husband's protection, in the midst of a society loosened from all moral
restrictions, in which the highest were the most libertine, no evil
breath ever tainted her fair fame. Her cousin, Bussy-Rabutin[61], who
has distilled, from a venomous pen, poison over the reputation of almost
every Frenchwoman of that period, says not a word against her, except
that she encouraged sometimes the friendship of those who loved her. No
blame can arise from this. It was necessary for the advancement of her
children that she should secure the support and friendship of people in
power. She lived in a court surrounded by a throng of society: she felt
safe, since she could rely on herself; and prudery would only have made
her enemies, without any good accruing. The only friend she had who did
not deserve the distinction was Bussy-Rabutin; but he being a near
relation, and she the head of their house, she showed her kindness and
her prudence by continuing to admit him to the honour of her intimacy.
In his letters he alludes to the admiration that Fouquet felt for her;
and we find that her friendship for him continued unalterable to the
last. Bussy rallies her, also, on the admiration of the prince de Conti:
"Take care of yourself, my fair cousin," he writes: "a disinterested
lady may, nevertheless, be ambitious; and she who refused the financier
of the king may not always resist his majesty's cousin. You are a little
ingrate, and will have to pay one day or another. You pursue virtue as
if it were a reality, and you despise wealth as if you could never feel
the want of it: we shall see you some day regret all this." Again he
writes, "One must regulate oneself by you; one is too happy in being
allowed to be your friend. There is hardly a woman in the kingdom,
except yourself, who can induce your lovers to be satisfied with
friendship: we scarcely see any who, rejecting love, are not in a state
of enmity. I am certain that it requires a woman of extraordinary merit
to turn a lover into a friend." And again, "I do not know any one so
generally esteemed as yourself: you are the delight of the human race;
antiquity would have raised altars to you; and you would assuredly have
been the goddess of something. In our own times, not being so prodigal
of incense, we content ourselves with saying that there does not exist a
woman of your age more virtuous and more charming. I know princes of the
blood, foreign princes, nobles of high rank, great captains, ministers
of state, magistrates, and philosophers, all ready to be in love with
you. What can you desire more?" This language deserves quoting only as
evidence of the sort of ordeal Madame de Sévigné passed through. While
receiving all this flattery, she was never turned aside from her course.
To educate her children, take care of their property, secure such a
place in society as would be advantageous to them, and to render her
uncle's life happy, were the objects of her life. She was very fortunate
in her uncle, whose kindness and care were the supports of her life. Her
obligations to him are apparent from the letter she wrote many years
after, on his death:--"I am plunged in sorrow: ten days ago I saw my
dear uncle die, and you know what he was to his dear niece. He has
conferred on me every benefit in the world, either by giving me property
of his own, or preserving and augmenting that of my children. He drew me
from the abyss into which M. de Sévigné's death plunged me: he gained
lawsuits; he put my affairs into good order; he paid our debts; he has
made the estate on which my son lives the prettiest and most agreeable
in the world." She was fortunate, also, in her children, whom she
passionately loved. But it must be remembered that children do not
entirely occupy a parent's time. She afterwards regretted that her
daughter had been brought up in a convent; but, in sending her there,
she acted in accordance with the manners of the times.[62] While her
children were away, and when she came up to Paris from her country
house, she diversified her life by innocent pleasures. She enjoyed good
society, and adorned it. She was one of the favourites of the Hôtel de
Rambouillet, where met a knot of people, who, however they might err in
affectation and over refinement, were celebrated for talent and virtue.
She was a friend of Julie d'Angennes, afterwards madame de Montauzier;
and the _Alcovistes_ of the set were her principal friends. Ménage
mentions her with admiration, and was accustomed to relate several
anecdotes concerning her. He went to visit her in Britany, a great
undertaking for a Parisian. The chevalier de Méré, one of the most
affected and exaggerated of the _Précieuses_, and also the count de
Lude, whom Ménage mentions as one of the four distinguished sayers of
_bon mots_ of the time, were chief among her friends and admirers.
Her cousin Bussy-Rabutin quarrelled with her. The occasion is not known;
but it is suspected that she refused to exert herself to re-establish
him in the favour of Fouquet, who was displeased with him. The infamy of
his proceeding is almost unexampled. He included mention of her in the
portion of his scandalous publication of the "Amours des Gaules"
published 1659. In this he does not accuse her of misconduct, but he
represents her economy as avarice, her friendship as coquetry; and added
to this the outrage of raking up and publishing the misfortunes of her
married life, which, though they redounded to her credit, must have
deeply hurt a woman of feeling and delicacy. She never forgave her
cousin; and, though afterwards reconciled to him, it is evident that she
never regarded him with esteem. In addition to this annoyance, her
career was not entirely sunny. Her warm heart felt bitterly the
misfortunes that befel her friends. Her first sorrow of this kind was
the imprisonment, banishment, and adversity of cardinal de Retz. He
deserved his downfall,--but not in her eyes. She only saw his talents
and amiable qualities; and viewed in him a powerful friend, now
overthrown. His imprisonment embittered two years of her life. Her
husband's uncle, the chevalier de Sévigné, took an active part in his
escape from the citadel of Nantes; but this did not restore him to his
friends. He was obliged to take refuge in Spain; and did not return to
France for many years, when he came back an altered man.
Her next misfortune was the fall and banishment of Fouquet. It speaks
highly for madame de Sévigné's good sense and superior qualities that,
while refusing a man who, in other instances, showed himself presuming
from success with other women, she should secure him as a friend. The
secret lay in her own feelings of friendship, which being sincere, and
yet strictly limited, she acquired his esteem as well as affection.
Fouquet was a munificent and generous man, of a superior understanding
and unbounded ambition. He dissipated the finances of the state as he
spent his own; but he could bestow as well as take, as he proved when,
on getting his place of procureur-general to the parliament, he sent in
the price (14,000 francs) to the public treasury. The entertainment he
gave Louis XIV. at Vaux, which cost 18,000,000 of francs, was the seal
of his ruin, already suggested to the king by Colbert. He had made the
monarch, already all powerful, fear his victim. Louis fancied that
Fouquet had fortified Belle Isle, and that he had a strong party within
and without the kingdom. This was a mere mistake, inspired by the
superintendent's enemies, to ensure his fall. Madame de Sévigné,
Pelisson, Gourville, and mademoiselle Scuderi were his chief friends:
joined to these was Pelisson, his confidential clerk. He shared the fall
of his master, and was imprisoned in the Bastille; but, undeterred by
fear from this, defended him with great eloquence. The simple-minded,
true-hearted La Fontaine was another of his firm friends in adversity.
The suit against him was carried on for three years. He was pursued with
the utmost acrimony and violence by Colbert, Le Tellier, secretary of
state, and his rival in credit, and Séguier, the chancellor. During his
trial, madame de Sévigné wrote daily to M. de Pomponne, afterwards
minister, relating its progress. These letters are very interesting,
both from the anecdotes they contain, and the warmth of feeling the
writer displays. Fouquet was treated with the utmost harshness by the
chancellor Séguier, whom he answered with spirit, preserving through
all a presence of mind, a composure, a dignity, and resolution, which is
the more admirable, since, in those days, there was no humiliation of
language to which the subjects of Louis XIV. did not descend, and think
becoming, as addressed to the absolute arbiter of their destiny.
The sort of interest and terror excited about him is manifest, by the
fact, that madame de Sévigné masked herself when she went to see him
return from the court, where he was tried, to the Bastille, his
prison.[63] His trial lasted for more than a month. The proceedings
against him were carried on with the utmost irregularity; and this and
other circumstances--the length of time that had elapsed, which turned
the excitement against him into compassion; the earnestness of the
solicitations in his favour, together with the virulence with which he
was persecuted,--all these things saved his life. Madame de Sévigné
announces this news with delight:--"Praise God, and thank him! Our poor
friend is saved! Thirteen sided with M. d'Ormesson (_who voted for
banishment_), nine with Sainte Helene, (_whose voice was for death_). I
am beside myself with joy. How delightful and consolatory must this news
be to you; and what inconceivable pleasure do those moments impart which
deliver the heart and the thoughts from such terrible anxiety. It will
belong before I recover from the joy I felt yesterday: it is really too
complete; I could scarcely bear it. The poor man learnt the news by air
(_by means of signals_) a few moments after; and I have no doubt he felt
it in all its extent." The king, however, abated this joy. He had been
taught to believe that Fouquet was dangerous: fancying this, he of
course felt, that, as an exile, he would enjoy every facility for
carrying on his schemes. He changed the sentence of banishment into
perpetual imprisonment in Pignerol. Fouquet was separated from his wife
and family, and from his most faithful servants. At first his friends
hoped that his hard fate would be softened. "We hope," writes madame de
Sévigné, "for some mitigation: hope has used me too well for me to
abandon it. We must follow the example of the poor prisoner: he is gay
and tranquil; let us be the same." The king, however, continued
inexorable. He remained long in prison: a doubt hangs over the
conclusion of his life; and it is not known whether he remained a
prisoner to the end. He died in 1680.[64]
When Fouquet's papers were seized, there were among them a multitude of
letters which compromised the reputations of several women of quality.
Madame de Sévigné had been in the habit of corresponding with him. The
secretary of state, Tellier, declared that her letters were _les plus
honnêtes du monde_; but they were written unguardedly, in all the
thoughtlessness of youth. She apprehended some annoyance from their
having fallen into the hands of the enemy, and thought it right to
retire into the country. Bussy-Rabutin put himself forward at this
moment to support her: a reconciliation ensued between them,--not very
cordial, but which, for some time, continued uninterrupted.
Madame de Sévigné's retreat was not of long continuance. It took place
when Fouquet was first arrested, and she returned to court long before
his trial. Her daughter was presented in 1663.
[Sidenote: 1664.
Ætat.
38.]
The following year was rendered remarkable by the brilliancy of the
_fêtes_ given at Versailles.[65] The carousals or tournaments were
splendid, from the number of combatants and the magnificence of the
dresses and accoutrements. The personages that composed the tournament
passed in review before the assembled court.
[Sidenote: 1665.
Ætat.
39.]
The king represented Roger. All the diamonds of the crown were lavished
on his dress and the harness of his horse: his page bore his shield,
whose device was composed by Benserade, who had a happy talent for
composing these slight commemorations of the feelings and situation of
the real person, mingled with an apt allusion to the person represented.
The queen, attended by three hundred ladies, witnessed the review from
under triumphal arches. Amidst this crowd of ladies, lost in it to all
but the heart of Louis, and shrinking from observation, was mademoiselle
de la Vallière, the real object of the monarch's magnificent display.
The cavalcade was followed by an immense gilt car, representing the
chariot of the sun. It was surrounded by the four Ages, the Seasons, and
the Hours. Shepherds arranged the lists, and other characters recited
verses written for the occasion. The tournament over, the feast
succeeded, and, darkness being come, the place was illuminated by 4000
flambeaux. Two hundred persons, dressed as fauns, sylvans, and dryads,
together with shepherds, reapers, and vine-dressers, served at the
numerous tables; a theatre arose, as if by magic, behind the tables; the
arcades that surrounded the whole circuit were ornamented with 500
girandoles of green and silver, and a gilt balustrade shut in the whole.
Molière's play of the "Princesse d'Elide," agreeable at the time from
the allusions it contained, his comedy of the "Marriage Forcée," and
three acts of the "Tartuffe," added the enduring stamp of genius to mere
outward show and splendour. Mademoiselle de Sévigné appeared in these
_fêtes_. In 1663 she represented a shepherdess in a ballet; and the
verses which Benserade wrote for her to repeat show that she was held in
consideration as one of the most charming beauties of the court, and as
the daughter of one of its loveliest and most respected ornaments. In
1664 she appeared as Cupid disguised, as a Nereid[66]; and as Omphale in
1665. We must not forget that at this very time, while enjoying her
daughter's success, madame de Sévigné was interesting herself warmly
for Fouquet. The favour of a court could not make her forget her
friends. Her chief object of interest, as personally regarded herself at
this time, was the marriage of her daughter. Her son was in the army.
When only nineteen he joined the expedition undertaken by the dukes of
Noailles and Beaufort for the succour of Candia. On this, madame de
Sévigné writes to the comte de Bussy,--"I suppose you know that my son
is gone to Candia with M. de Roannes and the comte de Saint Paul. He
mentioned it to M. de Turenne, to cardinal de Retz, and to M. de la
Rochefoucauld. These gentlemen so approved his design that it was
resolved on and made public before I knew any thing of it. He is gone. I
wept his departure bitterly, and am deeply afflicted. I shall not have a
moment's repose during this expedition. I see all the dangers, and they
destroy me; but I am not the mistress. On such occasions mothers have no
voice." She had foundation for anxiety, for few among the officers that
accompanied this expedition ever returned. The baron de Sévigné was,
however, among these: he had distinguished himself; and, as the
foundation for his military career, his mother bought for him, at a
large pecuniary sacrifice, the commission of _guidon_, or ensign, in the
regiment of the dauphin. The marriage of her daughter was a still more
important object. _La plus jolie fille de France_ she delights in naming
her; yet it was long before she was satisfied with any of those who
pretended to her hand. At length the count de Grignan offered himself.
[Sidenote: 1669.
Ætat.
43.]
He was a widower of two marriages: he was not young, yet his offer
pleased the young lady, and possessed many advantages in the eyes of the
mother, on account of the excellent character which he bore, his rank,
and his wealth. "I must tell you a piece of news," madame de Sévigné
writes to the count de Bussy, "which will doubtless delight you. At
length, the prettiest woman in Fiance is about to marry, not the
handsomest youth, but the most excellent man in the kingdom. You have
long known M. de Grignan. All his wives are dead to make room for your
cousin, as well as, through wonderful luck, his father and his son; so
that, being richer than he ever was, and being, through his birth, his
position, and his good qualities, such as we desire, we conclude at
once. The public appears satisfied, and that is much, for one is silly
enough to be greatly influenced by it."
Soon after this period the correspondence began which contains the
history of the life of madame de Sévigné,--a life whose migrations
were not much more important than those of the Vicar of Wakefield, "from
the blue bed to the brown;" her residence in Paris being varied only by
journeys to her estate in Britany, or by visits to her daughter in
Provence. But such was the vivacity of her mind, and the sensibility of
her heart, that these changes, including separations from and meetings
with her daughter, assume the guise of important events, bringing in
their train heart-breaking grief, or abundant felicity.
When she accepted M. de Grignan as her son-in-law, she fancied that, by
marrying her daughter to a courtier, they would pass their lives
together. But, soon after, M. de Grignan, who was lieutenant-general to
the duke de Vendôme, governor of Provence, received an order to repair
to the government, where he commanded during the almost uninterrupted
absence of the duke. This was a severe blow. Her child torn from her,
she was as widowed a second time: her only consolation was in the hope
of reunion, and in a constant and voluminous correspondence. Mother and
daughter interchanged letters twice a week. As their lives are
undiversified by events, we wonder what interest can be thrown over so
long a series, which is often a mere reiteration of the same feelings
and the same thoughts. Here lie the charm and talent of madame de
Sévigné. Her warm heart and vivacious intellect exalted every emotion,
vivified every slight event, and gave the interest of talent and
affection to every thought and every act. Her letters are the very
reverse of prosy; and though she writes of persons known to her daughter
and unknown to us, and in such hints as often leave much unexplained,
yet her pen is so graphic, her style so easy and clear, pointed and
finished, even in its sketchiness, that we become acquainted with her
friends, and take interest in the monotonous course of her life. To give
an idea of her existence, as well as of her correspondence, we will
touch on the principal topics.
In the first place, we must give some account of the person to whom they
were addressed. Madame la comtesse de Grignan was a very different
person from her mother. From some devotional scruples she destroyed all
her own letters, so that we cannot judge of their excellence; but there
can be no doubt that she was a very clever woman. She studied and loved
the philosophy of Descartes; and it is even suspected that she was, in
her youth, something of an esprit fort in her opinions. She conducted
herself admirably as a wife; she was an anxious but not a tender mother.
Here was the grand difference between her and her mother. The heart of
madame de Sévigné overflowed with sympathy and tenderness; her
daughter, endowed with extreme good sense, wit, and a heart bent on the
fulfilment of her duties, had no tenderness of disposition. She left her
eldest child, a little girl, behind her, in Paris, almost from the date
of its birth. Apparently this poor child had some defect which
determined her destiny in a convent from her birth; for her mother seems
afraid of showing kindness, and shut her up at the age of nine in the
religious house where afterwards she assumed the veil; her vocation to
the state being very problematical. It was through the continual
remonstrances and representations of madame de Sévigné that she kept
her youngest daughter at home. She was more alive to maternal affection
towards her son; but this was mixed with the common feeling of interest
in the heir of her house. There was something hard in her character that
sometimes made her mother's intense affection a burden. Madame de
Sévigné's distinctive quality was amiability: we should say that her
daughter was decidedly unamiable. These were, to a great degree, the
faults of a young person, probably of temper: they disappeared
afterwards, when experience taught her feeling, and time softened the
impatience of youth. We find a perfect harmony between mother and
daughter subsist during the latter years of the life of the former, and
repose succeed to the more stormy early intercourse. Madame de Grignan,
prudent and anxious by nature, spent a life of considerable care. The
expenses of her husband's high situation, and his own extravagant
tastes, caused him to spend largely. Her son entered life early, and his
career was the object of great solicitude. Her health was precarious.
All this was excitement for her mother's sympathy; and her letters are
full of earnest discussion, intense anxiety, or lively congratulation on
the objects of her daughter's interest, and her well-being.
The next object of her affection, and subject of her pen, was her son.
He was a man of wit and talent; but the thoughtlessness, the what the
French call _légèreté_ of his character, caused his mother much
anxiety, at the same time that his good spirits, his confidence in her,
and his amiable temper, contributed to her happiness. She often calls
him the best company in the world; and laments, at the same time, his
pursuits and ill luck. He was a favourite of the best society in Paris,
and, among others, of the famous Ninon de l'Enclos. Ninon had many great
and good qualities; but madame de Sévigné's dislike to her dated far
back, and was justifiably founded on the conduct of her husband. At the
age of thirty-five Ninon had been the successful rival of a young and
blooming wife; at that of fifty-five the son wore her chains.[67] Madame
de Sévigné could never reconcile herself to this intimacy. "She
spoiled your father," she writes to madame de Grignan, while she relates
the methods used to attach her son. Sometimes this son, who was brave,
and eager to distinguish himself, was exposed to the dangers of war;
sometimes he spent his time at court, where he waited on the dauphin,
squandering time and money among the courtiers, charming the circle by
his vanity and wit, but gaining no advancement; sometimes he accompanied
his mother to Britany; and we find him enlivening her solitude, and
bestowing on her the tenderest filial attentions. He was an unlucky man.
He got no promotion in the army, and, being too impatient for a
courtier, soon got wearied of waiting for advancement. He perplexed his
mother by his earnest wish to sell his commission; and the failure in
her projects of marriage for him annoyed her still more. At length he
chose for himself: renouncing his military employments, retiring from
the court, and even from Paris, he married a lady of his own province,
and fixed himself entirely in Britany. His wife was an amiable, quiet,
unambitious person, with a turn for devotion, which increased through
the circumstance of their having no children. Madame de Sévigné was
too pious to lament this, now that the destiny of her son was decided as
obscure, and that she saw him happy: on the contrary, she rejoiced in
finding him adopt religious principles, which rendered his life
peaceful, and his character virtuous.
The principal friends of madame de Sévigné were united in what she
termed the Fauxbourg, where the house of madame de la Fayette, then the
resort of the persons most distinguished in Paris for talent, wit,
refinement, and good moral conduct, was situated. Madame de la Fayette,
and her friend the duke de la Rochefoucauld, have already been
introduced to the reader in the memoir of the latter. It would seem that
the lady was not a favourite with madame de Grignan, and that, with all
her talents, she was not popular; but she had admirable qualities; the
use of the French term vraie was invented as applicable to her; for
Rochefoucauld abridged into this single word Segrais' description, that
"she loved the true in all things." This excess of frankness gave her,
with some, an air of dryness; and madame de Sévigné's children did not
share her affection, which even did not blind her to her friend's
defects. Speaking of the Fauxbourg, she says, "I am loved as much as she
can love." In an age when there was so much disquisition on character
and motive, and in a mind like madame de Sévigné's, so open to
impression, and so penetrating, it is no wonder that slight defects were
readily discerned, nor that they should be mentioned in so open-hearted
an intercourse as that between mother and daughter. All human beings
have blots and slurs in their character, or they would not be human. We
judge by the better part--by that which raises a circle or an individual
superior to the common run, not by those failings which stamp all our
fellow-creatures as sons of Adam. Thus, we may pronounce on madame de la
Fayette as being one of the most remarkable women of the age, for
talent, for wit, and for the sincerity, strength, and uprightness of her
character. She suffered much from ill health. Her society was confined
to that which she assembled at her own house; but that circumstance only
rendered it the more chosen and agreeable.
M. and madame de Coulanges formed its ornaments. He was madame de
Sévigné's cousin, and brought up with her, though several years
younger. His lively thoughtless disposition made him the charm of
society. He was educated for the bar, but was far too vivacious to make
his way. He was pleading a suit concerning a marsh disputed by two
peasants, one of whom was called Grappin:--perceiving that he was
getting confused in the details, and in the points of law, he suddenly
broke off his speech, exclaiming, "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I am
drowning myself in Grappin's marsh: I am your most obedient;" and so
threw up his brief, and, it is said, never took another.[68] He was, in
youth, and continued to the end of his life, a man of pleasure, singing
with spirit songs which he made impromptu, and which, afterwards, every
one learnt as _à propos_ of the events of the day; a teller of good
stories, a lover of good dinners, an enjoyer of good wine; charming
every one by the exuberance of his spirits; amusing others, because he
himself was amused. He loved books, he cultivated his taste, and
collected pictures, joining the refinements and tastes of a gentleman to
the hilarity and recklessness of a boy.