made her familiar with the beauties of Virgil and Tasso, and gave
her a critical taste for letters.

Menage was younger, and aspired to be a man of the world as well
as a savant. Repeating one day the remark of a friend, that out
of ten things he knew he had learned nine in conversation, he
added, "I could say about the same thing myself"--a confession
that savors more of the salon than of the library. He had a good
deal of learning, but much pretension, and Moliere has given him
an undesirable immortality as Vadius in "Les Femmes Savantes," in
company with his deadly enemy, the Abbe Cotin, who figures as
"Trissotin." It appears that the susceptible savant lost his heart
to his lively pupil, and sighed not only in secret but quite
openly. He wrote her bad verses in several languages, loaded her
with eulogies, and followed her persistently. "The name of Mme.
de Sevigne," said the Bishop of Laon, "is in the works of Menage
what Bassan's dog is in his portraits. He cannot help putting it
there." She treated him in a sisterly fashion that put to flight
all sentimental illusions, but she had often to pacify his
wounded vanity. One day, in the presence of several friends, she
gave him a greeting rather more cordial than dignified. Noticing
the looks of surprise, she turned away laughing and said, "So
they kissed in the primitive church." But the wide knowledge and
scholarly criticism of Menage were of great value to the
versatile woman, who speedily surpassed her master in style if
not in learning. Evidently she appreciated him, since she
addressed him in one of her letters as "friend of all friends,
the best."

At eighteen the gay and unconventional Marie de Rabutin-Chantal