第 43 节
作者:
车水马龙01 更新:2021-03-11 18:31 字数:9322
against morals; the world which hedges itself in by a thousand unwritten laws that save it from boredom。
After the death of the Duchesse du Maine; Mme。 du Deffand retired to the little convent of St。 Joseph; where; after the manner of many women of rank with small fortunes; she had her menage and received her friends。 〃I have a very pretty apartment;〃 she writes to Voltaire; 〃very convenient; I only go out for supper。 I do not sleep elsewhere; and I make no visits。 My society is not numerous; but I am sure it will please you; and if you were here you would make it yours。 I have seen for some time many savants and men of letters; I have not found their society delightful。〃 The good nuns objected a little to Voltaire at first; but seem to have been finally reconciled to the visits of the arch…heretic。 At this time Mme。 du Deffand had supposably reformed her conduct; if not her belief。
She continued to entertain the flower of the nobility and the stars of the literary and scientific world。 But while the most famous of the men of letters were welcome in her salon; the tone was far from pedantic or even earnest。 It was a society of conventional people; the elite of fashion and intelligence; who amused themselves in an intellectual but not too serious way。 Montesquieu; who liked those houses in which he could pass with his every…day wit; said; 〃I love this woman with all my heart; she pleases and amuses me; it is impossible to feel a moment's ennui in her company。〃 Mme。 de Genlis; who did not love her expressed her surprise at finding her so natural and so kindly。 Her conversation was simple and without pretension。 When she was pleased; her manners were even affectionate。 She never entered into a discussion; confessing that she was not sufficiently attached to any opinion to defend it。 She disliked the enthusiasm of the philosophers unless it was hidden behind the arts of the courtier; as in Voltaire; whose delicate satire charmed her。 Diderot came once; 〃eyed her epicurean friends;〃 and came no more。 The air was not free enough。 When at home she had three or four at supper every day; often a dozen; and; once a week; a grand supper。 All the intellectual fashions of the time are found here。 La Harpe reads a translation from Sophocles and his own tragedy。 Clairon; the actress in vogue; recites the roles of Phedre and Agrippine; Lekain reads Voltaire; and Goldoni a comedy of his own; which the hostess finds tiresome。 New books; new plays; the last song; the latest word of the philosophersall are talked about; eulogized; or dismissed with a sarcasm。 The wit of Mme。 du Deffand is feared; but it fascinates。 She delights in clever repartees and sparkling epigrams。 A shaft of wit silences the most complacent of monologues。 〃What tiresome book are you reading?〃 she said one day to a friend who talked too earnestly and too longsaving herself from the charge of rudeness by an easy refuge in her blindness。
Her criticisms are always severe。 〃There are only two pleasures for me in the worldsociety and reading;〃 she writes。 〃What society does one find? Imbeciles; who utter only commonplaces; who know nothing; feel nothing; think nothing; a few people of talent; full of themselves; jealous; envious; wicked; whom one must hate or scorn。〃 To some one who was eulogizing a mediocre man; adding that all the world was of the same opinion; she replied; 〃I make small account of the world; Monsieur; since I perceive that one can divide it into three parts; les trompeurs; les trompes; et les trompettes。〃 Still it is life alone that interests her。 Though she is not satisfied with people; she has always the hope that she will be。 In literature she likes only letters and memoirs; because they are purely human; but the age has nothing that pleases her。 〃It is cynical or pedantic;〃 she writes to Voltaire; 〃there is no grace; no facility; no imagination。 Everything is a la glace; hardness without force; license without gaiety; no talent; much presumption。〃
As age came on; and she felt the approach of blindness; she found a companion in Mlle。 de Lespinasse; a young girl of remarkable gifts; who had an obscure and unacknowledged connection with her family。 For ten years the young woman was a slave to the caprices of her exacting mistress; reading to her through long nights of wakeful restlessness; and assisting to entertain her guests。 The one thing upon which Mme。 du Deffand most prided herself was frankness。 She hated finesse; and had stipulated that she would not tolerate artifice in any form。 It was her habit to lie awake all night and sleep all day; and as she did not receive her guests until six o'clock; Mlle。 de Lespinasse; whose amiable character and conversational charm had endeared her at once to the circle of her patroness; arranged to see her personal friendsamong whom were d'Alembert; Turgot; Chastellux; and Marmontelin her own apartments for an hour before the marquise appeared。 When this came to the knowledge of the latter; she fell into a violent rage at what she chose to regard as a treachery to herself; and dismissed her companion at once。 The result was the opening of a rival salon which carried off many of her favorite guests; notably d'Alembert; to whom she was much attached。 〃If she had died fifteen years earlier; I should not have lost d'Alembert;〃 was her sympathetic remark when she heard of the death of Mlle。 de Lespinasse。
But the most striking point in the career of this worldly woman was her friendship for Horace Walpole。 When they first met she was nearly seventy; blind; ill…tempered; bitter; and hopelessly ennuyee。 He was not yet fifty; a brilliant; versatile man of the world; and saw her only at long intervals。 Their curious correspondence extends over a period of fifteen years; ending only with her death。
In a letter to Grayson; after meeting her; he writes: 〃Mme。 du Deffand is now very old and stone blind; but retains all her vivacity; wit; memory; judgment; passion; and agreeableness。 She goes to operas; plays; suppers; Versailles; gives supper twice a week; has everything new read to her; makes new songs and epigramsaye; admirablyand remembers every one that has been made these fourscore years。 She corresponds with Voltaire; dictates charming letters to him; contradicts him; is no bigot to him or anybody; and laughs both at the clergy and the philosophers。 In a dispute; into which she easily falls; she is very warm; and yet scarce ever in the wrong; her judgment on every subject is as just as possible; on every point of conduct as wrong as possible; for she is all love and hatred; passionate for her friends to enthusiasm; still anxious to be lovedI don't mean by loversand a vehement enemy openly。〃
The acquaintance thus begun quickly drilled into an intimacy。 Friendship she calls this absorbing sentiment; but it has all the caprices and inconsistencies of love。 Fed by the imagination; and prevented by separation from wearing itself out; it became the most permanent interest of her life。 There is something curiously pathetic in the submissive attitude of this blind; aged; but spirited womanwho scoffs at sentiment and confesses that she could never love anythingtowards the man who criticizes her; scolds her; crushes back her too ardent feeling; yet calls her his dear old friend; writes her a weekly letter; and modestly declares that she 〃loves him better than all France together。〃
The spirit of this correspondence greatly modifies the impression which her own words; as well as the facts of her career; would naturally give us。 We find in the letters of this period little of the freshness and spontaneity that lent such a charm to the letters of Mme。 de Sevigne and her contemporaries。 Women still write of the incidents of their lives; the people they meet; their jealousies; their rivalries; their loves; and their follies; but they think; where they formerly mirrored the world about them。 They analyze; they compare; the criticize; they formulate their own emotions; they add opinions to facts。 The gaiety; the sparkle; the wit; the play of feeling; is not there。 Occasionally there is the tone of passion; as in the letters of Mlle。 Aisse and Mlle。 de Lespinasse; but this is rare。 Even passion has grown sophisticated and deals with phrases。 There is more or less artificiality in the exchange of written thoughts。 Mme。 du Deffand thinks while she writes; and what she sees takes always the color of her own intelligence。 She complains of her inability to catch the elusive quality; the clearness; the flexibility of Mme。 de Sevigne; whom she longs to rival because Walpole so admires her。 But if she lacks the vivacity; the simplicity; the poetic grace of her model; she has qualities not less striking; though less lovable。 Her keen insight is unfailing。 With masterly penetration she grasps the essence of things。 No one has portrayed so concisely and so vividly the men and women of her time。 No one has discriminated between the shades of character with such nicety。 No one has so clearly fathomed the underlying motives of action。 No one has forecast the outcome of theories and events with such prophetic vision。 The note of bitterness and cynicism is always there。 The na