rs. They increased in size, but decreased
in quality, with the inevitable result of affectation and pretension.
Intelligence, taste, and politeness were in fashion. Those who did not
possess them put on their semblance, and, affecting an intellectual
tone, fell into the pedantry which is sure to grow out of the effort to
speak above one's altitude. The fine-spun theories of Mlle. de Scudery
also reached a sentimental climax in "Clelie," which did not fail of its
effect. Platonic love and the ton galant were the texts for innumerable
follies which finally reacted upon the Samedis. After a few years,
they lost their influence and were discontinued. But Mlle. de Scudery
retained the position which her brilliant gifts and literary fame had
given her, and was the center of a choice circle of friends until
a short time before her death at the ripe age of ninety-four. Even
Tallemant, writing of the decline of these reunions, says, "Mlle. De
Scudery is more considered than ever." At sixty-four she received the
first Prix D'Eloquence from the Academie Francaise, for an essay on
Glory. This prize was founded by Balzac, and the subject was specified.
Thus the long procession of laureates was led by a woman.

In spite of her subtle analysis of love, and her exact map of the Empire
of Tenderness, the sentiment of the "Illustrious Sappho" seems to
have been rather ideal. She had numerous adorers, of whom Conrart and
Pellisson were among the most devoted. During the long imprisonment
of the latter for supposed complicity with Fouquet, she was of great
service to him, and the tender friendship ended only with his life, upon
which she wrote a touching eulogy at its close. But she never married.
She feared to lose her liberty. "I know," she writes, "that there are
many estimable men who merit all my esteem and who can retain a part of
my friendship, but as soon as I regard them as husbands, I regard them
as masters, and so apt to become tyrants that I must hate them from
that moment; and I thank the gods for giving me an inclination very much
averse to marriage."

It was the misfortune of Mlle. de Scudery to outlive her literary
reputation. The interminable romances which had charmed the eloquent
Flechier, the Grand Conde in his cell at Vincennes, the ascetic
d'Andilly at Port Royal, as well as the dreaming maidens who signed over
their fanciful descriptions and impossible adventures, passed their day.
The touch of a merciless criticism