iers, were a species of madmen who attracted the admiration of
fools. Toward the end of Cardinal de Richelieu's reign, and the beginning
of Lewis XIV.'s, the Temple of Taste was established at the Hotel of
Rambouillet; but that taste was not judiciously refined this Temple of
Taste might more properly have been named a Laboratory of Wit, where good
sense was put to the torture, in order to extract from it the most
subtile essence. There it was that Voiture labored hard and incessantly
to create wit. At length, Boileau and Moliere fixed the standard of true
taste. In spite of the Scuderys, the Calprenedes, etc., they defeated and
put to flight ARTAMENES, JUBA, OROONDATES, and all those heroes of
romance, who were, notwithstanding (each of them), as good as a whole
Army. Those madmen then endeavored to obtain an asylum in libraries; this
they could not accomplish, but were under a necessity of taking shelter
in the chambers of some few ladies. I would have you read one volume of
"Cleopatra," and one of "Clelia"; it will otherwise be impossible for you
to form any idea of the extravagances they contain; but God keep you from
ever persevering to the twelfth.

During almost the whole reign of Lewis XIV., true taste remained in its
purity, until it received some hurt, although undesignedly, from a very
fine genius, I mean Monsieur de Fontenelle; who, with the greatest sense
and the most solid learning, sacrificed rather too much to the Graces,
whose most favorite child and pupil he was. Admired with reason, others
tried to imitate him; but, unfortunately for us, the author of the
"Pastorals," of the "History of Oracles," and of the "French Theatre,"
found fewer imitators than the Chevalier d'Her did mimics. He has since
been taken off by a thousand authors: but never really imitated by anyone
that I know of.

At this time, the seat of true taste in France seems to me not well
established. It exists, but torn by factions. There is one party of
petits maitres, one of half-learned women, another of insipid authors
whose works are 'verba et voces, et praeterea nihil'; and, in short, a
numerous and very fashionable party of writers, who, in a metaphysical
jumble, introduce their false and subtle reasonings upon the movements
and the sentiments of THE SOUL, THE HEART, and THE MIND.

Do not let yourself be overpowered by fashion, nor by particular sets of
people with whom you may be connected; but try all the different coins
befor