was born February 5th, 1627, in the ancestral château of Bourbilly,
between Semur and Epoisses. Her father was Celse-Bénigne de Rabutin,
Baron of Chantal; her mother, Marie de Coulanges, was daughter of a
Secretary of State, and belonged to a family celebrated for wit, and,
generally, remarkable for integrity. The baron was slain during the
siege of Rochelle, fighting against the English in their descent on
the island of Rhé; and it was thought he was killed by the hand of
Cromwell. The little Marie was then but eighteen months old, and soon
afterward was, by the death of her mother, left an orphan indeed. The
Baroness de Chantal, her grandmother, seemed the person naturally
destined to have the guardianship of the child, but that lady was
occupied in religious duties (she was afterward a canonized saint, and
known as the “Blessed Mother of Chantal,” and seems to have deserved
the distinction, according to the feeling of those days, as she
founded eighty-seven religious houses), and, therefore, permitted her
granddaughter to pass into the hands of her mother’s relations. She was
first taken by her grandfather, M. de Coulanges; when he died, shortly
afterward, the orphan, then about nine years of age, passed into the
family of her uncle, Christophe de Coulanges, Abbé de Livry. This was
a fortunate event for the young girl. She was brought up and educated
with her cousin, Philippe Emanuel de Coulanges, enjoying the advantages
of the most intellectual society of the age; her learned uncle was
her companion, and encouraged her to cultivate her talents. This
last advantage can hardly be estimated now, when feminine education
is common and popular; but then the instruction of young ladies was
usually limited to the accomplishments of reading, writing, dancing,
and embroidery. Marie de Rabutin had the _entrée_ to her uncle’s
library and his encouragement, if not personal instruction, in her
literary pursuits. She was taught Latin, Italian, and Spanish; her
instructors were Menage and Chapelain, and other professors of polite
literature. The result is before the world--that the woman’s mind is
as susceptible of cultivation as that of the man’s, and that she is
made happier, better, more lovely, and more capable of doing good by a
liberal and careful cultivation of her intellectual powers.
In person and manners Mademoiselle de Rabutin is represented as very
attractive, if not positively beautiful. M. Ph. A. Gourville, her French
biographer, thus describes her:
“An exact portrait of her person would savor of romance, and would
be out of place; we may, however, represent the young Rabutin to
our imagination as a truly handsome woman, with more character of
countenance than beauty; with features more expressive than commanding;
an easy figure, a stature rather tall than short, a redundancy of fine
light hair, excellent health, a fine color, a brilliant complexion,
eyes, the vivacity of which gave additional animation to her language
and agility to her movements, a pleasing voice, as much knowledge of
music as existed in those days, and of dancing, in which she excelled
for the times. This is the idea that her portraits, her friends, or
herself give of her. And certainly her nose, tending a little toward
the square, which she herself ridicules, could not spoil her whole
appearance as much as the age of eighteen embellished it, when, in
1644, she married Henry, Marquis de Sévigné, of an ancient family of
Brittany. To this appendage of merit and charms she added a dower of a
hundred thousand crowns, which, at that period, were not of less value
than seven hundred thousand francs.”
The Marquis de Sévigné was also rich, moreover he was young, handsome,
and gay. Her good uncle doubtless believed he had secured the happiness
of his niece by this connection; but the sequel proved otherwise.
The marquis soon showed himself to be weak, vain, extravagant, and,
finally, a profligate. Though he always admitted the charms and merits
of his wife, yet, after a year or two, he began to neglect her for
unworthy associates. The siren of that age, Ninon de l’Enclos, drew
him to her side, and for that wanton the happiness of his home was
sacrificed.
Bussy de Rabutin, cousin of Madame de Sévigné’s father, an unprincipled
man, but distinguished for wit and talent, had always admired and
loved, or pretended to be in love with his fascinating cousin, and
she had always laughed at his flattery and rejected his suit. He took
advantage of her husband’s infidelity to offer an insulting proposal,
that she should take her revenge. He was reproved in such terms of cold
and calm severity as put a final repulse to his gallantry toward her.
Though their intercourse continued friendly through life, yet, judging
from the tone of her letters to him, always constrained, and confined
chiefly to his own affairs, we feel that, though she acknowledged their
relationship, she never esteemed the man.
Her husband was killed in a duel, about seven years after marriage,
and Madame de Sévigné, at the age of twenty-five, was left a widow,
with two children, the eldest, her son, the youngest, that idolized
daughter, who made the light of her mother’s life.
In spite of the faults and vices of the Marquis de Sévigné, his sudden
and shocking death greatly afflicted his wife. She was, for a time,
nearly overwhelmed with sorrow, but soon found devolving upon her the
hard and painful duty of endeavoring to extricate her estate from utter
ruin. The follies and waste of her husband came near making her and
the children penniless. She retired to the country, and, aided by the
counsel and encouragement of her uncle the abbé, entered on her new
duties. We quote from one of her French biographers, who seems to have
searched out her history with great care:
“Madame de Sévigné’s good sense, natural rectitude, and laudable pride,
gave her a taste for economy, and the advice of her uncle taught her to
understand it. Her mind, notwithstanding the habit of sacrificing to
the Graces, had no repugnance to business. She well knew how to sell or
let estates, receive her rents, direct her workmen, etc. She did not
trust to her beauty alone for gaining law-suits. Ménage relates, that
one day, recommending an affair with great ease and simplicity to the
President de Bellièvre, she felt herself at last a little embarrassed
with the terms to be used, when she said, ‘At least, sir, I know the
air perfectly, but I forget the words.’
“With regard to education, not only do the merit of her son and
daughter, as well as their virtues, show the extent of her capacity in
this respect, but it would be easy to extract from her letters a series
of maxims upon the subject, by which it would be seen that, far from
adhering to the false methods in vogue in her days, she had foretold
many of the improvements of which we are justly vain in ours.”
Though she devoted herself seduously to the duties of her family, yet
Madame de Sévigné did not long live a recluse. She saved her property,
returned to society, and passed much of her time in Paris, where she
was the idol of her circle, people of the first rank in letters and
worth of character, as well as stars in the fashionable world. She was
also a frequent visitor at court, where the king, Louis XIV, always
received her with respect.
Madame de Sévigné had many adorers, among whom were the Seigneur
Turenne and the Prince de Conti, and her friends were most
devoted--Fouquet was one of them, and she was true to him in his great
misfortune, as her letters show. But she appears never to have had
the least intention of a second marriage; to promote the happiness of
her children and the enjoyment of her friends, was the object of her
life. Her son, the Marquis de Sévigné, who entered the army, was very
frivolous, weak, and dissipated in his youth; his mother’s watchful
care and patient forbearance saved him from utter degradation. About
middle age he married an amiable wife of noble family, left the army,
and cultivated a taste for literature. To effect this marriage, and
thus secure the reformation of her son, Madame de Sévigné gave up
to him so large a portion of her estate that she was afterward in
comparatively straitened circumstances.
But the daughter, Margaret Frances, was her mother’s glory, the idol
that seemed to claim the worship of the mother’s soul. Passion rather
than affection possessed Madame de Sévigné when writing to or of her
“infinitely dear child.” That the daughter did not reciprocate this
love in its full flow has been urged to prove that Madame de Grignan
was cold in temperament or selfish in feeling. We do not find evidences
to support this charge. The mother, ambitious for her daughter, and
wishing to keep her in Paris had married her to the Count de Grignan,
who was rich, and of the high nobility, and had a place at court. But
he was also Lieutenant-Governor of Provence, and ordered, soon after
his marriage, to his government. His wife had to follow him; she seems
to have loved and respected her husband, as was her duty. She had
children; she was at the head of a great establishment, and she could
not give the whole of her heart, thoughts, and time to her mother, as
the latter did to her daughter.
The separation was a terrible privation to Madame de Sévigné, but
it was the cause of her moral and literary improvement, as well as
of the series of “Letters to Madame de Grignan,” which, of their
kind, are unequaled in any language. The mother’s genius lives in
this correspondence; her pen gives importance to the most trifling
occurrences, and makes hard facts as interesting as fairy stories.
Among other advantages of life, Madame de Sévigné retained her good
looks, as she did her cheerful disposition, to the last; hence the
name of _Mère Beauté_ (Mother Beauty) given her by M. de Coulanges.
Her constitution was good, and she managed it with great judgment.
In thirty years the only disorder she had known was rheumatism.
Happy all her life by the exercise of natural affections, Madame de
Sévigné thought less of the ravages of time; and when death terminated
her existence in 1696, her illness, the result of the fatigue and
uneasiness she had endured for some months on her daughter’s account,
took her by surprise, and was announced by no symptom. It was short.
In her last moments she was resigned, and perfectly calm. Thus died
Madame de Sévigné, aged about seventy years, and was interred in the
Collegiate Church of Grignan, leaving to posterity in the record of her
blameless life, as in her exquisite writings, the brightest and purest
model which her age affords.