His wife, a relation of le Tellier and Louvois, enjoyed the reputation of a wit, as well as of being the most charming woman in Paris. She had good sense, and was often annoyed by her husband's thoughtlessness, which caused him to degenerate at times into buffoonery; while her repartees and letters caused her to be universally cited and esteemed[69]; and her easy agreeable conversation made her the delight of every one who knew her. The airiness of her mind is well expressed in the names madame de Sévigné gives her in her correspondence: la Mouche, la Feuille, la Sylphide all denote a mixture of lightness, gaiety, and grace, with a touch of coquetry, and the piquancé of wit, whose point was sharp, but free from venom. When madame de Maintenon became the chief lady in the kingdom, she was charmed to have near her this early friend and amusing companion. Madame de Coulanges frequented court assiduously, but she enjoyed no place. Her species of intellect was characteristic of the times. The conceits, mystifications, and metaphysical flights of the Hôtel de Rambouillet had given place to wit, and to sententious and pointed, yet perspicuous and natural, turns of expression. Truth and clearness, and a certain sort of art, that shrouded itself in an appearance of simplicity, was the tone aimed at by those who wished to shine. Equivokes, sous-entendres, metaphors, and antithesis, all kinds of trifles, sarcastic or laudatory, were lightly touched on, coloured for a moment with rainbow-hues, and vanished as fast: these were the fashion; and no conversation was more replete with these, and yet freer from obvious pretension, than that of madame de Coulanges. It is true that there must always be a sort of pedantry in an adherence to a fashion; but, when the manner is graceful, smiling, unaffected, and original, the pretension is lost in the pleasure derived. All this was natural to madame de Coulanges. Her confessor said of her. "Each of this lady's sins is an epigram." When recovering from a severe illness, madame de Sévigné announced, as the sign of her convalescence, "Epigrams are beginning to be pointed;" not that by epigrams sarcasms were meant, but merely novel turns of expression, words wittily applied, ideas full of finesse, that pleased by their originality. She and her husband were, perhaps, too much alike to accord well: she was annoyed at his want of dignity, and the heedlessness that, joined to her extravagance, left them poor and himself unconsidered. He liked to be where he was more at his ease than in his wife's company. Her faults, however, diminished as she grew old. She learnt to appreciate the court at its true value. She ceased her attendance on madame de Maintenon; but her intimacy with Ninon de l'Enclos continued to the end of her life. The ingratitude of her court friends, the smallness of her fortune, her advancing age, and consequent loss of beauty, and her weak health, rendered her neither crabbed nor sad: on the contrary, she became indulgent, gentle, and contented.
Her husband preserved his characteristics to the end. When exhorted by a preacher to more serious habits, he replied by an impromptu:—
"Je voudrois, à mon âge,
Il en seroit le temps,
Etre moins volage
Que les jeunes gens,
Et mettre en usage
D'un vieillard bien sage
Tous les sentimens.
"Je voudrois du viel homme
Etre séparé;
Le morceau de pomme
N'est pas digéré."[70]
He died at the advanced age of eighty.
During the earlier portion of the correspondence, madame Scarron figures as one of the favourite guests of the Fauxbourg. Her husband was dead, and she was living at the Hôtel d'Albret, among her earliest friends. The latter correspondence is full of anecdotes about her, as madame de Maintenon, and indicate her gradual advancement; but those which speak of her early days, when she was the char&i and ornament of her circle, merely through her talents, and agreeable and excellent qualities, are the most interesting.
Corbinelli was another chief friend of madame de Sévigné. He was descended from an Italian, who came into France on the marriage of Catherine de Medici and Henry II. His father was attached to marshal d'Ancre, and was enveloped in his ruin. We have no details of his actual circumstances, except that, although he was poor, his position in society was brilliant. A stranger, without employment, without fortune or rank, he was sought, esteemed, and loved by the first society; while his character presents many contradictions. Studious and accomplished, a man of learning and science, he only wrote compilations. Something of a sceptic, he studied religion, and became a quietist. Pitied by his friends, as neither rich nor great, he passed a happy life; and, though always in ill health, his life was prolonged to more than a century. He was one of madame de Sévigné's most familiar friends. In early life he had had employments under cardinal Mazarin. He was a friend of the marquis de Vardes, and shared the disgrace he incurred, together with Bussy-Rabutin and others, on account of certain letters fabricated, pretending to be written by the king of Spain, for the purpose of informing his sister, the queen of France, of Louis XIV.'s attachment for mademoiselle de la Vallière. This event was fatal to his fortunes; but it developed his talents, since he made use of the leisure afforded by his retreat for the purpose of study. He applied himself to the theories of Descartes, and became deeply versed in classic literature. At one time he turned his attention to the study of law, but soon threw it aside with disgust: his clear and comprehensive understanding was utterly alien to the contradictions, subterfuges, and confusion of old French law. In religion, he sided with the mystics and quietists; but was more of a philosopher than a religionist; and chose his party for its being more allied to protestant tenets, and because, M. de Sévigné says, his mysticism freed him from the necessity of going to mass. He was a mixture of Stoic and Epicurean. He would not go half a league on horseback, he said, to seek a throne. And thus he harmonised his temper with his fortunes, for he was an unlucky man. "His merit brings him ill luck," madame de la Fayette said. It may be added that it brought also a contented mind, a friendly disposition, and calm studious habits. An amusing anecdote is told of his presence of mind in extricating himself from a dilemma in which he was placed.
Louis XIV. learnt that the prince of Conti, and other young and heedless nobles of high rank, had, at a certain supper, uttered various sarcasms against, and told stories to the discredit of, himself and madame de Maintenon. The king wished to learn the details, and sent D'Argenson to inquire of Corbinelli, who was supposed to have been at the supper. Corbinelli was by this time grown old and deaf. "Where did you sup on such an evening?" asked D'Argenson. "I do not remember," the other replied. "Are you acquainted with such and such princes?" "I forget." "Did you not sup with them?" "I do not in the least remember?" "It seems to me that a man like you ought to recollect these things." "True, sir, but before a man like you, I am not a man like myself." Madame de Sévigné's correspondence with this accomplished and valued friend is lost, but her letters to her daughter are full of expressions of esteem and friendship towards him.
Thus, in her letters, we find all the events of the day alluded to in the tone used by this distinguished society. Some of the observations are witty and amusing; others remarkable for their truth, founded on a just and delicate knowledge of the human heart.[71] These are mingled with details of the events of the day. We may mention, among others, the letters that regard the death of Turenne. The glory that lighted up that name shines with peculiar brilliancy in her pages. His heroism, gentleness, and generosity are all recorded with enthusiasm.[72]] Sometimes her letters record the gossip, sometimes the bon mots, of the day; and each finds its place, and is told with grace, simplicity, and ease.