After the French revolution, it became the fashion to have every thing in ancient classic style. Loose flowing drapery, naked arms, sandaled feet, and tresses twisted, or braided, _à la Diane_, or _à la Psyche_, were the order of the day. The want of pockets, which had previously been worn, was obviated by sticking the fan in the girdle, and confiding the snuff-box and handkerchief to some obsequious beau. The reticule or indispensable was not then invented. The state of gross immorality that prevailed at this time ought not to be described, if language had the power. The profligacy of Rome in its worst days was comparatively thrown into the shade. Religion and marriage became a mockery, and every form of impure and vindictive passion walked abroad, with the consciousness that public opinion did not require them to assume even a slight disguise. The fish-women of Paris will long retain an unenviable celebrity for the brutal excesses of their rage. The goddess of Reason was worshipped by men, under the form of a living woman entirely devoid of clothing; and in the public streets ladies might be seen who scarcely paid more attention to decorum. Even the courage they evinced during the reign of terror was often oddly mingled with frivolity. A French writer, who went to the house of the minister, to solicit liberty for an imprisoned friend, was struck with always finding a young woman on the spot, who apparently came for the same purpose. “Madam,” said he, “you must have a good deal of energy, to rise every day so early at a season so rigorous.” She replied, “For more than a month I have constantly been here at eight in the morning, to beg my husband’s liberty. It is necessary to rise at seven to arrange my toilet. You may judge how fatiguing this is; for I cannot miss of a ball, and I often come home at five in the morning, after having danced all night.”