Mme Du Boccage’s Temple de la Renommée (translated in verse from Pope)

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

Chronology 255 Year

Historical Events

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

Her tragedy, Les Amazones, is performed for the first time at the Comédie française 1750

The Du Boccages’s journey to England and Holland

1751

1756

Birth of Arthur Dillon (HenrietteLucie’s father) Birth of ThérèseLucie de Rothe (HenrietteLucie’s mother)

Seven Years’ War begins

Publication of Mme Du Boccage’s La Colombiade Mme Du Boccage leaves for Italy

1762

1763 1767 1770

Publication of Mme Du Boccage’s Œuvres complètes containing her Lettres on her journeys to England, Holland, and Italy Seven Years’ War ends Joseph Fiquet Du Boccage dies Birth of Henriette-Lucie Dillon (February 25)

256 Appendix 4 Year

Historical Events

1774

Louis XV dies and is succeeded by Louis XVI

1778

France officially in alliance with the American War of Independence

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin

1780

Thérèse-Lucie lady-inwaiting to Marie-Antoinette

1782

Death of Thérèse-Lucie

1783

Peace of Paris

1787

1789

HenrietteLucie marries FrédéricSéraphin de Gouvernet (May 21) French Revolution begins Storming of the Bastille (July 14) Declaration of the Rights of Man (August 26)

1793

Reign of Terror begins Louis XVI and MarieAntoinette guillotined in Paris

Chronology 257 Year

Historical Events

1794

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin The La Tours du Pin flee to America to escape the guillotine (March)

Robespierre overthrown, executed (July 28)

Mme de La Tour du Pin’s father and father-inlaw executed

End of the Reign of Terror 1795

New Constitution is drawn up, culminating in the Convention of 5 Fructidor Year III (August 22) Napoleon crushes royalist insurrection against the Convention (October 5) Napoleon named Division General (October 16)

1796

Napoleon named Commanderin-chief of the Italian Army (March 2) Napoleon’s victory at Rivoli (November 15)

The La Tours du Pin return to France

258 Appendix 4 Year

Historical Events

1797

Treaty of Campoformio (October 17)

1798

Napoleon’s Egyptian Expedition

1799

Napoleon’s Coup d’état (November 9)

1802

Life of Henriette-Lucie Dillon de La Tour du Pin The La Tours du Pin leave for England

Mme Du Boccage dies in Paris (August 8)

1804

Death of Lucy Cary de Rothe (HenrietteLucie’s grandmother)

1814

Return of the monarchy with Louis XVIII

1816

Napoleon defeated at Waterloo

1820

1821

Life of Marie de Life of Annel’Incarnation Marie Fiquet Du Boccage

Mme de La Tour du Pin begins writing her Journal Napoleon dies on the island of Saint Helena

1822

Death of Alix (Mme de La Tour du Pin’s daughter)

1853

Death of Mme de La Tour du Pin (April 2)

Bibliography Primary Sources Works by Authors Featured in This Volume Marie de l’Incarnation [Mère, Saint] Correspondance. Edited by Guy-Marie Oury. 2nd ed. Solesmes: Abbaye SaintPierre, 1971. From Mother to Son: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation to Claude Martin. Edited and translated by Mary Dunn. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Relation de 1633. In Marie de l’Incarnation, Écrits spirituels et historiques, edited by Claude Martin, reedited by Albert Jamet. 2 vols. Paris: Desclée de Brouwer; Québec: L’Action Sociale, 1929–1939. Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation. Edited and translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967.  Madame Du Boccage [Du Boccage, Anne-Marie] Collected Works Recueil des œuvres de Madame Du Boccage. 3 vols. Lyon: Les frères Périsse, 1762. Recueil des œuvres de Madame Du Boccage, augmenté de l’imitation en vers du poème d’Abel. 3 vols. Lyon: Les frères Périsse, 1770. Les Amazones Les Amazones, 1748: Tragédie en cinq actes. Introduction d’Alain Bertrand. Paris: Indigo & Côté-femmes, 2006. Les Amazones: Tragédie en cinq actes, représentée par les Comédiens ordinaires du Roy, aux mois de juillet et d’août 1749. Paris: F. Merigot, 1749. Gli Amazzoni, tragedia della Signora Du Boccage. Translated by Luisa Bergali Gozzi. Venice: P. Bassaglia, 1756. La Colombiade A Colombiada, ou a Fé levada ao novo mundo, epopêa. Translated from the Portuguese by Antonio Luiz de Seabra. Lisbon: typ. da Academia, 1893.

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260 Bibliography Die Columbiade, oder Der in die neue Welt übergebrachte Glaube, ein Heldengedicht. Translated from the French. Glogau and Leipzig: Christian Friedrich Günther, 1762. La Colombiade, ou La foi portée au Nouveau Monde. Paris: Desaint et Saillant, et Durand, 1756. Several other eighteenth-century French editions. La Colombiade, ou La foi portée au Nouveau Monde. Introduction by Milagros Palma. Preface by Catherine Jardin. Paris: Indigo & Côté-femmes, 1991. La Colombiade, poema di Madama Du Boccage. Edited and with an introduction by Antonio Francesco Frisi, translated by various hands. Milan: G. Marelli, 1771. Other Poetical Works La mort d’Abel: Poème imité de Gessner. [Amsterdam]: s.n., 1795. Œuvres poétiques. Paris: Nyon aîné, 1788. Le paradis terrestre, poeme imité de Milton. London: s.n., 1748. Par Madame D. B. [Ensemble] Adam et Eve, tragédie nouvelle imitée de Milton. S.l.: chez Pierre Mortier, 1748. Le paradis terrestre, poeme imité de Milton. Par Madame D. B. Nouvelle edition, revuë, corrigée, augmentée. On y a joint le poëme qui a remporté le premier prix de l’Academie de Roüen. Londres, Amsterdam [i.e. Rouen: Jacques-Nicolas Besongne], 1748. Poëme qui a remporté le prix de l’Académie de Rouen, distribué pour la premiere fois le 12 juillet 1746. Le sujet proposé étoit la fondation même du prix alternatif entre les belles-lettres & les sciences, par M. le duc de Luxembourg, gouverneur de la province, et protecteur de l’Academie. Rouen: de l’imprimerie de Viret, imprimeur de la Ville et de l’Academie, 1746. Le temple de la renommée, Poème de M. Pope, traduit en vers françois [par Madame Du Boccage]: Imitation d’une épître de M. Pope à une jeune personne sur son départ à la campagne. London, 1749. Correspondence Letters Concerning England, Holland, and Italy. Translated from the French. 2 vols. London: Printed for E. and C. Dilly, 1770. Lettre de Madame *** [A. M. Lepage, dame Dubocage] à une de ses amies sur les spectacles, et principalement sur l’Opera comique. [Paris]: s.n., 1745. Lettres de Madame Du Boccage, contenant ses voyages en France, en Angleterre, en Hollande et en Italie, faits pendant les années 1750, 1757, et 1758. Dresden: George Conrad Walther, 1771. Online at archive.org: . Lettres sur l’Angleterre et la Hollande. Saint Pierre de Salerne: Gérard Montfort, cop., 2005.

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Index of Names Adrian (Publius Aelius Hadrianus), 154n209 Aeneas, 150n191, 166n252, 167nn271–72 Agrippina, 166n253 Ailleboust, Madame d’ (Catherine d’Ailleboust de Sainte Gertrude), 95n65 Ailleboust, Madame d’ (Marie Barbe), 41, 94n65 Albano (Francesco Albani), 112n31 Allamand, Jean Nicolas Sébastien, 133n130 Alphaeus, 167n269 André, John, 198–99n70, 202, 206 Anne (Queen), 115n51 Arethusa, 167n269 Arnold, Benedict, 198–99n70, 200, 202, 206 Augustus (Augustus Caesar), 147n177, 161n236

Bischop, Monsieur (Pieter Anthony de Huybert van Kruiningen), 130n117 Bontemps or Bon-Temps, Captain, 70n14, 72, 230 Borromeo, Cardinal (Federigo Borromeo), 145n172 Boucher, Pierre, 80n50 Bourdon, Madame, 41n162, 94–95nn62–63 Bourdon, Monsieur, 94–96nn63–64, 187, 190, 193, 198, 207 Bouteroue, Monsieur de (Claude Bouteroue d’Aubigny), 93n59 Brouquens, Monsieur de (JosephGabriel Boubée de Brouquen), 177n13, 179n23, 208n90, 225 Buisson, Marie, 9 Buisson, Paul, 5, 249 Burgoyne, John, General, 198–99n71 Burman, Pieter, 134n132 Buteux, Father Jacques, 80n30

Barras, Paul, 223n117, 224, 225n119 Barré, Charlotte, 2 Barthe, Nicolas-Thomas, 169n274 Basnage, Jacques, 143n132 Bayle, Pierre, 134n132 Beaufremont, Marie-Claire de, Marquise de Senneçay, 90n51 Bedford, Duke of (John Russell), 119n69, 186n39 Béraud de La Haye de Riou, Charlotte-Jeanne, 222n114 Bernières, Jean de, 2n5, 79n29 Bernini, Cavalier (Gian Lorenzo Bernini), 155n214 Binet, Father Étienne, 69n6

Cafarelli (Gaetano Majorano, also known as Caffarelli), 163n239 Caligula, 166n268 Cambis, Marquis de (Joseph-LouisDominique de Cambis), 170n277 Caracciolo, Marques de (Domenico Caracciolo), 144n165, 162n237 Cary, Lucy, 14, 191n51, 258 Catullus, 148n182 Cécile de Reuville de l’Enfant Jésus, Mother (Cécile le Seigneur de Renéville), 87n44 Cellini, Benvenuto, 218n107–19 Chalamont de la Visclède, AntoineLouis de, 169n273 287

288 Index of Names Chambeau, Monsieur de, 177n5, 179n23, 188, 197, 204, 207, 208n89, 211n97, 212, 217, 222 Chamblay, Monsieur de (Jacques de Chambly), 85n40 Charles I of England, 116nn53–54, 117n60 Charles II of England, 119, 121, 176n4 Charles III, king of Naples and Sicily, 159n230 Charles IV of Spain, 218n106, 219n111 Chaumonot, Father (Pierre-JosephMarie Chaumonnot), 232n10 Chauvelin, Chevalier (Germain Louis Chauvelin de Grosbois), 144n164 Chavigny, Monsieur de (AnneThéodore Chevignard de Chavigny), 106n8 Chesterfield, Lady (Petronilla Melusina von der Schulenburg), 107 Chesterfield, Lord (Philip Dormer Stanhope), 13n43, 26, 107, 111, 125, 130n117, 131n121, 157n221 Chevallier, Catherine, 70n15 Christine, Queen (Christina of Sweden), 153n204 Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 43n171, 165n249 Claude, Brother (Clauder Jager), 232n11 Clement VI, Pope, 170n276 Clinton, General (Henry Clinton), 199n72 Colbert, Jean Baptiste, 19, 147n178 Colubrano, Princess of (Faustina Pignatella Carafa), 160n233 Constant, Benjamin, 210n94, 224–25 Constantine (Flavius Claudius Constantinus), 121n84

Constantine (Flavius Valerius Constantinus, known as Constantine the Great), 153, 160 Cotton, Lord (Bruce Cotton), 121n81 Courcelles, Governor de (Daniel de Rémy de Courcelles), 84n38, 253 Coustou (Guillaume Coustou the Elder), 154n212 Cramoisy, Monsieur (Sébastien Cramoisy), 90n52 Cumberland, Duke of, 117n63. See also William, Prince David II, king of Scotland, 127n104 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 145–46nn173– 74, 148n183 De Lisle, Monsieur (Achille BréhautDelisle), 233n17 De l’Orme (Delorme), Philibert, 141n155 Del Puerto (Joaquin Ignacio Barrenechea y Erquinigo del Puerto), 131–32n124 Descartes, René, 134n132 Dillon, Arthur, 4n14, 14, 213n100, 255 Dillon, Henriette-Lucie (maiden name of Madame de La Tour du Pin), 4, 13–14, 175, 249–58 Dillon, Henry, 14 Dillon, Lady. See Cary, Lucy Dillon, Lord, 176. See also Lee, Robert Dillon, Theobald, 213n100 Dombourg, Monsieur de (JeanFrançois Bourdon de Dombourg), 94n62 Domitian, Emperor, 148n182 Edward III, 126n104 Edward IV, 117n60

Index of Names 289 Edward VI, 117n60, 120n76 Erizzo, Nicolò, 146n175 Finochetti, Monsieur, 157n221 Flécelles, Marguerite, 91n57 Folkes, Monsieur (Martin Folkes), 121n83 Fontenay, Madame de (Teresia Cabarrus), 177–78n14 Fontenay, Monsieur de (Jean Jacques Devin de Fontenay), 178n17 Fontenelle, Monsieur de (Bernard Le Bovier or Le Bouyer de Fontenelle), 12n42, 110n28, 121, 124n95 Fracastoro, Girolamo, 148n182 François I, 140nn152–53, 145 Frederick, Prince of Wales, 107n17 Fréminet, Martin, 141n157 Fulton, Robert, 197–98nn66–67 Garrick, David, 109n20 Gates, Horatio, General, 198– 200nn70–71, 202n81 Gondouin, Father (Nicolas Goundouin or Gondouyn), 231n9 Gouvernet, Frédéric-Séraphin (Monsieur de La Tour du Pin), 14, 50, 188n45, 202n79, 224 Gregory, Pope (Gregory I or Gregory the Great), 155n213 Gresham, Thomas, 120nn77–78 Groevius, 134n132 Gronovius, Jacobus, 134n132 Grotius, Hugo, 130n118, 134n132 Guyart, Hélie, 69n9, 72n17 Haller (Albertus de Haller or Albrecht von Haller), 47, 143n162 Handel (George Frideric Handel), 108nn18–19, 112

Harvey, William, 117n59, 120n79 Hénin, Madame de (Adélaïde Félicité Étiennette de Monconseil), 223n115, 225 Henri IV, 141n158, 151n198 Henry VIII, 116n58 Hensius Daniel, 134n132 Holderness, Count of (Robert Darcy), 131n122 Holderness, Countess of (Mary Doublet), 131n123 Huault de Montmagny, Governor Charles, 82n34, 233nn16–17 Hugh IV Lusignan, 126n104 James VI Stuart, king of Scotland, 116n55 Jansen (Cornelius Jansenius), 25n94, 128n110 Jaucour, Chevalier de (Louis de Jaucourt), 137n143 Jean le Bon, 127n104 Jeffreys, Mister (John Jeffrey), 185n38 Joanna I, queen of Naples, 170n276 Julien de Toulouse (Jean Julien), 178n18 Lafayette, Marquis de (Gilbert du Motier), 14, 50, 188n45, 202n79 La Haye, Father Georges de, 68n7, 91 Lameth, Marquis de (Augustin-LouisCharles Lameth), 208–9n91 Lanfranco, Giovanni Gaspare, 160n234 La Tour du Pin, Humbert, 15, 176n7, 204n84, 208, 211n97, 215, 223, 225 La Tour du Pin, Séraphine, 15, 53, 176n6, 204 La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Comte de. See Gouvernet, Frédéric-Séraphin

290 Index of Names La Tour du Pin Gouvernet, Frédéric Claude Aymar, Comte de, 16n54 Laval, Bishop (François de Laval), 83–84nn35–36 Leclerc, Jean, 134n132 Lee, Robert, 176n4 Le Jeune, Reverend Father (Paul Le Jeune), 19n61, 20n65, 70n16, 73–75nn21–23, 90nn52–53, 97, 229, 234–35, 250 Le Mercier, Father (François-Joseph Le Mercier), 232n11, 236n25 Louis IX. See Saint Louis Louis XIII, 141, 169 Louis XVI, 14, 159n232, 175n2, 177nn15–16, 211n93, 212n98, 222n113, 256 Louis XVIII, 14, 50, 214n101, 258 Louis le Jeune (Louis VII), 140n150 Lozon, Monsieur de (Jean de Lauson), 89n48 Lozon Carny, Monsieur de (Charles de Lauson Carny), 89n49 Lucretius, 113–14nn40–41 Luisnes or Luynes, Anne Marie d’Albert de, 41n162, 91n56 Maffei, Marquis de (Francesco Scipione Maffei), 147n178 Marie Antoinette, Queen, 14, 50, 52, 223n115, 256 Marie Louise of Austria, Empress, 51–52 Marino, Knight (Giovan Battista Marino), 160n235 Martin, Claude (Marie de l’Incarnation’s husband), 5, 249 Martin, Claude (Marie de l’Incarnation’s son), 5, 6nn20– 22, 9n32, 42, 59, 76n26, 249, 251–52

Maty, Matthew, 124n98 Mead, Doctor (Richard Mead), 123n92 Messalina, 166–67n256 Meyer, Monsieur (Casparus Meyer), 179n11 Middleton, Lord (Hugh Myddleton), 121n80 Milton, John, 109n18, 120n75, 124n98, 254 Monceaux, Monsieur de, 95 Montagu, Lady (Mary Wortley Montagu), 106n9, 119n74, 120, 171n280 Montesquieu, Baron de (Charles Louis de Secondat), 125n100 Montesson, Madame de (CharlotteJeanne Béraud de La Haye de Riou), 222n144, 224–25 Musschenbroek (Pieter van Musschenbrock), 133n129 Napoleon Bonaparte, 13, 16, 39, 49–52, 257–58 Nassau, Prince of. See William IV of Orange-Nassau Nepos, Cornelius, 148n182 Nero, Emperor, 153n206, 165nn250– 51, 166nn253–57, 167n262 Norfolk, Duke of (Thomas Howard), 121n82 Nouel (Noël Négabamat), 235n23 Onontio. See Huault de Montmagny, Governor Charles Orange, Prince of (John William Friso), 131n120. See also William the Silent, Prince of Orange Ossun, Marquis d’ (Pierre Paul d’Ossun), 159n232, 163

Index of Names 291 Pacini, Luigi, 113n35 Palladio, Andrea, 148n185, 149n187 Parr, Thomas, 117n59 Passionei, Cardinal (Domenico Silvio Passionei), 153n205 Passionei, Ludovico, 168 Peltrie, Madame de la (MarieMadeleine Chauvigny Gruel de la Peltrie), 2n6, 68, 69n5, 70n15, 79, 251 Pérignon, General (Catherine Dominique de Pérignon), 217n104 Phidias, 153n207 Philip II of Spain, 131n120, 218n105–19n110 Pijart, Father Claude, 77n28 Pillon (Germain Pilon), 141n156 Pinto, Monsieur (Isaac de Pinto), 137n145 Piso, Gaius Capurnius, 165n250 Pliny the Elder, 43n171, 148nn181– 86, 152, 154n210 Pluto, 167 Poix, Madame de (Anne Louise de Beauvau), 223n116, 225 Poncet, Father (Jean Poncet de La Rivière de Brétigny), 74n22, 232n10 Praxiteles, 145n171, 153n207 Primaticcio, Francesco, 140n153 Proserpine, 167n268 Quen, Father Jean de, 76n27 Quirini, Cardinal (Angelo Maria Querini or Quirini), 146n176 Ragueneau, Father Paul, 75n25 Raphael, 140n154, 157n223, 188n42, 201, 218–19n109 Raymond de Saint Bernard, Dom, 63–68n1

Richelieu, Cardinal de, 126n103, 249–51 Richmond, Duchess of (Sarah Cadogan), 119n73 Richmond, Duke of (Charles Lennox), 119n71, 120 Robespierre, Maximilien, 177n15, 222nn113–14 Rogier de la Marbellière, Sister Louise-Françoise, 80n31 Romano, Giulio, 140n154, 219n109 Rothe, General Edward de, 14 Rothe, Thérèse-Lucie de, 14, 244, 255 Rubens, 116n56, 117n59, 129n113, 137n146, 188n43 Ruyter, Michiel de, 135–36nn137–38 Saint Agnès, 156n218 Saint Athanase, Mother. See Flécelles, Marguerite Saint Lawrence (San Lorenzo), 218n108, 244 Saint Louis (Louis IX), 140n151 Saint Sauveur, Monsieur de (André I Grasset de Saint Sauveur), 136n141 Salières, Monsieur de (Henri de Chastelart de Salières), 86n41 Sannazaro, Jacopo, 150n197 Saumaise, Claude, 134n132 Scaliger, Joseph Justus, 134n132, 148n181 Scaliger, Julius Caesar, 148n181 Scamozzi, Vicenzo, 149n187 Schaub, Sir Luke, 107n16 Schuyler, Philip John, 33n127, 37, 186, 188–89n46, 199, 205, 208 Senneçay, Duchess of. See Beaufremont, Marie-Claire de, Marquise de Senneçay Sixtus V, Pope, 153

292 Index of Names Sloane, Hans, 3n11, 119n74, 122– 23n91, 124n98 Smith, William Stephens, Colonel, 202n79 Smitt (Aernout Smit), 129n113 Staël, Madame de (Anne-LouiseGermaine Necker), 36n143, 50, 210nn93–94, 223–25 Tallien, Jean-Lambert, 177–78nn14–16 Talon, Jean, 93–94nn58–59, 252 Thiersault, Marguerite, 74n22 Tiberius (Tiberius Caesar Augustus), 161n236 Totila, 158n225 Tracy, Lieutenant Général de or Viceroy de (Alexandre Prouville de Tracy), 84–86nn37–40, 253 Tremblay, Monsieur (Abraham Trembley), 119n72 Tromp, Admiral (Maarten Harpertszoon Tromp), 130–31n119 Tronchin, Monsieur (Théodore Tronchin), 136n142, 138n143 Valerius, 166n256 van Dyck, Anthony, 117n59, 129n113, 137n146 van Huysum, Jan, 137n144 Vespasian, Emperor, 148n182 Victor Amadeus II of Sardinia, 144n163 Vimont, Father (Barthélemy Vimont), 23, 71n16, 229–33n9 Virgil, 150–52nn191–96, 158n227, 164nn242–43, 166n252, 167nn262, 265–67 Vitruvius (Marcus Vitruvius Pollio), 112n33, 148n162

Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), 3n11, 11n38, 35n143, 51, 112n30, 122n86, 124–25n99, 127nn106–7, 137n145, 144–45 Vossius, Gerardus, 134n132 Washington, George, President, 33n127, 188–89nn44–46, 198–99n70, 200nn74–75, 201n78, 246 William, Prince, 117n63 William IV of Orange-Nassau, 132n125 William the Conqueror, 116n52 William the Silent, Prince of Orange, 131n120 Wolsey, Thomas, 116n57 Yarmouth, Countess of (Amalia Sophia von Wallmoden), 119n70 Ysabeau, Claude-Alexandre, 177–78n16 Zamore, 35, 178–79n19, 186 Zeno of Citium, 114n42

Thematic Index citizenship, invention of, 176n9 coffee, 134–35 coffee houses, 48n196, 123n94 Communion (First), 8, 76, 89–90 Compagnie des Cent-Associés, 250, 252 conservatories, 163n241 consumerism, in Holland, 31, 135–39 convents/monasteries, 1–2, 7–8, 68–69, 71, 79, 86–90, 157–58, 161–63, 170–71, 217–19, 227, 233–36. See also enclosure rules Converse sisters, 88n46 Council of Five Hundred, 211n95, 223, 225n120 Council of the Elders, 225n120 Council of Trent, 1n2 cuisine, British, 25, 123–25

abandonment, of one’s child, 6–7, 42, 79–80, 183 academies, and women, 3n13, 11, 30n116, 44n176, 126, 254 Agniers, 85n39 Algonquins, 7n24, 8, 21, 73, 75, 82, 88, 92, 97, 99n69, 235n23 American Revolutionary War, 14n47, 184n32, 188nn44–45 Amerindians (see also specific tribes): alcohol and, 82–84; assimilation of (see francisation); education of (see under education); languages of (see indigenous languages) Arnold/André Affair, 198n70–202 authorization, strategies of, 43–45 autobiography, 48–55; spiritual autobiography, 9, 54, 252 baiting (animal), 110n24 balls, 110n27 baptism, 20, 72, 76, 78, 80, 96 Battle of Bunker Hill, 185n36 Battle of Saint Quentin, 219n110 Battle of the Dunes, 128n109 Benedictines, 6, 251

Daughters of the Visitation, 80n31 dictionaries, and the Enlightenment, 111n29 Directory, 211n95, 216, 223n117, 224, 225nn119–20 dreams, 20n66, 63–64, 72, 97–98n68 Dutch East India Company, 132n125, 135n135, 136, 139n149

cabinets of curiosity, 122–23n91, 133, 148n184 caricature, 34, 110n21 Carignan-Salières regiment, 85– 86nn39–41, 253 certificate of residence, 175n1 chinoiseries, 106n10 chocolate, 106, 110, 113n39, 123 Church, Early, 22 ciceroni. See guidebooks

education, of Amerindians, 63, 69n8, 72–81, 86–90 émigrés, 4n15, 16, 184n31, 186n40, 209, 212, 223, 225 enclosure rules, 1–2nn2–3, 90 entertainments, worldly, 47–48, 146–47 epidemic. See yellow fever exile, 4n15, 16, 35, 51n206, 185n37, 210 293

294 Thematic Index exoticism, fruit/vegetable, 94, 120n76, 134–35 familiar letter, 43–48 farming, 16, 32–33, 188, 203–8 fashion: French, 27, 107; men’s clothing, 123, 130, 176n10, 192, 197; women’s clothing, 27, 104–7; women’s hair, 15–16, 220–21n112 Feuillantines, 41, 63n1–64, 66, 68 fire: of 1666, 120–22nn78–85; of 1794, 204n83; at the Monastery of the Ursulines, 9–10, 41, 227 foreignness, perception of. See Other and Otherness francisation, policy of, 91n55–93 frolic, 38, 206n87 Fructidor coup, the 18th of, 16, 50, 225n119 gambling, 119, 123–24n93 gender, and travel writing, 4–5, 40–58 gentlemen’s clubs, 48n197 gifts received while traveling, 120, 162. See also hospitality Grand Tour, 2n8, 3nn12–13, 10, 13, 23, 55 grief, 53, 187, 203–4 guidebooks, 45, 154n208 guillotine, 180n27, 184, 186, 222n113, 256–57 Gunpowder Plot, 122n88 honors, in England, 26–27, 116–18 horseracing, 109nn22–23 hospitality, 8, 24–25, 105–6, 120n76, 123, 184, 220 Hospitaller nuns, 2n4, 70n15, 90nn51–54, 95, 233–34 Hurons, 43, 72n20, 74n23–75, 82n32, 92, 94, 97, 99, 236n25

indigenous languages, 8, 10, 19, 43, 87–88, 92 Iroquois, 7n24–8, 18n57, 41n163– 43, 80n30, 82n32, 82n34, 84–86nn38–41, 89n49, 94, 97, 190nn49–50, 231n10, 251–53 Jay’s Treaty of 1795, 201n78 Jesuit missionaries and their missions in New France, 1–2, 10, 20, 40–42, 63–64, 73n21, 74, 75n24, 83n36, 85n39, 160, 231n9, 232n11, 233n17, 236n25, 249–50 King’s daughters, 93n60–94 landscape: representation of, 47n192, 143; women’s relationship to, 52–53, 143, 150 life-writing, 48–55 liquor trade, 33n131–34, 82–84n36 masquerades, 110nn26–27 memoirs, 48–55 mills, in Holland, 138–39 missionary letter, 40–43 Mohawk, 33–34, 85n39, 190n49 Montagnais, 7n24, 72n20, 227 mother(hood), 7–9, 43, 66, 71, 73, 75, 77, 95, 119 nature, description of, 47, 52–53, 143, 187, 190, 193, 198, 207 opera, 48, 108–10, 113n35, 123, 131, 144, 159, 163n240 oratorio, 108nn18–19 Other and Otherness, 18–40 passport (border control), 175–77nn1–2

Thematic Index 295 patriotism, 27, 120–21, 184n32, 185n36, 199 Peace of 1697, 132n127 Peace of 1763, 199n73 Peace of Basel, 209n92 Peace of Cateau-Cambresis, 70n12 pleasure gardens, 48n195, 110–15n26 prejudices: against Amerindians, 18–23, 34; against British people, 24–28, 123; against French aristocrats, 183 primitiveness, of Amerindian civilization, 19, 33 privateers, 70–71, 168, 180n25 pugilism, 110n25 Quakers, 25, 33, 127n106, 195n61, 196nn64–65, 197 quarantine, 202, 212–13 Reign of Terror, 5n16, 13, 15n51, 16, 179n20, 180n27 relics, 84–86 roads, state of, 24n89, 118, 141–43, 147, 158, 193 Royal Society, 120n78, 121nn82–83, 122n91, 123–24, 125n98, 136n142, 137n143, 145n165 sagamité, 8n27, 235n24 salons, 11–13, 48, 107n17, 210n94, 223 sans-culotte, 176n10 savagery, represented in travel writing, 18–22nn56–58, 33 sea travel, 15–16, 24, 65, 69–72, 74, 103–4, 122, 128–30, 133, 151, 165, 168–69, 179–82, 198, 203, 210–13, 228–34 sedan chairs, 118n64, 169 Seven Years’ War, 196n62, 255 Shakers, 195n63

slave, 32, 34–39, 169, 178n18, 191–96, 203n83, 204–10 slavery, 35–39nn143–45, 180, 191n55, 192, 206, 209–10 sociability, 47–48 social classes/social divisions, 25, 31–32, 35, 110, 113, 124–28, 136, 160, 164, 168, 175, 183, Société des Amis des Noirs, 36n143 Society of Jesus, 71n16, 73n21, 74, 77n28, 80n30 steamboats, 197–98 supremacy, French, 18–19, 27–28, 107 tea, 106n11, 110, 113n38, 114n46, 128, 134–35 theater, 109n22, 130, 146–49nn187– 88, 163 Thermidor (9) Year II, 177nn15–16 Thirty Years’ War, 70n12 Titus haircut, 15–16n51, 181nn28–29 translation/translator, 8, 10–12, 28–29, 39, 87, 105, 132, 152 Treaty of Fort Stanwix, 190n50 Treaty of Paris, 184n31, 186n39, 190n50, 199n73 Ursulines, 2n6, 6–7, 9n32, 10, 22, 39, 41, 68nn7–8, 70–71, 87n44, 91n57, 95n64, 227, 234, 250–51, 253 Vatican Library, 45–46, 146n176, 153nn203–4 women: in America, 32–35, 37–38, 192–97, 210; attitudes towards, 30–31; in England, 3, 27, 30, 105–7, 117–19; and fashion, 15–16, 24, 27, 32, 106–7, 118–19, 169–71; in France, 1–5,

296 Thematic Index 11–12, 17, 27, 39–40, 106–7, 117–19, 126, 141, 169–71, 176, 223–24; and freedom, 3, 30n116, 54, 118; in Holland, 138; in Italy, 24, 30–31, 146, 157, 160–63, 170; in New France, 18nn57–58, 20–21, 73–80, 92, 234–36; and power, 30, 50, 54, 126; in Spain, 213–16 yellow fever, 176n6, 202n80, 204

The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe: The Toronto Series

SENIOR EDITOR SERIES EDITORS Jaime

Margaret L. King

Goodrich, Elizabeth H. Hageman

Series Titles Madre María Rosa Journey of Five Capuchin Nuns Edited and translated by Sarah E. Owens Volume 1, 2009 Giovan Battista Andreini Love in the Mirror: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Jon R. Snyder Volume 2, 2009 Raymond de Sabanac and Simone Zanacchi Two Women of the Great Schism: The Revelations of Constance de Rabastens by Raymond de Sabanac and Life of the Blessed Ursulina of Parma by Simone Zanacchi Edited and translated by Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Bruce L. Venarde Volume 3, 2010 Oliva Sabuco de Nantes Barrera The True Medicine Edited and translated by Gianna Pomata Volume 4, 2010 Louise-Geneviève Gillot de Sainctonge Dramatizing Dido, Circe, and Griselda Edited and translated by Janet Levarie Smarr Volume 5, 2010

Pernette du Guillet Complete Poems: A Bilingual Edition Edited with introduction and notes by Karen Simroth James Poems translated by Marta Rijn Finch Volume 6, 2010 Antonia Pulci Saints’ Lives and Bible Stories for the Stage: A Bilingual Edition Edited by Elissa B. Weaver Translated by James Wyatt Cook Volume 7, 2010 Valeria Miani Celinda, A Tragedy: A Bilingual Edition Edited with an introduction by Valeria Finucci Translated by Julia Kisacky Annotated by Valeria Finucci and Julia Kisacky Volume 8, 2010 Enchanted Eloquence: Fairy Tales by Seventeenth-Century French Women Writers Edited and translated by Lewis C. Seifert and Domna C. Stanton Volume 9, 2010

Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, Sophie, Electress of Hanover and Queen Sophie Charlotte of Prussia Leibniz and the Two Sophies: The Philosophical Correspondence Edited and translated by Lloyd Strickland Volume 10, 2011 In Dialogue with the Other Voice in Sixteenth-Century Italy: Literary and Social Contexts for Women’s Writing Edited by Julie D. Campbell and Maria Galli Stampino Volume 11, 2011 Sister Giustina Niccolini The Chronicle of Le Murate Edited and translated by Saundra Weddle Volume 12, 2011 Liubov Krichevskaya No Good without Reward: Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Brian James Baer Volume 13, 2011 Elizabeth Cooke Hoby Russell The Writings of an English Sappho Edited by Patricia Phillippy With translations from Greek and Latin by Jaime Goodrich Volume 14, 2011 Lucrezia Marinella Exhortations to Women and to Others If They Please Edited and translated by Laura Benedetti Volume 15, 2012 Margherita Datini Letters to Francesco Datini Translated by Carolyn James and Antonio Pagliaro Volume 16, 2012

Delarivier Manley and Mary Pix English Women Staging Islam, 1696–1707 Edited and introduced by Bernadette Andrea Volume 17, 2012 Cecilia del Nacimiento Journeys of a Mystic Soul in Poetry and Prose Introduction and prose translations by Kevin Donnelly Poetry translations by Sandra Sider Volume 18, 2012 Lady Margaret Douglas and Others The Devonshire Manuscript: A Women’s Book of Courtly Poetry Edited and introduced by Elizabeth Heale Volume 19, 2012 Arcangela Tarabotti Letters Familiar and Formal Edited and translated by Meredith K. Ray and Lynn Lara Westwater Volume 20, 2012 Pere Torrellas and Juan de Flores Three Spanish Querelle Texts: Grisel and Mirabella, The Slander against Women, and The Defense of Ladies against Slanderers: A Bilingual Edition and Study Edited and translated by Emily C. Francomano Volume 21, 2013 Barbara Torelli Benedetti Partenia, a Pastoral Play: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Lisa Sampson and Barbara Burgess-Van Aken Volume 22, 2013

François Rousset, Jean Liebault, Jacques Guillemeau, Jacques Duval and Louis de Serres Pregnancy and Birth in Early Modern France: Treatises by Caring Physicians and Surgeons (1581–1625) Edited and translated by Valerie WorthStylianou Volume 23, 2013 Mary Astell The Christian Religion, as Professed by a Daughter of the Church of England Edited by Jacqueline Broad Volume 24, 2013 Sophia of Hanover Memoirs (1630–1680) Edited and translated by Sean Ward Volume 25, 2013 Katherine Austen Book M: A London Widow’s Life Writings Edited by Pamela S. Hammons Volume 26, 2013 Anne Killigrew “My Rare Wit Killing Sin”: Poems of a Restoration Courtier Edited by Margaret J. M. Ezell Volume 27, 2013 Tullia d’Aragona and Others The Poems and Letters of Tullia d’Aragona and Others: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Julia L. Hairston Volume 28, 2014 Luisa de Carvajal y Mendoza The Life and Writings of Luisa de Carvajal y Mendoza Edited and translated by Anne J. Cruz Volume 29, 2014

Russian Women Poets of the Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Amanda Ewington Volume 30, 2014 Jacques Du Bosc L’Honnête Femme: The Respectable Woman in Society and the New Collection of Letters and Responses by Contemporary Women Edited and translated by Sharon Diane Nell and Aurora Wolfgang Volume 31, 2014 Lady Hester Pulter Poems, Emblems, and The Unfortunate Florinda Edited by Alice Eardley Volume 32, 2014 Jeanne Flore Tales and Trials of Love, Concerning Venus’s Punishment of Those Who Scorn True Love and Denounce Cupid’s Sovereignity: A Bilingual Edition and Study Edited and translated by Kelly Digby Peebles Poems translated by Marta Rijn Finch Volume 33, 2014 Veronica Gambara Complete Poems: A Bilingual Edition Critical introduction by Molly M. Martin Edited and translated by Molly M. Martin and Paola Ugolini Volume 34, 2014 Catherine de Médicis and Others Portraits of the Queen Mother: Polemics, Panegyrics, Letters Translation and study by Leah L. Chang and Katherine Kong Volume 35, 2014

Françoise Pascal, MarieCatherine Desjardins, Antoinette Deshoulières, and Catherine Durand Challenges to Traditional Authority: Plays by French Women Authors, 1650–1700 Edited and translated by Perry Gethner Volume 36, 2015 Franciszka Urszula Radziwiłłowa Selected Drama and Verse Edited by Patrick John Corness and Barbara Judkowiak Translated by Patrick John Corness Translation Editor Aldona Zwierzyńska-Coldicott Introduction by Barbara Judkowiak Volume 37, 2015 Diodata Malvasia Writings on the Sisters of San Luca and Their Miraculous Madonna Edited and translated by Danielle Callegari and Shannon McHugh Volume 38, 2015 Margaret Van Noort Spiritual Writings of Sister Margaret of the Mother of God (1635–1643) Edited by Cordula van Wyhe Translated by Susan M. Smith Volume 39, 2015 Giovan Francesco Straparola The Pleasant Nights Edited and translated by Suzanne Magnanini Volume 40, 2015 Angélique de Saint-Jean Arnauld d’Andilly Writings of Resistance Edited and translated by John J. Conley, S.J. Volume 41, 2015

Francesco Barbaro The Wealth of Wives: A Fifteenth-Century Marriage Manual Edited and translated by Margaret L. King Volume 42, 2015 Jeanne d’Albret Letters from the Queen of Navarre with an Ample Declaration Edited and translated by Kathleen M. Llewellyn, Emily E. Thompson, and Colette H. Winn Volume 43, 2016 Bathsua Makin and Mary More with a reply to More by Robert Whitehall Educating English Daughters: Late Seventeenth-Century Debates Edited by Frances Teague and Margaret J. M. Ezell Associate Editor Jessica Walker Volume 44, 2016 Anna StanisŁawska Orphan Girl: A Transaction, or an Account of the Entire Life of an Orphan Girl by way of Plaintful Threnodies in the Year 1685: The Aesop Episode Verse translation, introduction, and commentary by Barry Keane Volume 45, 2016 Alessandra Macinghi Strozzi Letters to Her Sons, 1447–1470 Edited and translated by Judith Bryce Volume 46, 2016 Mother Juana de la Cruz Mother Juana de la Cruz, 1481–1534: Visionary Sermons Edited by Jessica A. Boon and Ronald E. Surtz Introductory material and notes by Jessica A. Boon Translated by Ronald E. Surtz and Nora Weinerth Volume 47, 2016

Claudine-Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin Memoirs of the Count of Comminge and The Misfortunes of Love Edited and translated by Jonathan Walsh Foreword by Michel Delon Volume 48, 2016 Feliciana Enríquez de Guzmán, Ana Caro Mallén, and Sor Marcela de San Félix Women Playwrights of Early Modern Spain Edited by Nieves Romero-Díaz and Lisa Vollendorf Translated and annotated by Harley Erdman Volume 49, 2016 Anna Trapnel Anna Trapnel’s Report and Plea; or, A Narrative of Her Journey from London into Cornwall Edited by Hilary Hinds Volume 50, 2016 María Vela y Cueto Autobiography and Letters of a Spanish Nun Edited by Susan Diane Laningham Translated by Jane Tar Volume 51, 2016 Christine de Pizan The Book of the Mutability of Fortune Edited and translated by Geri L. Smith Volume 52, 2017 Marguerite d’Auge, Renée Burlamacchi, and Jeanne du Laurens Sin and Salvation in Early Modern France: Three Women’s Stories Edited, and with an introduction by Colette H. Winn Translated by Nicholas Van Handel and Colette H. Winn Volume 53, 2017

Isabella d’Este Selected Letters Edited and translated by Deanna Shemek Volume 54, 2017 Ippolita Maria Sforza Duchess and Hostage in Renaissance Naples: Letters and Orations Edited and translated by Diana Robin and Lynn Lara Westwater Volume 55, 2017 Louise Bourgeois Midwife to the Queen of France: Diverse Observations Translated by Stephanie O’Hara Edited by Alison Klairmont Lingo Volume 56, 2017 Christine de Pizan Othea’s Letter to Hector Edited and translated by Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Earl Jeffrey Richards Volume 57, 2017 Marie-Geneviève-Charlotte Thiroux d’Arconville Selected Philosophical, Scientific, and Autobiographical Writings Edited and translated by Julie Candler Hayes Volume 58, 2018 Lady Mary Wroth Pamphilia to Amphilanthus in Manuscript and Print Edited by Ilona Bell Texts by Steven W. May and Ilona Bell Volume 59, 2017 Witness, Warning, and Prophecy: Quaker Women’s Writing, 1655–1700 Edited by Teresa Feroli and Margaret Olofson Thickstun Volume 60, 2018

Symphorien Champier The Ship of Virtuous Ladies Edited and translated by Todd W. Reeser Volume 61, 2018 Isabella Andreini Mirtilla, A Pastoral: A Bilingual Edition Edited by Valeria Finucci Translated by Julia Kisacky Volume 62, 2018 Margherita Costa The Buffoons, A Ridiculous Comedy: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Sara E. Díaz and Jessica Goethals Volume 63, 2018 Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle Poems and Fancies with The Animal Parliament Edited by Brandie R. Siegfried Volume 64, 2018 Margaret Fell Women’s Speaking Justified and Other Pamphlets Edited by Jane Donawerth and Rebecca M. Lush Volume 65, 2018 Mary Wroth, Jane Cavendish, and Elizabeth Brackley Women’s Household Drama: Loves Victorie, A Pastorall, and The concealed Fansyes Edited by Marta Straznicky and Sara Mueller Volume 66, 2018 Eleonora Fonseca Pimentel From Arcadia to Revolution: The Neapolitan Monitor and Other Writings Edited and translated by Verina R. Jones Volume 67, 2019

Charlotte Arbaleste DuplessisMornay, Anne de Chaufepié, and Anne Marguerite Petit Du Noyer The Huguenot Experience of Persecution and Exile: Three Women’s Stories Edited by Colette H. Winn Translated by Lauren King and Colette H. Winn Volume 68, 2019 Anne Bradstreet Poems and Meditations Edited by Margaret Olofson Thickstun Volume 69, 2019 Arcangela Tarabotti Antisatire: In Defense of Women, against Francesco Buoninsegni Edited and translated by Elissa B. Weaver Volume 70, 2020 Mary Franklin and Hannah Burton She Being Dead Yet Speaketh: The Franklin Family Papers Edited by Vera J. Camden Volume 71, 2020 Lucrezia Marinella Love Enamored and Driven Mad Edited and translated by Janet E. Gomez and Maria Galli Stampino Volume 72, 2020 Arcangela Tarabotti Convent Paradise Edited and translated by Meredith K. Ray and Lynn Lara Westwater Volume 73, 2020 Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve Beauty and the Beast: The Original Story Edited and translated by Aurora Wolfgang Volume 74, 2020

Flaminio Scala The Fake Husband, A Comedy Edited and translated by Rosalind Kerr Volume 75, 2020 Anne Vaughan Lock Selected Poetry, Prose, and Translations, with Contextual Materials Edited by Susan M. Felch Volume 76, 2021 Camilla Erculiani Letters on Natural Philosophy: The Scientific Correspondence of a SixteenthCentury Pharmacist, with Related Texts Edited by Eleonora Carinci Translated by Hannah Marcus Foreword by Paula Findlen Volume 77, 2021 Regina Salomea Pilsztynowa My Life’s Travels and Adventures: An Eighteenth-Century Oculist in the Ottoman Empire and the European Hinterland Edited and translated by Władysław Roczniak Volume 78, 2021 Christine de Pizan The God of Love’s Letter and The Tale of the Rose: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Thelma S. Fenster and Christine Reno With Jean Gerson, “A Poem on Man and Woman.” Translated from the Latin by Thomas O’Donnell Foreword by Jocelyn Wogan-Browne Volume 79, 2021

Marie Gigault de Bellefonds, Marquise de Villars Letters from Spain: A Seventeenth-Century French Noblewoman at the Spanish Royal Court Edited and translated by Nathalie Hester Volume 80, 2021 Anna Maria van Schurman Letters and Poems to and from Her Mentor and Other Members of Her Circle Edited and translated by Anne R. Larsen and Steve Maiullo Volume 81, 2021 Vittoria Colonna Poems of Widowhood: A Bilingual Edition of the 1538 Rime Translation and introduction by Ramie Targoff Edited by Ramie Targoff and Troy Tower Volume 82, 2021 Valeria Miani Amorous Hope, A Pastoral Play: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Alexandra Coller Volume 83, 2020 Madeleine de Scudéry Lucrece and Brutus: Glory in the Land of Tender Edited and translated by Sharon Diane Nell Volume 84, 2021 Anna StanisŁawska One Body with Two Souls Entwined: An Epic Tale of Married Love in Seventeenth-Century Poland Orphan Girl: The Oleśnicki Episode Verse translation, introduction, and commentary by Barry Keane Volume 85, 2021

Christine de Pizan Book of the Body Politic Edited and translated by Angus J. Kennedy Volume 86, 2021 Anne, Lady Halkett A True Account of My Life and Selected Meditations Edited by Suzanne Trill Volume 87, 2022 Vittoria Colonna Selected Letters, 1523–1546: A Bilingual Edition Edited and annotated by Veronica Copello Translated by Abigail Brundin Introduction by Abigail Brundin and Veronica Copello Volume 88, 2022 Michele Savonarola A Mother’s Manual for the Women of Ferrara: A Fifteenth-Century Guide to Pregnancy and Pediatrics Edited, with introduction and notes, by Gabriella Zuccolin Translated by Martin Marafioti Volume 89, 2022 Maria Salviati de’ Medici Selected Letters, 1514–1543 Edited and translated by Natalie R. Tomas Volume 90, 2022 Isabella Andreini Lovers’ Debates for the Stage: A Bilingual Edition Edited and translated by Pamela Allen Brown, Julie D. Campbell, and Eric Nicholson Volume 91, 2022