TEENTH CENTURY

_Characteristics of French Woman--Gallic Genius for Conversation--Social
Conditions--Origin of the Salons--Their Power--Their Composition--Their
Records._

"Inspire, but do not write," said LeBrun to women. Whatever we may think
today of this rather superfluous advice, we can readily pardon a man
living in the atmosphere of the old French salons, for falling somewhat
under the special charm of their leaders. It was a charm full of subtle
flattery. These women were usually clever and brilliant, but their
cleverness and brilliancy were exercised to bring into stronger relief
the talents of their friends. It is true that many of them wrote,
as they talked, out of the fullness of their own hearts or their own
intelligence, and with no thought of a public; but it was only an
incident in their lives, another form of diversion, which left them
quite free from the dreaded taint of feminine authorship. Their peculiar
gift was to inspire others, and much of the fascination that gave them
such power in their day still clings to their memories. Even at this
distance, they have a perpetual interest for us. It may be that the
long perspective lends them a certain illusion which a closer view might
partly dispel. Something also may be due to the dark background against
which they were outlined. But, in spite of time and change, they stand
out upon the pages of history, glowing with an ever-fresh vitality, and
personifying the genius of a civilization of which they were the fairest
flower.

The Gallic genius is eminently a social one, but it is, of all others,
the most difficult to reproduce. The subtle grace of manner, the magic
of spoken words, are gone with the moment. The conversations of two
centuries ago are today like champagne which has lost its sparkle.
We may recall their tangible forms--the facts, the accessories, the
thoughts, even the words, but the flavor is not there. It is the
volatile essence of gaiety and wit that especially characterizes French
society. It glitters from a thousand facets, it surprises us in a
thousand delicate turns of thought, it appears in countless movements
and shades of expression. But it refuses to be imprisoned. Hence the
impossibility of catching the essential spirit of the salons. We know
something of the men and women who frequented them, as they have left
many records of themselves. We have numerous pictures of their social
life from which we may partially reconstruct it