Chapter II: Part 2

Penciling eye-brows, staining them, &c., are too clumsy tricks of attempted deception, for any other emotion to be excited in the mind of the beholder, than contempt for the bad taste and wilful blindness which could ever deem them passable for a moment. There is a lovely harmony in nature’s tints, which we seldom attain by our added chromatics. The exquisitely fair complexion is generally accompanied with blue eyes, light hair, and light eye-brows and lashes. So far all is right. The delicacy of one feature is preserved in effect and beauty by the corresponding softness of the other. A young creature, so formed, appears to the eye of taste like the azure heavens, seen through the fleecy clouds on which the brightness of day delights to dwell. But take this fair image of the celestial regions, draw a black line over her softly-tinctured eyes, stain their beamy fringes with a sombre hue, and what do you produce? Certainly a fair face with _dark_ eye-brows! But that feature, which is an embellishment to a brunette, when seen on the forehead of the fair beauty, becomes, if not an absolute deformity, so great a drawback from her perfections, that the harmony is gone; and, as a proof, a painter would immediately turn from the change with disgust.

Nature, in almost every case, is our best guide. Hence the native color of our own hair is, in general, better adapted to our own complexions than a wig of a contrary hue. A thing may be beautiful in itself, which, with certain combinations, may be rendered hideous. For instance, a golden-tressed wig on the head of a brown woman, makes both ridiculous. By the same rule, all fantastic tricks played with the mouth or eyes, or motions of the head, are absurd, and ruinous to beauty. They are solecisms in the works of nature.

In Turkey, it happened to be the taste of one of its great monarchs, to esteem large and dark-lashed eyes as the most lovely. From that time, all the fair slaves of that voluptuous region, when nature has not bestowed “the wild-stag eye in sable ringlets rolling,” supply the deficiency with circles of antimony; and so, instead of a real charm, they impart a strange artificial ghastliness to their appearance.

Our countrywomen, in like manner, when a celebrated _belle_ came under the pencil of Sir Peter Lely, who exhibited to her emulative rivals the sweet peculiarities of her long and languishing eye, they must needs all have the same; and not a lady could appear in public, be her visual orbs large or small, bright or dull, but she must affect the soft sleepiness, the tender and slowly-moving roll of her subduing exemplar. But though Sir Peter’s gallant pencil deigned to compliment his numerous sitters by drowning their strained aspects after the model of the peerless _belle_, yet, in place of the nature-stamped look of modest languishment, he could not but often recognize the disgraceful leer and hideous squint. Let every woman be content to leave her eyes as she found them, and to make that use of them which was their design. They were intended to see with, and artlessly express the feelings of a chaste and benevolent heart. Let them speak this unsophisticated language, and beauty will beam from the orb which affectation would have rendered odious.

Analogy of reasoning will bring forward similar remarks with regard to the movements of the mouth, which many ladies use, not to speak with or to admit food, but to show dimples and display white teeth. Wherever a desire for exhibition is discovered, a disposition to disapprove and ridicule arises in the spectator. The pretensions of the vain are a sort of assumption over others, which arms the whole world against them. But, after all, “What are the honors of a painted skin?” I hope it will be distinctly understood by my fair friends, that I do not, by any means, give a general license to painting; on the contrary, that even rouge should only be resorted to in cases of absolute necessity.

GENERAL THOUGHTS ON DRESS AND PERSONAL DECORATION.

“Costly your habit as your purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the woman.”

SHAKSPEARE.

Every person of just observation, who looks back on the fashions of our immediate ancestors, and compares their style of dress with that of the present times, will not hesitate to acknowledge the evident improvement in ease and gracefulness. When I say this, I mean to eulogize the taste which yet prevails with persons of real judgment, to maintain the _ease and gracefulness_ of our assumed Grecian mode, against a new race of stay-makers, corset-inventors, &c., who have just armed themselves with whalebone, steel, and buckram, to the utter destruction of all the naturally-elegant shapes which fall into their hands.

Just before this attempted counter-revolution in the world of fashion, we found that our _belles_ had gradually exploded the stiffness and formality which distinguished the brocaded dame of 1700, from the lawn-robed fair of the nineteenth century. In former ages it seemed requisite that every lady should cut out her garments by a certain erected standard. All seemed in a livery. One mode for gown, cap, and hat prevailed; and though the materials might be more costly in one than another, the outline was the same; and thus peculiar taste and fine form were lost, in the general prescription of one reigning costume.

But in our days, an Englishwoman has the extensive privilege of arraying herself in whatever garb may best suit her figure or her fancy. The fashions of every nation and of every era are open to her choice. One day she may appear as the Egyptian Cleopatra, then a Grecian Helen; next morning, the Roman Cornelia; or, if these styles be too august for her taste, there are sylphs, goddesses, nymphs of every region, in earth or air, ready to lend her their wardrobe. In short, no land or age is permitted to withhold its costume from the adoption of an Englishwoman of fashion.

“Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here
The various offsprings of the world appear;
This casket India’s glowing gems unlocks,
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.”

With such a variety to choose from, she has no excuse, if she unite not the excellences of them all. It was so that the sculptor of Paphos formed the “beauteous statue that enchanted the world.” And in like manner female taste accomplishes its object. A judicious dresser will select from each mode that which is most distinguishable for utility and grace, and, combining, adopt them to advantage. This is the art which every woman who casts a thought on these subjects, ought to endeavor to attain.

Elegant dressing is not found in expense; money without judgment may load, but never can adorn. You may show profusion without grace: You may cover a neck with pearls, a head with jewels, hands and arms with rings, bracelets, and trinkets, and yet produce no effect, but having emptied some merchant’s counter upon your person. The best chosen dress is that which so harmonizes with the figure as to make the raiment pass unobserved. The result of the finest toilet should be an _elegant woman_, not an elegantly dressed woman. Where a perfect whole is intended, it is a sign of defect in the execution, when the details first present themselves to observation.

In short, the secret of dressing lies in simplicity, and a certain adaptation to your figure, your rank, your circumstances. To dress well on these principles--and they are the only just ones--does not require that extravagant attention to so trivial an object, as is usually exhibited by persons who make the toilet a study. When ladies place the spell of their attraction in their clothes, we generally see them arrayed in robes of a thousand makes and dyes, and curiously constructed of materials brought from, Heaven knows where. Thus, much time, thought, and wealth, are wasted on a comparatively worthless object. To lavish many of the precious hours of life in the invention and arrangement of dress, is as criminal an offence as to exhaust the finances of your husband or parents by a thriftless expenditure on its component parts.

The taste I wish to inculcate, is that nicely-poised estimation of things, which shows it “worth our while to do _well_, what it is ever worth our while _to do_.” This disposition originates in a correct and delicate mind, and forms a judgment which makes elegance inseparable from propriety; and extending itself from great objects to small, reaches the most apparently insignificant; and thus, even in the change of the morning and evening attire, displays to the considerate observer a very intelligible index of the wearer’s well-regulated mind.

“Show me a lady’s dressing-room,” says a certain writer, “and I will tell you what manner of woman she is.” Chesterfield, also, is of opinion, that a sympathy goes through every action of our lives: he declares, that he could not help conceiving some idea of people’s sense and character from the dress in which they appeared when introduced to him. He was so great an advocate for pleasing externals, that he often said, he would rather see a young person too much than too little dressed, excess, on the fopish side, wearing off with time and reflection; but if a youth be negligent at twenty, it is probable he will be a sloven at forty, and disgustingly dirty at fifty. However this may be with the other sex, I beg leave to observe, that I never yet met with a woman whose general style of dress was chaste, elegant, and appropriate, that I did not find, on further acquaintance, to be, in disposition and mind, an object to admire and love.

This correspondence between the thoughts and the raiment being established, what was before insignificant becomes of consequence; and, being rightly understood, good sense will be as careful not to disparage her discretion, by extravagant dress, as she would to evince a sordid mind, by dirt and rags.

I think I see you, my friends, smile, incredulous, at the last sentence. What gentlewoman, you exclaim, who is above the most abject pecuniary embarrassments, can ever have chance of being so apparelled? A desire of singularity is a sufficient answer. There is a race of women, who, priding themselves on their superior rank, or wealth, or talents, affect to despise what they deem the adventitious aids of dress. Their appearance, in consequence, is frequently as ridiculous as disgusting. When this folly is seen in female authors, or what is much the same thing, ladies professing a particularly literary taste, we can at once trace its motives,--a conceited negligence of outward attractions, and a determination to raise themselves in the opinions of men, by displaying a contempt for what they deem the vain occupations of meaner souls. Wishing to be thought superior to founding any regard on external ornament, they forget external decency; and by slatternliness and affectation, render what is called a learned woman, a kind of scare-crow to her own sex, and a laughing-stock to the other. This error is not so common now with bookish ladies as it was in the beginning of the last century. Then our sex did, indeed, show that “a little learning is a dangerous thing.” They did not imbibe sufficient to imbue them with a sense of its real properties, to show them causes and effects, to make them understand themselves, and close the book in humility. They, poor short-sighted creatures! exchanged the innocent ignorance of Eve for the empoisoned apple, which, under the cheat of displaying knowledge, fills the eater with a vain self-conceit, while it more openly exposes her mental nakedness to every eye.

The absurdity of their deductions is so obvious, that one wonders how any woman could fall into such an error. Who among them but would think it the height of folly to place over the door of a museum, to which the proprietor wished to attract visitors, the effigy of a monster, so disgusting as to deter men from entering to see what might otherwise have afforded them much pleasure? Such effigies might the slip-shod muses of the days of Anne have given of themselves; but most of the modern female votaries of Minerva, aware of the advantages of a prepossessing appearance, mingle with their incense to the Goddess a few flowers to the Paphian Graces; and, that they gain by the devotion, none who have been admitted to the acquaintance of our British Sapphos and Corinnas, can deny.

There is another class of persons, who neglect their exterior on account of the consequence they derive from their rank; but instances on such a plea are few, in comparison with the insolent slovenliness of the opposite sex, when, springing from the lower degrees in society, they amass or acquire large fortunes. They aim at notoriety; and common means, such as expense and show, not raising them into an _eclat_ beyond their equally rich contemporaries, ambition leads them to seek notice by the assumption of a garb of almost pauper negligence. I remember, some years since, when on a visit at a large seaport town in the north of England, to have been attracted by seeing at the door of a handsome house in one of the principal streets an elegant modern chariot. I stopped, and, to my surprise, saw step into it an old man of the meanest and most dirty appearance. A few days afterwards, while viewing the docks with a gentleman who was an inhabitant of the place, I observed the same wretched-looking person conversing familiarly with a man of the first consequence in the town. I inquired of my friend the name and business of the shabby old fellow, and received the following brief answer. He had been taken, when a boy, from very indigent parents residing in a northern village; and, being a smart lad, was employed in the drudgery of a banking-house belonging to his benefactors. By assiduous application, and a deep cunning, aided by what is vulgarly called _good luck_, he gradually advanced himself to be one of the firm. Of course, his fortune then rose with the house, and his wealth, at the time I saw him, was computed at upwards of a hundred thousand pounds. Yet I am sure that an old-clothesman would not have given half-a-crown for the whole of the apparel (or rather rags) upon his back.

Now, as it is too often the custom with people, in forming an opinion, seldom to go beyond the surface, this modern AVARO was, by many, termed _a man without pride_! Few gave a guess at the real motive of all this studied negligence; but those who investigate the human character, and trace actions to the secret springs of the heart, saw, in this inattention to personal decency, the very acmé of personal pride. I shall prove my position by repeating the usual reply of this old man, when any of his acquaintance ventured to inquire why he wore such tattered garments. “Why,” he would answer, “were I to dress as smart as other people, no one would know T. W. from another man.”

Men may fall into this mistaken road to distinction, but women who have suddenly become wealthy seldom do. A passion for dress is so common with the sex, that it ought not to be very surprising, when opulence, vanity, and bad taste meet, that we should find extravagance and tawdry profusion the fruits of the union. And it would be well if a humor for expensive dress were always confined to the fortunate daughters of Plutus; but we too often find this ruinous spirit in women of slender means, and then, what ought to be one of the embellishments of life is turned into a splendid mischief. Alas! my friends, it must come under your own observations, that often does the foolish virgin, or infatuated matron, sell her peace or honor for a ring or a scarf!

A woman of principle and prudence must be consistent in the style and quality of her attire; she must be careful that her expenditure does not exceed the limits of her allowance; she must be aware, that it is not the girl who lavishes the most money on her apparel that is the best arrayed. Frequent instances have I known, where young women, with a little good taste, ingenuity, and economy, have maintained a much better appearance than ladies of three times their fortune. No treasury is large enough to supply indiscriminate profusion; and scarcely any purse is too scanty for the uses of life, when managed by a careful hand. Few are the situations in which a woman can be placed, whether she be married or single, where some attention to thrift is not expected. High rank requires adequate means to support its consequence--ostentatious wealth, a superabundance to maintain its domineering pretensions; and the middle class, when virtue is its companion, looks to economy to allow it to throw its mite into the lap of charity.

Hence we see, that hardly any woman, however related, can have a right to independent, uncontrolled expenditure; and that, to do her duty in every sense of the word, she must learn to understand and exercise the graces of economy. This quality will be a gem in her husband’s eyes; for, though most of the money-getting sex like to see their wives well dressed, yet, trust me, my fair friends, they would rather owe that pleasure to your taste than to their pockets!

Costliness being, then, no essential principle in real elegance, I shall proceed to give you a few hints on what are the distinguishing circumstances of a well-ordered toilet.

As the beauty of form and complexion is different in different women, and is still more varied, according to the ages of the fair subjects of investigation; so the styles in dress, while simplicity is the soul of all, must assume a character corresponding with the wearer.

The seasons of life should be arrayed like those of the year. In the spring of youth, when all is lovely and gay, then, as the soft green, sparkling in freshness, bedecks the earth; so, light and transparent robes, of tender colors, should adorn the limbs of the young beauty. If she be of the Hebe form, warm weather should find her veiled in fine muslin, lawn, gauzes, and other lucid materials. To suit the character of her figure, and to accord with the prevailing mode and just taste together, her morning robes should be of a length sufficiently circumscribed as not to impede her walking; but on no account must they be too short; for, when any design is betrayed of showing the foot or ankle, the idea of beauty is lost in that of the wearer’s odious indelicacy. On the reverse, when no show of vanity is apparent in the dress--when the lightly-flowing drapery, by unsought accident, discovers the pretty buskined foot or taper ankle, a sense of virgin timidity, and of exquisite loveliness together, strikes upon the senses; and Admiration, with a tender sigh, softly whispers, “The most resistless charm is modesty!”

In Thomson’s exquisite portrait of Lavinia, the prominent feature is modesty. “She was beauty’s self,” indeed, but-then she was “thoughtless of beauty;” and though her eyes were sparkling, “bashful modesty” directed them

“Still on the ground dejected, darting all
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers.”

The morning robe should cover the arms and the bosom, nay even the neck. And if it be made tight to the shape, every symmetrical line is discovered with a grace so decent, that vestals, without a blush, might adopt the chaste apparel. This simple garb leaves to beauty all her empire; no furbelows, no heavy ornaments, load the figure, warp the outlines, and distract the attention. All is light, easy, and elegant; and the lovely wearer, “with her glossy ringlets loosely bound,” moves with the Zephyrs on the airy wing of youth and innocence.

Her summer evening dress may be of a still more gossamer texture; but it must still preserve the same simplicity, though its gracefully-diverging folds may fall like the mantle of Juno, in clustering drapery about her steps. There they should meet the white slipper

“--of the fairy foot,
Which shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute.”

In this dress, her arms, and part of her neck and bosom may be unveiled; but only _part_. The eye of maternal decorum should draw the virgin zone to the limit where modesty would bid it rest.

Where beauty is, ornaments are unnecessary; and where it is not, they are unavailing. But as gems and flowers are handsome in themselves, and when tastefully disposed doubly so, a beautiful young woman, if she chooses to share her empire with the jeweller and the florist, may, not inelegantly, decorate her neck, arms, and head, with a string of pearls, and a band of flowers.

Female youth, of airy forms and fair complexions, ought to reject, as too heavy for their style of figure, the use of gems. Their ornaments should hardly ever exceed the natural or imitated flowers of the most delicate tribes. The snow-drop, lily of the valley, violet, primrose, myrtle, Provence rose,--these and their resemblances, are embellishments which harmonize with their gaiety and blooming years. The colors of their garments, when not white, should be the most tender shades of green, yellow, pink, blue, and lilac. These when judiciously selected, or mingled, array the graceful wearer, like another Iris, breathing youth and loveliness.

Should a young woman, of majestic character, inquire for appropriate apparel, she will find it to correspond with her graver and more dignified mien. Her robes should always be long and flowing, and more ample in their folds than those of her gayer sister. Their substance should also be thicker, and of a soberer color. White is becoming to all characters, and not less so to Juno than to Venus; but when colors are to be worn, I recommend to the lady of majestic deportment, to choose the fuller shades of yellow, purple, crimson, scarlet, black, and gray. The materials of her dress in summer, cambrics, muslins, sarcenets; in winter, satins, velvets, broadcloth, &c. Her ornaments should be embroidery of gold, silver, and precious stones, with fillets and diadems of jewels, and waving plumes.

The materials for the winter dresses of majestic forms, and lightly-graceful ones, may be of nearly similar texture, only differing, when made up, in amplitude and abundance of drapery. Satin, Genoa velvet, Indian silks, and kerseymere, may all be fashioned into as becoming an apparel for the slender figure as for the more _embonpoint_; and the warmth they afford is highly needful to preserve health during the cold and damps of winter. When it is so universally acknowledged, the indispensable necessity of keeping the body in a just temperature between heat and cold, I cannot but be astonished at the little attention that is paid to so momentous a subject by the people of this climate. I wonder that a sense of personal comfort, aided by the well-founded conviction that health is the only preservative of beauty, and lengthener of youth, that it does not impel women to prefer utility before the absurd whims of an unreasonable fashion.

To wear gossamer dresses, with bare necks and naked arms, in a hard frost, has been the mode in this country, and unless a principle is made against it, may be so again, to the utter wretchedness of them, who, so arraying their youth, lay themselves open to the untimely ravages of rheumatisms, palsies, consumptions, and death.

While fine taste, as well as fashion, decrees that the beautiful outline of a well-proportioned form shall be seen in the contour of a nicely-adapted dress, the divisions of that dress must be few and simple. But, though the hoop and quilted petticoat are no longer suffered to shroud in hideous obscurity one of the loveliest works in nature, yet all intermediate covering is not to be banished. Modesty, on one hand, and Health, on the other, still maintain the law of “fold on fold.”

Some of our fair dames appear, summer and winter, with no other shelter from sun or frost, than one single garment of muslin or silk over their chemise--_if they wear one!_ but that is often dubious. The indelicacy of this mode need not be pointed out; and yet, O shame! it is most generally followed. However, common as the crime is, (for who will say that it is not a sin against modesty?) it is quickly visited with its punishment. It loses its aim, if it hopes to attract the admiration of manly worth. No eye but that of a libertine can look upon so wanton a figure with any other sensations than those of disgust and contempt: and the end of all her arts being lost, the certainty of an early old age, chronic pains, and deeply-furrowed wrinkles, is thus incurred in vain.

No woman, even in the warmest flush of youth, ought to be prodigal of her charms; she should not “unmask her beauties to the moon;” or unduly expose the vital fluid, which animates her frame with life and joy. A momentary blast from the east may pierce her filmy robes, wither her bloom, and lay her low.

The _Chemise_ (now too frequently banished) ought to be held as sacred by the modest fair as the vestal veil. No fashion should be able to strip her of that decent covering; in short, woman should consider it as the sign of her delicacy, as the pledge of honor to shelter her from the gaze of unhallowed eyes.

This indispensable vesture being once more appropriated to its ancient use, we shall next speak of the stays, or _corsets_. They must be light and flexible, yielding to the shape, while they support it. In warm weather, my fair reader should wear under her gown and slip a light cotton petticoat; these few habiliments are sufficient to impart the softening line of modesty to the defined outline of the form. Health, also, is preserved by their opposing the immediate influence of the atmosphere; and none will deny, that enough of female charms are thus displayed, to gratify the quick, discerning eye of taste.

During the chilling airs of spring and autumn, the cotton petticoat should give place to fine flannel; and in the rigid season of winter, another addition must be made, by rendering the outer garments warmer in their original texture: for instance, substituting satins, velvets, and rich stuffs, for the lighter materials of summer. And besides these, the use of fur is not only a salutary, but a magnificent and graceful appendage to dress.

Having laid it down as a general principle, that the fashion of the raiment must correspond with that of the figure, and that every sort of woman will not look equally well in the same style of apparel, it will not be difficult to make you understand, that a handsome person may make a freer use of fancy in her ornaments than an ordinary one. Beauty gives effect to all things; it is the universal embellisher, the setting which makes common crystal shine as diamonds. In short, fashion does not adorn beauty, but beauty fashion. Hence, I must warn Delia, that if she be not cast in so perfect a mould as Celia, she must not flatter herself that she can supply the deficiency by gayer or more sumptuous attire. Whims in dress may possibly pass with her, who, “in Parsian mode, or Indian guise, is still the fairest fair!” But caprices of this sort, in a plain woman, only render her defects more conspicuous; and she, who might have been regarded as a very pleasing girl, in an unobtrusive robe of simple elegance, is ridiculed and despised when descried in the inappropriate plumage of fancy and decoration.

Many men, while listening to the conversation of an ordinary, but sensible young woman, would never see that her hair was harsh, and of a bad color, were it not interwoven with a wreath of roses. They would not perceive the brownness and want of symmetry in her bosom, did not the sparkling necklace attract their eye to the spot. Neither would it strike them that her hands were coarse and red, did not the pearl bracelets and circles of rings tell them that she meant they should vie with Celia’s rose-tipped fingers.

As I recommend a restrained and quiet mode of dress to plain women, so, in gradation as the lovely of my sex advance towards the vale of years, I counsel them to assume a graver habit and a less vivacious air. Cheerfulness is becoming to all times of life, but sportiveness belongs to youth alone; and when the meridian or the decline of our days affects it, is ever heavy and out of place.

Let me show you, my fair friends, by conducting you into the Pantheon of ancient Rome, the images of yourselves at the different stages of your lives. First, behold that lovely Hebe; her robes are like the air, her motion is on the zephyr’s wing: that you may be till you are twenty. Then comes the beautiful Diana. The chaste dignity of the pure intelligence within pervades the whole form, and the very drapery which enfolds it harmonizes with the modest elegance, the buoyant health, which gives elasticity and grace to every limb: here, then, you see yourselves from twenty to thirty. At that majestic age, when the woman of mind looks round upon the world; back on the events which have past, and calmly forward to those which may be to come; all within ought to be settled on the firm basis of religion and sound judgment; and either as a Juno or a Minerva she stands forth in the power of beauty and of wisdom. At this period she lays aside the flowers of youth, and arrays herself in the majesty of sobriety, or in the grandeur of simple magnificence.

Contradictory as the two last terms may at first appear, they are consistent; and a glance on the works of Phidias, and of his best imitators, will sufficiently prove their beautiful union. Long is the reign of this commanding epoch of a woman’s age; for from thirty to fifty she may most respectably maintain her station on this throne of matron excellence. But at that period, when she has numbered half a century, then it becomes her to throw aside “the wimple and the crisping-iron, the ornament of silver, and the ornament of gold,” and gracefully acknowledging her entrance into the vale of years, to wrap herself in her mantle of gray, and move gently down till she passes through its extremest bourn to the mansions of immortality.

Ah! who is there amongst us, who, having once viewed the reality of this picture, would exchange such blessed relinquishment of the world and all its vanities, for the bolstered back, enamelled cheek, and be-wigged head of a modern old woman, just trembling on the verge of the grave, and yet a candidate for the flattery of men?

It has been most wisely said, (and it would be well if the waning queens of beauty would adopt the reflection,) that there is a _time_ for _everything_! We may add, that there is a time to be young, a time to be old; a time to be loved, a time to be revered; a time to seek life, and a time to be ready to lay it down.

She who best knows how to fashion herself to these inevitable changes is the only truly, only lastingly fair. Her beauty is in the mind, and shown in action; and when men cease to admire the woman, they do better, they revere the saint.

ON THE PECULIARITIES OF DRESS, WITH REFERENCE TO THE STATION OF THE WEARER.

“Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires,
And introduces hunger, frost, and wo,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.”

COWPER.

As there is a propriety in adapting your dress to the different seasons of your life, and the peculiar character of your figure, there is likewise a necessity that it should correspond with the station you hold in society.

This is a subject not less of a moral concern than it is a matter of taste. By the universality of finery, and expensive articles in dress, ranks are not only rendered undistinguishable, but the fortunes of moderate families, and of industrious tradesmen, are brought to ruin: the sons become sharpers, and the virtue of the wives and daughters too often follows in the same destruction.

It is not from a proud wish to confine elegance to persons of quality, that I contend for less extravagant habits in the middle and lower orders of people; it is a conviction of the evil which their vanity produces, that impels me to condemn _in toto_ the present levelling and expensive mode.

A tradesman’s wife is now as sumptuously arrayed as a countess; and a waiting-maid as gaily as her lady. I speak not of our merchants, who, like those of Florence under the Medici family, have the fortunes of princes, and may therefore decorate the fair partners of their lives with the rich produce of the divers countries they visit; but I animadvert on our retail shopkeepers, our linen-drapers, upholsterers, &c. who, not content with gold and silver baubles, trick out their dames in jewels! No wonder that these men load their consciences with dishonest profits, or make their last appearance in the newspaper as insolvent or _felo de se_!

Should the woman of moderate fortune be so ignorant of the principles of real elegance as to sigh for the splendid apparels of the court, let her receive as an undeniable truth, that mediocrity of circumstances being able to afford clean and simple raiment, furnishes all that is essential for taste to improve into perfect elegance. Riches and splendor will attract notice, and may often excite admiration; but it is the privilege of propriety and sweet retiring grace alone to rivet the eye, and take captive the heart.

“Many there are who seem to shun all care,
And with a pleasing negligence ensnare.”

The fashion of educating all ranks of young women alike, is the cause why all ranks of women attempt to dress alike. If the brazier’s daughter is taught to sing, dance, and play, like the heiress to an earldom, we must not be surprised that she will also emulate the decorations of her rival. We see her imitate the coronet on Lady Mary’s brows; and though Miss Molly may possibly not be able to have her’s of gems, foil-stones produce a similar effect; then she looks for rings, bracelets, armlets, to give appropriate grace to the elegant arts she has learnt to practise; and when she is thus arrayed, she plays away the wanton and the fool, till some libertine of fortune buys her either for a wife or a mistress.

Were girls of the plebeian classes brought up in the praiseworthy habits of domestic duties; had they learned how to manage a house, how to economize and produce comfort at the least expense at their father’s frugal yet hospitable table, we should not hear of dancing-masters, and music-masters, of French and Italian masters; they would have no time for them. We should not see gaudy robes and glittering trinkets dangling behind the counter, or shining at a Sunday ordinary; we should not be told of the seduction, or ruin of those,

“Whose modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.”

The appearance of these young women would not attract the flatterer; and their simple hearts know not the desires of luxury and vanity.

After having drawn this agreeable picture of her who has well chosen, I will leave this modern daughter of industry to her discreet and virtuous simplicity; and once more turn to her whose fortune and station render greater change and expense in apparel not only admissible but commendable. A woman with adequate means, when she fills an extensive wardrobe, encourages the arts and manufactures of her country, and replenishes the scanty purse of many a laborious family.

At this period of universal talent, articles of dress may be purchased at a price so insignificant as hardly to be named, or at the vast cost of half a fortune. A pretty muslin gown may be bought by the village girl for a few shillings; while a robe of the same material, but of a finer quality, cannot be purchased by a lady of rank for less than as many guineas. Indian muslin wrought with gold or silver is nearly as costly as the stately brocades of our ancestors, but it is infinitely more elegant.

Indeed, when we look back upon their heavy fashions, we cannot but see, that in almost every respect the advantage of the change is on our side. With the stiffness of cloth of gold and embroidered tissues, have also disappeared the enormous pile of hair, furbelows, feathers, diamond towers, windmills, &c. which a certain witty poet used to denominate “the building of the head.” Now, easy tresses, the shining braid, the flowing ringlet confined by the _antique_ comb, or bodkin, give graceful specimens of the simple taste of modern beauty. Nothing can correspond more elegantly with the untrammelled drapery of our newly-adopted classic raiment than this undecorated coiffure of nature.

While we find that the pious Bishop Latimer remonstrated with the females of his time against the monstrous superfluity of their “roundabouts, artificial hips,” &c. &c. and recommended to their use the “honest _single_ garment;”--our moralists, equally pious, take up the argument on the contrary side, and justly condemn the too adhesive and transparent robe worn by our contemporary belles! On this subject we must dissent from the venerable reformer of the sixteenth century; and agree with those of the nineteenth, that the _single garment_ (as the texture now usually is) is not a meet covering for a christian damsel.

I am sorry to be obliged to call to your observation, my gentle friends, that the modern fair have deviated widely from that medium between the Bacchante and the Vestal, which a discreet candidate for admiration would wish to preserve. The nature of man is prone to extremes; and flying from the heavy farthingale and the stuffed petticoat, women assume almost the Spartan guise; and, not meeting minds in the opposite sex as pure as those in Lacedæmon, no wonder that the chaste matron, called upon to foretell the consequence, should remain silent, and veil her head.

“Good sense,” says La Rochefoucault, “should be the test of all rule, whether ancient or modern. Whatever is incompatible with good sense must be false.” Modesty should, on the same principle, be the test of the propriety of all personal apparel or ornament; for whatever is incompatible with her ordinances, must degrade and betray.

Hence you will perceive, my young readers, that in no case a true friend or lover would wish you to discover to the eye more of the “form divine” than can be indistinctly descried through the mysterious involvements of, at least, three successive folds of drapery. Love, friendship, and real taste, are alike delicate.

To the exposure of the bosom and back, as some ladies display those parts of their person, what shall we say? This mode (like every other which is carried to excess and indiscriminately followed) is not only repugnant to decency, but most exceedingly disadvantageous to the charms of nine women out of ten. The bosom and shoulders of a very young and fair girl may be displayed without exciting much displeasure or disgust; the beholder regards the too prodigal exhibition, not as the act of the youthful innocent, but as the effect of accident, or perhaps the designed exposure of some ignorant dresser. But when a woman, grown to the age of discretion, of her own choice “unveils her beauties to the sun and moon,” then, from even an Helen’s charms the sated eye turns away loathing.

Were we even in a frantic and impious passion to set virtue aside, policy should direct our damsels to be more sparing of their attractions. An unrestrained indulgence of the eye robs imagination of her power, and prevents her consequent influence on the heart. And if this be the case where real beauty is exposed, how much more subversive of its aim must be the studied display of an ordinary or deformed figure!

Judgment, as well as decency, declares, that it is sufficient in the evening and full-dress to disrobe the back of the neck to the top of the delicate undulation on the rise of the shoulder. Women, according to the fineness of their skins and proportions, must accept or decline the privileges which modesty grants. It is preposterous for her who is of a brown, dingy, or speckled complexion, to disarray her neck and arms, as her fairer rival may. A clear brunette has as much liberty in this respect as the fairest; but not so the muddy-skinned and ill-formed. A candid consideration of our pretensions on these subjects, and an impartial judgment, must decide our style of apparel, and consequently our respectability with the discerning.

Perhaps it is necessary to remind my reader that custom regulates the veiling or unveiling the figure, according to different periods in the day. In the morning, the arms and bosom must be completely covered to the throat and wrists. From the dinner-hour to the termination of the day, the arms, to a graceful height above the elbow, may be bare; and the neck and shoulders unveiled as far as delicacy will allow.

As Cicero said of _action_, so say ye of the essentials of your charms. What is the eloquence of your beauty?--Modesty! What is its first argument?--Modesty! What is its second?--Modesty! What is its third?--Modesty!--What is its peroration, the winding up of all its charms, the striking spell that binds the heart of man to her forever?--Modesty!!!--In the words of Moore,

“Let that which charms all other eyes
Seem worthless in your own!”

Modesty is all in all; for it comprises the beauties of the mind as well as those of the body; and happy is he who finds her!

The bosom, which nature has formed with exquisite symmetry in itself, and admirable adaptation to the parts of the figure to which it is united, has been transformed into a shape, and transplanted to a place, which deprives it of its original beauty and harmony with the rest of the person. This hideous metamorphosis has been effected by means of newly-invented stays, or corsets, which, by an extraordinary construction and force of material, force the figure of the wearer into whatever form the artist pleases.

Curiosity may incline you to wish to know something better of these buckram machines, that you may form an idea of their intention, use, or rather inutility. I will satisfy you by describing them to the best of my power.

The leader in this arming phalanx is usually called _long-stay_. And its announcement to the female world, if not by drum or trumpet, furnishes not only much matter for oratory in the advertisement, but a no inconsiderable fund of merriment to the readers of these curious performances. For instance, “Mrs. and Miss L. P. have willed it, and it is done at their house,” &c. &c. Here follows a list of their _improved long stay_, _pregnant stay_, _divorces_, &c. &c. O! female delicacy, where is thy blush, when thou lookest on such exposure of the chaste reserves of thy person!

The first time my eyes met these words so coupled, I was seized with that honest shuddering which every delicate woman ought to feel at seeing the parts and situations of her person which modesty bids her conceal, thus dragged before the imagination of the opposite sex. The pure must read it with the frown of disgust--the impure with the smile of ridicule. To this moment, though I find that nothing disrespectful to modesty was _meant_ by the advertisement, I cannot approve of the terms in which it is written; for it is my opinion, (and I am so happy as to be supported in it by the sanction of the wisest moralists,) that, rob woman of her delicate reserves, and you take from her one of the best strong holds of her chastity. You deprive her of her sweet attractive mysteries; you lay open to the eye of love the arcana of her toilet, the infirmities of her nature; the enchantment is broken, and “the bloom of young desire, the purple light of the soul’s enthusiasm,” expire at the disclosure.

To please my still curious readers, I will still further displease myself, and enter more circumstantially into a detail of these strange appendages to a female wardrobe.

But before I proceed with my remarks on the _long stay_, (the ringleader of the rest,) I will so far rescue the intention of its constructors from any _design_ to excite improper ideas by the words of their advertisement, as to explain to you the proposed usefulness of the inventions denominated _pregnant stay_, and _divorces_.

The first is a _corset_ or _stay_ of dimity, or jean, or silk, reaching from the shoulders down to the waist, and over the hips, to the complete envelopement of the body. It is rendered of more than ordinary power by elastic bones, &c. which, introduced between the lining and covering of the _stay_, bring it into something of the consistency and shape of an ancient warrior’s hauberk. This new-fashioned coat of mail for the fair sex is so constructed, as to compress and reduce to the shape desired the natural prominence of the female figure in a state of fruitfulness. Some women, who are bold enough to wear this Procrustean garb during every stage of their pregnancy, affirm that it preserves their shape without injury to their state of increase. However this may be with a few hardy individuals, I profess myself no proselyte to the innovation, as it must necessarily put a degree of restraint upon the operations of nature, very likely to produce bad effects both on the mother and the child.

Support and confinement to an overstrained part are two different things; the one is beneficial, the other destructive. And this I can assure my readers, that I ever have remarked those married women who have longest maintained their virgin forms were those who, in a state of maternal increase, observed a proper medium between a too relaxed and a too contracted boddice.

Nature in these concerns is our best guide; and when she dictates to us to provide against the possible disagreeable consequences of any of her operations, it is well to obey her; but when a fastidious, and, allow me to say, an indelicate, regard to personal charms would excite you to brace with ribs of whalebone the soft mould of your unborn infant; or when it has, in spite of these arts, burst its prison-house alive, you seek to deprive it of the nourishment your breast prepares--then remember you perform not the duty of a mother, but show yourself rather egregiously guilty of wantonness and unpardonable cruelty.

No person living can feel a more lively admiration than that which animates me at the sight of a beautiful form,

--“rife
With all we can imagine of the sky.”

I behold in it the work of the most perfect being--the accomplishment of one of his fairest designs. He seems to show in earthy mould the lovely transcript of the angels of heaven: she looks, she breathes, of innocence and sweet unconscious beauty. But when I cast my eyes on women issuing from the house of a modern manufacturer of shapes; when I see the functions of nature impeded by bands and ligatures; when I behold the abode of virgin modesty thrust forward to the gaze of the libertine; when I observe the pains taken to attract his eye,--I turn away disgusted, and blush for my sex.

Vile as these meretricious arts are, they are not less dangerous to health than to morals. The constant pressure of such hard substances as whalebone, steel, &c. upon so susceptible a part as the bosom, is very likely, in the course of a very short time, to produce all the horrid consequences of abscesses, cancers, &c.: on their miseries I need not to descant.

On the _long stay_ I shall now make a few remarks, arising from the observations I have been enabled to make on the ladies of various ages and figures whom I have known wear it. To the woman whose waning charms set in an exuberance of flesh, perhaps the support of this adventitious aid is an advantage. But in that case its stiffening should rather be cord quilted in the lining, or very thin whalebone, than either steel or iron. In all situations, the boddice should be flexible to the motion of the body and the undulations in the shape; and it should never be _felt_ to _press_ upon any part.

Thus far we may tolerate the adoption of this buckram suit for elderly, or excessively _embonpoint_ ladies; but for the _growing_ girl (whom, I am sorry to say, mothers not unfrequently imprison in these machines,) it is both unrequired and mischievous.

Before nature has completed her work in the perfection of the youthful figure, she is checked in her progress by the impediment which the valves, bands, &c. of the _long stay_ throw in her way. Those finely-rounded points which mark the distinction and the grace of the female form, and which the artist, enamored of beauty, delights to delineate with the nicest accuracy, are, by the constant pressure of these _stays_, rendered indistinct, and in a short time are entirely destroyed.

Let, then, the _long stay_ be restricted to the too abundant mass of fattening matronhood; so may art restrain the excesses, not of nature, but of disease. Unwieldly flesh was never yet seen in a perfectly healthy person. It generally arises either from intemperance overloading the functions of life, or dissipation decomposing them.

Let the _padded corset_ rectify the defects of the deformed; but where nature has given the outline of a well-constructed form, forbear to traverse her designs. Youth should be left to spring up, unconfined, like the young cedar; and when the hand of man, or accident, does not distort the pliant stem, it will grow erect and firm, spreading its beautiful and cheerful shade over the heads of its planters.

OF THE DETAIL OF DRESS.

“We have run
Through every change, that fancy at the loom
Exhausted has had genius to supply;
And, studious of mutation still, discard
A real elegance a little used
For monstrous novelty and strange disguise.”

COWPER.

There are few things in which our sex can discover more taste than in the choice of the apparel which may best accord with their several styles of figures and features; but we frequently see the direct opposite of good judgment in their selections, and behold between the person and the attire a complete and laughable incongruity.

Some women will actually disguise and disfigure themselves, rather than not appear in the prevailing fashion, which, though advantageous to one character of face, may have the direct contrary effect with another. I hinted at this in the earlier part of this dissertation; now I come closer to my subject, intending to enter into a minute detail of what ought or ought not to be worn by women of different moulds and complexions.

If Daphne have the features of a Siddons, and Amaryllis those of a Jordan, the style which agrees with the one must ill accord with the other. The like harmony must be maintained between the complexion and the colors we wear; for it is in these minutiæ which, like the nice and almost imperceptible touches of the ingenious artist, produce a complete and faultless whole. That a handsome woman may disfigure herself by an injudicious choice or disposition of her attire; and a plain one counteract the errors of nature, so as to render herself at least agreeable, almost every experienced observer has witnessed. We may therefore conclude, that beauty with a bad taste is far less desirable than a good taste without beauty.

“What an awkward creature is that!” said a gentleman to me the other evening at a supper, and pointing to a _slatternly_ beauty who sat opposite, with her chin nearly reposing on her bosom, and her shoulders drawn up almost to her ears. “Yonder is a very elegant woman!” observed he, directing my attention to a lady who, critically considered, was rather ordinary; but by her judicious style of dress, her unstudied graces of deportment, claimed universal admiration.

To support my arguments with those of a lady whose taste is best evinced by her own personal elegance, I shall give you a short extract from a little tract of her’s, which, like the divine Psyché of Mrs. Tighe, has been only permitted to meet the eyes of a favored few.