When Ninon had reached
the age of sixty-five years, there were those among the beauties
of the royal court, who thought she ought to retire from society
and make way for them, but there appeared to be no diminution of
her capacity for pleasure, no weakening of her powers of attraction.
The legend of the Noctambule, or the little black man, who appeared
to Ninon when she was at the age of twenty years, and promised her
perpetual beauty and the conquest of all hearts, was revived, and
there was enough probability in it to justify a strong belief in
the story. Indeed, the Abbé Servien spread it about again
when Ninon was seventy years of age, and even then there were few
who disputed the mysterious gift as Ninon showed little change.
As old age approached,
Ninon ceased to be regarded with that familiarity shown her by her
intimates in her younger days, and a respect and admiration took
its place. She was no longer “Ninon,” but “Mademoiselle de
l’Enclos.” Her social circle widened, and instead of
being limited to men exclusively, ladies eagerly took advantage
of the privilege accorded them to frequent the charming circle.
That circle certainly became celebrated. The beautiful woman
had lived the life of an earnest Epicurean in her own way, regardless
of society’s conventionalities, and had apparently demonstrated
that her way was the best. She had certainly attained a long
life, and what was more to the purpose she had preserved her beauty
and the attractions of her person were as strong as when she was
in her prime. Reason enough why the women of the age thronged
her apartments to learn the secret of her life. Moreover,
her long and intimate associations with the most remarkable men
of the century had not failed to impart to her, in addition to her
exquisite femininity, the wisdom of a sage and the polish of a man
of the world.
Madame de La Fayette,
that “rich field so fertile in fruits,” as Ninon said of her, and
Madame de la Sablière, “a lovely garden enameled with eye-charming
flowers,” another of Ninon’s descriptive metaphors, passed as many
hours as they could in her society with the illustrious Duke de
la Rochefoucauld, who, up to the time of his death honored Ninon
with his constant friendship and his devoted esteem. Even
Madame de Sévigné put aside her envy and jealousy and never wearied
of the pleasure of listening to the conversation of this wise beauty,
in company with her haughty daughter, Madame de Grignan, Madame
de Coulanges, Madame de Torp, and, strange to say, the Duchess de
Bouillon.
Her friends watched over
her health with the tenderest care and affection, and even her slightest
indisposition brought them around her with expressions of the deepest
solicitude. They dreaded losing her, for having had her so
long among them, they hoped to keep her always, and they did, practically,
for she outlived the most of them. As proof of the anxiety
of her friends and the delight they experienced at her recovery
from the slightest ailment, one illustration will suffice:
On one occasion she had
withdrawn from her friends for a single evening, pleading indisposition.
The next evening she reappeared and her return was celebrated by
an original poem written by no less a personage than the Abbé Regnier-Desmarais,
who read it to the friends assembled around her chair:
“Clusine qui dans tous
les temps
Eut de tous les honnêtes
gens
L’amour et l’estime
en partage ;
Qui toujours pleine
de bon sens
Sut de chaque saison
de l’âge
Faire a propos un juste
usage;
Qui daps son entretien,
dont on fut enchanté
Sut faire un aimable
alliage
De l’agréable badinage,
Avec la politesse et
la solidité,
Et que le ciel doua
d’un esprit droit et sage,
Toujours d’ intelligence
avec la verité,
Clusine est, grâce au
ciel, en parfaite santé.
Such a poem would not
be accorded much praise nowadays, but the hearts of her friends
regarded the sentiments more than the polish, as a substantial translation
into English will serve to show appeared in the lines:
Clusine who from our
earliest ken
Had from all good and
honest men
Love and esteem a generous
share;
Who knew so well the season
when
Her heritage of sense
so rare
To use with justice and
with care;
Who in her discourse,
friends enchanted all around,
Could fashion out of playful
ware
An alloy of enduring wear,
Good breeding and with
solid ground,
A heavenly spirit wise
and fair,
With truth and intellect
profound,
Clusine, thanks be to
Heaven, her perfect health has found.
Her salon was open to
her friends in general from five o’clock in the evening until nine,
at which hour she begged them to permit her to retire and gain strength
for the morrow. In winter she occupied a large apartment decorated
with portraits of her dearest male and female friends, and numerous
paintings by celebrated artists. In summer, she occupied an
apartment that overlooked the boulevard, its walls frescoed with
magnificent sketches from the life of Psyche. In one or the
other of these salons, she gave her friends four hours every evening,
after that retiring to rest or amusing herself with a few intimates.
Her friendship finds an apt illustration in the case of the Comte
de Charleval. He was always delicate and in feeble health,
and Ninon when he became her admirer, in his youth, resolved to
prolong his life through the application of the Epicurean philosophy.
De Marville, speaking of the Count, whom no one imagined would survive
to middle age, says, “Nature, which gave him so delicate a body
in such perfect form, also gave him a delicate and perfect intelligence.”
This frail and delicate invalid lived, however, until the age of
eighty years, and was always grateful to Ninon for her tenderness.
He never missed a reception and sang her praises on every occasion.
Writing to Saint‑Evremond to announce his death, Ninon, herself
very aged, says, “His mind had retained all the charms of his youth,
and his heart all the sweetness and tenderness of a true friend.”
She felt the loss of this common friend, for she again writes of
him afterward, “His life and that I live had much in common.
It is like dying oneself to meet with such a loss.”
It was at this period
of her life that Ninon occupied her time more than ever in endearing
herself to her friends. As says Saint-Evremond, “She contents
herself with ease and rest, after having enjoyed the liveliest pleasures
of life.” Although she was never mistress of the invincible
inclination toward the pleasures of the senses which nature had
given her, it appears that Ninon made some efforts to control them.
Referring to the ashes which are sprinkled on the heads of the penitent
faithful on Ash Wednesday, she insisted that instead of the usual
prayer of abnegation there should be substituted the words, “We
must avoid the movements of love.” What she wrote Saint‑Evremond
might give rise to the belief that she sometimes regretted her weakness,
“Everybody tells me that I have less to complain of in my time than
many another. However that may be, if any one had proposed
to me such a life I would have hanged myself.” One of
her favorite maxims, however, was, “We must provide a stock of provisions
arid not of pleasures, they should be taken as they come.”
That her philosophical
principles did not change is certain from the fact that she retained
all her friends, and gained new ones who flocked to her reunions.
Says Madame de Coulanges in one of her letters, “The women are running
after Mademoiselle de l’Enclos now as much as the men used to do.
How can any one hate old age after such an example.”
This reflection did not originate with Ninon, who regretted little
her former pleasures, and besides, friendship with her had as many
sacred rights as love. From what Madame de Coulanges says,
one might suppose that the men had deserted Ninon in her old age,
leaving women to take their place, but Madame de Sévigné was of
a different opinion. She says, “Corbinelli asks me about the
new marvels taking place at Mademoiselle de l’Enclos’ house in the
way of good company. She assembles around her in her old age,
whatever Madame de Coulanges may say to the contrary, both men and
women, but even if women did not flock to her side, she could console
herself for having had men in her young days to please.”
The celebrated English
geometrician, Huygens, visited Ninon during a sojourn at Paris in
the capacity of ambassador. He was so charmed with the attractions
of, her person, and with her singing, that he fell into poetry to
express his admiration. French verses from an Englishman,
who was a geometrician and not a poet, were as surprising to Ninon
and her friends as they will be to the reader. They are not
literature but express what was in the mind of the famous scientist:
“Elle a cinq instruments
dont je suis amoureux,
Les deux premiers, ses
mains, les deux autres, ses yeux;
Pour le dernier de tous,
et cinquième qui reste,
Il faut être galant
et leste.”
In the year 1696, when
Ninon had reached eighty, she had several attacks of illness that
worried her friends exceedingly. The Marquis de Coulanges
writes, “Our amiable l’Enclos has a cold which does not please me.”
A short time afterward he again wrote, “Our poor l’Enclos has a
low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throat which
worries her friends.” These trifling ailments were nothing
to Ninon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy,
as she said, “I am contenting myself with what happens from day
to day; forgetting today what occurred yesterday, and holding on
to a used up body as one that has been very agreeable.”
She saw the term of her life coming to an end without any qualms
or fear. “If I could only believe with Madame de Chevreuse,
that by dying we can go and talk with all our friends in the other
world, it would be a sweet thought.”
Madame de Maintenon, then
in the height of her power and influence, had never forgotten the
friend of her youth, and now, she offered her lodgings at Versailles.
It is said that her intention was to enable the king to profit by
an intimacy with a woman of eighty‑five years who, in spite
of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity of mind and delicacy
of taste that had contributed to her great renown, much more than
her personal charms and frailties. But Ninon was born for
liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophical
tranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the
world. Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the
only concession she would grant, consented to stand in the chapel
of Versailles where Louis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity
to see once, at least, the astonishing marvel of his reign.
During the latter years
of her life, she took a fancy to young Voltaire, in whom she detected
signs of future greatness. She fortified him with her counsel,
which he prayed her to give him, and left him a thousand francs
in her will to buy books. Voltaire attempted to earn the money
by ridiculing the memory of his benefactress.
At the age of ninety years,
Mademoiselle de l’Enclos grew feebler every day, and felt that death
would not be long coming. She performed all her social duties,
however, until the very end, refusing to surrender until compelled.
On the last night of her life, unable to sleep, she arose, and at
her desk wrote the following verses:
“Qu’un vain espoir
ne vienne point s’offrir,
Qui puisse ébranler
mon courage;
Je suis en âge de mourir;
Que ferias-je ici davantage?”
(“Let no vain hope now
come and try,
My courage strong to overthrow;
My age demands that I
shall die,
What more can I do here
below?”)
On the seventeenth of
October, 1706, she expired as gently as one who falls asleep.
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