Part 21

Her widowhood was exemplary. Left at four-and-twenty without her husband's protection, in the midst of a society loosened from all moral restrictions, in which the highest were the most libertine, no evil breath ever tainted her fair fame. Her cousin, Bussy-Rabutin[61], who has distilled, from a venomous pen, poison over the reputation of almost every Frenchwoman of that period, says not a word against her, except that she encouraged sometimes the friendship of those who loved her. No blame can arise from this. It was necessary for the advancement of her children that she should secure the support and friendship of people in power. She lived in a court surrounded by a throng of society: she felt safe, since she could rely on herself; and prudery would only have made her enemies, without any good accruing. The only friend she had who did not deserve the distinction was Bussy-Rabutin; but he being a near relation, and she the head of their house, she showed her kindness and her prudence by continuing to admit him to the honour of her intimacy. In his letters he alludes to the admiration that Fouquet felt for her; and we find that her friendship for him continued unalterable to the last. Bussy rallies her, also, on the admiration of the prince de Conti: "Take care of yourself, my fair cousin," he writes: "a disinterested lady may, nevertheless, be ambitious; and she who refused the financier of the king may not always resist his majesty's cousin. You are a little ingrate, and will have to pay one day or another. You pursue virtue as if it were a reality, and you despise wealth as if you could never feel the want of it: we shall see you some day regret all this." Again he writes, "One must regulate oneself by you; one is too happy in being allowed to be your friend. There is hardly a woman in the kingdom, except yourself, who can induce your lovers to be satisfied with friendship: we scarcely see any who, rejecting love, are not in a state of enmity. I am certain that it requires a woman of extraordinary merit to turn a lover into a friend." And again, "I do not know any one so generally esteemed as yourself: you are the delight of the human race; antiquity would have raised altars to you; and you would assuredly have been the goddess of something. In our own times, not being so prodigal of incense, we content ourselves with saying that there does not exist a woman of your age more virtuous and more charming. I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, nobles of high rank, great captains, ministers of state, magistrates, and philosophers, all ready to be in love with you. What can you desire more?" This language deserves quoting only as evidence of the sort of ordeal Madame de Sévigné passed through. While receiving all this flattery, she was never turned aside from her course. To educate her children, take care of their property, secure such a place in society as would be advantageous to them, and to render her uncle's life happy, were the objects of her life. She was very fortunate in her uncle, whose kindness and care were the supports of her life. Her obligations to him are apparent from the letter she wrote many years after, on his death:--"I am plunged in sorrow: ten days ago I saw my dear uncle die, and you know what he was to his dear niece. He has conferred on me every benefit in the world, either by giving me property of his own, or preserving and augmenting that of my children. He drew me from the abyss into which M. de Sévigné's death plunged me: he gained lawsuits; he put my affairs into good order; he paid our debts; he has made the estate on which my son lives the prettiest and most agreeable in the world." She was fortunate, also, in her children, whom she passionately loved. But it must be remembered that children do not entirely occupy a parent's time. She afterwards regretted that her daughter had been brought up in a convent; but, in sending her there, she acted in accordance with the manners of the times.[62] While her children were away, and when she came up to Paris from her country house, she diversified her life by innocent pleasures. She enjoyed good society, and adorned it. She was one of the favourites of the Hôtel de Rambouillet, where met a knot of people, who, however they might err in affectation and over refinement, were celebrated for talent and virtue. She was a friend of Julie d'Angennes, afterwards madame de Montauzier; and the _Alcovistes_ of the set were her principal friends. Ménage mentions her with admiration, and was accustomed to relate several anecdotes concerning her. He went to visit her in Britany, a great undertaking for a Parisian. The chevalier de Méré, one of the most affected and exaggerated of the _Précieuses_, and also the count de Lude, whom Ménage mentions as one of the four distinguished sayers of _bon mots_ of the time, were chief among her friends and admirers.

Her cousin Bussy-Rabutin quarrelled with her. The occasion is not known; but it is suspected that she refused to exert herself to re-establish him in the favour of Fouquet, who was displeased with him. The infamy of his proceeding is almost unexampled. He included mention of her in the portion of his scandalous publication of the "Amours des Gaules" published 1659. In this he does not accuse her of misconduct, but he represents her economy as avarice, her friendship as coquetry; and added to this the outrage of raking up and publishing the misfortunes of her married life, which, though they redounded to her credit, must have deeply hurt a woman of feeling and delicacy. She never forgave her cousin; and, though afterwards reconciled to him, it is evident that she never regarded him with esteem. In addition to this annoyance, her career was not entirely sunny. Her warm heart felt bitterly the misfortunes that befel her friends. Her first sorrow of this kind was the imprisonment, banishment, and adversity of cardinal de Retz. He deserved his downfall,--but not in her eyes. She only saw his talents and amiable qualities; and viewed in him a powerful friend, now overthrown. His imprisonment embittered two years of her life. Her husband's uncle, the chevalier de Sévigné, took an active part in his escape from the citadel of Nantes; but this did not restore him to his friends. He was obliged to take refuge in Spain; and did not return to France for many years, when he came back an altered man.

Her next misfortune was the fall and banishment of Fouquet. It speaks highly for madame de Sévigné's good sense and superior qualities that, while refusing a man who, in other instances, showed himself presuming from success with other women, she should secure him as a friend. The secret lay in her own feelings of friendship, which being sincere, and yet strictly limited, she acquired his esteem as well as affection. Fouquet was a munificent and generous man, of a superior understanding and unbounded ambition. He dissipated the finances of the state as he spent his own; but he could bestow as well as take, as he proved when, on getting his place of procureur-general to the parliament, he sent in the price (14,000 francs) to the public treasury. The entertainment he gave Louis XIV. at Vaux, which cost 18,000,000 of francs, was the seal of his ruin, already suggested to the king by Colbert. He had made the monarch, already all powerful, fear his victim. Louis fancied that Fouquet had fortified Belle Isle, and that he had a strong party within and without the kingdom. This was a mere mistake, inspired by the superintendent's enemies, to ensure his fall. Madame de Sévigné, Pelisson, Gourville, and mademoiselle Scuderi were his chief friends: joined to these was Pelisson, his confidential clerk. He shared the fall of his master, and was imprisoned in the Bastille; but, undeterred by fear from this, defended him with great eloquence. The simple-minded, true-hearted La Fontaine was another of his firm friends in adversity. The suit against him was carried on for three years. He was pursued with the utmost acrimony and violence by Colbert, Le Tellier, secretary of state, and his rival in credit, and Séguier, the chancellor. During his trial, madame de Sévigné wrote daily to M. de Pomponne, afterwards minister, relating its progress. These letters are very interesting, both from the anecdotes they contain, and the warmth of feeling the writer displays. Fouquet was treated with the utmost harshness by the chancellor Séguier, whom he answered with spirit, preserving through all a presence of mind, a composure, a dignity, and resolution, which is the more admirable, since, in those days, there was no humiliation of language to which the subjects of Louis XIV. did not descend, and think becoming, as addressed to the absolute arbiter of their destiny.

The sort of interest and terror excited about him is manifest, by the fact, that madame de Sévigné masked herself when she went to see him return from the court, where he was tried, to the Bastille, his prison.[63] His trial lasted for more than a month. The proceedings against him were carried on with the utmost irregularity; and this and other circumstances--the length of time that had elapsed, which turned the excitement against him into compassion; the earnestness of the solicitations in his favour, together with the virulence with which he was persecuted,--all these things saved his life. Madame de Sévigné announces this news with delight:--"Praise God, and thank him! Our poor friend is saved! Thirteen sided with M. d'Ormesson (_who voted for banishment_), nine with Sainte Helene, (_whose voice was for death_). I am beside myself with joy. How delightful and consolatory must this news be to you; and what inconceivable pleasure do those moments impart which deliver the heart and the thoughts from such terrible anxiety. It will belong before I recover from the joy I felt yesterday: it is really too complete; I could scarcely bear it. The poor man learnt the news by air (_by means of signals_) a few moments after; and I have no doubt he felt it in all its extent." The king, however, abated this joy. He had been taught to believe that Fouquet was dangerous: fancying this, he of course felt, that, as an exile, he would enjoy every facility for carrying on his schemes. He changed the sentence of banishment into perpetual imprisonment in Pignerol. Fouquet was separated from his wife and family, and from his most faithful servants. At first his friends hoped that his hard fate would be softened. "We hope," writes madame de Sévigné, "for some mitigation: hope has used me too well for me to abandon it. We must follow the example of the poor prisoner: he is gay and tranquil; let us be the same." The king, however, continued inexorable. He remained long in prison: a doubt hangs over the conclusion of his life; and it is not known whether he remained a prisoner to the end. He died in 1680.[64]

When Fouquet's papers were seized, there were among them a multitude of letters which compromised the reputations of several women of quality. Madame de Sévigné had been in the habit of corresponding with him. The secretary of state, Tellier, declared that her letters were _les plus honnêtes du monde_; but they were written unguardedly, in all the thoughtlessness of youth. She apprehended some annoyance from their having fallen into the hands of the enemy, and thought it right to retire into the country. Bussy-Rabutin put himself forward at this moment to support her: a reconciliation ensued between them,--not very cordial, but which, for some time, continued uninterrupted.

Madame de Sévigné's retreat was not of long continuance. It took place when Fouquet was first arrested, and she returned to court long before his trial. Her daughter was presented in 1663. [Sidenote: 1664. Ætat. 38.] The following year was rendered remarkable by the brilliancy of the _fêtes_ given at Versailles.[65] The carousals or tournaments were splendid, from the number of combatants and the magnificence of the dresses and accoutrements. The personages that composed the tournament passed in review before the assembled court. [Sidenote: 1665. Ætat. 39.] The king represented Roger. All the diamonds of the crown were lavished on his dress and the harness of his horse: his page bore his shield, whose device was composed by Benserade, who had a happy talent for composing these slight commemorations of the feelings and situation of the real person, mingled with an apt allusion to the person represented. The queen, attended by three hundred ladies, witnessed the review from under triumphal arches. Amidst this crowd of ladies, lost in it to all but the heart of Louis, and shrinking from observation, was mademoiselle de la Vallière, the real object of the monarch's magnificent display. The cavalcade was followed by an immense gilt car, representing the chariot of the sun. It was surrounded by the four Ages, the Seasons, and the Hours. Shepherds arranged the lists, and other characters recited verses written for the occasion. The tournament over, the feast succeeded, and, darkness being come, the place was illuminated by 4000 flambeaux. Two hundred persons, dressed as fauns, sylvans, and dryads, together with shepherds, reapers, and vine-dressers, served at the numerous tables; a theatre arose, as if by magic, behind the tables; the arcades that surrounded the whole circuit were ornamented with 500 girandoles of green and silver, and a gilt balustrade shut in the whole. Molière's play of the "Princesse d'Elide," agreeable at the time from the allusions it contained, his comedy of the "Marriage Forcée," and three acts of the "Tartuffe," added the enduring stamp of genius to mere outward show and splendour. Mademoiselle de Sévigné appeared in these _fêtes_. In 1663 she represented a shepherdess in a ballet; and the verses which Benserade wrote for her to repeat show that she was held in consideration as one of the most charming beauties of the court, and as the daughter of one of its loveliest and most respected ornaments. In 1664 she appeared as Cupid disguised, as a Nereid[66]; and as Omphale in 1665. We must not forget that at this very time, while enjoying her daughter's success, madame de Sévigné was interesting herself warmly for Fouquet. The favour of a court could not make her forget her friends. Her chief object of interest, as personally regarded herself at this time, was the marriage of her daughter. Her son was in the army. When only nineteen he joined the expedition undertaken by the dukes of Noailles and Beaufort for the succour of Candia. On this, madame de Sévigné writes to the comte de Bussy,--"I suppose you know that my son is gone to Candia with M. de Roannes and the comte de Saint Paul. He mentioned it to M. de Turenne, to cardinal de Retz, and to M. de la Rochefoucauld. These gentlemen so approved his design that it was resolved on and made public before I knew any thing of it. He is gone. I wept his departure bitterly, and am deeply afflicted. I shall not have a moment's repose during this expedition. I see all the dangers, and they destroy me; but I am not the mistress. On such occasions mothers have no voice." She had foundation for anxiety, for few among the officers that accompanied this expedition ever returned. The baron de Sévigné was, however, among these: he had distinguished himself; and, as the foundation for his military career, his mother bought for him, at a large pecuniary sacrifice, the commission of _guidon_, or ensign, in the regiment of the dauphin. The marriage of her daughter was a still more important object. _La plus jolie fille de France_ she delights in naming her; yet it was long before she was satisfied with any of those who pretended to her hand. At length the count de Grignan offered himself. [Sidenote: 1669. Ætat. 43.] He was a widower of two marriages: he was not young, yet his offer pleased the young lady, and possessed many advantages in the eyes of the mother, on account of the excellent character which he bore, his rank, and his wealth. "I must tell you a piece of news," madame de Sévigné writes to the count de Bussy, "which will doubtless delight you. At length, the prettiest woman in Fiance is about to marry, not the handsomest youth, but the most excellent man in the kingdom. You have long known M. de Grignan. All his wives are dead to make room for your cousin, as well as, through wonderful luck, his father and his son; so that, being richer than he ever was, and being, through his birth, his position, and his good qualities, such as we desire, we conclude at once. The public appears satisfied, and that is much, for one is silly enough to be greatly influenced by it."

Soon after this period the correspondence began which contains the history of the life of madame de Sévigné,--a life whose migrations were not much more important than those of the Vicar of Wakefield, "from the blue bed to the brown;" her residence in Paris being varied only by journeys to her estate in Britany, or by visits to her daughter in Provence. But such was the vivacity of her mind, and the sensibility of her heart, that these changes, including separations from and meetings with her daughter, assume the guise of important events, bringing in their train heart-breaking grief, or abundant felicity.

When she accepted M. de Grignan as her son-in-law, she fancied that, by marrying her daughter to a courtier, they would pass their lives together. But, soon after, M. de Grignan, who was lieutenant-general to the duke de Vendôme, governor of Provence, received an order to repair to the government, where he commanded during the almost uninterrupted absence of the duke. This was a severe blow. Her child torn from her, she was as widowed a second time: her only consolation was in the hope of reunion, and in a constant and voluminous correspondence. Mother and daughter interchanged letters twice a week. As their lives are undiversified by events, we wonder what interest can be thrown over so long a series, which is often a mere reiteration of the same feelings and the same thoughts. Here lie the charm and talent of madame de Sévigné. Her warm heart and vivacious intellect exalted every emotion, vivified every slight event, and gave the interest of talent and affection to every thought and every act. Her letters are the very reverse of prosy; and though she writes of persons known to her daughter and unknown to us, and in such hints as often leave much unexplained, yet her pen is so graphic, her style so easy and clear, pointed and finished, even in its sketchiness, that we become acquainted with her friends, and take interest in the monotonous course of her life. To give an idea of her existence, as well as of her correspondence, we will touch on the principal topics.

In the first place, we must give some account of the person to whom they were addressed. Madame la comtesse de Grignan was a very different person from her mother. From some devotional scruples she destroyed all her own letters, so that we cannot judge of their excellence; but there can be no doubt that she was a very clever woman. She studied and loved the philosophy of Descartes; and it is even suspected that she was, in her youth, something of an esprit fort in her opinions. She conducted herself admirably as a wife; she was an anxious but not a tender mother. Here was the grand difference between her and her mother. The heart of madame de Sévigné overflowed with sympathy and tenderness; her daughter, endowed with extreme good sense, wit, and a heart bent on the fulfilment of her duties, had no tenderness of disposition. She left her eldest child, a little girl, behind her, in Paris, almost from the date of its birth. Apparently this poor child had some defect which determined her destiny in a convent from her birth; for her mother seems afraid of showing kindness, and shut her up at the age of nine in the religious house where afterwards she assumed the veil; her vocation to the state being very problematical. It was through the continual remonstrances and representations of madame de Sévigné that she kept her youngest daughter at home. She was more alive to maternal affection towards her son; but this was mixed with the common feeling of interest in the heir of her house. There was something hard in her character that sometimes made her mother's intense affection a burden. Madame de Sévigné's distinctive quality was amiability: we should say that her daughter was decidedly unamiable. These were, to a great degree, the faults of a young person, probably of temper: they disappeared afterwards, when experience taught her feeling, and time softened the impatience of youth. We find a perfect harmony between mother and daughter subsist during the latter years of the life of the former, and repose succeed to the more stormy early intercourse. Madame de Grignan, prudent and anxious by nature, spent a life of considerable care. The expenses of her husband's high situation, and his own extravagant tastes, caused him to spend largely. Her son entered life early, and his career was the object of great solicitude. Her health was precarious. All this was excitement for her mother's sympathy; and her letters are full of earnest discussion, intense anxiety, or lively congratulation on the objects of her daughter's interest, and her well-being.

The next object of her affection, and subject of her pen, was her son. He was a man of wit and talent; but the thoughtlessness, the what the French call _légèreté_ of his character, caused his mother much anxiety, at the same time that his good spirits, his confidence in her, and his amiable temper, contributed to her happiness. She often calls him the best company in the world; and laments, at the same time, his pursuits and ill luck. He was a favourite of the best society in Paris, and, among others, of the famous Ninon de l'Enclos. Ninon had many great and good qualities; but madame de Sévigné's dislike to her dated far back, and was justifiably founded on the conduct of her husband. At the age of thirty-five Ninon had been the successful rival of a young and blooming wife; at that of fifty-five the son wore her chains.[67] Madame de Sévigné could never reconcile herself to this intimacy. "She spoiled your father," she writes to madame de Grignan, while she relates the methods used to attach her son. Sometimes this son, who was brave, and eager to distinguish himself, was exposed to the dangers of war; sometimes he spent his time at court, where he waited on the dauphin, squandering time and money among the courtiers, charming the circle by his vanity and wit, but gaining no advancement; sometimes he accompanied his mother to Britany; and we find him enlivening her solitude, and bestowing on her the tenderest filial attentions. He was an unlucky man. He got no promotion in the army, and, being too impatient for a courtier, soon got wearied of waiting for advancement. He perplexed his mother by his earnest wish to sell his commission; and the failure in her projects of marriage for him annoyed her still more. At length he chose for himself: renouncing his military employments, retiring from the court, and even from Paris, he married a lady of his own province, and fixed himself entirely in Britany. His wife was an amiable, quiet, unambitious person, with a turn for devotion, which increased through the circumstance of their having no children. Madame de Sévigné was too pious to lament this, now that the destiny of her son was decided as obscure, and that she saw him happy: on the contrary, she rejoiced in finding him adopt religious principles, which rendered his life peaceful, and his character virtuous.