LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 453.-21 JANUARY, 1853. From Chambers' Repository. HER LIFE AND LETTERS, whole dramatis per sonce, we feel delightfully familiar with its every member; constrained not only to love the amiable and admire the brilliant among them, but to think some kind thoughts even of the harsh and the formidable. True genius is ever genial; "it has its name hence ;" and to interpret between minds the most dissimilar, is not the least service it renders. All honor, then, to the humanity of that fine medium, through which traits of kind-heartedness and of disinterested benevolence are made discernible in a Rochefoucault, and something of gentleness and heroism even in a De Retz. versations. It is in her own pages, rather than in those of her contemporaries, that we must read both her life and character; and we have no reason to complain of want of materials by which a PERHAPS there is no name in the annals of nota- correct idea of them may be formed. By a series ble women so suggestive of agreeable ideas as that of letters, dated from the twentieth to the last of Madame de Sévigné. We read of many who, year of her life, she succeeds in making us thorendowed with a higher heroism than hers, have oughly familiar with herself and the world to won for themselves a deathless reputation-of which she belongs; not only with her goings and women of much more brilliant genius, who have comings, and the manner in which every day, left us sayings of wit and wisdom with which our almost every hour, is passed, but with her thoughts, enriched minds will never grow unfamiliar; and feelings, and affections. As we read, her inner as of acts of deeper and far sterner devotedness in well as her outward life seems to unroll itself bethe "noble army of the martyrs," the recollec- fore our delighted apprehensions-clear, distinct, tions of which will help to exalt the souls and and faithful to the minutest detail, as if sunrevive the sinking courage of sufferers who are yet painted. And not her own life only-for with the unborn. All such records have, no doubt, their gay, unconscious ease of a perfectly well-bred high and important uses. They are as the thews hostess, she not only makes herself known to us, and sinews by the strength of which Progress is but contrives to introduce us, without any effort, enabled to push aside the great impeding obstacles and as they happen to present themselves, to the which beset her path. But it is not by strength multitude of notable personages by whom she is alone that she moves in beauty and harmony, surrounded; makes us listen to conversations inwithout haste or rest. Life, to be really life, numerable, and to the history of a thousand intermust be cheered and sweetened, as well as sus-esting occurrences, always set off and illustrated tained and braced. "For several virtues have we by her own lively comments and remarks; till at loved several women;" and to take our heroine last, having lived through long years with the for all in all, we aver that in no one woman will be found so rare a combination of the lovable with the respectable, of sense with sensibility, of earnestness of mind with the most charming gayety of temperament; so nice a balance, in short, of all the qualities which seem best to fit their happy possessor for the full enjoyment at once of the earth to which we belong, and of the heaven to which we aspire. Of the whole bright sisterhood, therefore, no one who has lived within the last two hundred years commends herself so heartily to our good-will and affection as this gay and amiable Frenchwoman. The most delightful of letterwriters, the most tender and devoted of mothers, It was impossible, however, that so rare and and the kindest of friends, she was the ornament of fine an insight could be used only in one direction. a brilliant and corrupt court, all the bad elements of Our favorite, Mr. Leigh Hunt-whom years and which, though she often ventured to play with them thought have so mellowed and refined, that even -even to use them as helps and incitements to her our own delicate Miss Austen's good-natured satire wit and vivacity-her bon naturel or healthy moral has lost its relish for him, and now tastes rather nature enabled her to throw from her, when she harsh-objects to Madame de Sévigné, and with felt them dangerous to virtue, as easily, almost as perfect justice, that," with all her good-humor, unconsciously, as the sea-bird from his wing the the charming woman had a sharp eye for a defect." water-drops which would impede his upward flight. In the full flow of a confidential correspondence In these days of multiplied and lengthy biog- between the most loving of mothers and her Mies, it seems strange to think of the difficulty daughter, there was every temptation to speak of to find any authentic details of the early the persons who chanced to be its subject with a who, in her inseparable character as measure of truth and of gay freedom that would writer, enjoys so high a reputation. probably have been agreeable neither to themfixed to the earlier editions of her selves nor to their immediate descendants. We tle more than a mere sketch of find, accordingly, without its being matter of the necessary dates of births, wonder, that these matchless letters, which for the Nor have those that follow last hundred and fifty years all the world have f her early history. Her delighted to honor, and have united in considering nd the esteem with as models in style, sentiment and matter, became a large circle of first known to the public without consent of rable mention by friends, and for a long time were published but his is chiefly, of sparingly and piecemeal. In one way and another, zation, or allu- however, they have all at last oozed out. About idents or con- forty years ago, a pretty full collection of them VI. 10 was published in Paris, and various memoirs of him a few years, and it was to be expected that the author, chiefly drawn from this source, have the devout grandmother, Madame de Chantal the since appeared both in France and England. No elder, would have taken the orphan under her own very good translation into English has yet been care. But whether it was that the future saint made, though two of the most celebrated letter- was as little interested in her son's widow and writers among our own countrymen, Horace Wal-child, as some mothers-in-law among sinners have pole and the poet Gray, were among her fervent been, or that she was too much occupied in formadmirers; the latter being said, though we do not see with what good reason, to have formed his style on hers. Sir James M'Intosh, in a journal kept during his tedious voyage from Bombay, the désagrémens of which were alleviated to him by the reperusal of her whole correspondence, leaves us some of the finest remarks that have ever been made on her character and genius. ing religious houses (of which she founded no fewer than eighty-seven), the old lady at once waived her privilege, and left her grand-daughter in the hands of her maternal relations. This was a happy event for her. Instead of having her whole delightful nature cramped and formalized by the conventual education, she enjoyed all the social advantages of the time. She was brought About ten years ago, a new sketch of her was up with her fellow-wit and future correspondent, presented to us, in a book entitled Madame de Sé-Philippe Emanuel de Coulanges, for whom she vigné and her Contemporaries-valuable in itself, always entertained the most sincere affection; and but more so, perhaps, from the notices to which it gave rise, among which was a pleasant and highly discriminating paper by Leigh Hunt, written for the Edinburgh Review, and afterwards republished by him in one of his delightful volumes, entitled Men, Women, and Books. Drawing our materials from all the authentic sources within our reach, we proceed to present to our readers as complete a view of the life, letters, and character of this queen of letter-writers as our ability and the limits of this paper will permit; always, when possible, allowing her to tell the story in her own words. To do this most conveniently, as well as with the most unbroken effect, we prefer giving the quotations for which we can make room in English, instead of from the French text. In this way, no doubt, we run some risk of injuring the exquisite style and relish of the original to persons who are so happy as to know the French language as perfectly as they do their own. But this seems to us a lesser evil than to trouble or disappoint others-probably the majority-who may be less favored.' her uncle, Christophe, Abbé de Livry, became a second father to her. He was a man of sense and worth, with some little peculiarities of temper, and a leaning towards good eating and drinking, and an easy life. He talked to her, and encouraged her to read and to learn from his friends; sent her often to court, where she acquired polish and grace; chose a husband for her, if not wisely, at least to the best of his judgment; and helped her to bring up her children. He extricated her affairs from the confusion in which her father's extravagance and sudden death had involved them, and taught her to manage her own business and fortune with that prudent and liberal economy, the practice of which afterwards enabled her both to live in comfort and elegance herself, and to follow towards others the dictates of her natural generosity. He treated her, in short, affectionately, and with the reasonable indulgence of a parent; spent the remainder of his life with her after her widowhood; and at his death left her his whole fortune. In those days, no particular interest in the Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, born Baroness de proper development of the youthful female intelChantal and Bourbilly, afterwards Madame de Sé-lect had as yet suggested itself to the most bevigné, first saw the light in the ancestral château of Bourbilly, between Samur and Epoisses, on the 5th of February, 1627. Her father, the Baron Celse Benique de Rabutin, was of the elder branch of his name, and was cousin to the famous wit and satirist, Bussy de Rabutin. Her mother, Marie de Coulanges, daughter of a secretary of state, was also of a family celebrated for wit; and her paternal grandmother, Jeanne Françoise Fremyot, afterwards known as the Blessed Mother of Chantal, was a canonized saint. The families of Chantal and Fremyot were both remarkable for their integrity; and as the whole united stock, with the solitary exception of the worldly and intriguing Bussy, were distinguished equally for worth, spirit, and ability, we are entitled to assume that our heroine was well-born in the very best sense of the word. In her own wit, integrity, and natural piety, we see a portion of what was best in all her kindred; and if she had also a spice of her formidable cousin's satire, she had none of his malignity or sharpness, and her graceful gayety and fine tact set her far before him even on his own ground. During the siege of Rochelle, and when the little Marie was scarcely a year old, the bold baron, her father, died, bravely fighting against the English in their descent on the island of Ré. It has been said, that he received his death-wound from the hand of Cromwell. Her mother only survived nevolent minds of any country. A few of the great women of France were then, as at all other times, carefully educated by men of learning; but most young ladies of rank were taught little more than to read, write, dance, and embroider, with more or less attention to books of religion, as their training was or was not of the convent. Neither music nor painting seems to have formed part of the education of the upper ranks. These accomplishments were left to professional people; and Ninon de l'Enclos, who was probably too knowing to neglect any art by which she might become more attractive, is the only distinguished person who is ever named as playing on any instrument. A great deal of time was spent by them at their work-frames, where they employed their ingenuity on those stupendous tapestryhangings, specimens of which are yet shown in some great houses, as monuments of the fine taste and industry of the ladies of old. And every lady of high degree had a demoiselle de compagnie, whose business it was to read aloud for the benefit of the workers some book of history or poetry, or some high-flown romance of Calprenede, Scudery, or La Fayette, according to the taste of the principal person of the party. Mademoiselle de Rabutin had probably her share of such instruction as this implies, and a good deal of a better kind over and above. She was brought up at home, the companion of her clever relations, had the entrée to her uncle's library, and would, no doubt, be helped by him to a little Latin, and also in her Italian studies, of which she was fond. She had friends and acquaintances among the pious ladies of the Port Royal, who would give her good advice and religious instruction; and she was liked and talked to by her uncle's friends, among whom were Chapelain, Menage, and other professors of polite literature. Here was opportunity enough for the nourishment of the affections; and if such desultory means of intellectual culture should not be deemed sufficient to account for the extent and variety of knowledge to be found in her letters, we must call to mind, that, after all, the essential parts of youthful education are simply to learn the habit of acquiring information, and a knowledge of the best methods. If the vessel be prepared, and the channels open, the stream will flow rapidly in from all quarters. She appears to have had at least this foundation, and her own clever head and lively temperament would help her to all the rest. 66 In addition to these advantages of birth and breeding, our youthful Marie was blessed with a healthy frame, good spirits, a natural flow of wit, and a very agreeable person. Her features were far from being regularly beautiful, the point of her nose, as she herself merrily describes it, tending a little towards the square," and her eyes, though brilliant, being rather small, and, together with the eyelashes, of different tints. She is said to have been somewhat tall for a woman, with a good shape, a pleasing voice, a fine complexion, and a profusion of light hair. This description agrees well with a portrait there is of her in the gallery of Versailles, in which she is represented in the bloom of youth, and with the coloring of Rubens' fairest women. The illnatured Bussy, who, while smarting under her rejection of his addresses, draws a picture of her, makes the most of the slight defects of her face, and adds to them the conventional objection to her manners, that "she was too playful for a woman of quality." He afterwards withdraws his censure, and eulogizes her beauty and wit to the skies, saying, "she deserved to have been a goddess." But the true idea we form from her portraits, her friends and herself, is, that she was an attractive woman, in the highest sense of that term, with delightful, cordial manners, and a countenance as expressive of the beautiful soul which informed it, as of that tender heart, so Quick to catch joy, and true to touch of woe. Such she was at the age of eighteen, when her uncle selected for her husband Henri Marquis de Sévigné, of an ancient family of Brittany, related to the Duguesclins, the Rohans, and also to the Cardinal de Retz. The good abbé probably flattered himself he had made a great step in advance of the old mariage de convenance, when, in preferring the marquis to his rivals, he took into consideration his youth and gay temperament, as well as his birth and fortune. company; at the same time, he was good-natured, and did not dislike her; and, as we catch from the tone of her early letters, she was not unhappy with him, probably because she had, even at that. early age, too much knowledge of the world in which she lived to have entertained any very exalted notions connected with matrimony. Two children were born within four years: first, Charles de Sévigné, in 1647; and, second, Frances, the future Countess de Grignan, that "lovely and infinitely dear child," at once the occupation, delight and anxiety, of her mother's future life. Bussy de Rabutin, who held the marquis in great contempt, as a mere laugher and jester, avows, that, hearing him boast of the approbation of Ninon de l'Enclos, he had taken advantage of the braggart's folly, to make the gross and insulting proposal to his wife, that she should take her revenge. Bussy, who was always making love to her, either in the way of flattery or banter, and had been met with constant rejection, though not, perhaps, treated with the severity his presumption deserved, was quite malicious enough to have invented this story against the marquis, to forward his own views. If he did, he gained nothing by it. He was coldly and calmly repulsed, and a letter from him falling into her husband's hands, she was prohibited from seeing him any more. The course of the Marquis de Sévigné's follies was not a long one. He was killed in a duel, only seven years after the marriage; and, in spite of his faults and failings, his sudden and sanguinary death fell heavily on his wife. Years afterwards, in speaking of her good uncle, De Coulanges, whom she heartily liked, and always called bien bon (worthy creature), she says: "He extricated me from the abyss in which I was plunged at the death of Monsieur de Sévigné." As soon as he could venture to approach her, the persevering Bussy again offered himself to her acceptance, and was again refused; but not, he says, without her having shown so much pleasure in his attentions, as to be jealous when they were transferred to another; an allegation for which there may possibly have been just grounds enough for his vanity and self-love to build on. She liked him she said, because the same blood ran in their veins. She admired his wit, and had certainly always shown a preference for his society. And if she did manifest a feeling of mortification on some ill-bred slight from him, or pretended devotion to another, paraded, probably, with the design of annoying her, it was not on this occasion only that she showed that amiable desire-so rarely gratified-of retaining a rejected lover as a friend. But it was not to listen to a new suitor that Madame Sévigné dried her tears. She retired to the country, and devoted her time and attention to the education of her two young children, and to the task of repairing their almost ruined fortunes. Her good sense and natural rectitude showed her the value of that liberal and consistent economy which her uncle's early instructions had taught her to understand. She delighted in the country-in all its natural sounds and sights Unfortunately, the supposed similarity between the bride and bridegroom proved but a shadow, and like a shadow it passed away. He had and was as happy "half-way up to the knees neither her brilliant nor her solid qualities. His in dew, laying the lines for her new walks," as gayety was nothing better than levity and impru- she ever was in Paris, surrounded by the most dence, and his wit went no higher than jeering refined and brilliant wits. She had no aversion and punning. He was fond of expense and gal- to business, and she understood how to sell or let lantry, and soon gave his wife very little of his her estates, receive her rents, and direct her workmen. It is characteristically told of her, that, one day, when talking of some rather important business to the President Belliévre, she felt herself at a loss for the proper term to be used, and naïvely said, "Ah! monsieur, I know the air perfectly, but I forget the words." siderable reputation as a bel-esprit; and in those years she was still more admired for her beauty, vivacity, and agreeableness. Among her adorers of the great world were the sage Turenne; the Prince de Conti, brother to the great Condé, who writes to Bussy in warm terms of her attractions, The young widow, finding her heart fully satis- adding, with the self-sufficient presumption of a fied with the affection existing between her chil- royal lover, that "he should have a word or two dren, her kind relations, and herself, would never to say to her next winter;" and Fouquet, the again hear of marriage. Most of her biographers superintendent of finance, whose wealth and maghave discussed her character in connection with nificent generosity generally secured to him the this determination; some of them considering the favor of all to whom his devoirs were paid. And feeling which led to it as a virtue, and others as among the witty and learned may be noted the a defect. A phrenologist would allow it to be brilliant Chevalier de Lude, whose vivacity neither the one nor the other, but simply the charmed her, and with whom she always kept up result of a primitive tendency of the mind, depend- a running fire of wit and graceful gayety; the ent on the size of the brain at a particular part Chevalier de Meré, once the lover as well as the of the cranium. In all cases, it is certainly safe tutor of Madame de Maintenon; and her good to attribute a great deal to natural constitution; uncle's friend, the learned Abbe de Ménage, who but as we, in our turn, are constituted to approve courted her in Italian madrigals, and whose devo more of one class of feelings than another, with- tion to her was so great and so well known that out at all disputing the more perfect blessedness when he spoke in a tender tone to one of her or happiness which may result from a complete friends-Madame de Lavardin-she laughingly and reciprocal union of two natures, we cannot help looking on devotion to offspring as the more generous and disinterested affection of the two. There have been instances, no doubt, of as pure self-renunciation in a husband or wife as in a parent; but it seems essentially the nature of parental love to give all, and to ask for nothing in return except the good and the happiness of the beloved object. It may seem to be anticipating a little, but see how sweetly and reasonably Madame de Sévigné in after years speaks to her daughter on the subject: "You say you will love me both for yourself and your child. Ah! my dear child, do not undertake so much. Were it even possible for you to love me as well as I love you, which, however, is not possible, nor at all in the course of nature, yet even then my grand-daughter would have the advantage of me in your heart, and fill it with the very same tenderness that I feel for you." Her duties to her family were not inconsistent with the enjoyment of society suitable to her youth and gay disposition. Three years after her widowhood, we find her again, with undiminished beauty and spirit, taking her proper place among the most distinguished people in Paris, both at court and in the reigning literary circles of the day. In spite of her attachment to her political and religious friends, the De Retzes and the Jansenists, who were much out of favor at court, the respect which she always cordially entertained for Louis XIV., the result of her genuine loyalty of feeling, made her present herself frequently there; and the king had too much good taste, as well as gallantry, not to bestow a gracious word or pleasant bow in acknowledgment of the courtesies of so charming a person. She was the friend and favorite of the magnanimous Duc de Rambouillet, governor to the dauphin, of whom she said, that he possessed every virtue, and had a sincerity and plain-speaking worthy of the knights-errant of old;" and of his wife, once the famous beauty and bel-esprit Mademoiselle de Rambouillet; and she constantly made one at the reunions of the celebrated Hôtel de Rambouillet, though without the taint of pedantry which characterized so many of the members of its society. Her letters had already gained for her a con She told him she saw he was rehearsing for Madame Her most intimate friend for many years was Madame de la Fayette, author of the Princesse de Cleves, one of the most popular of the Louis Quatorze novels. This lady was also celebrated for her friendship for the Duc de la Rochefoucault. His delicate health and irritable temperament required the care of a devoted friend; and her disinterested attachment to him became the occupation of her existence, and only ended with his life. She never recovered his loss, and after his death gave herself up to devotion. She had a cold, dry manner; but, as the fastidious Duc said of her, she was true; and Madame de Sévigné, who had warmth enough herself to dispense with it in those she esteemed, admired her genius, loved her, and pitied her sorrows. Another of her literary friends was Mademoiselle de Scudery, author of Cyrus, Clelie, and several other of those longwinded romances which pleased the French then as Clarissa and Sir Charles Grandison did our selves a little later, from their minuteness and perfect truth of detail, and the passion they often exhibited. Mademoiselle de Scudery was as ugly as she was clever and agreeable. Madame de Sévigné said of her, that her understanding and penetration were unlimited. In her letters she often calls her Sappho, the name by which she was known at the Hôtel de Rambouillet, where she was the admired of all admirers. No salon or coterie, before or since, has ever exercised such authority over the world of Paris as the Hôtel de Rambouillet then did. Besides fashionable people and learned ladies, it was frequented by prelates, magistrates, and military men. But what gave it the peculiar tone, from which it was afterwards held up to ridicule, was the genius of Mademoiselle de Scudery, who both spoke and wrote in a style of high-flown, pedantic gallantry, which, though natural to her, and, consequently, not unbecoming, became detestable jargon in the mouths of her imitators, who could only exhibit the contortions of the sibyl without any of the inspiration. Nothing could be too inflated or ingenious to suit the taste of this society. Tropes and figures were used on the commonest subjects. The ladies called each other either by fancy names, or by such affected expressions as mon cœur, ma précieuse. Mademoiselle de Rambouillet was the "incomparable Artemise" to the end of her days, and was so called by the preacher Flechier in her funeral sermon; and in allusion to the endearing epithets so much in vogue, Molière named his comedy, written to expose the folly, Les Précieuses Ridicules. Rochefoucault wrote his book of Maxims at that time, one of which refers to the romantic jargon just then introduced "There are follies," he says, "that are caught like contagious diseases." In short, bombast and affectation mixed up with wit was the order of the day and place; and it is curious to note, that reunions so conspicuous for a want of nature and simplicity, were held in a famous chambre bleue, the favorite color, as it seems, of all sociétés à prétention. Although, like all the polite world of Paris, a frequenter of this formidable Hôtel de Rambouillet, the perfect good taste and good sense of Madame de Sévigné enabled her to nourish her lively imagination with the gayety and wit-which were present there no less than the absurdity-without the faintest echo of its falsetto : air, always walking out late by moonlight; planted trees, built chapels, listened to the nightingales, and quizzed her neighbors when they were affected or ridiculous, or, above all, if they had in any way slighted or offended the beloved daughter. Sometimes she was at her own estate of Bourbilly, in Burgundy, and at others in her house in Paris the Hôtel de Carnavolet, which is now a school, but will be celebrated, as long as it stands, as her latest and best known abode." The young Marquis de Sévigné was certainly not a son of whom such a mother could have been either very proud or very fond. Diminutive in his person, not particularly handsome, and of a feeble rather than an impassioned temperament, he was in his youth idle, frivolous and dissipated; with the ambition not uncommon to such à character, of being looked on by the world around him, as above all things the man of "wit and pleasure." Rochefoucault said of him, that his highest ambition would have been to die for a love which he did not feel. But, though thoughtless, he was perfectly good-humored and pleasant; was kind and attentive as a son; and his mother, though too discerning not to be aware of the shallows as well as the shady recesses of his nature, was, from her sweet temperament, at all times ready to draw out and dwell on the fair points. They lived together, therefore, on an easy, kindly footing. Along with his dutiful attention, he seems to have favored her with his confidence in the matter of his intrigues, to a degree that is quite startling to our modern ideas of delicacy, or even of decency. Indeed, she herself sometimes expresses her dislike to the extreme unreserve of his communications, and appears only to have submitted to the infliction in the hope of winning him either by affectionate remonstrance, by raillery, or by such reasoning as he could comprehend, from the hurtful excesses of which he was so foolishly vain. There is rather an entertaining collection of letters professing to have passed between him and Ninon de l'Enclos, which is said not to be genuine; but we find plenty of curious notices of their intimacy in Madame de Sévigné's correspondence with her daughter. She particularly disliked his connection with Ninon, as having But although she mixed freely with it, was its led him into the double-dyed error of a moral and ornament, and the accurate observer of all that religious scepticism; but with her usual sense of went on around her, it is not as the woman of justice in the matter, tells how Ninon had at last society that Madame de Sévigné so much interests discarded him, "heartily tired of loving a man our feelings. The true idea of her, on the contrary, who had no heart," and repeats to her daughter for the greater part of her life, is that of an affec- some of her contemptuous sayings of him, such as tionate domestic woman, much trusted and be- that he had " a soul of pap," and "the heart of a loved by her friends, gay-spirited, easily amused, cucumber fried in snow. Fortunately for his a constant reader, writer, talker, thinker; her mother's comfort as well as his own, the little master passion, love for the daughter, to whom marquis did not go on all his life in a course which most of the letters are addressed, in which she she describes as "offensive to God, and dangerous lays bare her sweet nature, and obligingly thinks to his own soul." After a time, he married a good aloud for the benefit of posterity. Her good uncle's wife, and grew sober and devout; left the army, abbey was situated at Livry, near Paris. Some- in which he had never had any great preferment, times she resided there with him-glad to be quiet, and quietly cultivated a taste for literature. He and to hold sacred there some of the days set maintained a contest, which was at the time much apart by her church; generally with lively feelings talked of, with Dacier, on the disputable meaning of devotion, though often humbly accusing herself of the famous passage in Horace: "difficile est of allowing worldly concerns, particularly those proprie communia decere ;" and unambitiously of her daughter, to intrude on her devout medita-settled down and ended his days in a quiet corner tions. of Paris. tone. Sometimes her uncle accompanied her to the estate which had belonged to her husband, on the sea-coast of Brittany, called "The Rocks," where she looked after her improvements, made kind arrangements for her tenants, lived in the open It was the daughter who was the pride and glory and crowning interest of her mother's life; whom her lively imagination exalts into a heroine, a queen, a goddess, and to whom she reveals the inmost secrets of her soul, and pours out her love |