Part 38 (1/2)

”-------- Not to be the worst Stands in some rank of praise.”

Their princ.i.p.al merit consists in their conducting themselves with a certain degree of decorum and reserve, and in being susceptible of attachment. Born in an humble sphere, they are accustomed from their infancy to gain their livelihood by their industry. Like young birds that feel the power of using their wings, they fly from the parent-nest at the age of sixteen; and, hiring a room for themselves, they live according to their means and fancy.

More fortunate in their indigence than the daughters of petty tradesmen, they overleap the limits of restraint, while their charms are in full l.u.s.tre; and sometimes their happiness arises from being born in poverty. In marrying an artisan of their own cla.s.s, they see nothing but distress and servitude, which are by no means compatible with their spirit of independence. Vanity becomes their guide, and is as bad a guide as distress; for it prompts them to add the resources of their youth and person to those of their needle. This double temptation is too strong for their weak virtue. They therefore seek a friend to console them on Sundays for the _ennui_ of the remainder of the week, which must needs seem long, when they are sitting close at work from morning to night. In general, they are more faithful than any of the other cla.s.ses of the frail part of the s.e.x, and may be supported at little expense, and without scandal.

It would require almost the powers of the inquisition to ascertain whether _grisettes_ have increased or diminished since the revolution; but their number is, and always has been, immense in Paris. An object highly deserving of the attention of the French legislators would be to find a remedy for this evil. A mortal blow should, no doubt, be struck at the luxury of the toilet; as the rage for dress has, I am convinced, undermined the virtue of as many women as the vile stratagems of all the Lotharios in being. Leaving these matters to some modern Lycurgus, I shall end my letter. But, in my eager haste to close it, I must not omit a cla.s.s, which has increased in a proportion equal to the decrease of kept women. As they have no precise designation in France, I shall take the liberty of applying to them, that of

DEMIREPS.

Without having the shameless effrontery of vice, these ladies have not the austere rigour of virtue. Seeing that professed courtesans insnared the most promising youths, and s.n.a.t.c.hed them from other women, this description of females sprang up, in a manner, to dispute with them, under the rose, the advantages which the others derived from their traffic. If they have not the same boldness in their carriage, their looks bespeak almost as much complaisance. They declaim loudly against women of all the cla.s.ses before-mentioned, for the best possible reason; because these are their more dangerous rivals. It is certain that a virtuous woman cannot hold the breach of chast.i.ty too much in abhorrence, but every Lucretia ought to have ”a tear for pity,” especially towards the fallen part of her s.e.x.

Nothing can be more disgusting than to hear women, who are known to have transgressed, forget their own frailties, and rail against the more unguarded, and, consequently, more artless part of womankind, without mercy or justice.

Demireps, in general, profess the greatest disinterestedness in their connexions; but if they receive no money at the moment of granting their favours, they accept trinkets and other presents which have some value. It is not at all uncommon for a man to think that he has a _bonne fortune_, when he finds himself on terms of intimacy with such a woman. Enraptured at his success, he repeats his visits, till one day he surprises his belle, overwhelmed by despair. He eagerly inquires the cause. After much entreaty, she informs him that she has had ill luck at play, and, with anguish in her looks, laments that she is ruined beyond redemption. The too credulous admirer can do no less than accommodate her secretly with a sufficient sum to prevent her from being taken to task by her husband; and thus the disinterested lady proves, in the end, a greater drain to the gallant's pocket than the most mercenary courtesan.

The man who would wish to recommend himself to their favour, scarcely need take any further trouble than to change some of their trinkets, which are no longer in fas.h.i.+on. Sometimes he may meet with a husband, who, conniving at his wife's infidelity, will shew him every mark of attention. In that case, the lover is quite at home, and his presence being equally agreeable to the obliging husband as to the kind wife, when they are all three a.s.sembled, they seem to fit their several places like the three sides of an equilateral triangle.

Since the revolution, the increase of demireps is said to have diminished most sensibly the cla.s.s of what are termed kept women.

Indeed, it is affirmed by some, that the number of the former has, within these few years, multiplied in a tenfold proportion. Others again maintain that it is no greater than it was formerly; because, say they, the state of society in Paris is not near so favourable to amorous intrigue as that which existed under the old _regime_. Riches being more equally divided, few persons, comparatively speaking, are now sufficiently affluent to entertain large parties, and give routs, b.a.l.l.s, and suppers, where a numerous a.s.semblage afforded, to those inclined to dissipation, every opportunity of cultivating an intimate acquaintance. I must confess that these reasons, a.s.signed by some worthy Frenchmen whose opinions I respect, do not altogether accord with the result of my observation; and, without taking on myself to controvert them, I am persuaded that truth will bear me out in a.s.serting, that, if the morals of that cla.s.s of society in which I have chiefly mixed during the different periods of my stay in France, are not deteriorated, they are certainly not improved since I last visited Paris.

After having painted, in regular succession, and with colours occasionally borrowed, the general portrait of all those cla.s.ses of females whose likeness every English traveller has, no doubt, met with, I must find a little corner of my canva.s.s for a small number of women who might, probably, be sought in vain out of Paris. However great a recommendation their rarity may be in the eyes of some, still it is not the only quality that points them out to the notice of the impartial observer.

When a man has come to his senses respecting the s.e.x, or, according to the vulgar adage, sown his wild oats, he naturally seeks a sincere friend to whom he can unbosom himself with confidence. Experience warns him that few men are to be trusted; and unless he has had the good fortune to meet with a virtuous wife, blessed with an engaging temper and a good understanding, he must even, like Junius, be the depository of his own secret. In Paris, however, he may find one of those scarce females, who, being accustomed early in life to reflection, possess the firm mind of a man, combined with the quick sensibility of a woman.

When the illusion of the first pa.s.sions is dissipated, their reason becomes unclouded. Renouncing every narrow thought, they raise themselves to the knowledge of the most weighty affairs, and, by an active observation of mankind, are accustomed to discriminate every shade of character. Hence their penetration is great; and they are capable of giving good advice on important occasions. In short, a French woman at thirty makes an excellent friend, and, attaching herself to the man she esteems, thinks no sacrifice too great for the advancement of his interest, or the security of his happiness or reputation.

The friends.h.i.+p between man and woman is a thousand times more sweet than that between one man and another. A woman's friends.h.i.+p is active, vigilant, and at the same time tender. French women cherish more sincerely their old friends than their young lovers. They may perchance deceive the lover, but never the friend; the latter they consider as a sacred being. Whence, no doubt, Rousseau (who has not spared the Parisian ladies) has been led to say: ”I would never have sought in Paris a wife, still less a mistress; but I would willingly have made there a female friend; and this treasure would, perhaps, have consoled me for not finding the other two.”

LETTER XL.

_Paris, December 27, 1801._

About thirty years ago, a public insult offered to human nature, in the person of some unfortunate blind men belonging to the Hospital of the _Quinze-vingts_, and repeated daily for the s.p.a.ce of two months, suggested to a spectator the idea of avenging it in a manner worthy of a true philanthropist.

In a coffeehouse of the _Foire St. Ovide_, in Paris, were placed ten blind beggars, m.u.f.fled up in grotesque dresses and long pointed caps, with large paste-board spectacles on their nose, without gla.s.s: music and lights were set before them; and one of them was characterized as Midas, with the ears of an a.s.s, and the addition of a peac.o.c.k's tail, spread behind him. He sang, while all the others played the same parts of a monotonous tune, without either taste or measure; and the unfeeling public turned into derision the unfortunate actors in this infamous scene. This happened in September 1771.

From that moment, M. VALENTIN HAuY, brother to the celebrated mineralogist of that name, animated by a n.o.ble enthusiasm, conceived the project of teaching the blind to write and read, and of placing in their hands books and music, printed by themselves. After employing twelve years in maturing it, at length, in 1784, he ventured to carry it into execution. To so laudable and benevolent a purpose, he devoted all his fortune; and hence originated the establishment known in Paris, since the year 1791, by the t.i.tle of

NATIONAL INSt.i.tUTION OF THE INDUSTRIOUS BLIND.

Presently M. HAuY found his plan seconded by the Philanthropic Society, and the benefactions and advice of several persons, no less distinguished for understanding than benevolence, contributed not a little to encourage his zeal in its prosecution. The following were the primary objects of the establishment.

1. To withdraw the blind from the dangerous paths of idleness.

2. To procure them certain means of subsistence by the execution of pleasant and easy labours.

3. To restore them to society.

4. To console them for their misfortune.

To rescue the blind from idleness is, unquestionably, of itself a great blessing, as it preserves them from an infinite number of vices, and consequently must be approved by the moralist. But another advantage, equally deserving of approbation, is to cause them to find, in their labour, an infallible resource against indigence.