Boileau's death had left the "précieuses" in the undisputed possession of the field of light literature, to which now became added that of science. This new form of preciosity, "la préciosité scientifique", which made its appearance in the salon of Mme de Lambert, where it found an ardent worshipper in Fontenelle, grew so powerful that even Voltaire's efforts to crush it with ridicule were unavailing. So strong had the female dictatorship become, that three of the most influential men-of-letters in the kingdom had vainly tried to get the better of it. But unfortunately the platonic ideal to which the women of the preceding century had owed their ascendancy had degenerated, and in consequence of the altered circumstances women often had to buy with physical submission and degradation that worship of their beauty and deference to their opinion which made them at the same time the rulers and the slaves of men, and against which the moralists of the century, with the glaring exception of Rousseau, made it their business to protest loudly, but in vain.
Mme de Lambert merely wanted to restore the right sort of preciosity to its throne as an antidote to the evils of ignorance, in which she set herself the ideals of the Hôtel de Rambouillet, and advocated moderation in everything. Her salon thus became as much a protest against exaggeration and affectation as against the prevailing opinion that the education of women should only aim at teaching them how to please the opposite sex. An occasional frequenter calls it "l'hôtel de Rambouillet présidé par Fontenelle, et où les précieuses corrigées se souvenaient de Molière."
Being left a widow at a comparatively early age, Mme de Lambert opened her salon in the Palais Mazarin in the rue Colbert about 1700. She was at that time rather more than fifty, and reigned supreme over her circle of visitors for more than thirty years. She set herself to prove that it was possible to have a lively entertainment without the help of the card-table, relying chiefly on conversation and literature. Her Tuesdays and Wednesdays soon became famous, and attracted both the aristocracy and the literati. Among her regular visitors were Fontenelle, Marivaux, Mlle de Launay (Mme de Staal) and de la Motte, champion of the moderns, whilst Mme Dacier undertook the defence of the opposite cause. Mme de Lambert herself was the ruling spirit of the Académie, of which the way towards membership lay through her favour, and the chief literary productions previous to being published—if published they were—were read and criticised in her circle.
If Mme de Lambert deserves mention for having kept a salon which formed a link between the seventeenth and the eighteenth century, and exercised a beneficial influence on the tone of conversation, she is even more entitled to attention on account of the part played by her in the development of feminism. She was a moralist rather than educator, and followed in the steps of Fénelon. She had the Cartesian belief in the infallibility of Reason, with two exceptions, which do honour to the qualities of her heart, and saved her from the inevitable conclusions of logic à outrance: religion and honour. "Il y a deux préjugés auxquels il faut obéir: la religion et l'honneur", and a little further: "En fait de religion, il faut céder aux autorités. Sur tout autre sujet, il ne faut recevoir que celle de la raison et de l'évidence", excluding even honour. But her actions show that she realised the danger which lies in obeying the duties of reason while totally excluding the admonitions of the heart. Stronger than her love of logic was that exquisite form of sensibility which made her at least a real champion of the less fortunately situated. There is real concern for the welfare of her inferiors in the precept that "servants should be treated as unhappy friends", and a true love of humanity in the statement that "humanity suffers in consequence of the inequality which Fortune has introduced among men". Words which come from the heart and entitle her to sympathy and admiration.
Her ideas concerning female education are contained in the "Avis d'une mère à sa fille". She insists on the importance of cultivating the female mind to render woman an agreeable companion to her husband, who will then honour her and give her her due. And she places herself on the standpoint which Mary Wollstonecraft took after her, in basing upon this foundation her vindication of women's right to be instructed. She complains of the tyranny of men, who condemn to ignorance the partners of their wedded lives, disregarding the pernicious consequences entailed thereby. For ignorance leads to vice, and the mind should be kept employed, were it only as a means of avoiding mischief. To Mme de Lambert the Muses were "l'asyle des moeurs". Her educational scheme contains more instruction than Fénelon's, as it includes philosophy, which is to reclaim women to virtue through the medium of Reason.
Of all the French female authors on the Woman Question it is Mme de Lambert whose ideas show the nearest approach to Mary Wollstonecraft. The essential difference between the two—the former's indifference to political emancipation—was due to a difference in social circumstances, which made her a ruler whose influence over men no political enfranchisement could have increased, and also to the condition of things in France, where the first steps towards the political equality of the stronger sex were yet to be taken. She believed the domestic circle to be the proper sphere of women, and her "metaphysics" of love—if less fantastic than the ideals of her 17th century predecessors, which, however, found some adherents among the regulars of her own circle in de la Motte and the Duchesse du Maine—were certainly more conducive to real happiness in the high moral principles out of which they arose. It was the marquis d'Argenson who said of her writings that they were "un résumé complet de la morale du monde et du temps présent la plus parfaite", and there seems no reason to doubt the truth of his judgment.
Unfortunately the good example set by the marquise de Lambert was not followed in other circles, where the increasing influence of the feminine element, instead of purifying the morals of the male sex, depraved them yet further. The great catastrophe of the end of the century was hastened by the vicious excesses of many females.
Goncourt says that the eighteenth century lady of quality represented the principle that governed society, the reason which directed it and the voice which commanded it; she was, in fact, "la cause universelle et fatale, l'origine des événements, la source des choses," and nothing could be achieved without her concurrence. Rousseau, when first arriving in Paris, was advised by a Jesuit to cultivate the acquaintance of women, "for nothing ever happened in Paris except through them".
The bulk of female influence upon the morals of the century was disastrous. The gross materialism amongst society-women found expression in a well-known utterance of the marquise du Châtelet: "We are here merely to procure ourselves the greatest possible variety of agreeable sensations." The most perverse code of morality came to reign in some of the most-frequented salons. One of the leading hostesses of Paris boasted that one of her reception-days was reserved for "gentlemen of a damaged reputation", the so-called "jour des coquins". Of the Englishmen who frequented these circles of appalling vice, Horace Walpole—who in a space of forty years paid six successive visits to Paris, and who was very far indeed from being a sentimentalist,—refers to the utter absence of any sense of decency among people whose chief occupation was the demolition of all authority, whether temporal or spiritual, including the Divine Authority itself.
One of the worst examples of the epicurian spirit was furnished by the salon of the notorious Mme de Tencin. She disdained even to keep up the appearance of quasi-platonic courtship and lived in open and shameless debauch. Her entire life was made up of political intrigues and adventures of gallantry, in which she turned the latter to account to promote the former. She possessed plenty of literary talent, and her two novels "Le Comte de Comminges" and "Le siège de Calais" rank among the best female productions of the century—but even Fontenelle thought her heartless. After a childhood spent in the very imperfect seclusion of a convent which was notorious for its nocturnal orgies, "la religieuse Tencin" came to Paris in 1712 to begin her siege of male hearts, directing her first attack against no less a person than the Regent himself, and ultimately contenting herself with one of his ministers, which gallant adventure was followed by many more. She gave birth to a child, whom she deposited on the steps of a church, to be found and brought up by strangers. This child afterwards became the famous d'Alembert.