Though the ladies of France are not very handsome, they are sensible and
witty. To many of them, without the least flattery, may be applied the
distich which Sappho ascribes to herself:
"_If partial nature has denied me beauty, the charms of my mind amply
make up for the deficiency._"
No women upon earth can excel, and few rival them, in their almost
native arts of pleasing all who approach them. Add to this, an education
beyond that of most European ladies, a consummate skill in those
accomplishments that suit the fair sex, and the most graceful manner of
displaying that knowledge to the utmost advantage.
Such is the description that may safely be given of the French ladies in
general. But the spirit, or rather the _evil genius_ of gallantry, too
often perverts all these lovely qualities, and renders them subservient
to very iniquitous ends.
In every country, women have always a little to do, and a great deal to
say. In France, they dictate almost every thing that is said, and direct
every thing that is done. They are the most restless beings in the
world. To fold her hands in idleness, and impose silence on her tongue,
would be to a French woman worse than death. The sole joy of her life is
to be engaged in the prosecution of some scheme, relating either to
fashion, ambition, or love.
Among the rich and opulent, they are entirely the votaries of pleasure,
which they pursue through all its labyrinths, at the expense of fortune,
reputation, and health. Giddy and extravagant to the last degree, they
leave to their husbands economy and care, which would only spoil their
complexions, and furrow their brows.
When we descend to tradesmen and mechanics, the case is reversed: the
wife manages every thing in the house and shop, while the husband
lounges in the back-shop an idle spectator, or struts about with his
sword and bag-wig.
Matrimony among the French, seems to be a bargain entered into by a male
and female, to bear the same name, live in the same house, and pursue
their separate pleasures without restraint or control. And, so
religiously is this part of the bargain kept, that both parties shape
their course exactly as convenience and inclination dictate.
The French girls are kept under very strict superintendence. They are
not allowed to go to parties, or places of public amusement, without
being accompanied by some married female relation; and they see their
lovers only in the presence of a third person. Marriages are entirely
negotiated by parents; and sometimes the wedding day is the second time
that a bride and bridegroom see each other. Nothing is more common than
to visit a lady, and attend her parties, without knowing her husband by
sight; or to visit a gentleman without ever being introduced to his
wife. If a married couple were to be seen frequently in each other's
company, they would be deemed extremely ungenteel. After ladies are
married, they have unbounded freedom. It is a common practice to receive
morning calls from gentlemen, before they have risen from bed; and they
talk with as little reserve to such visiters, as they would in the
presence of any woman of refinement.
In no country does real politeness shew itself more than in France,
where the company of the women is accessible to every man who can
recommend himself by his dress, and by his address. To affectation and
prudery the French women are equally strangers. Easy and unaffected in
their manners, their politeness has so much the appearance of nature,
that one would almost believe no part of it to be the effect of art. An
air of sprightliness and gaiety sits perpetually on their countenances,
and their whole deportment seems to indicate that their only business is
to "strew the path of life with flowers." Persuasion hangs on their
lips; and, though their volubility of tongue is indefatigable, so soft
is their accent, so lively their expression, so various their attitudes,
that they fix the attention for hours together on a tale of nothing.
The Jewish doctors have a fable concerning the etymology of the word
Eve, which one would almost be tempted to say is realized in the French
women. "Eve," say they, "comes from a word, which signifies to talk; and
she was so called, because, soon after the creation, there fell from
heaven twelve baskets full of chit chat, and she picked up _nine_ of
them, while her husband was gathering the other _three_."
French ladies, especially those not young, use a great deal of rouge. A
traveller who saw many of them in their opera boxes, says, "I could
compare them to nothing but a large bed of pionies."
After the French revolution, it became the fashion to have everything in
ancient classic style. Loose flowing drapery, naked arms, sandaled feet,
and tresses twisted, were the order of the day.
The state of gross immorality that prevailed at this time ought not to
be described, if language had the power. The profligacy of Rome in its
worst days was comparatively thrown into the shade. Religion and
marriage became a mockery, and every form of impure and vindictive
passion walked abroad, with the consciousness that public opinion did
not require them to assume even a slight disguise. The fish-women of
Paris will long retain an unenviable celebrity for the brutal excess of
their rage. The goddess of Reason was worshipped by men, under the form
of a living woman entirely devoid of clothing; and in the public streets
ladies might be seen who scarcely paid more attention to decorum.