The Book, Cat, & Cat Book Lovers Almanac

of historical trivia regarding books, cats, and other animals. Actually this blog has evolved so that it is described better as a blog about cats in history and culture. And we take as a theme the advice of Aldous Huxley: If you want to be a writer, get some cats. Don't forget to see the archived articles linked at the bottom of the page.

July 11, 2014

July 11, 1722

Jean-François Marmontel (July 11, 1722 to December 31, 1799) ) was a noted 18th century French writer. He wrote plays, verse, and histories, as well as memoirs which convey an important picture of the French literati before the terror. Marmontel came from a humble background and credits Voltaire with helping his career as a writer. Marmontel gained fame and patronage in enlightenment Paris. The king's mistress obtained government positions for him and in 1763 he was admitted to the Academie Francaise. 

We quote from his Memoirs below. We note a description of the French salon culture. The details are  still sketchy to me,  but in his book there is evidence for the birth of a new social type: the intellectual.  The full title is:

Memoirs of Marmontel
written by himself
containing 
His Literary And Political Life

And Anecdotes Of The Principal Characters 
Of The Eighteenth Century

The edition I used was 1828, which was apparently before translators were commonly acknowledged.  The first salon we hear about was that of Madame 
Geoffrin, where our narrator also rented a room.

You may readily conceive, that at these little suppers, my self-love was in league with all the means I might have of being amusing and agreeable. The new tales that I was then writing, and of which these ladies had the first offerings, formed, before or after supper, entertaining readings. ...What enraptured me was, to see in such perfection the most beautiful eyes in the world swimming in tears at the little touching scenes where I made love or nature weep....

Besides I had well observed, that to be estimated by madame Geoffrin at your real value, it was necessary to preserve with her a certain medium between negligence and assiduity; neither to let her complain of the one, nor weary herself with the other; and, in the attentions you shewed her, to neglect nothing, but to be prodigal of nothing. Eager attentions oppressed her: even of the most engaging society, she would only take just what suited her inclination, at her own hours and at her ease. I therefore imperceptibly sought occasion of having some sacrifice to make to her; and, in talking of the life I led in society, I made her understand, without affectation, that the time I passed at her house might have been very gratefully spent elsewhere. It is thus that, during the ten years I was her tenant, without inspiring in her any very tender friendship, I never lost either her esteem or her favour; and till her unfortunate paralytic affection [stet], I never ceased to be of the number of those men of letters who were her convivial companions and friends.

This was a community without familial bonds, but not without gracious company. A few paragraphs later another dimension is outlined, wherein a bourgeois host extends hospitality to " men of letters who were free and simple like myself."

Yet I should tell the whole truth: madame Geoffrin's society wanted one of the pleasures that I esteem most highly, the liberty of thought. With her mild " Come, that's well," she never ceased to keep our minds as it were in leading strings; and I partook of dinners elsewhere at which there was more freedom.

The freest, or rather most licentious of all, was that [dinner] which was given every week by a farmer-general,[stet] whose name was Pelletier, to eight or ten bachelors, all jovial friends. At this dinner, the men of the wildest heads were Collé [1709 - 1783] and young Crébillon  [1707 – 1777]. Between them it was a continual assault of excellent pleasantry, and he that pleased might enter the lists. They never indulged in personality; the self-love of talent was alone attacked, but it was attacked without indulgence; and it was requisite to shake it off and sacrifice it to these combats. C0lle was brilliant beyond all expression; and Crebillon, his adversary, had singularly the address of animating by exciting him. Wearied of being an idle spectator, I sometimes darted into the circle at my peril, and received lessons of modesty that were rather severe. Sometimes too, a certain Monticourt would engage in the dispute; he was adroit and delicate in his pleasantry, and what was then called a banterer of the first rate. But the literary vanity which he attacked with the arm of ridicule, afforded us no hold on him: in avowing himself destitute of talents, he rendered himself invulnerable to criticism. I used to compare him to a cat, that, lying on his back, with his paws in the air, presented only his claws. The rest of the company laughed at our attacks, and this pleasure was permitted them; but when gaiety, ceasing to indulge in raillery, quitted the arm of criticism, all were emulous of contributing to it...

Men enjoying the company of men is probably an eternal scene. But above we get glimpses of an intellect which is self-sufficient and self-confident.  And worthy of memorializing with the biographical details of a world in which it plays a leading role. 


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