I think [wrote Mademoiselle in 1659], that I can see her now in that shadowy recess,--which the sun never entered, though the place was never left in darkness,--surrounded by great crystal vases full of beautiful spring flowers which were made to bloom at all seasons in the gardens near her temple, so that she might look upon the things that she loved. Around her were the pictures of her friends, and the looks that she gave them called down blessings on the absent. There were many books on the tables in her grotto and, as one may imagine, they treated of nothing common. Only two, or at most three persons were permitted to enter that place at the same time, because confusion displeased her and noise was adverse to the goddess whose voice was loud only in wrath. Our goddess was never angry. She was gentleness itself.
According to the inscription on a stone preserved in the Musée Cluny the Hôtel de Rambouillet was rebuilt in 1618. The mistress of the house consumed ten industriously filled years constituting, installing, and habituating the intellectual groups of her salon; but when she had perfected her arrangements she maintained them in their splendour until the Fronde put an end to all intellectual effort.
When the Hôtel de Rambouillet was in its apogee La Grande Mademoiselle was in the flush of early youth. She was born in 1627. Mme. de Sévigné was Mademoiselle's elder by one year.
When we consider the social and intellectual condition of the times we must regard many features of the enterprise of "fair Arthénice" as wonderful, but its most characteristic feature was the opportunity and the advancement it accorded to men of letters. Whatever "literary" men were elsewhere, they were received as the equals of the nobility in the Salon de Rambouillet. Such a sight had never been seen! Superior minds had always been regarded leniently. They had had their periods of usefulness, when the quality had been forced to recognise their existence, but the possessors of those minds had been treated--well, to speak clearly, they had been treated as they had expected to be treated; for how could the poor fellows have hoped for anything better when they knew that they passed two thirds of their time with spines humbly curved and with palms outstretched soliciting equivocal complaisancies, or inviting écus, or struggling to secure a seat at the lower end of dinner tables by means of heartrending dedications?