VERY few books have been published in France since the late revolution. Newspapers and pamphlets, in which the questions of the day are angrily debated, have been the only intellectual food of our neighbors, and the republic of letters seems to have been completely awed into silence by the unexpected appearance of her stern political sister with the Phrygian cap and uncompromising level. Pamphlets, bought for a few pence, and read in as many minutes, are as much as the Republic of 1848 can afford; her citizens have neither time nor money for the more substantial productions of literature. Only four works of any importance have made their appearance within the last few months, though it must be allowed that these form complete exceptions to the remark we have just made. Chateaubriand's Memoirs, St. Beuve's continuation of the History of Port-Royal, Lamartine's Raphael, and the Duc de Noailles' Life of Madame de Maintenon, have no connection whatever with the feelings which at present agitate French society, and throw no light on the questions, upon the solution of which its very existence seems to depend. They must appear to France like vestiges of a by-gone literary world, relics of the days before the revolutionary flood, when men and books lived longer, and authors had time to be painstaking, and readers had leisure to be patient. Monsieur de Noailles' book, especially, is a literary anachronism. There is something anti-republican in the very appearance of the work. Its lordly and marvellously well-printed volumes are just such as one would expect to see figuring in a catalogue of "royal and noble authors," issuing from the amateur press of a Walpole. Surely this panegyric of Louis XIV., of the sovereign whom Goethe designates as "the Man-Monarch," and who is styled by Leibnitz, "the most kingly of all kings," was not written since the last members of his family became exiles from Republican France; M. de Noailles did not take his pen VOL. XVII. NO. I.

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off the page where he had been transcribing Bossuet's opinion on the divine right of kings, to write a vote for the Constituent Assembly; and his proof-sheets were not corrected with the roar of the cannon of June in his ears. No! these sober, wellwritten pages, full of patient research and careful analysis, were the offspring of more peaceful times, and were to have made their appearance under the monarchy; not, indeed, such a monarchy as M. de Noailles has taken delight in painting, but at any rate a régime under which his skillful, and at times eloquent, defense of Madame de Maintenon would have been appreciated. As it is, this picture of a society so firmly established presented to the view of France in the present day is curious enough. This description of the power of Louis XIV., venerated almost to adoration, forms a strange contrast with the precarious authorities of the scarce recognized Republic. The Duc de Noailles was, perhaps, the person of all others best fitted for the task he has undertaken. He was one of the most distinguished orators of the late Chamber of Peers, where he was ever a firm, though moderate, supporter of monarchical principles; descended from a niece of Madame de Maintenon, he has inherited the Château de Maintenon, and possesses, in the archives of his family, many valuable documents relative to his fair grand-aunt, of whom he is the chivalrous champion. His is a labor of love, ably and reverently accomplished, The following lines may serve as a specimen of his mode of treating the most delicate part of his subject:

"The virtue of a woman is never a seemly subject of discussion. Even those women who have been most calumniated, if properly alive to the conscious dignity of their sex, will, on so delicate a subject, think silence preferable to controversy, though this latter should furnish proofs in their favor. Praise, even, is an offense. Madame de Maintenon herself would certainly have forbidden me to reply to the outrageous libels by which she has been attacked."

This is, perhaps, more chivalrous than satisfactory; but M. de Noailles is not always so reserved, and his volumes throw light on many obscure points of his heroine's life and character. Strange to say, Madame de Maintenon is still to many persons a mysterious personage, an historical enigma. Was she a saint or a hypocrite? the last favorite of the Versailles harem, or the lawful, though unrecognized, wife of the most powerful monarch in Europe? Her letters, from which the most accurate estimate of her character might have been formed, have been given to the world in the mutilated edition published by La Beaumelle; and the general opinion of her has been derived chiefly from Protestant writers, who erroneously attributed to her influence the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, or from the Memoirs of the too caustic St. Simon. Even La Beaumelle's Memoirs of Madame de Maintenon, which sent their author to the Bastille, can scarcely be depended on, so much of romance is there mixed up with

truth.

The world, too, is never indulgent towards those whose tardy elevation has only brought them into notice when the charm of youth is past. Madame de Maintenon has never been young in the eyes of posterity. The lovely Françoise d'Aubigné, the witty wife of the poet Scarron, is merged in the austere founder of St. Cyr, the imposing devotee presiding over the gloomy court of Louis XIV. in his latter years. In our injustice we are even inclined to attribute to her influence the alteration which took place in the monarch himself, and which increasing years and declining glory might sufficiently explain. We unconsciously visit on Madame de Maintenon the change which transformed the chivalrous and ardent lover of Mademoiselle de Lavallière into a cold and selfish bigot, as though his old age had been but a reflexion of that of his staid mistress; a contagion which he might have escaped in more cheerful company. But we will let Madame de Maintenon's historian speak for

himself:

"We have never known Madame de Maintenon otherwise than old, in her sad-colored gown and coif; rigid and austere, domineering over a court which had become as serious as herself, and bearing, not only the weight of years, but that of the king's and her own ennui. Her best-known portrait by Mignard, which represents her at the age of sixty, in the character of Saint Frances the Roman, bears an expression which, though noble and dignified, is saddened and morose, and

has tended to impress her in that light on our imagination. No reflex of her youth softens to our eyes the furrows of her more advanced age; for that to be the case one should have known her young. Fortunate, indeed, are those whose image is handed down to posterity in the garb of youth and beauty. Posterity is ever disposed to judge them leniently."

M. de Noailles has adopted the best method of counteracting this unfavorable impression, by affixing to his work a portrait of Madame de Maintenon (we should say Madame Scarron) at the age of twenty-four. No arguments could have made half so many converts to the cause he defends, as this charming portrait, exquisitely engraved by Mercurj, from a miniature by Petitot. The rounded shoulder, upon which the gown is lightly clasped, is not that of a prude; the sparkling eye, full of feeling and vivacity, is not that of the narrow-minded bigot that some historians have painted. From the very first sight of that portrait we became the declared partisans of Madame de Maintenon. The testimony of her contemporaries is unanimous as to her easy wit, clear judgment, and the irresistible charm of her conversation. Madame de Sevigné, a good judge in these matters, describes her as good, handsome, and unaffected;" and adds, " One can talk and laugh pleasantly with her." Mademoiselle de Scudéry, who would have scorned to write, save under the veil of allegory, describing her as the fair Lyriamne, says, "Her wit seemed exactly fitted to her beauty." Louis XIV. never wearied of her conversation, though accustomed to the wit and lively, intercourse of the brilliant Montespan; and this latter, her rival, in spite of the promptings of jealousy, found an almost uaccountable pleasure in her society. Ninon de l'Enclos, who was no friend to pedantry or affectation, bears testimony to her great powers of pleasing. When we consider this concert of praise from the best judges of the day, it seems difficult to account for the prejudice which posterity has conceived against her, and in order to do so, we are obliged to keep in mind that such a position as hers creates for a favorite innumerable enemies. We must remember the enmity of the Duke of Orleans, (afterwards Regent,) who attributed his disgrace to her influence; the hatred of the Protestants, whom she had renounced; of the Jansenists and Quietists, whom she had equally offended; the jealousy of the princes, and still more of the princesses of the blood, who smarted under her rather sharp rebukes,

and reluctantly submitted to her severe authority. All these enmities, and the calumnies to which they gave rise, have been chronicled in the writings of La Fare, St. Simon, and of the Bavarian princess who married the Dauphin, and too readily believed. We are apt to suppose that the king must have been circumvented, and his natural judgment warped by religious scruples, before he could decide on marrying, at the age of forty-seven, a woman three years older than himself. But Time deals not with an equal hand to all. Madame de Maintenon was still handsome, and, as we have said, possessed intellectual charms, against which even half a century is powerless.

Tradition relates that Charlemagne had a beloved mistress so dear to him, that when she died no power could separate him from her dead body. Bishops and archbishops assembled to discover what potent spell had thus bewitched the powerful emperor, and lo! beneath the tongue of the deceased beauty was found a small pearl-and there lay the charm! We have always considered this legend as typical of that persuasive eloquence by which many enchantresses have ruled since the days of Charlemagne. May not the pearl which enslaves even kings have descended to Madame de Maintenon, as the throne of Charlemagne did to Louis XIV. ?

The book before us is as much a history of the reign of Louis XIV. as the life of Madame de Maintenon. The author has evidently been drawn on by his subject, and although Madame de Maintenon is the principal personage, around her are grouped her most illustrious contemporaries, and the chief events of the reign in which she figured so prominently are somewhat partially, perhaps, but always ably related.

The Dutch war, the state of the literary world, the quarrels of the rival religious sects, the legitimation of the king's children, and the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, are all cleverly treated. On this latter quesOn this latter question, we must be allowed to differ in some degree from the author. We are willing to admit, that at the period of the Revocation both Protestants and Catholics in other were equally intolerant; that liberty of conscience was not recognized generally in principle; that the laws passed in England, even at a later period, against Catholics, were quite as stringent as any of those of Louis XIV. against the Protestants; but this was no excuse for a Prince who was retracing the steps which his predecessors had taken towards religious liberty. He was

revoking a liberal concession, for which France had been ripe nearly ninety years before. He had the example of Henri IV. before his eyes; and his minister, Louvois, needed only to imitate the chancellor L'Hospital, who had preceded him by a century. We therefore think that M. de Noailles has not blamed with sufficient severity the religious persecutions, both avowed and covert, which disgraced the latter years of this reign; nor can we admit that they were as generally approved by the country at large. as he would wish us to believe. Many Catholics protested against the violent means resorted to in order to obtain conversions; nor were the clergy themselves unanimous in their approbation. Be that as it may, we have in these volumes an able and concise history of the Protestant political party in France, as impartial as an enlightened but zealous Catholic can write it. In these matters, it is difficult to steer clear of both indifference and intolerance, and it is sad to think that there is much truth in the following remarks

"It is a fact that men's ideas of toleration have ever depended, to a certain extent, on the place that religion occupies in their minds. Perfect cumbent on all men; but toleration is far easier Christianity, as well as civilization, make it into unbelievers, and they can bear with any religion, who are pretty nearly indifferent to all. We cannot boast with reason of the tolerant spirit of the present day as of a moral progress, unless it be united with the fervent faith of our forefathers. It should be remarked, that the tolerance which Rousseau and Voltaire taught, and for which they and the other Deists of the last century have been so much extolled, was in fact merely indifference to religious matters, taking its rise in incredulity."

That the Duc de Noailles is disposed to render justice to individual Protestants, as well as Catholics, is sufficiently proved by the many pages he devotes to the life of Theodore Agrippa d'Aubigné, Madame de Maintenon's grandfather. This staunch old Huguenot is a good type of the men of his day, and although most of the particulars recorded of him are taken from his curious autobiography, the compilation is well and pleasantly made.

His adventurous life while in the service of Henri IV., to whom he was recommended as "a man who found nothing too hot, or too cold;" his duels, his narrow escapes, his religious controversies, his poetry, his pious and resigned death-bed, form a strange picture. We find him at one time disputing

Constant D'Aubigné was a man who could not be reclaimed even by prosperity. The ill-gotten fortune was soon squandered, and about five years after his first act of treachery he was once more busily employed in treasonable intrigues. This time his negotiations were with the English government, and were, in consequence, viewed far differently by the French court. D'Aubigné was first imprisoned at Bordeaux, then transferred to Niort; and it was in the conciergerie, or gaol of that town, that little Françoise, his daughter, the future Madame de Maintenon, was born, in 1635. Six years' confinement having been considered a sufficient expiation of his misdeeds, Constant D'Aubigné was released by the intercession and through the interest of his wife; and wisely judging that he was most likely to prosper where he was least known, he set sail for Martinique with his family. A fortune was soon made, and as quickly lost at the gambling-table; and D'Aubigné was but too happy to obtain an inferior military post to keep his family from starvation. In this humble situation, at the very moment when he appeared likely to reform, death closed his troubled career, and his widow returned to France, in the faint hope of saving a pittance out of the wreck of their shattered fortunes. The trials of Madame D'Aubigné had not been of the kind that soften the heart, and under the ungentle hand of misfortune she had grown rigid and austere. Little Françoise was brought up carefully, but somewhat sternly; and we are told that some of her first reading lessons were taken in Plutarch! How far these early studies influenced her future conduct it would be difficult to say, but it may be, that in reading of the illustrious dead, she first imbibed that ardent desire for public esteem which was the great spring of all her actions. To be well thought of, well spoken of, and well written of, was the object of her whole life. For the good opinion of men, she would cheerfully have sacrificed happiness as well as pleasure.

We are involuntarily reminded, that in the following century another young girl, who was one day to be known as Madame Roland, also made Plutarch her favorite study; and in her, too, we discover the same intense love of applause. At first sight the parallel seems strange; the two destinies were so diverse, that we can scarcely trace the analogy that existed in many points of character between them; yet the ardent Girondist and the calm believer in divine right, were both under the dominion of the same ruling

passion. Madame de Maintenon's first object was public esteem; Madame Roland, in more troublous times, aspired higher, and sought admiration. Both trampled love under foot, and retained in the midst of corruption their unspotted reputation. In periods of unrivalled intellectual splendor they were each surrounded by the most distinguished men of their day, who sought inspiration from their counsels. Virtue, differently understood, was the aim of both; but with both it was likewise the means by which fame was to be won.

Madame D'Aubigné, we have said, was a Catholic; but on several occasions, when she was obliged to leave Paris, her little daughter had been confided to the care of Madame de Villette, her aunt, who had instructed her in the Reformed faith, of which her grandfather had been so zealous a champion. The child, who for the first time in her life saw herself kindly treated, was well disposed to receive the lessons of an affectionate teacher; and even in after days, when the religious tenets thus tenderly inculcated were gradually giving way under other influences, she never forgot the gentle teaching of her early creed; and, when pressed to abjure, would often say, "I will believe what you wish, provided that you do not require me to believe that my aunt De Villette will be damned." Little Françoise was soon to be transferred to a rougher school. Conversions were already the order of the day; and a more distant relation, but a strict Catholic, Madame de Neuillant, obtained an order from the court to take charge of the young heretic. She was one of those who think that people should be thrust into the right way, and not allured to it; and whatever care she may have taken of the soul of her young charge, she appears to have treated the body rather roughly. The future wife of Louis XIV. was subjected to every humiliation, and employed in the most degrading offices. In one of her letters we read, in allusion to this period of her life, "I governed the poultry-yard, and it was there my reign commenced." As might have been expected, her childish faith grew strong under persecution; and neither her mother's entreaties nor Madame de Neuillant's threats could obtain her abjuration. All violent means proving ineffectual, she was placed in the convent of the Ursulines in Paris, where gentler methods were resorted to. No outward conformity was required of her; on Fridays and Saturdays she was even allowed meat, and no apparent efforts were made to