Unfortunately for these plans, and fortunately perhaps for a certain interesting phase of literature, she recovered. Soon afterwards, Mademoiselle found the reward of her heroic adventures in a sudden exile to her estates at Saint Fargeau.
The country life, so foreign to her tastes, pressed upon her very heavily at first, the more so as she was deserted by most of her friends. "I received more compliments than visits," she writes.
"I had made everybody ill. All those who did not dare send me word that they feared to embroil themselves with the court pretended that some malady or accident had befallen them." By degrees, however, she adapted herself to her situation, and in her loneliness and disappointment betook herself to pursuits which offered a strong contrast to the dazzling succession of magnificent fetes and military episodes which had given variety and excitement to her life at the Tuileries. When she grew tired of her parrots, her dogs, her horses, her comedians and her violin, she found solace in literature, beginning the "Memoirs," which were finished thirty years later, and writing romances, after the manner of Mlle. de Scudery. The drift of the first one, "Les Nouvelles Francaises et les Divertissements de la Princesse Aurelie," is suggested by its title. It was woven from the little stories or adventures which were told to amuse their solitude by the small coterie of women who had followed the clouded fortunes of Mademoiselle. A romance of more pretension was the "Princesse de Paphlagonie," in which the writer pictures her own little court, and introduces many of its members under fictitious names. These romances have small interest for the world today, but the exalted position of their author and their personal character made them much talked of in their time.
It was in quite another fashion, however, that the Grande Mademoiselle made her most important contribution to literature.
One day in 1657, while still in the country, she proposed to her friends to make pen portraits of themselves, and set the fashion by writing her own, with a detailed description of her physical, mental, and moral qualities. This was followed by carefully drawn pictures of others, among whom were Louis XIV, Monsieur, and the Grand Conde. All were bound in honor to give the lights and shadows with the same fidelity, though it would be hardly wise to call them to too strict an account on this point. As may be readily imagined, the result was something piquant and original. That the amusement was a popular one goes without saying. People like to talk of themselves, not only because the subject is interesting, but because it gives them an opportunity of setting in relief their virtues and tempering their foibles.
They like also to know what others think of them--at least, what others say of them. It is too much to expect of human nature, least of all, of French human nature, that an agreeable modicum of subtle flattery should not be added under such conditions.
When Mademoiselle opened her salon in the Luxembourg, on her return from exile, these portraits formed one of its most marked features. The salon was limited mainly to the nobility, with the addition of a few men of letters. Among those who frequented it on intimate terms were the Marquise de Sable, the Comtesse de Maure, the beautiful and pure-hearted Mme. de Hautefort, the dame d'honneur of Anne of Austria, so hopelessly adored by Louis XIII, and Mme. de Choisy, the witty wife of the chancellor of the Duc d'Orleans. Its most brilliant lights were Mme. de Sevigne, Mme. de La Fayette, and La Rochefoucauld. It was here that Mme. de La Fayette made the vivid portrait of her friend Mme. de Sevigne.
"It flatters me," said the latter long afterwards, "but those who loved me sixteen years ago may have thought it true." The beautiful Comtesse de Bregy, who was called one of the muses of the time, portrayed the Princess Henrietta and the irrepressible Queen Christine of Sweden. Mme. de Chatillon, known later as the Duchesse de Mecklenbourg, who was mingled with all the intrigues of this period, traces a very agreeable sketch of herself, which may serve as a specimen of this interesting diversion. After minutely describing her person, which she evidently regards with much complacence, she continues:
"I have a temper naturally cheerful and a little given to raillery; but I correct this inclination, for fear of displeasing. I have much esprit, and enter agreeably into conversation. I have a pleasant voice and a modest air. I am very sincere and do not fail my friends. I have not a trifling mind, nor do I cherish a thousand small malices against my neighbor. I love glory and fine actions. I have heart and ambition. I am very sensitive to good and ill, but I never avenge myself for the ill that has been done me, although I might have the inclination; I am restrained by self-love. I have a sweet disposition, take pleasure in serving my friends, and fear nothing so much as the petty drawing-room quarrels which usually grow out of little nothings. I find my person and my temper constructed something after this fashion; and I am so satisfied with both, that I envy no one. I leave to my friends or to my enemies the care of seeking my faults."
It was under this stimulating influence that La Rochefoucauld made the well-known pen-portrait of himself. "I will lack neither boldness to speak as freely as I can of my good qualities," he writes, "nor sincerity to avow frankly that I have faults." After describing his person, temper, abilities, passions, and tastes, he adds with curious candor: "I am but little given to pity, and do not wish to be so at all.
