An Englishwoman, more concentrated in her feelings
as well as in her pursuits, seldom devotes the time
given by Frenchwomen to the superficial acquisition
of a versatility of knowledge, which, though it enables
them to converse fluently on various subjects,
she would dread entering on, unless well versed
in. My fair compatriots have consequently fewer
topics, even if they had equal talent, to converse
on; so that the esprit styled, par excellence,
l’esprit eminemment francais, is precisely
that to which we can urge the fewest pretensions.
This does not, however, dispose me to depreciate a
talent, or art, for art it may be called, that renders
society in France not only so brilliant but so agreeable,
and which is attended with the salutary effect of
banishing the ill-natured observations and personal
remarks which too often supply the place of more harmless
topics with us.
Much as I deplore some of the consequences of the
Revolution in France, and the atrocities by which
it was stained, it is impossible not to admit the
great and salutary change effected in the habits and
feelings of the people since that event. Who
can live on terms of intimacy with the French, without
being struck by the difference between those of our
time, and those of whom we read previously to that
epoch? The system of education is totally different.
The habits of domestic life are wholly changed.
The relations between husband and wife, and parents
and children, have assumed another character, by which
the bonds of affection and mutual dependances are
drawn more closely together; and home, sweet
home, the focus of domestic love, said to have
been once an unknown blessing, at least among the
haute noblesse, is now endeared by the discharge
of reciprocal duties and warm sympathies.
It is impossible to doubt but that the Revolution
of 1789, and the terrible scenes in the reign of terror
which followed it, operated in producing the change
to which I have referred. It found the greater
portion of the noblesse luxuriating in pleasure,
and thinking only of selfish, if not of criminal indulgence,
in pursuits equally marked by puerility and vice.
The corruption of the regency planted the seeds of
vice in French morals, and they yielded a plentiful
harvest. How well has St.-Evremond described
that epoch in his playful, but sarcastic verses!—
“Une politique
indulgente,
De notre nature innocente,
Favorisait tous les
desirs;
Tout gout paraissait
legitime,
La douce erreur ne s’appelait
point crime,
Les vices delicats se
nommalent des plaisirs.”
