Lives of Celebrated Women

by Samuel G. Goodrich

When Maria was about a year and a half old, the English made a descent upon the Island of Rhé; and her father placed himself at the head of a party of gentlemen who volunteered to assist in repelling them, in which honorable service he lost his life. His widow survived him five years. She was the daughter of a secretary of state, and her family, that of De Coulanges, belonged to the class of nobility who owed that distinction to civil services, and who were known as “nobles of the robe,” to distinguish them from those who could trace their descent from the heroes of the crusades and the days of chivalry.

It seems to have been expected that the paternal grandmother would have taken charge of the education of the little orphan. But she was too much occupied with the affairs of the other world, and with founding religious houses,—of which eighty-seven owed their existence to her,—and Maria was left in the hands of her maternal relations. The pious labors of the “Blessed Mother of Chantal” were acknowledged by the head of the church, and her name now fills a place in the calendar, among the saints. The guardianship of the young baroness devolved on her uncle, Christophe de Coulanges, abbé de Livry.

Most men would have shrunk from the task of personally superintending the education of a young girl, and would, in conformity to the customs of the times, have consigned her to a convent, where she would 288 have been taught to read, to write, to dance, and to embroider; and then her education would have been deemed complete. It is no slight evidence of the good sense of her uncle that he retained her in his own house. The decision was a fortunate one for posterity; for her faculties, which the formal training of the convent would have cramped, were called into exercise and expanded by an unusual indulgence in the range of reading, and probably by a familiar intercourse with the men of letters who sought her uncle’s society. Under his instructions she doubtless acquired a knowledge of the Latin and Italian languages, and something of the Spanish. All this, however, is to some extent matter of inference, for we have no record of her early life. She tells us in her “Letters” that she was brought up at court, and there she formed her manners and her tastes—fortunately without the corruption of her morals.

From the accounts given by her witty and profligate cousin Bussy-Robertin, we can obtain a tolerably correct idea of her appearance when she entered as an actor upon the scene of life. She was somewhat tall for a woman; had a good shape, a pleasing voice, a fine complexion, brilliant eyes, and a profusion of light hair; but her eyes, though brilliant, were small, and, together with the eyelashes, were of different tints: her lips, though well colored, were too flat, and the end of her nose too square. De Bussy tells us that she had more shape than grace, yet danced well; she had also a taste for singing. He makes to her the objection that she was too playful “for a woman of quality.”

Not beautiful, but highly attractive, of cordial manners, and with a lively sensibility, at one moment dissolved 289 in tears, and at another almost dying with laughter,—Mademoiselle de Robertin, then eighteen years old, was married to the Marquis de Sévigné, of an ancient family of Brittany. Her letters written during the first years of her marriage are full of gayety; there is no trace of misfortune or sorrow. But her husband was fond of pleasure, extravagant in his expenses, heedless, and gay—a character not likely to escape the contagion of that universal depravity of manners which prevailed at the French court. His conduct threw a cloud over their happiness. Madame de Sévigné bore her misfortunes with dignity and patience. In spite of his misconduct, she loved him deeply; and his death, not long afterwards, in a duel, caused her the most profound sorrow.

Her uncle, the abbé, resumed his former office of protector and counsellor. He withdrew her from the contemplation of her grief, and drew her attention to her duties, the chief and dearest of which was the education of her two children, a son and a daughter. To this object, and to rendering the life of her uncle happy, she resolved to devote herself. Of her obligations to her uncle she thus speaks in a letter written many years afterwards, on the occasion of 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 in good order; he paid our debts; he has made 290 the estate on which my son lives the prettiest and most agreeable in the world.”

Time restored to the young widow her lost gayety, and she was the delight of the circles in which she was intimate. The Hôtel de Rambouillet, at Paris, where she resided, was the resort of all who were celebrated for wit or talent, and her presence was always hailed with joy. Euphuism was the fashion of the day, and in this coterie it had reached the highest degree of perfection. Common appellations were discarded; water became “l’humeur celeste,” and a chaplet “une chaine spirituelle.” The use of names was banished, and each was addressed as “ma chere” or “ma precieuse.” “Les Precieuses Ridicules” of Molière at length put an end to the affectation. Many of the coterie were present at its first representation, and were obliged to swallow the vexation which the delight evinced by the public at seeing them held up to ridicule, could not fail to excite.

The early education of her children being completed, their establishment in life became a source of anxiety. Her son, when nineteen, joined the expedition to Candia; concerning which Madame de Sévigné writes to her cousin De Bussy, “I suppose you know that my son is gone to Candia. 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 the expedition. I see all the dangers, and they destroy me; 291 but I am not the mistress. On such occasions mothers have no voice.” She had reason for anxiety. Few of the officers returned, but one of these was the Baron de Sévigné. A commission was purchased for him in the army, and he served with distinction during several campaigns; but his family had taken part against the court during the wars of the Fronde, and were Jansenists, so that he received no promotion, and at length left the army, and settled into a quiet, well-behaved, country gentleman. Rejecting many nice matches which his mother sought to make for him, he chose a wife for himself, and his choice fortunately met her approbation.

Her daughter was presented at court, in 1663, and took part in the brilliant fêtes of the following year. The mother’s heart was, no doubt, gladdened by the declaration of the Count de Treville, a sort of oracle in the great world, “That beauty will set the world on fire.” Her marriage became a subject of the deepest anxiety, and it was long before her mother was satisfied with any of those who pretended to the hand of “la plus jolie fille de France.” She at length accepted the proposals of the twice-widowed Count de Grignan, and the event is thus announced to her cousin: “I must tell you a piece of news which will doubtless delight you. At length the prettiest woman in France 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, 292 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.”

By marrying her daughter to a courtier, Madame de Sévigné hoped to secure her daughter’s permanent residence near herself at Paris. The count, however, was deputy-governor of Provence, and received orders, soon after his marriage, to proceed to that distant province, where he continued to reside, with the exception of occasional visits to Paris, during the remainder of his mother-in-law’s life. The mother and daughter contrived to pass about half the time with each other, and, in the intervals, to keep up a conversation by means of constant epistolary correspondence, in which the former relates all the amusing gossip which would have been subject of discourse had they been together. To the mother’s share of these conversations we are delighted listeners. She speaks of events which in themselves are trifling, and of persons of whom we never before heard; yet she is never tedious. The vivacity of her intellect and the charms of her style give an interest to every thought and act. The task of selecting specimens is a difficult one; all is worthy of transcription; we will take those which throw the most light upon her character and mode of life. The following was written at an estate of her husband’s, called “The Rocks,” situated on the sea-coast of Brittany, where she delighted to pass her time: she had a love of the country, of nature, and of simple pleasures—a rare taste for a Frenchwoman of that age. Nothing pleased her more than the song of 293 the nightingale, the cuckoo, and the thrush, during the early spring; her writings are filled with her passion for the birds and avenues of “Les Rochers.” The letter is addressed, not to her daughter, but to her cousin, De Coulanges.