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MEMOIR OF MADAME DE GRAFIGNY.

BY THE LATE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

Françoise d'Issembourg d'Apponcourt was born at Nancy in the year 1694, and was the only daughter of François, Seigneur d'Apponcourt and de Greux. He held the post of major de la gendarmerie to Leopold, first Duke of Lorraine. Her mother was the daughter of Anthony de Seaureau, Baron d'Houdemon and Vandœuvre, first maître d'hotel to the Duke | Leopold. She was also grand niece to the famous Callot.

The father of Madame de Grafigny descended from the ancient and noble house of Issembourg in Germany, and served in France in his youth. He was aide-de-camp to the Marshal de Bouflers at the siege of Namur. Louis XIV., to mark his satisfaction at his services, conferred on him the same rank in France as he held in Germany, and recognized all the titles bestowed on him. He afterwards attached himself to the Court of Lorraine, where he ended his days. The subject of this memoir married in early life Francis Hugues, Marquis de Grafigny, an officer in the body guard, and chamberlain to the Duke of Lorraine. The violence of temper and unsteadiness of conduct of this gentleman rendered the marriage a very unhappy one to his unfortunate wife, who, after bearing with exemplary patience for many years the ill-usage he heaped on her, was at length compelled to seek a legal separation from him. This step having removed all restraint from the Marquis, his conduct became even more culpable than before, and led to his being committed to a prison, where his days were terminated. The mother of Madame de Grafigny was grand niece of the celebrated Callot, who, descended from a rich and noble family, was seized with such a passion for painting, that, contrary to every effort of his parents to dissuade him from adopting the profession of a painter, which they considered a degradation, he left the paternal roof, and resigned all the advantages it held out to him, to study his favourite art at home. Callot acquired great eminence in his profession, and was no less remarkable for his independence of mind, which led him never to become a courtier, although more than two sovereigns wished to attach him to their courts. He used his pen, if not quite as successfully as his pencil, yet sufficiently well to write some satirical verses not devoid of merit. It is reported, to the honour of Callot, that when Louis XIII. took Nancy, he ordered Callot to draw the plan of the siege of that town; but Callot declined, saying, that being a Lorrain he would sooner cut off his thumb than use his pencil against his country. Louis XIII., with more generosity than usually marked his cha

*A situation similar to Lord Steward in our Royal household.

racter, simply replied, "The Duke of Lorraine is happy to have so faithful a subject."

The Marchioness de Grafigny had two or three children; none of whom, however, survived their father. Endowed with a lively imagination and a ready wit, and, above all, possessed of a tender heart and affectionate disposition, which conciliated the attachment of her friends, she was so highly esteemed in Lorraine that when Mademoiselle de Guise was to proceed to Paris in 1734, to be married to the Duke of Richelieu, this lady was selected to accompany her. It was on this occasion that she first made the acquaintance of Voltaire, who, having assisted in accomplishing the match, came to Montjeu, near Anton, in April, to be present at the solemnization of the nuptials. Madame de Grafigny had long desired to visit Paris, but with little hope to have this wish gratified, for her pecuniary resources were so limited as to preclude the chance of undertaking such a journey. It may therefore be imagined with what pleasure she seized the opportunity now afforded her, though little anticipating how this event would change the colour of her life. Soon admitted to the most intellectual circle in the French capital, her vivacity, good temper, and sprightly conversation made so favourable an impression on its members that her acquaintance with them in due time grew into friendship. Aware of her narrow income, and thinking highly of her talent, some of her friends encouraged her to attempt a literary production, a project never previously entertained by her. She was then in her forty-fourth year, her person still remarkably pleasing, her mind highly culti vated, and her manners peculiarly attractive. Her first work appeared in 1745, in a collection, the joint production of the literary circle in which she had now been some years a general favourite. This collection was entitled "Recueil de ces Messieurs," and her work was the most considerable in the volume in which it appeared. The title she selected for it was, "Nouvelle Espagnole, le mauvais exemple produit autant de Vertus que de Vices," and certainly not a fortunate one; as, to justify it, the dangerous and paradoxical opinion that a bad example produces as many virtues as vices was to be sustained. The work abounds in maxims, more remarkable for smartness of style than for truth, and met with little success. Piqued by the criticisms it occasioned, and mortified by the remarks of her friends, Madame de Grafigny determined to make another effort to attain a literary reputation, and keeping her intention a secret, wrote the "Lettres Péruviennes," which soon became very popular. A recent perusal of this work leads us to think less favourably of it than we had anticipated from the commendations be

stowed upon it; for, although the plot is ingenious, and furnished opportunities for displaying the peculiar talent of observation for which its author was remarkable, the development and denouement of the novel leave much to be desired, while the philosophical ideas of the society in which she moved often obtrude themselves and deteriorate from the interest, and injure the charm of the style; of which, however, some passages give a very favourable impression.

The next production of Madame de Grafigny was "Cerise," a sentimental comedy in prose, in five acts, which met with great success, and its popularity offered a salve to the wounds inflicted on her amour propre by the failure of her "Nouvelle Espagnole." Possessed of no ordinary portion of sensibility, Madame de Grafigny was even more pained by the persiflage of her friends, on the failure of her novel, than by the severity of her critics: nevertheless, she had the good sense, as well as good temper, not to resent the annoyances inflicted on her, however deeply she felt them, and continued to live on terms of amity with those whose wit had been exercised at her expense. The agreeable and brilliant conversation of Madame de Grafigny had led her literary friends to form expectations of her writings, which, whatever was the success of the "Lettres Peruviennes," and "Cerise," even these works did not justify.

In conversation the contact with other minds often elicits ideas which might otherwise have slumbered, and gives birth to lively sallies and piquant repartees which form a great charm, and lead persons to think that those who converse so well must equally excel in writing. But rarely are these expectations fulfilled; for the best writers are seldom the best conversationalists-nay, more, are in general inferior in this respect to clever persons, who do not devote their minds to literary labours. From this arises the disappointment so often experienced by those who, meeting remarkable writers in society, complain that they found them much less brilliant in conversation than they had anticipated, and rice versa, after reading the works of a clever conversationalist, express their surprise that his writings are so inferior to his conversation. Indeed it may be doubted whether excellence in one of these branches of talent does not preclude it in the other. The habit of concentrating the thoughts, so indispensable for literary composition, is apt to engender a gravity and reflection, which impairs the fancy and dulls the sprightliness of the imagination; while on the other side the laisser aller in which good talkers indulge, by banishing restraint, adds consider ably to the attraction of their conversation. The cheerful spirits and vivacity of mind of Madame de Grafigny rendered her a welcome guest in the literary circle she frequented, and over this circle Voltaire and his friend the Marquise du Châtelet held almost sovereign sway, for whatever might be the envy and jealousy they excited even in the most favoured of this coterie, all symptoms of either were carefully suppressed in their presence, and the greatest deference was

shown to them. In the first days of December, 1738, Madame de Grafigny arrived at Cirey, an estate which the Marquise du Châtelet possessed in Lorraine, and where Voltaire had accompanied her. In this retreat, while the great man assiduously applied himself to the composition of some of those productions in literature and the drama which have excited such general admiration, his fair hostess no less assiduously devoted her time to those scientific pursuits, for her success in which she justly became celebrated. Nor were the Graces neglected while Literature and Science had due homage rendered to them by these two remarkable individuals: both liked luxury and splendour, and loved, even while pursuing their labours, to be surrounded by all the elegances supposed to be exclusively sought by petits maitres and maitresses. To be permitted to become an inhabitant of this abode was deemed no mean privilege by Madame de Grafigny, and gladly did she avail herself of it. Aware that every detail connected with the manners and habits of the two distinguished persons with whom she was to spend some time, would be highly interesting to all who knew them, she wrote accounts of the interior of Cirey, the dame chatelaine of that château, and of Voltaire, in which good nature was less visible than a shrewd and satirical spirit of observation which pervades the greater number of her letters dated thence. While judging how far she may be censured for this breach of confidence towards her hosts, it ought to be remembered that her letters were only meant to meet the eyes of the friend to whom they were addressed, M. Devaux; really to Stanislaus,* King of Poland, with whom she had been on terms of the closest intimacy since her childhood. But even those inclined to judge most leniently of Madame de Grafigny on this point of les bienséances, must suspect that in her choice of a confidant to reveal her discoveries to, she at least betrayed great indiscretion. The reader to a king is not apt always to limit his communications to his master, to the mere duties of his office. Curiosity is a prevalent weakness in courts; the monotony of which leads those who inhabit them to seek gratification of this passion as a relaxation from ennui. Voltaire and Madame du Châtelet were at that period perhaps the two persons in all France about whom people felt the greatest curiosity; hence Madame de Grafigny might easily, and without any extraordinary degree of foresight, have concluded that M. Devaux would be very much disposed to interest the court to which he was attached with the interesting details furnished to him by his clever and amusing correspondent. Such was the result. Passages of the letters were communicated and repeated, until M. Devaux was induced to confide the whole collection to a friend, the spiritual Chevalier de Boufflers, then residing with his brother at the court of Stanislaus, among whose papers it was long after found and published. That the jealousy de métier et de sexe may have

* Stanislaus Luknuk, father-in-law to Louis XV.

in the world. I have a closet lined with Indian chintz, which does not prevent my seeing the air through the corners of the walls! I have a little wardrobe without hangings, exposed to the air also, in order to match all the rest. In short, I tell you, my friend, nothing is wanting. Dubois is better off than I am, except that she has no light except from the corridor; and again there is a staircase to ascend, but somewhat difficult owing to its being of the olden time. For the rest, all that does not appertain to the apartment of the lady and of Voltaire, is of a sluttishness to inspire disgust."

influenced the judgment of Madame de Grafigny in her description of la vie intime of Madame du Chatelet at Cirey, may be suspected by the little indulgence she evinced towards her hostess, compared with the commendations bestowed on Voltaire, even while exposing the meekness with which he submitted to the imperious rule of his enslaver. The letters from Cirey have no literary pretensions. They are not laboured or studied ones, and bear no indication of ever having been intended for publication by their author. They are, for the most part, lively gossiping ones, that make the reader acquainted with many particulars and details, which, however blameable may have been the indiscretion of the writer in betraying them, must be admitted to be extremely amusing. The unblushing selfishness which led Madame du Châtelet, while sparing no expense in the decoration, luxuries, and comfort of the rooms occupied by herself and Voltaire, to curtail even the ordinary necessaries requisite for a female guest, was well calculated to wound the susceptibility and disgust the feelings of Madame de Grafigny, who, probably actuated by offended amour propre, revealed all that she observed, without being restrained by the delicacy or forbearance which guests owe to their hosts, or the compunction which they ought to experience when they violate such salutary restraints. Per-markable persons, are led to imagine that haphaps Madame de Grafigny, aware that she was invited to Cirey to fill a post in the private theatricals there, thought herself less blameable for revealing its secrets.

After describing the splendour of the apartments of the Marquise de Châtelet and Voltaire, Madame de Grafigny gives the following untempting picture of her own:-"It is a hall in loftiness and size, in which the winds amuse themselves by a thousand openings around the window, and which I will certainly stop, if God lends me life. This immense room has only one window, divided into three as in the olden time, and has nothing but six shutters. The walls, which are whitewashed, diminish a little the gloom which would otherwise prevail, owing to the little light and want of prospect; for an arid mountain, which I could almost touch with my hand, entirely masks it. At the foot of this mountain there is a little meadow, which may be about fifty feet wide, and through which a little river winds in many serpentines. Let us enter, for the window shows only ugly objects. The hangings represent large personages unknown to me, and very ugly. There is a niche furnished with old dresses of very rich stuff, but rendered disagreeable to the eye by the want of assortment in the colours. For the chimney nothing can be said: it is so small, that all the sabot might pass in line. One might consume half a load of wood a-day in it without the room feeling less chilly. Old-fashioned chairs, a commode, a light table-the only one, but to compensate for this, there is a handsome toilet of carved wood. Now you see my chamber, which I hate, and not without cause. Alas! one cannot have at the same time all the good things

This description, even allowing for much exaggeration, gives a strong impression of how little the hostess of Cirey attended to the comfort of her guest, while taking such pains to secure her own. From the first moment of her arrival to her departure, Madame de Grafigny continued her piquant, but indiscreet revelations; and probably, after the grave misunderstanding which subsequently occurred between her and Madame du Châtelet, she thought herself privileged to disclose all that she knew. However unjustifiable such breaches of confidence must be allowed to be, they are not without an important result, in exposing the erroneous opinions entertained by those who, dazzled by the literary or scientific fame of re

piness awaits their homes. Gloomy is the picture laid bare by the pen of Madame de Grafigny, and few can examine it without reflecting on the vanity of fame, riches, and the homage of sovereigns, to bestow happiness, or even content. The undeniable and pre-eminent talents with which Voltaire and his friend Madame du Châtelet were gifted, had not enabled either to conquer the violence of their tempers, or to submit with even common decency to the constraint of them, so indispensable for the maintenance of decorum and peace. The restless vanity and jealous susceptibility of both, accompanied them from the busy world that flattered them, to the solitude where they hoped, but hoped in vain, to enjoy repose. At Cirey, the hours not passed by Voltaire in writing, were poisoned by the imperious temper of its mistress, or the reception of those attacks with which his enemies-and their name was Legion-assailed his productions. Although he had ascended high on the steep eminence of Parnassus, his ascent had not removed him sufficiently above the atmosphere of the "worka-day world" to be insensible to its assaults. Although the wounds inflicted were not grave ones, and that he was weil able to avenge them, they nevertheless pained and irritated him, just as the stings of insects can annoy those who have the power to crush them. Voltaire had not sufficient dignity to look down with contempt or pity from the lofty height he had reached, on those who could never attain it; but was as much vexed at their malice as he would have been insensible of their applause.

Her femme de chambre.

His was not a mind to rest satisfied with the laurels he had won, while any more could be gathered. Insatiable of fame, he laboured on; and as every new conquest achieved in the fields of literature drew on him fresh attacks, the mind that could soar into the regions of Genius was often dragged down to earth by his susceptibility to censure, and soiled with its impurities and frailties. To such a man the constant society of a woman like Madame du Châtelet, however great his affection for her, must have proved anything but a balm or a solace. Vain of her own acquirements in sciences so rarely studied by her sex, she expected no less homage as the reward of her industry than was offered to Voltaire for his genius; and not often satisfied in this expectation, she became irritable and exacting. A grave lesson is afforded by the fact that, while this gifted woman was commenting on Newton, and writing a dissertation on the nature of fire, noticed with high commendations by the "Academie des Sciences," she gave way to her temper like a spoiled child, neither tasting repose nor happiness herself, nor permitting Voltaire to find them. Such was the state of mind of Madame du Châtelet and Voltaire when Madame de Grafigny arrived at Cirey. The husband of Madame du Châtelet was also an inmate of that abode; but so little sympathy existed between him and his wife, either in tastes or pursuits, that they met only at the diurnal repasts, when the bounds of a cold politeness were never passed: nor was any attempt made to conceal the utter indifference of the Marquise towards her husband. Her marriage-one wholly of convenience, then as now customary in France-was formed not on any preference on the part of the individuals to be united, but by the desire of the mutual families, induced by motives of fortune, and fitness of station and connections, and offered little chance of domestic happiness. Two persons more wholly unsuited to each other than the Marquis and Marquise du Châtelet could hardly have been found, and neither took any step to conciliate the good will of the other. The Marquise sought in the attachment of Voltaire for the happiness she found not in her union with the Marquis du Châtelet ; and the Marquis, with the philosophy then so much in vogue, tolerated a liaison, which, however he might disapprove, he had no power to prevent a toleration which probably saved him from some of the asperities of his wife's temper, and conciliated the good-will of Voltaire. Of all societies, perhaps the most difficult in which to maintain harmony is that composed of literary persons. The vanity and the pretensions of each individual brought into contact, are excited into such undue action, that the laws of politeness are seldom found sufficient to restrain the ebullitions of temper occasioned by the junction of such warring elements. It cannot, therefore, be matter of surprise that the visit of Madame de Grafigny to Cirey was productive of much less pleasure to her and to her hosts than had been anticipated on either side. Circumstances also existed well calculated to unfit

Madame de Grafigny for the enjoyment she had expected. Her pecuniary affairs, never easy, were so much embarrassed when she arrived at Cirey, that she was without the means of abridging her visit, should aught occur to render a step of this kind desirable; and the anxiety such a state of destitution could not fail to occasion must have preyed on her mind, and taken from her the feeling of independence so essential to the comfort of a visitor in any house, but above all in that of a capricious hostess. While oppressed by this sense of poverty, she beheld Madame du Châtelet in the possession of not only all the luxuries of life, but of all the goods of fortune. With jewels, trinkets, fine plate, and rich furniture she was superabundantly supplied: she exacted and received the homage due to a sovereign from the most celebrated man of his time, and could hardly imagine a wish that she possessed not the power of satisfying. Such a forcible contrast to her own destiny might have perhaps unconsciously aroused the envy of Madame de Grafigny, and jaundiced her vision when viewing her hostess; for it is observable that, from the very day of her arrival at Cirey, she writes slightingly of her. Another circumstance which militated against the enjoyment of Madame de Grafigny at Cirey, was that she pined her separation from Monsieur Desmarets, for whom she was strongly suspected to entertain an affection of no ordinary kind. This person was the son of the celebrated musician Desmarets, and was a lieutenant of cavalry. Between him, Saint Lambert, M. Devaux, and Madame de Grafigny a constant intercourse was maintained, and as constant a correspondence kept up when separated.

Madame de Grafigny gives the following account of the mode of life at Cirey :-Between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning the party assembled in the gallery of Voltaire to take coffee, and remained there an hour or more engaged in conversation. At twelve o'clock dinner is served; and half an hour after, Voltaire bows the ladies out, who retire to their own chambers to pursue their avocations. At four o'clock the party again assemble pour le goûter slight collation resembling our luncheon, except taken after, instead of previously to, dinner; and at nine o'clock supper is served, and the party do not separate until midnight. Voltaire generally reads aloud some of his unpublished productions, or relates the most amusing anecdotes. Sometimes this routine was interrupted by the performance of the dramas of Voltaire.

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Madame de Grafigny describes Madame du Châtelet and Voltaire's mode of following their studies as follows: :- "She (Madame du Châtelet) passes her nights, until seven o'clock in the morning, in writing. She keeps a woman with her, to copy her works, who however does not understand one word of them. You think, perhaps, that she sleeps until three o'clock in the afternoon: not at all; she leaves her bed at nine or ten in the morning, and sometimes at six, when she has only entered it at four, which she

calls going to bed at cock-crow. In short, she sleeps but two hours, and leaves not her desk in the twenty-four but for a single hour, to take her coffee and for supper. Sometimes she eats a morsel at five o'clock in the evening, but without quitting her desk; but this indulgence she very rarely gives herself."

In another letter, Madame de Grafigny renders Madame du Châtelet full justice, when she writes, "I have been reading a translation of an English work, by Madame du Châtelet. It is admirable. The preface, which is by the translator, and which only took her half an hour to write, is really astonishing. Our sex ought to raise altars to her. Ah! what a woman! How little am I near her!

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be well made, and she required a fresh apart-
ment to-day. Take notice, that owing to the
want of servants she had made the bed herself;
she found a defect in the mattresses, which I be-
lieve offended her exacting spirit more than her
person, which is not over delicate. In the
meanwhile she has an apartment which has
been promised to another, and which she leaves
on Friday or Saturday for that of the Marechal
de Maillebois, who will leave us one of these
days.
Our new guests will enact a
comedy.

"Wednesday: our spectres don't show themselves by daylight; they appeared last night at ten o'clock, and I don't think we shall see more of them to-day. One is writing History, the other commenting Newton. They will neither play nor walk. They are of little use in a society to which their grave works bring no attraction.

If this comparative littleness of mind extended to my person, I really think I might pass through a keyhole. I have also read a discourse of Voltaire on fire. It is not equal to the other. It is true, that where women undertake to write, they surpass men: what a prodigious difference! But how many centuries may it take to form a woman like this? And how has she composed this discourse? In the night, because she wished it to be hidden from Voltaire. She slept not a single hour; when overpowered by sleep, she put her hands into iced water, walked up and down the room beating her arms to keep awake, and then wrote the most abstract reasonings in a style worthy of being read for itself. She passed eight succes-lieve that her head is for her principles a strongsive nights in this manner.'

This account, coming from a person who exposed the errors of Madame du Châtelet so mercilessly, may be received without any doubt of its truth, and proves that one capable of such exertions could be no ordinary person. It is only to be lamented that some portion of this moral courage was not turned to the correction of those errors which clouded the reputation of a woman so remarkable for her acquirements.

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Madame du Châtelet took possession yesterday of her third lodging: she could no longer bear the one she had chosen. It was noisy, had smoke without fire (which seems to me to be an emblem of her). It is not in the night that the noise annoys her, as she told me, but in the day, in the middle of her work; it deranges her ideas. She is now engaged in a review of her principles: it is an exercise which she repeats every year, without which they might escape; and perhaps go so far that she might not be able to refind a single one. I truly be

hold, and not the place of their birth. It is therefore wise to guard them with care, and she preferring the air of distinction which this occupation gives her, to all amusement, persists in not showing herself by day. Voltaire has written some complimentary verses, which have atoned a little for the bad effect produced by their strange conduct."

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In another extract of Madame de Staël's letter to Madame du Deffand, giving an account of That Madame de Grafigny did not exaggerate the comedy performed by the visitors a few the selfishness and exacting disposition of Ma- evenings before, she writes that the principal dame du Châtelet, may be taken for granted actress (Madame du Châtelet), preferring the when her statements are compared with those of interest of her personal appearance to that of the Madame de Staël, well known as Mademoiselle piece, had figured on the stage in the brilliant de Launey, who resided with the Duchesse de and elegant dress of a lady of the court, instead Maine. This sprightly writer, in a letter to of the simple one which her role required. She Madame du Deffand, notices the arrival of the had to share a portion of her splendour with Marquise and Voltaire at Sceaux, the abode of Voltaire; but she is the sovereign, and he the the Duchess:-" Madame du Châtelet and Vol- slave. I am very sorry that they have left taire, who announced their visit for to-day, us," adds the lady," although worn out by her arrived last night at midnight, looking like two different wants and desires, for the execution of spectres, with an odour of embalmed bodies re- which she addressed herself to me." Requestmoved from their tombs. We had risen from ing Madame du Deffand to come to Sceaux, table; but the spectres were famishing. They she adds, "a good apartment shall be kept for wanted a supper, and beds, which were not pre-you--that of Madame du Châtelet, which, after pared. The porter, already in bed, arose in great haste. Gaya, who had offered his lodging in case of necessity, was on this one forced to resign it, and removed with no less precipitation and dissatisfaction than an army surprised in its camp, leaving a part of his baggage in the power of the enemy. Voltaire was satisfied with his lodging, but this did not at all console Gaya. For the lady, her bed was not found to

an exact inspection of all the house, she took possession of. It will have, it is true, much less furniture than she caused to be placed in it, for she really stripped all the rooms she passed through, to fill this one. On her departure, six or seven tables were found in it: she required them of every size; large ones for spreading her papers on, solid for supporting her dressing-boxes, light ones for her knots of rib

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