Salon Leaders—(Continued)
Mme. Necker, Mme. d'Epinay, Mme. de Genlis: Minor Salons
It seems strange indeed that in a century in which the universal
impulse was toward pleasure, and sameness of personality was
visible everywhere, the types of great women showed such an absolute
dissimilarity. The contrast between the natural inclinations of Mme.
Necker, the wife of the great minister of finance, and the atmosphere
in which she lived, makes the study of her a most interesting one.
Born in Switzerland, the daughter of Curchod, a poor Protestant
minister, "with patriarchal morals, solid education, and strong
good sense," this moral and stern woman was thrown into the midst of
depraved elegance, refined licentiousness, and physical debauchery.
Sincere, chaste, enthusiastic, and essentially religious, she remained
so amidst all the corruption and physical and mental degeneracy of the
age.
Critics have made much ado over her marriage, a union of pure love and
mutual inclinations, amidst the marriages of mere convenience and the
gallant liaisons, such as those of Mme. du Deffand and _le Président_
Hénault, and Mme. d'Epinay and Grimm. The matrimonial selection of
Susanne Curchod was natural in a girl of her serious make-up, her
moral education and her pure ancestry of the strict Protestant type.
As a girl of sixteen, she had given evidence of remarkable mental
ability and had acquired a wide knowledge—physics, Latin, philosophy,
metaphysics—when she was sent to Lausanne, possibly with the idea
of meeting a future husband with whom she could become thoroughly
acquainted before giving up her independence. There she became
the centre of a group or academy of young people, who, under her
leadership, discussed subjects of every nature. At first she showed
a tendency toward _préciosité_ and the spirit of the blue-stocking
rather than toward the seriousness and dignity which marked her later
career.
It was at Lausanne that she met and fell in love with Gibbon, the
English historian; this love affair met with opposition from Gibbon's
father, and, after the death of the father of his fiancée, a calamity
which left her poor and necessitated her teaching for a living,
the Englishman, by his actions and manner toward her, compelled the
breaking of their engagement. When, later in life, he went to her
salon, they became intimate friends, enjoying "the intellectual union
which had been impossible for them in their earlier days."
Thus, at the age of twenty-four, Mlle. Curchod, beautiful, virtuous,
and accomplished, and at the height of her reputation in a small town
in Switzerland, was left an orphan. She was taken to Paris by Mme. de
Vermenoux, a wealthy widow, who was sought in marriage by M. Necker,
banker and capitalist; but, as she was unable to make up her mind to
a definite answer, his attention was attracted to her young companion.
The result was that, after a few months' sojourn in Paris, Mlle.
Curchod became the wife of M. Necker, an event which caused rejoicing
from Lausanne to Geneva. Their characters are well portrayed in two
letters, written by them to their friends after their marriage. M.
Necker wrote, in reply to a letter of congratulation:
"Yes, sir; your friend (Mlle. Curchod) was indeed willing to have me,
and I believe myself as happy as one can be. I cannot understand how
it can be you whom they congratulate, unless it is as my friend. Will
money always be the measure of opinion? That is pitiable! He who
wins a virtuous, kind, and sensible woman—has he not made a good
transaction, whether or not she be seated on sacks of money? Humanity,
what a poor judge you are!"
Shortly after her marriage, Mme. Necker wrote to one of her friends:
"My dear, I have married a man who, according to my ideas, is the
kindest of mortals, and I am not the only one to judge thus. I had had
a liking for him ever since I learned to know him. At present, I see,
in all nature, only my husband. I take notice of other men only in so
far as they come more or less up to the standard of my husband, and
I compare them only for the pleasure of seeing the difference." The
marital relations of this loving pair lasted throughout life; and
among great women of the eighteenth century, Mme. Necker is one of the
few examples of ideal marriage relations.
Soon after their marriage, the Neckers took up their quarters at the
Rue Michel-le-Comte, where they began to receive friends. As at that
time every day in the week was reserved by other salons,—Monday and
Wednesday at Mme. Geoffrin's, Tuesday at Helvétius's, Thursday and
Sunday at the Baron d'Holbach's,—Mme. Necker was compelled to appoint
Friday as her reception day. She soon succeeded in attracting to her
hôtel the best _esprit_ of Paris: Diderot, Suard, Grimm, Comte de
Schomberg, Marmontel, D'Alembert, Thomas, Saint-Lambert, Helvétius,
Ducis, Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, the Abbés Raynal, Armand, and
Morellet, Mme. Geoffrin, Mme. du Deffand, Mme. de Marchais, Mme.
Suard, the Maréchale de Luxembourg, the Duchesse de Lauzun, the
Marquise de La Ferté-Imbault, Mme. de Boufflers.
Among these visitors, most of whom were atheists, Mme. Necker
preserved her own religious opinions and piety, although her friends
at Geneva never ceased to be concerned about her. Her admirers were
many, but they were kept within the bounds of propriety and never
attempted any gallant liberties with the hostess—except her ardent
admirer Thomas, the intensity of whose eulogies upon her she was
forced to check occasionally. It was not long before she became very
influential in filling the vacant seats of the Academy. In this and
many other respects, her salon may be compared with that of Mme. de
Lambert.
Mme. Necker's idea of conducting a salon and its conversation was much
the same as the management of a state; she believed that the hostess
must never join in the conversation as long as it goes on by itself,
but, ever watchful, must never permit disturbances, disagreements,
improprieties, or obstacles; she must animate it if it languish; she
must see that conversation never takes a dangerous, disagreeable, or
tiresome turn, and that it never brings into undue prominence one man
especially, as this makes others jealous and displeases the entire
society; it must always interest and include all members. The
discussions at Mme. Necker's were literary and philosophical; and to
prevent even the possibility of tedium, frequent readings were given
in their place.
It was at the salon of Mme. Necker that Bernardin de Saint-Pierre
first read his _Paul et Virginie_, which received such a cold and
indifferent welcome that the author, utterly discouraged, was on the
point of burning his manuscript, when he was prevailed upon by his
friend Vernet, the great artist, to preserve all his works. Mme.
Necker was always quite frank and outspoken, often showing a cutting
harshness and a rigor which, as was said, was little in harmony with
her bare neck and arms—a style then in vogue at court. She never
judged persons by their reputations, but by their _esprit_; thus, it
was possible for her to receive people of the most diverse tendencies.
When the Marquise de La Ferté-Imbault, one of the few virtuous women
of the time, and of the highest aristocracy, was invited to attend the
salon of Mme. Necker and was told that the Maréchale de Luxembourg,
Mme. du Deffand, Mme. de Boufflers, and Mme. Marchais were
frequenters, she said: "These four women are so discredited by
manners, and the first two are so dangerous, that for thirty years
they have been the horror of society."
The two portraits by Marmontel and Galiani are interesting, as
throwing light upon the doings of her salon. Marmontel wrote: "Mme.
Necker is very virtuous and instructed, but emphatic and stiff. She
does not know Mme. de Sévigné, whom she praises, and only esteems
Buffon and Thomas. She calculates all things; she sought men of
letters only as trumpets to blow in honor of her husband. He never
said a word; that was not very recreating."
Galiani leaves a different impression: "There is not a Friday that
I do not go to your house _en esprit_. I arrive, I find you now busy
with your headdress, now busy with this duchess. I seat myself at your
feet. Thomas quietly suffers, Morellet shows his anger aloud. Grimm
and Suard laugh heartily about it, and my dear Comte de Greuze does
not notice it. Marmontel finds the example worthy to be imitated,
and you, madame, make two of your most beautiful virtues do battle,
bashfulness and politeness, and in this suffering you find me a little
monster more embarrassing than odious. Dinner is announced. They leave
the table and in the café all speak at the same time. M. Necker thinks
everything well, bows his head and goes away."
In summer her receptions were first held at the Château de Madrid,
and, later on, in a château at Saint-Ouen; the guests were always
called for and returned in carriages supplied by the hostess. It was
in her salon, in 1770, that the plan originated to erect the statue
of Voltaire, which is to-day the famous statue of the _Palais de
l'Institute_.
When, during the stirring times before the Revolution, her salon took
on a purely political nature, Mme. Necker played a very secondary
rôle. In 1788 she and her husband were compelled to leave Paris; but
being recalled by Louis XVI., Necker managed affairs for thirteen
months, after which he retired with Mme. Necker to Coppet, where, in
1794, the latter died.
Mme. Necker never became a thorough Frenchwoman; she always lacked
the grace and charm which are the necessary qualifications of a salon
leader; intelligence was her most meritorious quality. Her dinners
were apt to become tiresome and to drag. A very interesting story is
told of her by the Marquis de Chastellux, which was reported by Mme.
Genlis, one of her intimate friends:
"Dining at Mme. Necker's, the marquis was first to arrive, and so
early that the hostess was not yet in the salon. In walking up and
down the room, he noticed a small book under Mme. Necker's chair. He
picked it up and opened it. It was a blank book, a few of the pages
of which had been written upon by Mme. Necker. Certainly, he would
not have read a letter, but, believing to find only a few spiritual
thoughts, he read without any scruples. It contained the plan for the
dinner of that day, to which he had been invited, and had been written
by Mme. Necker on the previous evening. It told what she would say to
the most prominent of the invited guests. She wrote: 'I shall speak
to the Chevalier de Chastellux about public felicity and Agatha; to M.
d'Angeviller, I shall speak of love; between Marmontel and Guibert
I shall raise some literary discussion.' After reading the note, he
hurriedly replaced the book under the chair. A moment later, a valet
entered, saying that madame had left her notebook in the salon. The
dinner was charming for M. de Chastellux, because he had the pleasure
of hearing Mme. Necker say, word for word, what she had written in her
notebook."
This woman was ever preoccupied with style, and, throughout her life,
retained the solemn, studied, and academic air, as well as the simple,
rural, innocent manner and spirit of her early surroundings. A mere
bourgeoise, unaccustomed to elegance or to the manners of French
social life, upon entering Parisian society she set her mind to
observing, and immediately began to change her provincial ways and to
make over her _esprit_ for conversation, for circumstances, and for
characters; she adjusted her provincial spirit to that of Paris, thus
making of it an entirely new product. Later on, her salon became the
first of the modern political salons, but it was far from reaching the
prominence of that of Mme. Geoffrin, whose characteristics were social
prudence and strict propriety, while those of Mme. Necker were virtue
and goodness.
Mme. Necker was never in perfect sympathy with her visitors, the
philosophers, the common basis of ideas and sentiments never existing
between her and her friends as it did between Mme. Geoffrin and her
frequenters; her tie was always artificial. "She represented the Swiss
spirit in Parisian society; those serious and educated souls, virtuous
and sentimental, somewhat sad and strictly moral, were rather tiresome
to the Parisian world." Marmontel well describes her in another of his
famous portraits:
"A stranger to the customs of Paris, Mme. Necker had none of the
charms and accomplishments of the young French woman. In her manner
and language she had neither the air nor the tone of a woman reared
in the school of arts, formed at the school of high society.
Without taste in her headdress, without ease in her bearing, without
fascination in her politeness, her mind—as was her countenance—was
too properly adjusted to show grace. But a charm more worthy of her
was that of propriety, of candor, of goodness. A virtuous education
and solitary studies had given to her all that culture can add to an
excellent nature. In her, sentiment was perfect, but her thought was
often confused and vague; instead of clearing her ideas, meditation
disturbed them; in exaggerating them, she believed to enlarge them;
in order to extend them, she wandered off into abstractions and
hyperboles. She seemed to see certain objects only through a fog,
which augmented their importance in her eyes; and then her expression
became so inflated that the pomposity of it would have been laughable
if one had not known her to be entirely ingenuous."
"In summing up the character of Mme. Necker, we find," says
Sainte-Beuve, "first of all, a genuine individuality and a personality
with defects which at first impression are shocking, but which only
helped to render the woman and all her aspirations the more admirable.
Entering a Parisian society with the firm decision of becoming a woman
of _esprit_ and of being in relation with the _beaux esprits_, she was
able to preserve the moral conscience of her Protestant training, to
protest against the false doctrines about her, to give herself up to
duties in the midst of society, to found institutions for the sick and
needy,—and to leave a memory without a stain."
While, among the famous salon leaders of the eighteenth century, Mme.
Necker stands out preëminently for her strict moral integrity and
fidelity to her marriage relations, Mme. d'Epinay is unique for
the constancy of her affections for the men to whom she owes her
celebrity, Rousseau and Grimm. Born in 1725, the record of her life
runs like that of most French women. At the age of twenty she was
married to her cousin, La Live, who later took the name of d'Epinay,
from an estate his father, the wealthy M. de Bellegarde, had bought—a
man who was really in love with her for a whole month after their
marriage, but who, tiring of the pure affections of a loving wife,
soon began to lavish his time and fortune upon a _danseuse_. The
poor young wife was between two fires, the extravagance and wild
dissipations of her husband and the rigid discipline and orthodoxy of
her mother. Never was a woman treated so outrageously and insultingly
as was this woman by a man who contrived in every manner to corrupt
her morals by throwing her among his dissolute companions, Mme.
d'Artz, the mistress of the Prince de Conti, and Mlle. d'Ette, an
intriguing woman of the time; to the latter, Mme. d'Epinay confided
her troubles, and, as the result of her counsels, fell into the hands
of a M. de Francueil, handsome, clever, accomplished, but as morally
depraved as was her husband.
When Mme. d'Epinay was finally convinced that her husband was untrue
to her, she felt nothing but disdain and contempt for him, and
decided to live a virtuous life; after holding for a short time to
her resolution "that a woman may have the most profound and tender
sentiment for a man and yet remain faithful to her duties," she lost
herself under the influence of the professional seducer Francueil,
and, completely carried away by that passion, she cries out, in her
memoirs: _Francueil, Francueil, tu m'as perdue, et tu disais que tu
m'aimais_ [You have undone me—and you said you loved me]! Such was
the lot, as was seen, of most women of those days, who had noble
intentions, but a woman's weakness. The century did not demand
faithfulness to the marital vows; but when a woman had once abandoned
herself to love, it required that the attachment be to a man of honor
and standing. Marriage was simply a preliminary step to freedom;
after that ceremony came the natural election of the heart and mutual
tenderness of the beings who could be mated only through the freedom
which married life afforded. A superior illegitimate liaison was
nothing unnatural—on the contrary, it was but a natural human
selection; such was the nature of the affection of Mme. d'Epinay for
this débauché Francueil.
As she enjoyed absolute liberty, her lover paid his respects to her at
Epinay; there he inaugurated amusements and took his friends. It
was he who suggested the erection of a theatre at which her friends'
productions might be offered to the world of critics. Through his
efforts, the great men who made her salon famous were gathered at "La
Chevrette," where the actors and players soon drew the attention of
literary Paris. After a year or two of attachment, Francueil became
indifferent to Mme. d'Epinay and transferred his affections to an
actress—the sister of M. d'Epinay's mistress. Thus runs the story of
the life of the average married woman. If she remained virtuous,
she usually became resigned to her fate and lived happily; if she
undertook to imitate her husband's tactics, she fell from the good
graces of one lover to those of another, ending her life in absolute
wretchedness.
These two men—the lover and the husband—carried on with two sisters
their licentious living and extravagances to such an extent that the
injured wife demanded a separation of her fortune from that of her
husband, in which project her father-in-law aided her and gave her
thirteen thousand francs income. Mme. d'Epinay, in the midst of
success, became acquainted with Mlle. Quinault, the daughter of the
famous actor of the time, and herself a great actress. This woman
invited Mme. d'Epinay to her so-called salon, which was, possibly, the
most licentious and irreligious of the salons then in vogue, where she
met Duclos, with whom she immediately formed a strong friendship.
After the death of M. de Bellegarde, her wealth was considerably
increased, a piece of good fortune which enabled her to carry out all
her plans. It was at this time, 1755, that she induced Rousseau
to live in her cottage, "l'Hermitage;" and for about two years she
enjoyed perfect happiness with him. By a peculiar freak of fate she
fell in with Grimm, who was introduced to her by Rousseau and who had,
for some time, been on the hunt for a "faithful mistress." This German
by birth, but Frenchman in spirit, had championed her at a dinner,
where she was the object of the severest reproach. She had burned
the papers of her sister, Mme. de Jully, who had betrayed an honest
husband. Stricken with smallpox, just before dying, she confessed all
to Mme. d'Epinay. The latter owed Mme. de Jully fifty écus and the
note was among the papers of Mme. de Jully. Mme. d'Epinay was accused
of having burned the note to which it was asserted she had access; and
Grimm undertook to plead her cause, an act which so elated madame that
she turned all her affection upon her defender, whereupon Rousseau
departed. Later on, the note having been found, Mme. d'Epinay was
completely vindicated. Grimm then became her third lover.
This third marriage, so to speak, was one of reason; the first was one
of mere emancipation; the second, one of passion and genuine love.
In 1755, worn out physically, she took a trip to Switzerland, to be
treated by the famous Dr. Tronchin; there she became so ill that Grimm
was summoned. They remained together for about two years, and after
her return to Paris she reopened her salon of "La Chevrette." Her
reunions partook more of the nature of our house parties; the salon
was an immense room, in which the members would pair off and divert
themselves as they pleased; in that respect "La Chevrette" was
unique. After her fortune, which at one time was quite large, became
diminished, partly through her own extravagance and partly through
that of her son, who was the very counterpart of his father, she was
forced to rent "La Chevrette" and, later on, "La Briche," where she
had opened her second salon.
The last years of her life she spent in Paris with Grimm. She had
reached such a physical condition that her sufferings could be
relieved only by the use of opium. Financial relief came to her in
1783, when the Academy awarded her the Montyon prize, then given for
the first time, for her _Conversations d'Emilie_. She died in the same
year, surrounded by her dearest friends—Grimm, M. and Mme. Belgunce,
and Mme. d'Houdetot.
Mme. d'Epinay, in many respects, was a remarkable woman. Amid all her
social duties, with all her physical and mental troubles, she found
time to help others and to manage her own business affairs and
those of her children, took an active interest in art, music, and
literature, raised, with the utmost care, her granddaughter, produced
one of the best works of the time for children, made tapestry, and
wrote innumerable letters. Her fortune was lost through the reforms of
Necker.
She was not a beautiful woman; but she was distinguished by a small,
thin figure, an abundance of rich dark hair, which brought out in
striking relief the peculiar whiteness of her skin, and large brown
eyes. Her five lovers she called her five bears: Rousseau, Grimm,
Desmoulin, Saint-Lambert, Gauffecourt. An epistle to Grimm begins
thus;
"Moi, de cinq ours la souveraine,
Qui leur donne et present des lois,
Faut-il que je sois à la fois
Et votre esclave et votre reine,
O des tyrans le plus tyran?"
[I, sovereign over five bears,
Who give and prescribe laws for them—
Must I be your slave and queen at the same time,
O among tyrants, the greatest?]
As far as the care of the education of her children is concerned,
with its sacrifice and real application to duty, she was sometimes
called—and not unadvisedly—the type of the ideal mother. From 1757
on her ideas and thoughts ran to education. Her friends were all
of the philosophical trend, and intellectual labor was their chief
pleasure. After having passed through a career of excitement and
love's caprices, she longed for a peaceful, quiet existence; at
that point, however, her health gave way, and she entered upon a new
territory at Geneva. There she conquered Voltaire, who was profuse
with his compliments and kindnesses. Upon her return she became the
recognized leader or champion of the philosophic and foreign group
and the Encyclopædists, and was regarded as the central figure of the
philosophical movement in general.
The ideas of the philosophers had been gaining ground, and were
disseminated through all classes. The mere love of pleasure and luxury
at first found under Louis XV. gave way to more serious reflections
when society was confronted with those all-important questions which
finally culminated in the Revolution. The salon of Mme. d'Epinay grew
to be the most important and, intellectually, the most brilliant
of the time. Rousseau, Diderot, Helvétius, Duclos, Suard, the Abbés
Galiani, Raynal, the Florentine physician Gatti, Comte de Schomberg,
Chevalier de Chastellux, Saint-Lambert, Marquis de Croixmare, the
different ambassadors, counts and princes, were frequent visitors
In this brilliant circle her letters from Voltaire, read aloud, were
always eagerly awaited. Such dramas as Voltaire's _Tancred_, Diderot's
_Le Père de Famille_, were given under her patronage and discussed in
her salon; after the performance she entertained all the friends at
supper.
Upon the departure of Abbé Galiani from Paris, Mme. d'Epinay and
Diderot were intrusted with the revision and printing of his famous
_Dialogues sur les Blés_; Grimm left to them the continuance of
his _Correspondance Littéraire_. She was known for her wonderful
analytical ability and her keen power of observation—faculties which
won the esteem and respect of such men and caused her collaboration
to be anxiously sought by them; however, she never attempted to rival
them in their particular sphere. In her writings she displayed a
reactionary tendency against the educational methods of the day, her
chief work of real literary worth being mostly in the form of
sound advice to a child. Being a reasonable, careful, and sensible
woman,—in spite of the defects in her moral life,—she desired to
show the possibilities of a moral revolution against the habits and
customs of the time, of which she herself had been a most unfortunate
victim. She was relieved of actual want by means of this work, which
gained for her a pension from Catherine II. of Russia, who adopted
her methods for her own children, and the award of the Montyon prize,
which was given her in a competition with a large number of aspirants,
the most famous of whom was Mme. de Genlis. It was her ability to gain
and retain the respect of great men which won that honor for her.
The memoirs of Mme. d'Epinay leave one of the most accurate and
faithful pictures of the polished society of the France of about 1750.
"Her salon was the centre about which circled the greatest activity;
it was filled with men who ordered events, thinkers whose minds were
bent upon untangling the knotty problems of the age; it was her salon,
more than any other, that quickened the philosophical movement of
the day. Mme. d'Epinay made her reputation not so much through her
_esprit_, intelligence, or beauty, possibly, as through the strength
of her affection. Timid, irresolute, and highly impressionable,
and amiable in disposition, she was constantly influenced by
circumstances—a quality which led her on to the two principal
occupations of her later life, education and philosophy. To-day,
her name is recalled principally for its association with that of
Rousseau, whose mistress and benefactress she was; it is to her that
the world owes his famous _Nouvelle Héloïse_.
The last of the great literary and social leaders of the eighteenth
century was Mme. de Genlis, a prodigy in every respect, an amateur
performer upon nearly every instrument, an authority on intellectual
matters as well, a fine story teller, a consummate artist,
entertainer, and general charmer. Authoress, governess of
Louis-Philippe, councillor of Bonaparte, her success as a social
leader established her reputation and places her in the file of great
women, although she was not a salon leader such as Mme. Geoffrin or
Mme. du Deffand.
She was born in 1746, and at a very early age showed a remarkable
talent for music, but her general education was much neglected. At the
age of about seventeen she was married to a Comte de Genlis, who
had fallen in love with her on seeing her portrait. As his relatives
refused to welcome the young girl, she was placed in the convent of
Origny, where she remained until 1764, after which her husband took
her to his brother's estate, where they lived happily for a short
time. When, in 1765, she became a mother, her husband's family became
reconciled to his union, and, later on, took her to court.
Before her marriage, upon the departure of her father to San Domingo
to retrieve his fortunes, her mother had found an asylum for her at
the elegant home of the farmer-general M. de La Popelinière. This
occurred at the time that Paris was theatre mad, and when great actors
and actresses were the heroes and heroines of society. At this house
the young girl became the central figure in the theatrical and musical
entertainments. After passing through this schooling, she stood the
test of the court without any difficulty, and completely won the favor
of her husband's family, as well as that of the court ladies and
the members of the other distinguished households where she was
introduced. With an insatiable appetite for frolics, quite in keeping
with the customs of the time, she plunged into social life with a
vigor and an aptitude which soon attracted attention. She played all
sorts of rôles at the most fashionable houses, "through her consummate
acting and _bons mots_ drawing tears of vexation from her less gifted
sisters. She plays nine instruments, writes dramas, recasts others,
organizes and drills amateurs, besides attending to a thousand and one
other things."
Through the influence of her aunt, Mme. de Montesson, who was
secretly married to the Duke of Orléans, Mme. de Genlis was appointed
lady-in-waiting in the household of the Duchesse de Chartres, the
duke's daughter-in-law, whose salon was celebrated in Paris. She
soon won the confidence of the duchess, and became her confessor,
secretary, guide, and oracle, but did not abandon in the least her
pursuit of pleasure. She even took possession of the heart of the duke
himself, and in 1782 was made "_gouverneur_" to his children, the Duc
de Valois, later Louis-Philippe, the Duc de Montpensier, the Comte de
Beaujolais, and Mlle. Adelaïde; for the education of her pupils she
had the use of several châteaux. Many a piquant epigram and chanson
were composed for the edification of the "_gouverneur_." It is said
that she acted as panderer for the princes, especially Louis-Philippe,
of a "legitimate means of satisfying these ardent desires of which
I am being devoured," by leading them to the nuns in the convents
by means of a subterranean passage. The following passages from the
journal of Louis-Philippe show the nature of his relations with her:
(December, 1790.) "I went to dine with my mother and grandfather.
Although I am delighted to dine often with my mother, I am deeply
sorry to give only three days out of the seven to my dear Bellechasse
[that is, to Mme. de Genlis]."
(January, 1791.) "Last evening, returned to my friend [Mme. de
Genlis]; remained there until after midnight; I was the first one to
have the good fortune of wishing her a 'Happy New Year.' Nothing can
make me happier; I don't know what will become of me when I am no
longer with her."
(January, 1791.) "Yesterday, I was at the Tuileries. The queen spoke
to my father, to my brother, and said nothing to me—neither did the
king nor Monsieur, in fact, no one. I remained at my friend's until
half-past twelve. No one in the world is so agreeable to me as is
she." (February, 1791.) "I was at the assembly at Bellechasse, dined
at the Palais-Royal, I was at the Jacobins, returned to Bellechasse,
after supper went to my friend's. I remained with her alone; she
treated me with an infinite kindness; I left, the happiest man in the
world." Such language speaks for itself.
No sons of a nobleman ever received a finer, more typically modern
education than did her pupils. She was, possibly, the first teacher to
use the natural method system, teaching German, English, and Italian
by conversation. The boys were compelled to act, in the park, the
voyages of Vasco da Gama; in the dining room the great historical
tableaux were presented; in the theatre, built especially for them,
they acted all the dramas of the _Théâtre d'Education_. She taught
them how to make portfolios, ribbons, wigs, pasteboard work, to
gild, to turn, and to do carpentering. They visited museums and
manufactories, during which expeditions they were taught to observe,
criticise, and find defects. This was the first step taken in France
in the eighteenth century toward a modern education. Although it was
superficial, in consequence of its great breadth, yet this education
inculcated manliness and courage.
In 1778 Mme. de Genlis published her moral teachings in _Adèle et
Théodore_, a work which created quite a little talk at the time, but
which eventually brought upon her the condemnation of the philosophers
and Encyclopædists, because in it she opposed liberty of conscience.
When, on the occasion of the first communion of the Duc de Valois,
she wrote her _Religion Considered as the Only True Foundation of
Happiness and of True Philosophy_, all the Palais-Royal place hunters,
philosophers, and her political enemies, in a mass, opposed and
ridiculed her. Rivarol declared that she had no sex, that heaven had
refused the magic of talent to her productions, as it had refused the
charm of innocence to her childhood.
One of the best portraits of her is in the memoirs of the Baroness
d'Oberkirch (it was she who disturbed Mme. de Genlis and the Duc
d'Orléans while they were walking in the gardens one night):
"I did not like her, in spite of her accomplishments and the charm of
her conversation; she was too systematic. She is a woman who has laid
aside the flowing robes of her sex for the costume of a pedagogue.
Besides, nothing about her is natural; she is constantly in an
attitude, as it were, thinking that her portrait—physical or
moral—is being taken by someone. One of the great follies of this
masculine woman is her harp, which she carries about with her; she
speaks about it when she hasn't it—she plays on a crust of bread and
practises with a thread. When she perceives that someone is looking
at her, she rounds her arm, purses up her mouth, assumes a sentimental
expression and air, and begins to move her fingers. Gracious! what
a fine thing naturalness is!... I spent a delightful evening at the
Comtesse de La Massais's; she had hired musicians whom she paid dear;
but Mme. de Genlis sat in the centre of the assembly, commanded,
talked, commented, sang, and would have put the entire concert in
confusion, had not the Marquise de Livry very drolly picked a quarrel
with her about her harp, which she had brought to her. Decidedly, this
young D'Orléans has a singular governor. She holds too closely to her
rôle, and never forgets her _jupons_ [skirts] except when she ought
most to remember them."
During her visit to England she was petted by everyone; but even in
England there was a widespread prejudice against her—a feeling which
the mere sight of her immediately dissipated. An English lady wrote
about her:
"I saw her at first with a prejudice in her disfavor, from the cruel
reports I had heard; but the moment I looked at her it was removed.
There was a dignity with her sweetness and a frankness with her
modesty, that convinced me, beyond all power of contrary report, of
her real worth and innocence."
During the Revolution Mme. de Genlis travelled about Switzerland,
Germany, and England. At Berlin, owing to her poverty, she supported
herself by writing, making trinkets, and teaching, until she was
recalled to France, under the Consulate. In Paris she produced some of
her best works—although they were written to order. Napoleon gave
her a pension of six thousand francs and handsome apartments at the
Arsenal. To this liberal pension, the wife of his brother, Joseph
Bonaparte, added three thousand francs.
From Mme. de Genlis, Napoleon received a letter fortnightly, in which
epistle she communicated to him her opinions and observations upon
politics and current events. Upon the return to power of the Orléans
family, she was put off with a meagre pension. Like many other French
women, she became more and more melancholy and misanthropic. She was
unable to control her wrath against the philosophers and some of the
contemporary writers, such as Lamartine, Mme. de Staël, Scott, and
Byron. Her death, in 1830, was announced in these words: "Mme. de
Genlis has ceased to write—which is to announce her death."
Throughout life she was so generous that as soon as she received
her pensions, presents, or earnings from her work, the money was
distributed among the poor. When she died, she left nothing but a few
worn and homely dresses and articles of furniture. The diversity of
her works and her conduct, the politics in which she was steeped,
the satires, the perfidious accusations that have pursued her, have
contributed to leave of her a rather doubtful portrait; however,
those who have written bitterly against her have done so mostly from
personal or political animosity. She was so many-sided—a reformer,
teacher, pietist, politician, actress—that a true estimate of her
character is difficult. A woman of all tastes and of various talents,
she was a living encyclopædia and mistress of all arts of pleasing.
She had studied medicine, and took special delight in the art of
bleeding, which she practised upon the peasants, each one of whom she
would present with thirty sous (thirty cents), after the bleeding—and
she never lacked patients. Mme. de Genlis was an expert rider and
huntress; also, she was graceful, with an elegant figure, great
affability, and a talent for quickly and accurately reading character;
and these gifts were stepping-stones to popularity.
She wrote incessantly, on all things, essaying every style, every
subject. "She has discoursed for the education of princes and of
lackeys; prepared maxims for the throne and precepts for the pantry;
you might say she possessed the gift of universality. She was gifted
with a singular confidence in her own abilities, infinite curiosity,
untiring industry, and never-ending and inexhaustible energy. She
wrote nearly as much as Voltaire, and barely excelled him in the
amount of unreadable work, which, if printed, would fill over one
hundred volumes."
"Let us remember," says Mr. Dobson, "her indefatigable industry and
untiring energy, her kindness to her relatives and admirers, her
courage and patience when in exile and poverty, her great talent,
perseverance, and rare facility." In protesting vigorously against the
universal neglect of physical development, against the absence of the
gymnasium and the lack of practical knowledge in the education of
her time, in advocating the study of modern languages as a means of
culture and discipline, in applying to her pupils the principles of
the modern experimental and observational education, Mme. de Genlis
will retain a place as one of the great female educators—as a woman
pedagogue, _par excellence_, of the eighteenth century.
A great number of minor salons existed, which were partly literary,
partly social. From about 1750 to 1780 the amusements varied
constantly, from all-day parties in the country to cafés served by
the great women themselves, from playing proverbs to playing synonyms,
from impromptu compositions to questionable stories, from laughter to
tears, from Blind-man's-buff to Lotto. Some of the proverbs were quite
ingenious and required elaborate preparations; for example, at one
place Mme. de Lauzun dances with M. de Belgunce, in the simplest kind
of a costume, which represented the proverb: _Bonne renommée vaut
mieux que ceinture dorée_ [A good name is rather to be chosen than
great riches]. Mme. de Marigny danced with M. de Saint-Julien as a
negro, passing her handkerchief over her face in the various figures
of the dance, meaning _A laver la tête d'un More on perd sa lessive_
[To wash a blackamoor white].
Among the social salons, the finest was the Temple of the Prince de
Conti and his mistress, the Countess de Boufflers. It was a salon of
pleasure, liberty, and unceremonious intimacy; his _thés à l'anglaise_
were served by the great ladies themselves, attired in white aprons.
The exclusive and élite of the social world made up his company. The
most elegant assembly was that of the Maréchale de Luxembourg; it will
be considered later on. The salon of Mme. de Beauvau rivalled that
of the Maréchale de Luxembourg; she was mistress of elegance and
propriety, an authority on and model of the usages of society. A
manner perhaps superior to that of any other woman, gave Mme. de
Beauvau a particular _politesse_ and constituted her one of the women
who contributed most to the acceptance of Paris as the capital of
Europe, by well-bred people of all countries. Her _politesse_ was kind
and without sarcasm, and, by her own naturalness, she communicated
ease. She was not beautiful, but had a frank and open expression and
a marvellous gift of conversation, which was her delight and in which
she gloried. Her salon was conspicuous for its untarnished honor and
for the example it set of a pure conjugal love.
The salon of Mme. de Grammont, at Versailles, was visited at all hours
of the day and night by the highest officials, princes, lords, and
ladies. It had activity, authority, the secret doors, veiled and
redoubtable depths of a salon of the mistress of a king. Everybody
went there for counsel, submitted plans, and confided projects to this
lady who had willingly exiled herself from Paris.
The house of M. de La Popelinière, at Passy, was noted for its unique
entertainment; there the celebrated Gossec and Gaïffre conducted the
concerts, Deshayes, master of the ballet at the Comédie-Italienne,
managed the amusements. It was a house like a theatre and with all the
requisites of the latter; there artists and men of letters, virtuosos
and _danseuses_, ate, slept, and lodged as in a hotel. With Mme. de
Blot, mistress of the Duke of Orléans, as hostess, the Palais-Royal
ranked next to the Temple of the Prince de Conti; it was open only to
those who were presented; after that ceremony, all those who were thus
introduced could, without invitation, dine there on all days of the
Grand Opera. On the _petits jours_ a select twenty gathered, who, when
once invited, were so for all time. The "Salon de Pomone," of Mme.
de Marchais, received its name from Mme. du Deffand on account of the
exquisite fruits and magnificent flowers which the hostess cultivated
and distributed among her friends.
"La Paroisse," of Mme. Doublet de Persan, was the salon of the
sceptics and was under the constant surveillance of the police. All
the members arrived at the same time and each took possession of the
armchair reserved for him, above which hung his portrait. On a
large stand were two registers, in which the rumors of the day were
noted—in one the doubtful, in the other the accredited. On Saturday,
a selection was made, which went to the _Grand Livre_, which became a
journal entitled _Nouvelles à la Main_, kept by the _valet-de-chambre_
of Mme. Doublet. This book furnished the substance of the six volumes
of the _Mémoires Secrets_, which began to appear in 1770.
Besides these salons of the nobility, there were those of the
financiers, a profession which had risen into prominence within the
last half century, after the death of Louis XIV. According to the
Goncourt brothers, the greatest of these salons was that of Mme.
de Grimrod de La Reynière, who, by dint of shrewd manœuvring, by
unheard-of extravagances, excessive opulence in the furnishings of
her salon, and by the most gorgeous and rare fêtes and suppers, had
succeeded in attracting to her establishment a number of the court and
nobility.
The salon of M. de La Popelinière belonged to this class, although he
was ranked, more or less, among the nobility. There were the weekly
suppers of Mme. Suard, Mme. Saurin, the Abbé Raynal, and the luncheons
of the Abbé Morellet on the first Sunday of the month; to the latter
functions were invited all the celebrities of the other salons, as
well as artists and musicians—it was there that the famous quarrel
of the Gluck and Piccini parties originated. The Tuesday dinners of
Helvétius became famous; it was at them that Franklin was one of the
favorites; after the death of Helvétius, he attempted in vain to
put an end to the widowhood of madame. No man at that time was more
popular than Franklin or had as much public attention shown him.
There were a number of celebrated women whose reputations rest mainly
on their wit and conversational abilities; they may be classed as
society leaders, to distinguish them from salon leaders.