married to the Marquis de Sainte-Aulaire. He was a man of
esprit, who only bethought himself, after more than sixty years,
of his talent for poetry; and Mme. de Lambert, whose house was
filled with Academicians, gained him entrance into the Academy,
not without strong opposition on the part of Boileau and some
others." Whether the report of this alliance was true or not,
the families were closely united, as the daughter of Mme. de
Lambert was married to a son of Sainte-Aulaire; it is certain
that the enduring affection of this ancient friend lighted the
closing years of her life.

Though tinged with the new philosophy, Mme. de Lambert regarded
religion as a part of a respectable, well-ordered life.
"Devotion is a becoming sentiment in women, and befitting in both
sexes," she writes. But she clearly looked upon it as an
external form, rather than an internal flame. When about to die,
at the age of eighty-six, she declined the services of a friendly
confessor, and sent for an abbe who had a great reputation for
esprit. Perhaps she thought he would give her a more brilliant
introduction into the next world; this points to one of her
weaknesses, which was a love of consideration that carried her
sometimes to the verge of affectation. It savors a little of the
hypercritical spirit that is very well illustrated by an anecdote
of the witty Duchesse de Luxenbourg. One morning she took up a
prayer book that was lying upon the table and began to criticize
severely the bad taste of the prayers. A friend ventured to
remark that if they were said reverently and piously, God surely
would pay no attention to their good or bad form. "Indeed,"
exclaimed the fastidious Marechale, whose religion was evidently
a becoming phase of estheticism, "do not believe that."