_Mme. de Sable--Her Worldly Life--Her Retreat--Her Friends--Pascal--The
Maxims of La Rochefoucauld--Last Days of the Marquise_
The transition from the restless character and stormy experiences of the
Grande Mademoiselle, to the gentler nature and the convent salon of
her friend and literary confidante, Mme. de Sable, is a pleasant one.
Perhaps no one better represents the true precieuse of the seventeenth
century, the happy blending of social savoir-faire with an amiable
temper and a cultivated intellect. Without the genius of Mme. de Sevigne
or Mme. de La Fayette, without the force or the rare attractions of
Mme. de Longueville, without the well-poised character and catholic
sympathies of Mme. de Rambouillet, she played an important part in the
life of her time, through her fine insight and her consummate tact in
bringing together the choicest spirits, and turning their thoughts into
channels that were fresh and unworn. Born in 1599, Madeleine de Souvre
passed her childhood in Touraine, of which province her father was
governor. In the brilliancy of her youth, we find her in Paris among the
early favorites of the Hotel de Rambouillet, and on terms of lifelong
intimacy with its hostess and her daughter Julie. Beautiful, versatile,
generous, but fastidious and exacting in her friendships, with a dash
of coquetry--inevitable when a woman is fascinating and French--she
repeated the oft-played role of a mariage de convenance at sixteen, a
few brilliant years of social triumphs marred by domestic neglect
and suffering, a period of enforced seclusion after the death of her
unworthy husband, a brief return to the world, and an old age of mild
and comfortable devotion.
"The Marquise de Sable," writes Mme. de Motteville, "was one of those
whose beauty made the most sensation when the Queen (Anne of Austria)
came into France. But if she was amiable, she desired still more to
appear so. Her self-love rendered her a little too sensible to that
which men professed for her. There was still in France some remnant of
the politeness which Catherine de Medicis had brought from Italy, and
Mme. de Sable found so much delicacy in the new dramas, as well as
in other works, in prose and verse, which came from Madrid, that she
conceived a high idea of the gallantry which the Spaniards had learned
from the Moors. She was persuaded that men may without wrong have tender
sentiments for women; that the desire of pleasing them leads men to the
greatest and finest actions, arouses their spirit, and inspires them
with liberality and all sorts of virtues; but that, on the other side,
women, who are the ornaments of the world, and made to be served and
adored, ought to permit only respectful attentions. This lady, having
sustained her views with much talent and great beauty, gave them
authority in her time."
The same writer says that she has "much light and sincerity," with
"penetration enough to unfold all the secrets of one's heart."
Mlle. de Scudery introduces her in the "Grand Cyrus," as Parthenie, "a
tall and graceful woman, with fine eyes, the most beautiful throat in
the world, a lovely complexion, blonde hair, and a pleasant mouth,
with a charming air, and a fine and eloquent smile, which expresses the
sweetness or the bitterness of her soul." She dwells upon her surprising
and changeful beauty, upon the charm of her conversation, the variety
of her knowledge, the delicacy of her tact, and the generosity of her
tender and passionate heart. One may suspect this portrait of being
idealized, but it seems to have been in the main correct.
Of her husband we know very little, excepting that he belonged to
the family of Montmorency, passed from violent love to heart-breaking
indifference, and died about 1640, leaving her with four children and
shattered fortunes. To recruit her failing health, and to hide her
chagrin and sorrow at seeing herself supplanted by unworthy rivals, she
had lived for some time in the country, where she had leisure for the
reading and reflection which fitted her for her later life. But after
the death of her husband she was obliged to sell her estates, and we
find her established in the Place Royale with her devoted friend,
the Comtesse de Maure, and continuing the traditions of the Hotel de
Rambouillet. Her tastes had been formed in this circle, and she had also
been under the instruction of the Chevalier de Mere, a litterateur and
courtier who had great vogue, was something of an oracle, and molded the
character and manners of divers women of this period, among others the
future Mme. de Maintenon. His confidence in his own power of bringing
talent out of mediocrity was certainly refreshing. Among his pupils was
the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, who said to him one day, "I wish to have
esprit."--"Eh bien, Madame," replied the complaisant chevalier, "you
shall have it."
How much Mme. de Sable may have been indebted to this modest bel esprit
we do not know, but her finished manner, fine taste, exquisite tact,
cultivated intellect, and great experience of the world made her an
authority in social matters. To be received in her salon was to be
received everywhere. Cardinal Mazarin watched her influence with a
jealous eye. "Mme. de Longueville is very intimate with the Marquise de
Sable," he writes in his private note book. "She is visited constantly
by D'Andilly, the Princesse de Guemene, d'Enghien and his sister,
Nemours, and many others. They speak freely of all the world. It is
necessary to have some one who will advise us of all that passes there."
But the death of her favorite son--a young man distinguished for graces
of person, mind, heart, and character, who lost his life in one of the
battles of his friend and comrade, the Prince de Conde--together
with the loss of her fortune and the fading of her beauty, turned the
thoughts of the Marquise to spiritual things. We find many traces of the
state of mind which led her first into a mild form of devotion, serious
but not too ascetic, and later into pronounced Jansenism. In a note to
a friend who had neglected her, she dwells upon "the misery and
nothingness of the world," recalls the strength of their long
friendship, the depth of her own affection, and tries to account for the
disloyalty to herself, by the inherent weakness and emptiness of human
nature, which renders it impossible for even the most perfect to do
anything that is not defective. All this is very charitable, to say the
least, as well as a little abstract. Time has given a strange humility
and forgivingness to the woman who broke with her dearest friend, the
unfortunate Duc de Montmorency, because he presumed to lift his eyes
to the Queen, saying that she "could not receive pleasantly the regards
which she had to share with the greatest princess in the world."
The fashion of the period furnished a peaceful and dignified refuge for
women, when their beauty waned and the "terrible forties" ended their
illusions. To go into brief retreat for penitence and prayer was at all
times a graceful thing to do, besides making for safety. It was only a
step further to retire altogether from the scenes of pleasure which
had begun to pall. The convent offered a haven of repose to the bruised
heart, a fresh aim for drooping energies, a needed outlet for devouring
emotions, and a comfortable sense of security, not only for this world,
but for the next. It was the next world which was beginning to trouble
Mme. de Sable. She had great fear of death, and after many penitential
retreats to Port Royal, she finally obtained permission to build a suite
of apartments within its precincts, and retired there about 1655 to
prepare for that unpleasant event which she put off as long as possible
by the most assiduous care of her health. "If she was not devoted, she
had the idea of becoming so," said Mademoiselle. But her devotion was
in quite a mundane fashion. Her pleasant rooms were separate and
independent, thus enabling her to give herself not only to the care of
her health and her soul, but to a select society, to literature, and to
conversation. She never practiced the severe asceticism of her friend,
Mme. de Longueville. With a great deal of abstract piety, the iron
girdle and the hair shirt were not included. She did not even forego
her delicate and fastidious tastes. Her elegant dinners and her dainty
comfitures were as famous as ever. "Will the anger of the Marquise go so
far, in your opinion, as to refuse me her recipe for salad?" writes Mme.
de Choisy at the close of a letter to the Comtesse de Maure, in which
she has ridiculed her friend's Jansenist tendencies; "If so, it will be
a great inhumanity, for which she will be punished in this world and the
other." She had great skill in delicate cooking, and was in the habit of
sending cakes, jellies, and other dainties, prepared by herself, to her
intimate friends. La Rochefoucauld says, "If I could hope for two dishes
of those preserves, which I did not deserve to eat before, I should be
indebted to you all my life." Mme. de Longueville, who is about to
visit her, begs her not to give a feast as she has "scruples about such
indulgence."
This spice of worldliness very much tempered the austerity of her
retreat, and lent an added luster to its intellectual attractions. But
the Marquise had many conflicts between her luxurious tastes and her
desire to be devout. Her dainty and epicurean habits, her extraordinary
anxiety about her health, and her capricious humors were the subject of
much light badinage among her friends. The Grande Mademoiselle sketches
these traits with a satiric touch in the "Princesse de Paphlagonie,"
where she introduces her with the Comtesse de Maure. "There are no hours
when they do not confer together upon the means of preventing themselves
from dying, and upon the art of rendering themselves immortal," she
writes. "Their conferences are not like those of other people; the fear
of breathing an air too cold or too hot, the apprehension that the wind
may be too dry or too damp, a fancy that the weather is not as moderate
as they judge necessary for the preservation of their health--these are
sufficient reasons for writing from one room to another...." If one could
find this correspondence, one might derive great advantages in every
way; for they were princesses who had nothing mortal, except the
knowledge of being so... Of Mme. de Sable she adds: "The Princess
Parthenie had a taste as dainty as her mind; nothing equaled the
magnificence of her entertainments; all the viands were exquisite, and
her elegance was beyond anything that one could imagine." The fastidious
Marquise suffered, with all the world, from the defects of her
qualities. Her extreme delicacy and sensibility appear under many forms
and verge often upon weakness; but it is an amiable weakness that does
not detract greatly from her fascination. She was not cast in a heroic
mold, and her faults are those which the world is pleased to call
essentially feminine.
The records of her life were preserved by Conrart, also by her friend
and physician, Valant. They give us a clear picture of her character,
with its graces and its foibles, as well as of her pleasant intercourse
and correspondence with many noted men and women. They give us,
too, interesting glimpses of her salon. We find there the celebrated
Jansenists Nicole and Arnauld, the eminent lawyer Domat, Esprit,
sometimes Pascal, with his sister, Mme. Perier; the Prince and Princesse
de Conti, the Grand Conde, La Rochefoucauld, the penitent Mme. de
Longueville, Mme. de La Fayette, and many others among the cultivated
noblesse, who are attracted by its tone of bel esprit and graceful,
but by no means severe, devotion. The Duc d'Orleans and the lovely but
unfortunate Madame were intimate and frequent visitors.
In this little world, in which religion, literature, and fashion are
curiously blended, they talk of theology, morals, physics, Cartesianism,
friendship, and love. The youth and gaiety of the Hotel de Rambouillet
have given place to more serious thoughts and graver topics. The current
which had its source there is divided. At the Samedis, in the Marais,
they are amusing themselves about the same time with letters and Vers de
Societe. At the Luxembourg, a more exclusive coterie is exercising its
mature talent in sketching portraits. These salons touch at many points,
but each has a channel of its own. The reflective nature of Mme. de
Sable turns to more serious and elevated subjects, and her friends take
the same tone. They make scientific experiments, discuss Calvinism, read
the ancient moralists, and indulge in dissertations upon a great variety
of topics. Mme. de Bregy, poet, dame d'honneur and femme d'esprit,
who amused the little court of Mademoiselle with so many discreetly
flattering pen-portraits, has left two badly written and curiously
spelled notes upon the merits of Socrates and Epictetus, which throw a
ray of light upon the tastes of this aristocratic and rather speculative
circle. Mme. de Sable writes an essay upon the education of children,
which is very much talked about, also a characteristic paper upon
friendship. The latter is little more than a series of detached
sentences, but it indicates the drift of her thought, and might have
served as an antidote to the selfish philosophy of La Rochefoucauld. It
calls out an appreciative letter from d'Andilly, who, in his anchorite's
cell, continues to follow the sayings and doings of his friends in the
little salon at Port Royal.
"Friendship," she writes, "is a kind of virtue which can only be founded
upon the esteem of people whom one loves--that is to say, upon qualities
of the soul, such as fidelity, generosity, discretion, and upon fine
qualities of mind."
After insisting that it must be reciprocal, disinterested, and
based upon virtue, she continues: "One ought not to give the name of
friendship to natural inclinations because they do not depend upon
our will or our choice; and, though they render our friendships more
agreeable, they should not be the foundation of them. The union which
is founded upon the same pleasures and the same occupations does not
deserve the name of friendship because it usually comes from a certain
egotism which causes us to love that which is similar to ourselves,
however imperfect we may be." She dwells also upon the mutual offices
and permanent nature of true friendship, adding, "He who loves his
friend more than reason and justice, will on some other occasion love
his own pleasure and profit more than his friend."
The Abbe Esprit, Jansenist and academician, wrote an essay upon "Des
Amities en Apparence les Plus Saints des Hommes avec les Femmes," which
was doubtless suggested by the conversations in this salon, where the
subject was freely discussed. The days of chivalry were not so far
distant, and the subtle blending of exalted sentiment with thoughtful
companionship, which revived their spirit in a new form, was too
marked a feature of the time to be overlooked. These friendships, half
intellectual, half poetic, and quite platonic, were mostly formed in
mature life, on a basis of mental sympathy. "There is a taste in pure
friendship which those who are born mediocre do not reach," said La
Gruyere. Mme. de Lambert speaks of it as "the product of a perfect
social culture, and, of all affections, that which has most charm."
The well-known friendship of Mme. de La Fayette and La Rochefoucauld,
which illustrates the mutual influence of a critical man of intellect
and a deep-hearted, thoughtful woman who has passed the age of romance,
began in this salon. Its nature was foreshadowed in the tribute La
Rochefoucauld paid to women in his portrait of himself. "Where their
intellect is cultivated," he writes, "I prefer their society to that
of men. One finds there a gentleness one does not meet with among
ourselves; and it seems to me, beyond this, that they express themselves
with more neatness, and give a more agreeable turn to the things they
talk about."
Mme. de Sable was herself, in less exclusive fashion, the intimate
friend and adviser of Esprit, d'Andilly, and La Rochefoucauld. The
letters of these men show clearly their warm regard as well as the value
they attached to her opinions. "Indeed," wrote Voiture to her many years
before, "those who decry you on the side of tenderness must confess that
if you are not the most loving person in the world, you are at least the
most obliging. True friendship knows no more sweetness than there is in
your words." Her character, so delicately shaded and so averse to all
violent passions, seems to have been peculiarly fitted for this calm and
enduring sentiment which cast a soft radiance, as of Indian summer, over
her closing years.
At a later period, the sacred name of friendship was unfortunately used
to veil relations that had lost all the purity and delicacy of their
primitive character. This fact has sometimes been rather illogically
cited, as an argument not only against the moral influence of the salons
but against the intellectual development of women. There is neither
excuse nor palliation to be offered for the Italian manners and the
recognized system of amis intimes, which disgraced the French society
the next century. But, while it is greatly to be deplored that the moral
sense has not always kept pace with the cultivation of the intellect,
there is no reason for believing that license of manners is in any
degree the result of it. There is striking evidence to the contrary, in
the incredible ignorance and laxity that found its reaction in the early
salons; also in the dissolute lives of many distinguished women of rank
who had no pretension to wit or education. The fluctuation of morals,
which has always existed, must be traced to quite other causes. Virtue
has not invariably accompanied intelligence, but it has been still less
the companion of ignorance.
It was Mme. de Sable who set the fashion of condensing the thoughts and
experiences of life into maxims and epigrams. This was her specific
gift to literature; but her influence was felt through what she inspired
others to do rather than through what she did herself. It was her good
fortune to be brought into contact with the genius of a Pascal and a
La Rochefoucauld,--men who reared immortal works upon the pastime of
an idle hour. One or two of her own maxims will suffice to indicate her
style as well as to show the estimate she placed upon form and measure
in the conduct of life:
A bad manner spoils everything, even justice and reason. The HOW
constitutes the best part of things, and the air which one gives them
gilds, modifies, and softens the most disagreeable.
There is a certain command in the manner of speaking and acting, which
makes itself felt everywhere, and which gains, in advance, consideration
and respect.
We find here the spirit that underlies French manners, in which form
counts for so much.
There is another, which suggests the delicate flavor of sentiment then
in vogue:
Wherever it is, love is always the master. It seems truly that it is to
the soul of the one who loves, what the soul is to the body it animates.
Among the eminent men who lent so much brilliancy to this salon was
the great jurist Domat. He adds his contribution and falls into the
moralizing vein:
A little fine weather, a good word, a praise, a caress, draws me from
a profound sadness from which I could not draw myself by any effort
of meditation. What a machine is my soul, what an abyss of misery and
weakness!
Here is one by the Abbe d'Ailly, which foreshadows the thought of the
next century:
Too great submission to books, and to the opinions of the ancients,
as to the eternal truths revealed of God, spoils the head and makes
pedants.
The finest and most vigorous of these choice spirits was Pascal, who
frequented more or less the salon of Mme. de Sable previous to his final
retirement to the gloom and austerity of the cloister. His delicate
platonism and refined spirituality go far towards offsetting the cold
cynicism of La Rochefoucauld. Each gives us a different phase of life
as reflected in a clear and luminous intelligence. The one led to Port
Royal, the other turned an electric light upon the selfish corruption of
courts. Many of the pensees of Pascal were preserved among the records
of this salon, and Cousin finds reason for believing that they were
first suggested and discussed here; he even thinks it possible, if
not probable, that the "Discours sur les Passions de L'amour," which
pertains to his mundane life, and presents the grave and ascetic recluse
in a new light, had a like origin.
But the presiding genius was La Rochefoucauld. He complains that the
mode of relaxation is fatiguing, and that the mania for sentences
troubles his repose. The subjects were suggested for conversation, and
the thoughts were condensed and reduced to writing at leisure. "Here are
all the maxims I have," he writes to Mme. de Sable; "but as one gives
nothing for nothing, I demand a potage aux carottes, un ragout de
mouton, etc."
"When La Rochefoucauld had composed his sentences," says Cousin, "he
talked them over before or after dinner, or he sent them at the end of
a letter. They were discussed, examined, and observations were made,
by which he profited. One could lessen their faults, but one could lend
them no beauty. There was not a delicate and rare turn, a fine and keen
touch, which did not come from him."
After availing himself of the general judgment in this way, he took a
novel method of forestalling crtiticism before committing himself
to publication. Mme. de Sable sent a collection of the maxims to her
friends, asking for a written opinion. One is tempted to make long
extracts from their replies. The men usually indorse the worldly
sentiments, the women rarely. The Princesse de Guemene, who, in the
decline of her beauty, was growing devout, and also had apartments for
penitential retreat at Port Royal, responds: "I was just going to write
to beg you to send me your carriage as soon as you had dined. I have yet
seen only the first maxims, as I had a headache yesterday; but those I
have read appear to me to be founded more upon the disposition of
the author than upon the truth, for he believes neither in generosity
without interest, nor in pity; that is, he judges every one by himself.
For the greater number of people, he is right; but surely there are
those who desire only to do good." The Countesse de Maure, who does not
believe in the absolute depravity of human nature, and is inclined to an
elevated Christian philosophy quite opposed to Jansenism, writes with
so much severity that she begs her friend not to show her letter to the
author. Mme. de Hautefort expresses her disapproval of a theory which
drives honor and goodness out of the world. After many clever and
well-turned criticisms, she says: "But the maxim which is quite new to
me, and which I admire, is that idleness, languid as it is, destroys all
the passions. It is true, and he had searched his heart well to find a
sentiment so hidden, but so just... I think one ought, at present, to
esteem idleness as the only virtue in the world, since it is that which
uproots all the vices. As I have always had much respect for it, I
am glad it has so much merit." But she adds wisely: "If I were of the
opinion of the author, I would not bring to the light those mysteries
which will forever deprive him of all the confidence one might have in
him."
There is one letter, written by the clever and beautiful Eleonore de
Rohan, Abbess de Malnoue, and addressed to the author, which deserves to
be read for its fine and just sentiments. In closing she says:
The maxim upon humility appears to me perfectly beautiful; but I have
been so surprised to find it there, that I had the greatest difficulty
in recognizing it in the midst of all that precedes and follows it. It
is assuredly to make this virtue practiced among your own sex, that you
have written maxims in which their self-love is so little flattered.
I should be very much humiliated on my own part, if I did not say to
myself what I have already said to you in this note, that you judge
better the hearts of men than those of women, and that perhaps you do
not know yourself the true motive which makes you esteem them less. If
you had always met those whose temperament had been submitted to virtue,
and in whom the senses were less strong than reason, you would think
better of a certain number who distinguish themselves always from the
multitude; and it seems to me that Mme. de La Fayette and myself deserve
that you should have a better opinion of the sex in general.
Mme. de La Fayette writes to the Marquise: "All people of good sense are
not so persuaded of the general corruption as is M. de La Rochefoucauld.
I return to you a thousand thanks for all you have done for this
gentleman."--At a later period she said: "La Rochefoucauld stimulated my
intellect, but I reformed his heart." It is to be regretted that he had
not known her sooner.
At his request Mme. de Sable wrote a review of the maxims, which she
submitted to him for approval. It seems to have been a fair presentation
of both sides, but he thought it too severe, and she kindly gave him
permission to change it to suit himself. He took her at her word,
dropped the adverse criticisms, retained the eulogies, and published
it in the "Journal des Savants" as he wished it to go to the world. The
diplomatic Marquise saved her conscience and kept her friend.
The maxims of La Rochefoucauld, which are familiar to all, have extended
into a literature. That he generalized from his own point of view, and
applied to universal humanity the motives of a class bent upon favor
and precedence, is certainly true. But whatever we may think of his
sentiments, which were those of a man of the world whose observations
were largely in the atmosphere of courts, we are compelled to admit
his unrivaled finish and perfection of form. Similar theories of human
nature run through the maxims of Esprit and Saint Evremond, without
the exquisite turn which makes each one of La Rochefoucauld's a gem in
itself. His tone was that of a disappointed courtier, with a vein of
sadness only half disguised by cold philosophy and bitter cynicism. La
Bruyere, with a broader outlook upon humanity, had much of the same fine
analysis, with less conciseness and elegance of expression. Vauvenargues
and Joubert were his legitimate successors. But how far removed in
spirit!
"The body has graces," writes Vauvenargues, "the mind has talents; has
the heart only vices? And man capable of reason, shall he be incapable
of virtue?"
With a fine and delicate touch, Joubert says: "Virtue is the health of
the soul. It gives a flavor to the smallest leaves of life."
These sentiments are in the vein of Pascal, who represents the most
spiritual element of the little coterie which has left such a legacy of
condensed thought to the world.
The crowning act of the life of Mme. de Sable was her defense of Port
Royal. She united with Mme. de Longueville in protecting the persecuted
Jansenists, Nicole and Arnauld, but she had neither the courage, the
heroism, nor the partisan spirit of her more ardent companion. With all
her devotion she was something of a sybarite and liked repose. She had
the tact, during all the troubles which scattered her little circle, to
retain her friends, of whatever religious color, though not without a
few temporary clouds. Her diplomatic moderation did not quite please the
religieuses of Port Royal, and chilled a little her pleasant relations
with d'Andilly.
Toward the close of her life, the Marquise was in the habit of secluding
herself for days together, and declining to see even her dearest
friends. The Abbe de la Victoire, piqued at not being received, spoke of
her one day as "the late Mme. la Marquise de Sable."
La Rochefoucauld writes to her, "I know no more inventions for entering
your house; I am refused at the door every day." Mme. de La Fayette
declares herself offended, and cites this as a proof of her attachment,
saying, "There are very few people who could displease me by not wishing
to see me." But the friends of the Marquise are disposed to treat her
caprices very leniently. As the years went by and the interests of
life receded, Mme. de Sable became reconciled to the thought that had
inspired her with so much dread. When she died at the advanced age of
seventy-nine, the longed-for transition was only the quiet passing from
fevered dreams to peaceful sleep.
It is a singular fact that this refined, exclusive, fastidious woman, in
whom the artistic nature was always dominant to the extent of weakness,
should have left a request to be buried, without ceremony, in the parish
cemetery with the people, remote alike from the tombs of her family and
the saints of Port Royal.