The Women of the French Salons
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第16章 CHAPTER III. (4)

Intelligence, taste, and politeness were in fashion. Those who did not possess them put on their semblance, and, affecting an intellectual tone, fell into the pedantry which is sure to grow out of the effort to speak above one's altitude. The fine-spun theories of Mlle. de Scudery also reached a sentimental climax in "Clelie," which did not fail of its effect. Platonic love and the ton galant were the texts for innumerable follies which finally reacted upon the Samedis. After a few years, they lost their influence and were discontinued. But Mlle. de Scudery retained the position which her brilliant gifts and literary fame had given her, and was the center of a choice circle of friends until a short time before her death at the ripe age of ninety-four.

Even Tallemant, writing of the decline of these reunions, says, "Mlle. De Scudery is more considered than ever." At sixty-four she received the first Prix D'Eloquence from the Academie Francaise, for an essay on Glory. This prize was founded by Balzac, and the subject was specified. Thus the long procession of laureates was led by a woman.

In spite of her subtle analysis of love, and her exact map of the Empire of Tenderness, the sentiment of the "Illustrious Sappho" seems to have been rather ideal. She had numerous adorers, of whom Conrart and Pellisson were among the most devoted. During the long imprisonment of the latter for supposed complicity with Fouquet, she was of great service to him, and the tender friendship ended only with his life, upon which she wrote a touching eulogy at its close. But she never married. She feared to lose her liberty. "I know," she writes, "that there are many estimable men who merit all my esteem and who can retain a part of my friendship, but as soon as I regard them as husbands, I regard them as masters, and so apt to become tyrants that I must hate them from that moment; and I thank the gods for giving me an inclination very much averse to marriage."

It was the misfortune of Mlle. de Scudery to outlive her literary reputation. The interminable romances which had charmed the eloquent Flechier, the Grand Conde in his cell at Vincennes, the ascetic d'Andilly at Port Royal, as well as the dreaming maidens who signed over their fanciful descriptions and impossible adventures, passed their day. The touch of a merciless criticism stripped them of their already fading glory. Their subtle analysis and etherealized sentiment were declared antiquated, and fashion ran after new literary idols. It was Boileau who gave the severest blow. "This Despreaux," said Segrais, "knows how to do nothing else but talk of himself and criticize others; why speak ill of Mlle. de Scudery as he has done?"

There has been a disposition to credit the founder of the Samedis with many of the affectations which brought such deserved ridicule upon their bourgeois imitators, and to trace in her the original of Moliere's "Madelon." But Cousin has relieved her of such reproach, and does ample justice to the truth and sincerity of her character, the purity of her manners, and the fine quality of her intellect. He calls her "a sort of French sister of Addison." Perhaps her resemblance to one of the clearest, purest, and simplest of English essayists is not quite apparent on the surface; but as a moralist and a delineator of manners she may have done a similar work in her own way.

Sainte-Beuve, who has left so many vivid and exquisite portraits of his countrywomen, does not paint Mlle. de Scudery with his usual kindly touch. He admits her merit, her accomplishments, her versatility, and the perfect innocence of her life; but he finds her didactic, pedantic, and tiresome as a writer, and without charm or grace as a woman. Doubtless one would find it difficult to read her romances today. She lacks the genius which has no age and belongs to all ages. Her literary life pertains to the first half of the seventeenth century, when style had not reached the Attic purity and elegance of a later period. She was teacher rather than artist; but no one could be farther from a bas bleu, or more severe upon pedantry or pretension of any sort.