Chapter IV (2)

Mademoiselle preserved the taste for literature formed at Saint-Fargeau. Her name is associated with several incidents, great and small, of the literary history of the times. In 1669, when _Tartuffe_ was definitely authorised, she wished to have it performed in her salon. This fact is noteworthy as the Church still forbade its representation. On August 21, Mademoiselle gave a fete. When most of the guests had departed, "_Tartuffe_, the fashionable piece, was played before twenty women and numbers of men."[195] Did the end of the phrase contain a slight excuse--"which was the fashionable piece"? However this may be, Mademoiselle could boast to her confessor that she had been "economical" with Moliere. The entertainment at the Luxembourg was paid for with three hundred francs given to the actors, the current price being for such a performance five hundred and fifty francs. Thus the virtuous homes evidenced their piety!

On another occasion, Mademoiselle had the honour, if the Abbe d'Olivet may be believed, of supplying Moliere with an entire scene ready made: and what a scene! Among the _habitues_ of the salon figured one of the victims of Boileau, the impudent Abbe Cotin, who not finding himself sufficiently _etrille_ (thrashed) had provoked new retaliations in gossiping about Moliere.

One day he brought some verses of his own composition to the palace of the Luxembourg to read them to Mademoiselle. In the midst of her admiration another writer, supposed to be Menage, entered. Mademoiselle committed the error of showing the verses of the Abbe and, without mentioning the name of the author, of defending the expressed opinions. The result was the scene between Vadius and Trissotin (at first named "Tricotin" lest one should be deceived). It was only needful for Moliere to give the touch of genius as in the sonnet to the Princess Uranie and in the verses upon the _Carosse Amarante_. In these two cases, it is well known that the lines are copied word for word from a volume written by the Abbe Cotin.[196]

Many echoes of the grand literary battle of the century[197] still resounded in the Luxembourg. The success of the first tragedies of Racine irritated that portion of the public, always large, which has a horror of being disturbed in its habits of thought by importunate novelties. Such a disturbance is a punishment to many persons, whether the moving force comes from literature, science, or art. There are many examples of this fixed state of mind to be found in the past century: it will suffice to recall the struggles hardly yet quieted between Pasteur and Wagner.

Racine appeared on the scene as a revolutionary force. He and Moliere, sustained by their friend Boileau, presented a dramatic art absolutely new, which was separated by a gulf from that of Corneille and for which nothing had prepared the way. Corneille's predecessors were Mairet, the du Ryers and many others: Racine stood alone. He was the first and the last to make tragedy realistic, with the subject simple, the characters scrupulously true to nature, and the language often audaciously familiar.

Louis XIV. applauded. Racine and the King well comprehended each other. Heinrich Heine has given the reason for this in one of those phrases which throw light upon an entire period: "Racine is the first modern poet, as Louis XIV. was the first modern King."

The young Court applauded cordially with the King. It also belonged to the new regime; but for the old Court, for the survivors of the Hotel Rambouillet, the tragedy of Racine was as shocking, as displeasing, as were the first realistic romances to the faithful adherents of romanticism, and for the same reasons. In spite of the difficulty so many have, of sympathising with the ideas of the one called a little disdainfully "the gentle Racine," "the elegant Racine," this writer appeared neither gentle nor elegant to three-fourths of the salon, to the "old Court" of the Grande Mademoiselle. The _Pyrrhus_ seemed to them "brutal," the Phedre, a "madwoman" "the blackness" of Nero or Narcisse entirely beyond what should be permitted on the stage.

Not that the personages of Corneille or of his predecessors acted less wickedly, but their brutes and villains were nevertheless "heroes" and that made all the difference. The personages created by Racine were only "men," simple men, who used words "low and grovelling," bourgeois words, expressions such as "Quoi qu'il en soit, que fais je, que dis-je!"[198] and did not even realise the sense: more than three hundred improper terms have been counted in _Andromaque_. Racine would have fared better if his poetic methods had not been in some way a criticism upon the cleverness of Corneille. This was the real grievance, obliging the adorers of the old poet to condemn the insolent one.

Mme. de Sevigne, who could not always prevent herself, although "mad with Corneille," from admiring Racine, or from letting him perceive it, hastened to correct herself when this happened. She wrote to her daughter, "_Bajazet_ is beautiful," and added six lines further on, as a person who has a reproach to make, "Believe me, nothing will approach (I do not say surpass) some divine passages of Corneille." Having thus regulated her conscience, she returned to _Bajazet_ to avow that she had "wept more than twenty tears" (letter dated January 15, 1672), but her letter evidently left her with a slight feeling of discomfort. Two months later, she attenuated the praise of the new piece, to which she now accorded only "agreeable things," and declared Corneille to be another order of genius: "My daughter, let us take care not to compare Racine with him, let us well perceive the difference!"

Almost all of Mademoiselle's generation showed themselves as jealous as Mme. de Sevigne for the glory of Corneille. To the admiration inspired by his genius is added the tender gratitude that we guard for works in which live again the ideals of our youth. It is our own thoughts, our fine dreams of early days, that we love in these productions.

The tragedy of Racine signified that the day of Corneille had passed; its success indicated the inroad of new ideas and pointed definitely to the fact that those faithful to the ancient worship had really been relegated to the position of old fogies. This is never an agreeable position when one feels still alive and with no very active realisation that old age is approaching. People of letters are the first to suffer from these revolutions of taste which leave surviving only works of the first rank while the rest are cast away into oblivion.

As we know, the _litterateurs_ who frequented the salon of Mademoiselle were all enemies of Racine, half on account of loyalty to Corneille, half on their own behalf, through an instinct of self-preservation. Besides Menage and the Abbe Cotin, whom we have lately encountered speaking frankly to each other, besides the amiable Segrais whose literary powers were too light to lead him far, there was the Abbe Boyer, whose tragedies Segrais desired to be pardoned, because he was a "sufficiently good academician," and that worthy old man De Chapelain, illustrious until the day upon which his verses went to press. There was some reason for accusing Mademoiselle of having been the "centre of the opposition to the new poetry."[199] To say this is, however, to exaggerate her role. We shall see later that she was far too occupied in living through her own tragedy to be actively interested in those being enacted upon the boards. Loaded with injuries and calumnies by the Vadius and the Trissotins, menaced with thrashings by the aristocratic protectors of these great men of the salon, Racine ran the risk of being crushed, and was saved only by the signal favour of the King. Neither he nor Moliere would have accomplished their work if Louis XIV. had not sustained them against all critics. This is a service for which we should not limit our gratitude. The reflection upon this great debt arouses a tenderness towards a Prince with whom we are otherwise not always sympathetic.

It is possible that there was some politics in his attitude. The success of writers so new fell in well with his design of making a _tabula rasa_ of the detested past: but after all the main reason for which protection was accorded was affection.

When Louis XIV. laughed "even till his sides ached"[200] over the _Ecole des Femmes_, at which amusement the devots and prudes were indignant, when he saved the _Plaideurs_, almost hissed in the Hotel de Bourgogne, by "bursts of laughter, so great that the Court was astonished,"[201] there was no calculation: he was honestly amused, like any one else. It was also a true and frank admiration which caused him to dry his tears at _Iphigenie_, and to order the repetition of _Mithridate_. He loved the "new" for two reasons: because he had good taste, and because the heroes of the later writers were of the kind needful for his generation. It has been seen how marvellously Moliere and the King understood each other, and the mention of Racine recalls to us the profound phrase of Heine. Racine revealed himself in the _Andromaque_ as the "first modern poet." Hermione and Oreste have only a distant relationship with the heroes of Corneille. They are already "those possessed by love, the great passionates with whom love becomes a malady, who love to the brink of crime, and even till death."

With these characters, it can be said that modern love, profound, tender, melancholy, impregnated with soul, and at the same time troubled by the obscure influences of the nervous life, makes its entrance into French literature. Oreste shows a sadness, a despair, a madness, which a century and a half later burst forth in love romances. Louis XIV. had not waited for Racine for his education in passion. When Marie Mancini fascinated him, he was one of the first examples of the modern type of those "possessed by love," and he had never forgotten this crisis; in fact he never forgot anything. This episode in the life of the young King had been a good apprenticeship for the comprehending of the love of Oreste or of Phedre as the true love malady, as a fatality against which our single will is only a feeble weapon.

Around the King, Mme. Henriette, Mme. de Montespan, all the young Court and some shrewd spirits of the old, with Conde at the head, rendered justice to the truth of the "anatomies of the heart," in the tragedy of Racine. Mademoiselle was incapable of this; she believed too firmly in the superhuman strength of the heroes of Corneille, with whom the will laughs at resistance, whether the opposition arises in the soul or in the exterior world, to admit the fatality of passion. Nevertheless, it was the Grande Mademoiselle herself who was going to demonstrate clearly to all France that it was impossible to escape fate, when this fate points to love. Here we meet the great misfortune of her life!

An atmosphere of passion, and an intimacy with people whose sole occupation was to render themselves attractive, was somewhat dangerous for an old maid, sensitive without realising it. Mademoiselle had the singular desire, which later cost her dearly, to make an ally of Mme. de Montespan and thus to form a part of the chosen society of the Court.

She sought the company of the mistress and received service from her. Mme. de Montespan was her interpreter with the King. In return Mademoiselle endeavoured to calm M. de Montespan who, for serious or for trivial reasons[202] "flew into passions," like a "madman" or "wild person," against Madame his wife. "He is my relative and I scolded him," says the _Memoires_ of Mademoiselle. As a connoisseur, Mademoiselle hugely enjoyed the original wit of Mme. de Montespan. The pleasure found in returning the ball in conversation was the foundation of the intimacy.

With the growing idleness of the Court, pleasure in pure cleverness increased. The play of the mind was the sole resource against ennui. Wit, no matter at whose expense, became the enjoyment. The wise and prudent Mme. de Maintenon succumbed like Mademoiselle, when her turn came, to the irresistible charm of a conversation which "renders agreeable the most serious matters, and ennobles the most trivial."[203]

During the sharpest quarrel between Mademoiselle and Mme. de Montespan, the enjoyment of the opponent's wit was so keen that they parted with pain. "Mme. de Montespan and I," wrote Mme. de Maintenon in 1681,[204] "have to-day taken a walk, holding each other's arms and laughing heartily; we are not more in accord for this." There can never be too much cleverness, but there is an inconvenience in there being nothing behind the wit, and this is one of the rocks towards which Louis XIV. was pushing the French nobility. He made it impossible for those pacing his antechambers to indulge in any intellectual effort other than that of seeking pretty phrases to amuse the listeners.

A gentleman of quality commences his day at eight in the morning standing in waiting before the door of the king. Salutes are given and returned. The elegants comb their locks, glancing out of the corner of their eyes at those entering. Moliere permits us to be present at the "final assault" through verses but little known:

Grattez du peigne a la porte[205]
De la chambre du Roi;
Ou si, comme je prevoi,
La presse s'y trouve forte,
Montrez de loin votre chapeau,
Ou montez sur quelque chose
Pour faire voir votre museau,
Et criez sans aucune pause,
D'un ton rien moins que naturel;
"Monsieur l'huissier, pour le marquis un tel"
Jetez-vous dans la foule, et tranchez du notable,
Coudoyez un chacun, point du tout quartier,
Pressez, poussez, faites le diable
Pour vous mettre le premier.[206]

M. le Marquis enters. The chamber is already crowded. He "gains ground step by step," succeeds in seeing the King put on his shoes, for Louis performs this act with his own royal hands, and thus passes the first hour. The exciting event is repeated in the evening when the King takes off his shoes. The Marquis had already, at one o'clock, witnessed the consumption of the royal soup, and two or three times in the course of the day had delighted his eyes with the sight of the King passing to and fro on his way to mass or to take the fresh air.

During the intervals, the courtiers were charged with certain puerile occupations. The round of homages were made to the various members of the royal family and the prominent personages of the day, and there was gambling and other pleasures. The only relief for this complete idleness was to be found in an active campaign if there happened to be a war on hand. Let the courtier be admired for being able under such adverse circumstances to keep his wit awake and alert for attack and response, and also for the capacity of finding the military virtues when again called upon to exercise them.

Fortunately, the latter virtues were deeply ingrained in the breasts of the French gentlemen of this period, and it is not to their discredit if the other faculties, mental and physical, the exercise of which was plainly discouraged by the King, should have so fallen into disuse that their children suffered. The final descendants of four or five generations of those living this absurd life were the _emigres_ of the great Revolution, all heroes, almost all clever, or at least appearing so, and in general people of wit, but without character. This fact can hardly be too much emphasised: never has a monarch laboured with greater skill and method than Louis XIV. in the successful attempt to annihilate the nobility and to ruin its reputation. This is one of the most serious souvenirs of the wars of the Fronde.

It was with the women as with the men--the same subjection, the same emptiness of life, from which arose the weakness of Mademoiselle for Mme. de Montespan. The situation of recognised mistress "affects nothing"; Mademoiselle had never considered that the virtue of others concerned her. The novelty of the situation, the unexpected prerogatives accruing to the new position, and the habits resulting, gave rise to some of the most curious incidents of the reign, and also strengthened an intimacy which survived many shocks.

As soon as Louis XIV. formally established his mistresses at Court, it had been needful to frame new rules of etiquette. At first these rules were understood rather than formulated, but contemporary writers give evidence of their existence. It was the new regulations which gave scandal, rather than the fact of a weakness too common to all men of all times. The people had found the phrase suitable enough when it ran to gaze on "the three queens" in one carriage; Mlle. de La Valliere and Mme. de Montespan were publicly at the same time occupying the rank of secondary wives to the King. When the royal family made its solemn visits to any of its members who were mortally ill, these two ladies arrived after the King and Queen. Mademoiselle met them at the death-bed of Mme. Henriette; "Mme. de Montespan and La Valliere came." She met them again over the cradle of a daughter of Louis XIV. and of Marie-Therese, who died as an infant. "I found her in the last extremity.... We staid almost the entire night watching her die; Mme. de Montespan and Mme. de La Valliere were also there." The latter escaped from such honours as often as she could. Mme. de Montespan liked them better, and added to them. She had placed herself upon the footing of the Queen in regard to ordinary visits, which she never returned. "Never," says Saint-Simon, "not even to Monsieur or Madame or to the Grande Mademoiselle, or to the Hotel de Conde."

The same hauteur was displayed in the manner of receiving the princes and princesses of the blood, and this "exterior of Queen" followed her into the retreat! All were accustomed to it.

"The habit of respect was preserved without murmur," says again Saint-Simon, who recalled Mme. de Montespan, disgraced and passing her time in penitence, nevertheless continuing to hold court in her convent,[207] with as royal an etiquette as at Saint-Germain or Versailles:

The back of her armchair was formed by the foot-piece of the
bed, and there was no other chair in the room. Monsieur and the
Grande Mademoiselle had always loved her, and often went to see
her; for these, chairs were brought, and also for Madame la
Princesse; but Mme. de Montespan did not dream of deranging
herself for her own people nor for those they brought with
them.... One can judge by this how she received "all the
world."

The "all the world," which included some of the most distinguished, contented themselves with small "chairs with backs," or simple camp stools. No one was offended, and "all France came"; I do not know by what fantasy it was considered a duty to make visits from time to time. She spoke to each like a queen holding her court, who honours in "addressing." Marie-Therese herself, in the time in which Mme. de Montespan was the actual sovereign, had submitted to the long empire of custom. In 1675, the fourth year of the war in Holland, Louis XIV. being with the army while Mme. de Montespan was at her chateau at Clagny, one of their sons was "slightly ill."[208] The Queen considered it her duty to visit the child and to comfort the mother. She went to seek Mme. de Montespan, and led her one day to the Trianon, another to dine in some favourite convent, an example which brought the crowd to Clagny and made an end of hesitancy. "The wife of her firm (_solide_) friend," wrote Mme. de Sevigne, "visited her, and afterward the entire family in turn. She takes precedence of all the Duchesses." (July 3, 1675.)

There had been a time in which this fashion of ignoring rank would have excited the indignation of Mademoiselle; but this time was far distant, farther than she herself realised. In 1667 she had cried very loud because her second sister, Mademoiselle d'Alencon, had made a _mesalliance_ in marrying a simple seigneur, the Duc de Guise, and she had looked very gloomily at the pair. The time had passed for such pride, as the poor woman was herself ready for a worse _mesalliance_. Her patience was at an end. Her agitation while Louis XIV. was attempting marriage negotiations with the Duc de Savoie must not be forgotten. No prince had thought of her since this affront. She was considered too old. She would not confess this to be the case, but she felt it, and a tempest gathered in the depths of her heart. The storm burst in 1669. It is impossible to say in what measure nature alone was responsible, and what was due to the atmosphere of moral disorder and voluptuousness which Mademoiselle was now inhaling at the Court in the frequent companionship of the favourite. One thing is certain, the Grande Mademoiselle did not try to struggle against the passion which seized her; her attitude was rather that of a person who sought its sway.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 163: The Mlles. de Nemours were daughters of Elisabeth de Vendome, sister of the Duc de Beaufort, and of Henri de Savoie, Duc de Nemours, who was killed in a duel by his brother-in-law (July 30, 1652). The younger sister married Alphonse VI. June 28, 1666.]

[Footnote 164: Claude Le Pelletier, then President of Inquests. After, he was Minister of State and Controller-General of Finances.]

[Footnote 165: Mlle. d'Alencon, the second of the half-sisters of Mademoiselle.]

[Footnote 166: _Archives de Chantilly._]

[Footnote 167: _[OE]uvres de Louis XIV. Lettres particulieres_, Paris, 1806.]

[Footnote 168: _L'ambassadeur de la Fuente au roi d'Espagne_; Paris, January 27, 1664. (_Archives de la Bastile._) The Princesse de Savoie refused by Louis XIV; had decided to marry the Duc de Parma.]

[Footnote 169: _Memoires de Mme. de Motteville._]

[Footnote 170: The Archbishop of Embrun to Father Brienne; Turin Aug. 1, 1659.]

[Footnote 171: La Fontaine: _La Fille_, fable, published for the first time in the edition 1679.]

[Footnote 172: Marie-Jeanne-Baptiste de Nemours married Charles Emmanuel II., May 11, 1665.]

[Footnote 173: And not Madame Henriette, as has been said in error.]

[Footnote 174: Bethleem was a suburb of Clamecy.]

[Footnote 175: Mme. de La Fayette, _Histoire de Madame Henriette_.]

[Footnote 176: _Memoires de Mme. de Motteville._]

[Footnote 177: See Raoul Allier, _La Cabale des Devots_.]

[Footnote 178: Lenten sermons for the year 1662.]

[Footnote 179: Letter of March 29, 1680.]

[Footnote 180: _Archives de la Bastille_, by Francois Ravaisson, vols. iv., v., and vi., _passim_.]

[Footnote 181: See the review of the play in _Moliere_ of the _Grands Ecrivains de la France_ (Hachette).]

[Footnote 182: Allusion to certain talismans.]

[Footnote 183: _Archives de la Bastille_: Rapport de la Reynie, lieutenant-general of police, a Louvois (1680, no other date).]

[Footnote 184: _La Magie dans l'Inde antique_, by Victor Henry.]

[Footnote 185: Interrogatory of June 30, 1668. Mme. de Bougy was the widow of the Marquis of this name, lieutenant-general. La Duverger was occupied with magic. The Marquis de Ravetot had married Catherine de Grammont, daughter of the Marshal.]

[Footnote 186: Another name for Lesage.]

[Footnote 187: _Histoire de l'Opera en Europe_, by M. Romain Rolland. Cf. _Histoire de la Musique dramatique en France_, by Chouquet, _Les Origines de l'Opera francais_, by Nuitter and Thoinan.]

[Footnote 188: The first opera worthy of the name was _Pomone_, by Cambert. It will be learned in special works how French opera differed from Italian and through what a chain of circumstances it occurred that a Florentine, Baptiste Lulli, was the true founder.]

[Footnote 189: See above.]

[Footnote 190: A selection of the operas of Lulli, for piano and voice, has appeared in the Collection Michaelis.]

[Footnote 191: Letter dated December 1, 1673.]

[Footnote 192: _Introduction par M. le Comte d' Haussonville, aux Souvenirs sur Mme. de Maintenon._]

[Footnote 193: _Kant als Mensch_, by Erich Adickes.]

[Footnote 194: Romain Rolland.]

[Footnote 195: _Memoires_ of Mademoiselle.]

[Footnote 196: _OEuvres galantes en vers et en prose_, by M. Cotin.]

[Footnote 197: For this see _Les Ennemis de Racine_, by F. Deltour; _Les Epoques du Theatre francais_, and _Les Etudes critiques sur l'Histoire de la Litterature francaise_ by M. F. Brunetiere; the memoirs and correspondence of the times; the collection of _Mercure galant_; _les prefaces de Racine_, etc.]

[Footnote 198: Criticism by Boursault.]

[Footnote 199: Deltour, _Les Ennemies de Racine_.]

[Footnote 200: _Gazette de Loret_, January 13, 1663.]

[Footnote 201: _Memoires sur la vie et les ouvrages de Jean Racine_, by Louis Racine.]

[Footnote 202: See the volume by MM. Jean Lemoine and Andre Lichtenberger, _De La Valliere a Montespan_.]

[Footnote 203: _Souvenirs sur Mme. de Maintenon._--_Les Cahiers de Mlle. d'Aumale_, with an _Introduction_ by M. G. Hanotaux.]

[Footnote 204: May 27, to M. de Montchevreuil.]

[Footnote 205: "_Frappez_" would have been misunderstood.]

[Footnote 206: _Remerciement au Roi_ (1663).]

[Footnote 207: The Convent of Saint-Joseph, rue Saint Dominique; Mme. de Montespan had constructed in it an apartment for herself.]

[Footnote 208: The Comte de Vexin, who died young.--Mme. de Sevigne, letter dated June 14, 1675.]