The Circle no longer formed little parties admitting only the men who had proved their title to intellect; but the fame of the first Salon de Rambouillet--or, to speak better, the fame of the ideal Salon of the world--still clung to its successor. As children listen to tales told by their grandfathers, the delicate mind of Voiture listened to the story of those first days; Sarrazin the Gross might scoff, but Voiture gloried in the thought that it had all been true; the lights, the music, the merry jests, the spring flowers growing in the autumn, the flashing lances of the spirit, the gay letters from the absent.... And well might he glory! there had, in truth, been one supreme moment in the literary life of France, a moment as rapid, as fleeting as a smile, lost even as it came, never to appear again until long after the pigmy body which enshrined the winged soul that loved to dream of it had turned to dust.
The memory of that first Salon was still so vivid that Saint Simon wrote: "The Hôtel de Rambouillet was the trysting-place of all then existent of knowledge and of wit; it was a redoubtable tribunal, where the world and the Court were brought to judgment."
But the followers of Arthénice did not shrink from mundane pleasures. In the gracious presence of their hostess the young people danced from love of action, laughed from love of laughter, and, dressed to represent the heroes and the heroines of _Astrée_, or to represent the tradesmen of Paris, went into the country on picnics, and enacted plays for the amusement of their guests, playing all the pranks of collegians in vacation. One day when they were all at the Château de Rambouillet the Comte de Guiche ate a great many mushrooms. In the night one of the gay party stole into his room and "took in" all the seams in his garments. In the morning it was impossible for de Guiche to dress; everything was too narrow to be buttoned; in vain he tugged at the edges of his garments,--nothing would come together; the Comte was racked by anxiety. "Can it be," he asked anxiously, "because I ate too many mushrooms? Can it be possible that I am bloated?" His friends answered that it might well be possible. "You know," said they, "that you ate till you were fit to burst." De Guiche hurried to his mirror, and when he saw his apparently swollen body and the gaps in his clothing, he trembled, and declared that he was dying; as he was livid and about to swoon, his friends, thinking that the jest had gone far enough, undeceived him. Mme. de Rambouillet was very fond of inventing surprises for her friends, but her jests were of a more gallant character. One day while they were at the Château de Rambouillet she proposed to the Bishop de Lisieux, who was one of her guests, to walk into the fields adjoining the château, where there was, as she said, a circle of natural rocks set among great trees. The Bishop accepted her invitation, and history tells us that "when he was so near the rocks that he could distinguish them through the trees, he perceived in various places, as if scattered about--[I hardly know how to tell it]--objects fairly white and glistening! As he advanced it seemed to him that he could discern figures of women in the guise of nymphs. The Marquise insisted that she could not see anything but trees and rocks, but on advancing to the spot they found--Mlle. de Rambouillet and the other young ladies of the house arrayed, and very effectively, as nymphs; they were seated upon the rocks, where they made the most agreeable of pictures." The good fellow was so charmed with the pleasantry that thereafter he never saw "fair Arthénice" without speaking of "the Rocks of Rambouillet."[57] The Bishop de Lisieux was an excellent priest; decorum did not oppose such surprises, even when the one surprised was a bishop. One day when the ladies were disguised to represent shepherdesses, de Richelieu's brother, the Archbishop of Lyons, appeared among them in the dress of a shepherd.