* Garat obſerves, it was a maxim of Danton, "Que ceux qui feſaient les affaires de la republique devaient auſſi faireles leurs," that who undertook the care of the republic ſhould alſo take care of themſelves. This tenet, however, ſeems common to the friends of both.
Paris, June 6, 1795.
I had ſcarcely concluded my laſt, when I received advice of the death of Madame de la F————; and though I have, almoſt from the time we quitted the Providence, thought ſhe was declining, and that ſuch an event was probable, it has, nevertheleſs, both ſhocked and grieved me.
Excluſively of her many good and engaging qualities, which were reaſonable objects of attachment, Madame de la F———— was endeared to me by thoſe habits of intimacy that often ſupply the want of merit, and make us adhere to our early friendſhips, even when not ſanctioned by our maturer judgment. Madame de la F———— never became entirely diveſted of the effects of a convent education; but if ſhe retained a love of trifling amuſements, and a ſort of infantine gaiety, ſhe likewiſe continued pious, charitable, and ſtrictly attentive not only to the duties, but to the decorum, eſſential in the female character and meritſ of this ſort are, I believe, now more rare than thoſe in which ſhe might be deemed deficient.
I was ſpeaking of her this morning to a lady of our acquaintance, who acquieſced in my friendly eulogiums, but added, in a tone of ſuperiority, "C'etoit pourtant une petite femme bien minutieuſe—ſhe always put me out of patience with her birds and her flowers, her levees of poor people, and her perſevering induſtry in frivolous projects." My friend was, indeed, the moſt feminine creature in the world, and this is a flippant literary lady, who talks in raptures of the Greeks and Romans, calls Rouſſeau familiarly Jean Jaques, friſks through the whole circle of ſcience at the Lyceum, and has an utter contempt both for perſonal neatneſs and domeſtic oeconomy. How would Madame de Sevigne wonder, could ſhe behold one of theſe modern belles eſprits, with which her country, as well as England, abounds? In our zeal for reforming the irregular orthography and houſewifely penmanſhip of the laſt century, we are all become readers, and authors, and critics. I do not aſſert, that the female mind is too much cultivated, but that it is too generally ſo; and that we encourage a taſte for attainments not always compatible with the duties and occupations of domeſtic life. No age has, I believe, produced ſo many literary ladies as the preſent;* yet I cannot learn that we are at all improved in morals, or that domeſtic happineſs is more univerſal than when, inſtead of writing ſonnets to dew-drops or daiſies,** we copied prayers and recipes, in ſpelling ſimilar to that of Stowe or Hollingſhed.
* Let me not be ſuppoſed to undervalue the female authors of the preſent day. There are ſome who, uniting great talents with perſonal worth, are juſtly entitled to our reſpect and admiration. The authoreſs of "Cecilia," or the Miſs Lees, cannot be confounded with the proprietors of all the Caſtles, Foreſts, Groves, Woods, Cottages, and Caverns, which are ſo alluring in the catalogue of a circulating library. ** Mrs. Smith's beautiful Sonnets have produced ſonnetteers for every object in nature, viſible or inviſible; and her elegant tranſlations of Petrarch have procured the Italian bard many an Engliſh dreſs that he would have been aſhamed to appear in.
—We ſeem induſtrious to make every branch of education a vehicle for inſpiring a premature taſte for literary amuſements; and our old faſhioned moral adages in writing-books are replaced by ſcraps from "Elegant Extracts," while print-work and embroidery repreſent ſcenes from poems or novels. I allow, that the ſubjects formerly pourtrayed by the needle were not pictoreſque, yet, the tendency conſidered, young ladieſ might as well employ their ſilk or pencils in exhibiting Daniel in the lionſ' den, or Joſeph and his brethren, as Sterne's Maria, or Charlotte and Werter.
You will forgive this digreſſion, which I have been led into on hearing the character of Madame de la F———— depreciated, becauſe ſhe was only gentle and amiable, and did not read Plutarch, nor hold literary aſſemblies. It is, in truth, a little amende I owe her memory, for I may myſelf have ſometimes eſtimated her too lightly, and concluded my own purſuits more rational than hers, when poſſibly they were only different. Her death has left an impreſſion on my mind, which the turbulence of Paris is not calculated to ſoothe; but the ſhort time we have to ſtay, and the number of people I muſt ſee, oblige me to conquer both my regret and my indolence, and to paſs a great part of the day in running from place to place.
I have been employed all this morning in executing ſome female commiſſions, which, of courſe, led me to milliners, mantua-makers, &c. Theſe people now recommend faſhions by ſaying one thing is invented by Tallien's wife, and another by Merlin de Thionville, or ſome other Deputy's miſtreſs; and the genius of theſe elegantes has contrived, by a mode of dreſſing the hair which lengthens the neck, and by robes with an inch of waiſt, to give their countrywomen an appearance not much unlike that of a Bar Gander.