Mme. de Rambouillet was very particular in the choice of friends, and they were always sincere and devoted, knowing her to be undesirous of political favors and incapable of stooping to intrigue. Even Richelieu could not, as compensation to him for a favor to her husband, induce her to act as spy on some of the frequenters of her salon.

While not a woman of remarkable beauty, she was the personification of reason and virtue; her una.s.suming frankness, exquisite tact, and exceptional reserve discouraged all advances on the part of those gallants who frequented every mansion and were always prepared to lay siege to the heart of any fair woman. Her wide culture, versatility, modesty, goodness, fidelity, and disinterestedness caused her to be universally sought. Mlle. de Scudery, in her novel _Cyrus_, leaves a fine portrait of her:

"The spirit and soul of this marvellous person surpa.s.s by far her beauty: the first has no limits in its extent and the other has no equal in its generosity, goodness, justice, and purity. The intellect of Cleomire (Mme. de Rambouillet) is not like that of those whose minds have no brilliancy except that which nature has given them, for she has cultivated it carefully, and I think I can say that there are no _belles connaissances_ that she has not acquired. She knows various languages, and is ignorant of hardly anything that is worth knowing; but she knows it all without making a display of knowing it; and one would say, in hearing her talk, 'she is so modest that she speaks admirably of things, through simple common sense only'; on the contrary, she is versed in all things; the most advanced sciences are not beyond her, and she is perfectly acquainted with the most difficult arts. Never has any person possessed such a delicate knowledge as hers of fine works of prose and poetry; she judges them, however, with wonderful moderation, never abandoning _la bienseance_ (the seemliness) of her s.e.x, though she is far above it. In the whole court, there is not a person with any spirit and virtue that does not go to her house. Nothing is considered beautiful if it does not have her approval; no stranger ever comes who does not desire to see Cleomire and do her homage, and there are no excellent artisans who do not wish to have the glory of her approbation of their works. All people who write in Phenicie have sung her praises; and she possesses the esteem of everyone to such a marvellous degree that there is no one who has ever seen her who has not said thousands of favorable things about her--who has not been charmed likewise by her beauty, _esprit_, sweetness, and generosity."

Mlle. de Scudery describes the salon of Mme. de Rambouillet in the following:

"Cleomire (Mme. de Rambouillet) had built, according to her own design, a place which is one of the finest in the world; she has found the art of constructing a palace of vast extent in a situation of mediocre grandeur. Order, harmony, and elegance are in all the apartments, and in the furniture also; everything is magnificent, even unique; the lamps are different from those of other palaces, her cabinets are full of objects which show the judgment of her who chose them. In her palace, the air is always scented; many baskets full of magnificent flowers make a continual spring in her room, and the place which she frequents ordinarily is so agreeable and so imaginative as to make one feel as if she were in some enchanted place."

The very names of the frequenters of the salon of Mme. de Rambouillet testify to the prominence of her position in the world of culture: Mlle. de Scudery, Mlle. du Vigean; Mmes. de Longueville, de la Vergne, de La Fayette, de Sable, de Hautefort, de Sevigne, de la Suze, Marie de Gonzague, d.u.c.h.esse d'Aiguillon, Mmes. des Houlieres, Cornuel, Aubry, and their respective husbands; the great literary men: Rotrou, Scarron, Saint-Evremond, Malherbe, Racan, Chapelain, Voiture, Conrart, Benserade, Pellisson, Segrais, Vaugelas, Menage, Tallemant des Reaux, Balzac, Mairet, Corneille, Bossuet, etc. In the entire period of the French salon, no other such brilliant gathering of men and women of social standing, princely blood, genuine intelligence, and literary ability ever a.s.sembled from motives other than those of politics or intrigue; here was a gathering purely social and for purposes of mutual refinement. The n.o.bility went through a process of polishing, and the men of letters sharpened their intelligence and modified their manners and customs.

Julie, d.u.c.h.ess of Montausier, and Angelique, daughters of Mme. de Rambouillet, were popular, but the former lost much of her charm after she sacrificed her independence of thought and action by becoming governess of the children of the queen. Julie was the centre of attraction for all perfumed rhymesters, all sighers in prose and verse, who thronged about her. The stern and unbending Duke of Montausier was so under her influence that in 1641 he arranged and laid before her shrine the famous _guirlande_ which was ill.u.s.trated by Robert and to which nineteen authors contributed. After her marriage to the duke, the Hotel de Rambouillet may be said to have ceased to exist, as madame, who was seventy years of age, had for a number of years kept herself in the background, and Julie had become the acknowledged leader.

With the outbreak of the Fronde, friends were separated by their individual interests and the reunions at the salon were interrupted from about 1650 to 1652. After the death of her husband, Mme. de Rambouillet retired, to reside with her daughter, Mme. de Montausier; after that, she seldom appeared in public. She hardly lived to see the spirit of the salon changed to the real _preciosite_--the direction and aim she gave to it being gradually abandoned.

In her salon, for nearly fifty years, no pedantry, no loose manners, no questionable characters, no social or political intrigues, no discourtesies of any kind, were recorded; hers was a reign of dignity and grace, of purity of language, manners, and morals. She died in 1665, at the advanced age of seventy-seven, esteemed and mourned by the entire social and intellectual world of France. Her influence was incalculable; it was the first time in the history of France that refined taste, intellectuality, and virtue had won importance, influence, and power.

It must be remembered that in the first period of the salon there were no blue-stockings, no pedants: these were later developments. It was, primarily, a gathering which found pleasure in parties, excursions, concerts, b.a.l.l.s, fireworks, dramatic performances, living tableaux; the last form of amus.e.m.e.nt very strongly influenced the development of the art, for in the galleries there appeared a surprisingly large number of portraits of the women of the day in character--sometimes as a nymph, sometimes as a G.o.ddess.

The salon, in its first phase, showed and developed tolerance in religion as well as in art and literature. It also encouraged progress and displayed acute discrimination, keeping pace with the time in all that was new and meritorious. It developed individual liberty, public interest, criticism, good taste, and the elegant, clear, and precise conversational language in which France has excelled up to the present day.

When about to build the Hotel Pisani, Mme. de Rambouillet, having no love for architects, planned its construction without their a.s.sistance. She revolutionized the architecture of the time by introducing large and high doors and windows and putting the stairway to one side in order to secure a large suite of rooms. She was also the first to decorate a room in other colors than red or tan. The construction of her hotel completely changed domestic architecture; and it may be noted that when the Luxembourg was to be built, the designers were instructed to examine, for ideas, the Hotel de Rambouillet.

Legouve gives as the object and mission of Mme. de Rambouillet: "to combat the sensualism of Rabelais, Villon, and Marot, to reform society through love by reforming love through chast.i.ty; to place women at the head of civilization, by beginning a crusade against vice in the disguise of sentiment. The word 'fame' must, in the seventeenth century, apply to both man and woman, meaning honor for the one and purity for the other. Her ideal falls with the accession of Louis XIV.; the dazzling luxury of royalty hardly conceals, under its exterior elegance, the profound and deep-seated grossness of Versailles and Marly."

To Mme. de Rambouillet, then, belongs the distinction of having been the first to bring together men of letters and great lords on a footing of social equality and for mutual benefit. Her salon and friends continued in the seventeenth century what Marguerite d'Angouleme had begun in the first part of the sixteenth--an intellectual, social, and moral reform.

Many salons which were all more or less patterned after that of Rambouillet sprang into existence. Among these the Academy of the Vicomtesse d'Auchy, with Malherbe as president and tyrant, was of little influence as far as women were concerned. The members were all of second-rate importance, and Malherbe tolerated only the discussion of his verses, while Mme. d'Auchy was better known for her splendid neck than for any intellectuality. Every salon had a master of ceremonies, who performed the rite of presentation; these men were frequently abbes, and some of them, such as Du Buisson and Testu, became famous.

Among the most noted of these salons was that of the celebrated beauty, Ninon de Lenclos, she who called the _precieuses_ the "Jansenists of love," an expression which became very popular. Her salon was situated on the Rue des Tournelles. Ninon de Lenclos was a woman of the most brilliant mind and exquisite taste, and it was at her hotel that Moliere first read his _Tartuffe_ before Conde, La Fontaine, Boileau, Lulli, Racine, and Chapelle, and it was there that he received the princ.i.p.al ideas for his drama.

Ninon became famous for making staunch friends of her former lovers, in which connection some interesting tales are told. She was the mother of two children; upon the arrival of the first, a heated discussion arose between Count d'Estrees and Abbe d'Effiat, both claiming the honor of paternity. When the mother was consulted, she made no attempt to conceal her amus.e.m.e.nt; finally, the rivals threw dice for "father or not father."

The other child, whose father was the Marquis de Gersay, was the victim of an unnatural pa.s.sion for his mother with whom, when a young man, he fell desperately in love, being ignorant of their relation.

While pleading his cause, he learned from her lips the secret, and, in despair, blew out his brains, a tragedy which apparently had no effect upon the mother. At one time, at the request of the clergy Ninon was sent, for impiety, to the convent of the Benedictines at Lagny.

Among her friends she counted the greatest men and women of the day and her salon was the foyer of _savoir-vivre_, of letters and art. At the age of sixty she met the Great Conde, who dismounted to greet her, something that he very seldom did, as he was not in the habit of paying compliments to women. The saying: _Elle eut l'estime de Lenclos_ [she had the esteem of Lenclos] became a popular manner of expressing the fact that a certain woman was especially esteemed. Even to the last (she died at the age of eighty-five), Ninon preserved her grace, beauty, and intelligence. Colombey calls her _La mere spirituelle de Voltaire_ [the spiritual mother of Voltaire].

The generality of women had their lovers; even the famous Mlle. de Scudery, in spite of her homeliness--she was a dark, large-boned, and lean sort of old maid--had admirers galore; among the latter was Pellisson who was said to be so ugly "that he really abused the privilege--which man enjoys--of being homely."

The hotel of the famous poet Scarron--Hotel de l'Impecuniosite--received almost all the frequenters of Ninon's salon.

At the former place there were no restrictions as to the manner of enjoyment; after elevating and edifying conversation at the salon of Ninon, the members would repair to that of Scarron for a feast of _broutilles rabelaisiennes_ [Rabelaisian tidbits].

The salon of Mme. de Montbazon had its frequenters who, however, were attracted mainly by her beauty; she was, to use the words of one of her friends, "One of those beauties that delight the eye and provoke a vigorous appet.i.te." Her salon was one of suitors rather than of intellectuality or harmless sociability.

The most famous of the men's salons was the Temple, constructed in 1667 by Jacques de Souvre and conducted from 1681 to 1720 by Phillipe de Vendome and his intendant, Abbe de Chaulieu. These reunions, especially under the latter, were veritable midnight _convivia_; he himself boasted of never having gone to bed one night in thirty years without having been carried there dead drunk, a custom to which he remained "faithful unto death." His boon companion was La d.u.c.h.esse de Bouillon. Most of his frequenters were jolly good persons, utterly dest.i.tute of the sense of sufficiency in matters of carousing; the better people declined his invitations.

After that of Mme. de Rambouillet, there were, in the seventeenth century, but two great salons that exerted a lasting influence and that were not saturated with the decadent _preciosite_. Of these the salon of Mlle. de Scudery has been called the salon of the _bourgeoisie_, because the majority of its frequenters belonged to the third estate, which was rapidly acquiring power and influence.

Mlle. de Scudery, who was born in 1608 and lived through the whole century, saw society develop, and therefore knew it better than did any of her contemporaries. Having lost her parents early in life, her uncle reared her and she received advantages such as fell to the lot of few women of her condition; she was given an excellent education in literature, art, and the languages.

Until the marriage of her brother, she was his constant and devoted companion, exiling herself to Ma.r.s.eilles when he was appointed governor of Notre Dame de La Garde, and returning to Paris with him in 1647. She first collaborated with him in a literary production of about eighty volumes. In their works, the brother furnished the rough draft, the dramatic episodes, adventures, and the Romanesque part, while she added the literary finish through charming character sketches, conversation, sentimental a.n.a.lyses, and letters. With a strong inclination toward society, and constantly fulfilling its obligations, she would from day to day write up her conversations of the evening before.

An interesting anecdote is told in connection with the travels and cooperation of Mlle. de Scudery and her brother; once, on the way to Paris, while stopping over night at Lyons, they were discussing the fate of one of their heroes, one proposing death and the other rescue, one poison and the other a more cruel death; a gentleman from Auvergne happened to overhear them and immediately notified the people of the inn, thinking it was a question of a.s.sa.s.sinating the king; the brother and sister were thrown into prison and only with great difficulty were they able to explain matters the next morning. From this incident Scribe drew the material for his drama, _L'Auberge ou les Brigands sans le Savoir_.

At the Hotel de Rambouillet where Mlle. de Scudery was received early, she won everyone by her modesty, simplicity, _esprit_, and lovable disposition, and, in spite of her homeliness and poor figure, she attracted many platonic lovers. She was one of the few brilliant and famous women of the seventeenth century whose popularity was due solely to admirable qualities of mind and soul. With her, friendship became a cult, and it was in time of trouble that her friends received the strongest proof of her affection. She preferred to incur disgrace and the disfavor of Mazarin rather than forsake Conde and Madame de Longueville; to them she dedicated the ten volumes, successively, of her novel, _Cyrus_; the last volume was published after Mme. de Longueville's retirement and partial disgrace.

After the brilliant society of the Hotel de Rambouillet had been broken up by the marriage of Julie and the operations of the Fronde, and after her brother's marriage in 1654, Mlle. de Scudery became independent and established the custom of receiving her friends on Sat.u.r.day; these receptions became famous under the name of _Samedi_, and besides the regular rather bourgeois gathering, the most brilliant talent and highest n.o.bility flocked to them, regardless of rank or station, wealth or influence. Pellisson, the great master, the prince, the Apollo of her Sat.u.r.days, was a man of wonderfully inventive genius, and possessed in a higher degree than any of his contemporaries the art of inventing surprises for the society that lived on novelty. When, on account of his devotion to Fouquet, he was imprisoned in the Bastille, Mlle. de Scudery managed to persuade Colbert to brighten his confinement by permitting him to see friends and relatives. Part of every day she spent in his prison, conversing and reading; and this is but one instance of her fidelity and friendship.

Mlle. de Scudery, considering all men as aspirants for authority who, when husbands, degenerate into tyrants, preferred to retain her independence. Her ideas on love were very peculiar and were innovations at the time: she wished to be loved, but her love must be friendship--a pure, platonic love, in which her lover must be her all, her confidant, the partic.i.p.ator in her sorrows and her conversation; and his happiness must be in her alone; he must, without feeling pa.s.sion, love her for herself, and she must have the same feeling toward him. These sentiments are expressed in her novels, from which the following extracts are taken:

"When friendship becomes love in the heart of a lover or when this love is mingled with friendship without destroying it, there is nothing so sweet as this kind of love; for as violent as it is, it is always held somewhat more in check than is ordinary love; it is more durable, more tender, more respectful, and even more ardent, although it is not subject to so many tumultuous caprices as is that love which arises without friendship. It can be said that love and friendship flow together like two streams, the more celebrated of which obscures the name of the other." ... "They agreed on even the conditions of their love; for Phaon solemnly promised Sapho (Mlle. de Scudery)--who desired it thus--not to ask of her anything more than the possession of her heart, and she, also, promised him to receive only him in hers.

They told each other all their thoughts, they understood them even without confessing them. Peace, however, was not so completely established that their affection could not become languishing or cool; for, although they loved each other as much as one can love, they at times complained of not being loved enough, and they had sufficient little difficulties to always leave something new to wish for; but they never had any troubles that were serious enough to essentially disturb their repose."

Mlle. de Scudery was mistress of the art of conversation, speaking without affectation and equally well on all affairs, serious, light, or gallant; she objected, however, to being called a _savante_, and she was far from resembling the false _precieuses_ to whom she was likened by her enemies. The occupations of her salon were somewhat different from those of the salon of Mme. de Rambouillet. M. du Bled describes them as follows:

"What they did in the salon of Mlle. de Scudery you can guess readily: they amused themselves as at Mme. de Rambouillet's, they joked quite cheerfully, smiled and laughed, wrote farces in prose and poetry. There were readings, _loteries d'esprit_, sonnet-enigmas, _bouts-rimes_ (rhymes given to be formed into verse), _vers-echos_, fine literary joustings, discussions between the casuists. This salon had its talkers and speakers, those who tyrannized over the audience and those who charmed it, those who shot off fireworks and those who prepared them, those who had made a symphony of conversation and those who made of it a monologue and had no flashes of silence. They did not follow fashion there--they rather made it; in art and literature as in toilets, smallness follows the fashion, pretension exaggerates it, taste makes a compact with it."

A specimen of the _enigme-sonnets_ may be of interest, to show in what intellectual playfulness and trivialities these wits indulged:

"Souvent, quoique leger, je la.s.se qui me porte.

Un mot de ma facon vaut un ample discours.

J'ai sous Louis le Grand commence d'avoir cours, Mince, long, plat, etroit, d'une etoffe peu forte.

"Les doigts les moins savants me taillent de la sorte; Sous mille noms divers je parais tous les jours; Aux valets etourdis je suis d'un grand secours.

Le Louvre ne voit point ma figure a sa porte.

"Une grossiere main vient la plupart du temps Me prendre de la main des plus honnetes gens.

Civil, officieux, je suis ne pour la ville.

"Dans le plus rude hiver j'ai le dos toujours nu: Et, quoique fort commode, a peine m'a-t-on vu, Qu'ausitot neglige, je deviens inutile."

[Often, although light, I weary the person who carries me. A word in my manner is worth a whole discourse. I began under Louis the Great to be in vogue,--slight, long, flat, narrow, of a very slight material.

The most unskilled fingers cut me in their way; under a thousand different forms I appear every day; I am a great aid to the astonished valets. The Louvre does not see my face at its door.

A coa.r.s.e hand most of the time receives me from the hand of the nicest people. Civil, officious, I am born for the city.

In the coldest weather, my back is always bare; and, although quite convenient, scarcely have they seen me, when I am neglected and useless.--Visiting card.]

A more interesting one and one that caused no little amus.e.m.e.nt is the following:

"Je suis niais et fin, honnete et malhonnete, Moins sincere a la cour qu'en un simple taudis.

Je fais d'un air plaisant trembler les plus hardis, Le fort me laisse aller, le sage m'arrete.

"A personne sans moi l'on ne fait jamais fete: J'embellis quelquefois, quelquefois, j'enlaidis.

Je dedaigne tantot, tantot j'applaudis; Pour m'avoir en partage, il faut n'etre pas bete.