their private piques, with the same ingenuous frankness. They condense
for us their worldly philosophy, their sentiments, and their experience.
The style of these letters is sometimes heavy and stilted, the wit is
often strained and far-fetched, but many of them are written with an
easy grace and a lightness of touch as fascinating as inimitable.

The marriage of Julie d'Angennes, in 1645, deprived the Hotel de
Rambouillet of one of its chief attractions. It was only through the
earnest wish of her family that, after a delay of thirteen years, she
yielded at last to the persevering suit of the Marquis, afterwards the
Duc de Montausier, and became his wife. She was then thirty-eight,
and he three years younger. The famous "Guirlande de Julie," which he
dedicated and presented to her, still exists, as the unique memorial
of his patient and enduring love. This beautiful volume, richly bound,
decorated with a flower exquisitely painted on each of the twenty-nine
leaves and accompanied by a madrigal written by the Marquis himself or
by some of the poets who frequented her house, was a remarkable tribute
to the graces of the woman whose praises were so delicately sung. The
faithful lover, who was a Protestant, gave a crowning proof of his
devotion, in changing his religion. So much adoration could hardly fail
to touch the most capricious and obdurate of hearts.

We cannot dismiss this woman, whom Cousin regards as the most
accomplished type of the society she adorned, without a word more.
Though her ambition was gratified by the honors that fell upon her
husband, who after holding many high positions was finally entrusted
with the education of the Dauphin; and though her own appointment of
dame d'honneur to the Queen gave her an envied place at court, we trace
with regret the close of her brilliant career. As has been already
indicated, she added to much esprit a character of great sweetness,
and manners facile, gracious, even caressing. With less elevation, less
independence, and less firmness than her mother, she had more of the
sympathetic quality, the frank unreserve, that wins the heart. No one
had so many adorers; no one scattered so many hopeless passions; no one
so gently tempered these into friendships. She knew always how to say
the fitting word, to charm away the clouds of ill humor, to conciliate
opposing interests. But this spirit of complaisance which, however
charming it may be, is never many degrees removed