Letter 259. To the same

Vive > Jésus!

I am writing to our dear Sister Marie Aimée [Madame du Tertre] about the contract between her and us. You will see what I say to her. There is no possibility of doing otherwise in regard to it: for what unseemliness to declare in such a document that she will not get up in the morning, that she must have a maid to serve her, that she must be well treated, and suchlike! Nowitis quite fair to guarantee her some privileges, and for this reason I think this dear soul ought herself to send his Lordship a list of all these little trifling conveniences that she desires, or rather, that you should do it, if she is ashamed to. He will allow her to have all she wishes; but the letter must be sent at once, and well recommended and an answer pressed for; for certainly we ought to give her all the satisfaction and guarantees possible as far as is consistent with a good conscience. The contract between you and her will not be drawn up here, it is better that it should be done where she takes the habit.

Our poor Sister de Gouffier absolutely demands that you pay her. Her character is so touchy that I dare not tell her a quarter of what I would like. If you can give her the two hundred crowns now we will try to make her satisfied with that sum. At least, if she is not, I will certainly tell her what you have written to me. Yet I doubt if I can find your letter. Write it over again to me if you can. I will keep the two hundred crowns, which shall remain in the hands of Mademoiselle d’Asy until you have written to tell her that she should give them to me and that you will refund them, unless you can make good Madame du Tertre give this alms to the house of Moulins. What made me think of the expedient of writing to his Lordship was that the Father Superior of Saint Louis, an excellent Jesuit father, told me straight out that nothing ought to be put in the contract except what was conveyed in the Bishop of Nevers’ letter. But this does not satisfy her; for she has written a long letter to M. Aubrey with a thousand arguments by which she shows that she very much wishes that all the exemptions she desires should be specified to her in detail. However, since she wants to be a religious, this ought not to be done. She must simply state what she desires, and I am persuaded his Lordship will grant it to her. I believe I have said this to you already, but I write so much at times that I cannot very well remember. I have seen the bargain about your land and the good merchant’s letter; he refuses to have any negotiation with M. de Saint-Martin, so that when you are on the spot you must take as much ground as you need. Now do not, my dearest sister, mind paying a little more money in order to have a really fine large garden. Get the opinion of the good Jesuit fathers about it, and get them to help you in everything; but above all, I wish them to help you in things spiritual, for theirs is the best and the most solid spirit. For the rest, when you have marked the piece of ground you need, if you send me the plan I will have that of our house put on it, which will satisfy you, since we ought to have our monasteries alike, as far as we can. I am writing a line to our Sister Marie Marguerite’s aunt. Put a word in with it, I beg of you, for it is to you that she made the promise. Truly we are hesitating as to whether we will have the profession of our sister—as they? are not doing their duty about it.

Have I told you that his Lordship is going to Rome, perhaps for two years? It is for the advantage of our Institute, and is the will of God.

We have still great difficulty about housing ourselves. No news yet about the departure of our sisters, but they will

We have excellent sisters here. They are beginning really to satisfy me, and I am a little difficult. Our dear Sister M. Anastase gets up and is beginning to walk with a stick. Her thigh is always open, and her body quite invalided, but it will be much if she can move about in this way.t WhenI am talking to you I cannot stop.—I have not seen M. de Gondras’ letter. I do not know which superior they will give you, nor what mistress of novices, for his Lordship has so much to do that he cannot remember to say half he should. The sisters, I believe, will soon be here. May God bless them and make them do their duties well—You know what I always am to you; if it were possible to be, I am more entirely than ever yours in Our Lord. May He be blessed.¹

Footnotes

1. Presumably the sister’s family. arrive in due time. These gentlemen here, from what they say, will not be able to go to you till the end of July. They have written from Nessy to tell me that his Lordship promised them that I would return there this autumn, but I don’t see any hope of it. God grant that I may not be still a year here. I shall be greatly disappointed not to find you at Moulins, and I do not know if I dare go to Nevers, unless his Lordship tells me; for it seems to me to be very much off the road. But there is time to think of that between this and then. Truly it will be a sorrow to me to come back without seeing you. Well, pray to God for me. ↩