第36章 CHAPTER VII. (3)

The picture we have of La Rochefoucauld from the pen of Mme. de Sevigne has small resemblance to the ideal that one forms of the cynical author of the Maxims. He had come out of the storms of the Fronde a sad and disappointed man. The fires of his nature seem to have burned out with the passions of his youth, if they had ever burned with great intensity. "I have seen love nowhere except in romances," he says, and even his devotion to Mme. de Longueville savors more of the ambitious courtier than of the lover. His nature was one that recoiled from all violent commotions of the soul. The cold philosophy of the Maxims marked perhaps the reaction of his intellect against the disenchanting experiences of his life. In the tranquil atmosphere of Mme. de Sable he found a certain mental equilibrium; but his character was finally tempered and softened by the gentle influence of Mme. de La Fayette, whose exquisite poise and delicacy were singularly in harmony with a nature that liked nothing in exaggeration. "I have seen him weep with a tenderness that made me adore him," writes Mme. de Sevigne, after the death of his mother. "The heart or M. de La Rochefoucauld for his family is a thing incomparable." When the news came that his favorite grandson had been killed in battle, she says again: "I have seen his heart laid bare in this cruel misfortune; he ranks first among all I have ever known for courage, fortitude, tenderness, and reason; I count for nothing his esprit and his charm." In all the confidences of the two women, La Rochefoucauld makes a third. He seems always to be looking over the shoulder of Mme. de La Fayette while she writes to the one who "satisfies his idea of friendship in all its circumstances and dependences"; adding usually a message, a line or a pretty compliment to Mme. de Grignan that is more amiable than sincere, because he knows it will gladden the heart of her adoring mother.

The side of Mme. de La Fayette which has the most fascination for us is this intimate life of which Mme. de Sevigne gives such charming glimpses. For a moment it was her ambition to establish a popular salon, a role for which she had every requisite of position, talent, and influence. "She presumed very much upon her esprit," says Gourville, who did not like her, "and proposed to fill the place of the Marquise de Sable, to whom all the young people were in the habit of paying great deference, because, after she had fashioned them a little, it was a passport for entering the world; but this plan did not succeed, as Mme. de La Fayette was not willing to give her time to a thing so futile."

One can readily understand that it would not have suited her tastes or her temperament. Besides, her health was too delicate, and her moods were too variable. "You know how she is weary sometimes of the same thing," wrote Mme. de Sevigne. But she had her coterie, which was brilliant in quality if not in numbers.

The fine house with its pretty garden, which may be seen today opposite the Petit Luxembourg, was a favorite meeting place for a distinguished circle. The central figure was La Rochefoucauld.

Every day he came in and seated himself in the fauteuil reserved for him. One is reminded of the little salon in the Abbaye-aux-

Bois, where more than a century later Chateaubriand found the pleasure and the consolation of his last days in the society of Mme. Recamier. They talk, they write, they criticize each other, they receive their friends. The Cardinal de Retz comes in, and they recall the fatal souvenirs of the Fronde. Perhaps he thinks of the time when he found the young Mlle. De LaVergne pretty and amiable, and she did not smile upon him. The Prince de Conde is there sometimes, and honors her with his confidence, which Mme. de Sevigne thinks very flattering, as he does not often pay such consideration to women. Segrais has transferred his allegiance from the Grande Mademoiselle to Mme. de La Fayette, and is her literary counselor as well as a constant visitor. La Fontaine, "so well known by his fables and tales, and sometimes so heavy in conversation," may be found there. Mme. de Sevigne comes almost every day with her sunny face and her witty story. "The Mist" she calls Mme. de La Fayette, who is so often ill and sad. She might have called herself The Sunbeam, though she, too, has her hours when she can only dine tete-a-tete with her friend, because she is "so gloomy that she cannot support four people together."

Mme. de Coulanges adds her graceful, vivacious, and sparkling presence. Mme. Scarron, before her days of grandeur, is frequently of the company, and has lost none of the charm which made the salon of her poet-husband so attractive during his later years. "She has an amiable and marvelously just mind," says Mme. de Sevigne. . . "It is pleasant to hear her talk. These conversations often lead us very far, from morality to morality, sometimes Christian, sometimes political." This circle was not limited however to a few friends, and included from time to time the learning, the elegance and the aristocracy of Paris.