by no means be suspected, by what I have said, to
traduce in general the body of fox-hunters; for
whilst I look upon a reasonable creature full speed
after a pack of dogs by way of pleasure, and not of
business, I shall always make honourable mention
of it
"But the most irksome conversation of all others
I have met with in the neighbourhood, has been
among two or three of your travellers who have over-
looked men and manners, and have passed through
France and Italy with the same observation that the
carriers and stage-coachmen do through Great Bri-
tain; that is, their stops and stages have been re-
gulated according to the liquor they have met with
in their passage. They indeed remember the names

ing bumpers, upon this maxim, that it is better to trouble others with my impertinence, than to be troubled myself with theirs. The necessity of an infirmary makes me resolve to fall into that project; and as we should be but five, the terrors of an involuntary separation, which our number cannot so well admit of, would make us exert ourselves in opposition to all the particulars mentioned in your institution of that equitable confinement. This my way of life I know would subject me to the imputation of a morose, covetous, and singular fellow. These and all other hard words, with all manner insipid jests, and all other reproach, would be matter of mirth to me and my friends: besides, I would destroy the application of the epithets morose and


of abundance of places, with the particular fineries a yearly relief of my undeservedly necessitous, by

of certain churches; but their distinguishing mark is a certain prettiness of foreign languages, the meaning of which they could have better expressed in their own. The entertainment of these fine observers Shakspeare has described to consist

In talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean, and the river Po: and then concludes with a sigh,

Now this is worshipful society?


"I would not be thought in all this to hate such honest creatures as dogs; I am only unhappy that cannot partake in their diversions. But I love them so well, as dogs, that I often go with my pockets stuffed with bread to dispense my favours, or make my way through them at neighbours' houses. There is in particular a young hound of great expectation, vivacity, and enterprise, that attends my flights wherever he spies me. This creature observes my countenance, and behaves himself accordingly. His mirth, his frolic, and joy, upon the sight of me, has been observed, and I have been gravely desired not to encourage him so much, for it spoils his parts; but I think he shows them sufficiently in the several boundings, friskings, and scourings, when he makes his court to me; but I foresee in a little time he and I must keep company with one another only, for we are fit for no other in these parts. Having informed you how I do pass my time in the country where I am, I must proceed to tell you how I would pass it, had I such a fortune as would put me above the ob servance of ceremony and custom.

neighbours, and by treating my friends and domestics with a humanity that should express the obligation to lie rather on my side; and as for the word singular, I was always of opinion every man must be so, to be what one would desire him.

[ocr errors]

"Your very humble Servant, J. R.”* "MR. SPECTATOR,

"ABOUT two years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a country family, by my mother's side related to me, to visit Mr. Campbell, the dumb man; for they told me that that was chiefly what brought them to town, having heard wonders of him in Essex. I, who always wanted faith in matters of this kind, was not easily prevailed on to go; but, lest they should take it ill, I went with them; when to my surprise, Mr. Campbell related all their past life; in short, had he not been prevented, such a discovery would have come out as would have ruined the next design of their coming to town, vis, buying wedding-clothes. Our names though he never heard of us before--and we endeavoured to conceal-were as familiar to him as to ourselves. To be sure, Mr. Spectator, he is a very learned and wise man. Being impatient to know my fortune, having paid my respects in a family Jacobus, he told me (after his manner) among several other things, that in a year and nine months I should fall ill of a new fever, be given over by my physicians, but should with much difficulty recover; that, the first time I took the air afterward, I should be addressed to by a young gentleman of a plentiful fortune, good sense, and a generous spirit. Mr. Spectator, he is the purest man in the world, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest she in Kent. I have been in quest of Mr. Campbell these three mouths, and cannot find him out. Now, hearing you are a dumb man too, I thought you might correspond, and be able to tell me something; for I think myself highly obliged to make his fortune, as he has mine. It is very possible your worship, who has spies all over this town, can inform me how to

"My scheme of a country life, then, should be as follows. As I am happy in three or four very agree able friends, these I would constantly have with me; and the freedom we took with one another at school and the university, we would maintain and exert upon all occasions with great courage. There should be certain hours of the day to be employed in reading, during which time it should be impossible for any one of us to enter the other's chamber, unless by storm. After this we would communicate the trash or treasure we had met with, with our own reflections upon the matter; the justness of which we would controvert with good-humoured warmth, and never spare one another out of that complaisant spirit of conversation, which makes others affirm and deny the same matter in a quarter of an hour. If any of the neighbouring gentlemen, not of our turn, should take it in their heads to visit me, I should look upon these persons in the same degree enemies to my particular state of happiness, as ever the French were to that of the public, and I would be at an annual expense in spies to observe their motions. Whenever I should be surprised with visit as I hate drinking, I would be brisk in swill-teller.

This letter was probably written by Steel's fellow-collegian and friend, the Rev. Mr. Richard Parker. This ecoplished scholar was for many years vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland, a living in the gift of Merton-college, where he and Steele lived in the most cordial familiarity. Not res ing the rural sports of Bamboroughshire, he declined the interchange of visits with most of the hospitable gentlemen in hi neighbourhood: who, invigorated by their diversions, induled in copious meals, and were apt to be vociferous in their march. and over-importunate with their guests, to join in their coativiality.

↑ Duncan Campbell announced himself to the public as a Scotch highlander, gifted with the second-sight. He was or pretended to be, deaf and dumb, and succeeded in malig a fortune to himself by practising for some years on the creda lity of the vulgar in the ignominions character of a fortune

send to him. If you can, I beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you will highly oblige

"Your constant Reader and Admirer,


Ordered, That the inspector I employ about wonders inquire at the Golden-Lion, opposite to the Half-Moon tavern in Drury-lane, into the merit of this silent sage, and report accordingly.-T.

my Lady Betty Single, who, by the way, has one of the greatest fortunes about town. I stared him full in the face upon so strange a question; upon which he immediately gave me an inventory of her jewels and estate, adding that he was resolved to do nothing in a matter of such consequence without my I told him if he could get the lady's consent he had approbation. Finding he would have an answer, mine. This is about the tenth match which, to my knowledge, Will has consulted his friends upon,

No. 475.] THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1712. without ever opening his mind to the party herself,

[blocks in formation]

I have been engaged in this subject by the following letter, which comes to me from some notable young female scribe, who, by the contents of it, ripe for asking advice; but as I would not lose seems to have carried matters so far, that she is have with her for wisdom, I shall only communicate her good-will, nor forfeit the reputation which I the letter to the public, without returning any answer to it.


Ir is an old observation, which has been made of politicians who would rather ingratiate themselves with their sovereign, than promote his real service, that they accommodate their counsels to his inclinations, and advise him to such actions only as his heart is naturally set upon. The privy-councillor of one in "Now, Sir, the thing is this; Mr. Shapely is the love must observe the same conduct, unless he would prettiest gentleman about town. He is very tall, forfeit the friendship of the person who desires his but not too tall neither. He dances like an angel. advice. I have known several odd cases of this na- His mouth is made I do not know how, but it is the ture. Hipparchus was going to marry a common prettiest that I ever saw in my life. He is always woman; but being resolved to do nothing without laughing, for he has an infinite deal of wit. If you the advice of his friend Philander, he consulted him did but see how he rolls his stockings! He has a thou upon the occasion. Philander told him his mind sand pretty fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, freely, and represented his mistress to him in such you would like him. He is a very good scholar, and strong colours, that the next morning he received a can talk Latin as fast as English. I wish you could challenge for his pains, and before twelve o'clock but see him dance. Now you must understand poor was run through the body by the man who had asked Mr. Shapely has no estate; but how can he help his advice. Celia was more prudent on the like that, you know? And yet my friends are so unoccasion. She desired Leonilla to give her opinion reasonable as to be always teasing me about him, freely upon the young fellow who made his ad- because he has no estate; but I am sure he has that dresses to her. Leonilla, to oblige her, told her with that is better than an estate; for he is a good-nagreat frankness, that she looked upon him as one of tured, ingenious, modest, civil, tall, well-bred, handthe most worthless.-Celia, foreseeing what a cha- some man; and I am obliged to him for his civiliracter she was to expect, begged her not to go on, ties ever since I saw him. I forgot to tell you that he for that she had been privately married to him has black eyes, and looks upon me now and then as above a fortnight. The truth of it is, a woman sel- if he had tears in them. And yet my friends are so undom asks advice before she has bought her wedding-reasonable, that they would have me be uncivil to clothes. When she has made her own choice, for form's sake, she sends a congé d'élire to her friends. If we look into the secret springs and motives that set people at work on these occasions, and put them upon asking advice which they never intend to take; look upon it to be none of the Icast, that they are incapable of keeping a secret which is so very pleasing to them. A girl longs to tell her confidante, that she hopes to be married in a little time; and, in order to talk of the pretty fellow that dwells so much in her thoughts, asks her very gravely what she would advise her to do in a case of so much difficulty. Why else should Melissa, who had not a thousand pounds in the world, No. 476.] FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1712.

go into every quarter of the town to ask her acquaintance, whether they would advise her to take Tom Townly, that made his addresses to her with an estate of five thousand a year? It is very pleasant, on this occasion, to hear the lady propose her doubts; and to see the pains she is at to get over


him. I have a good portion which they cannot hin-
der me of, and I shall be fourteen on the 29th day
of August next, and am therefore willing to settle in
the world as soon as I can, and so is Mr. Shapely,
But every body I advise with here is poor M
Shapely's enemy. I desire therefore you will give
me your advice, for I know you are a wise man;
and if you advise me well, I am resolved to follow it.
I heartily wish you could see him dance; and am,
"Sir, your most humble Servant, B. D.
C. "He loves your Spectators mightily."

-Lucidus ordo.-HOR. Ars Poet. 41.
Method gives light.

public, there are some which are written with reguAMONG my daily papers which I bestow on the larity and method, and others that run out into the I must not here omit a practice that is in use of essays. As for the first, I have the whole scheme wildness of those compositions which go by the name among the vainer part of our own sex, who will of the discourse in my mind before I set pen to often ask a friend's advice in relation to a fortune paper. whom they are never like to come at. Will Honey-that I have several thoughts on a subject, without In the other kind of writing, it is sufficient comb, who is now on the verge of threescore, took troubling myself to range them in such order, that me aside not long since, and asked me in his most they may seem to grow out of one another, and be serious look, whether I would advise him to marry disposed under the proper heads. Seneca and MonSPECTATOR-Nos. 69 & 70.

2 N

taigne are patterns for writing in this last kind, as Tully and Aristotle excel in the other. When I read an author of genius who writes without method, I fancy myself in a wood that abounds with a great many noble objects, rising among one another in the greatest confusion and disorder. When I read a methodical discourse, I am in a regular plantation, and can place myself in its several centres, so as to take a view of all the lines and walks that are struck from them. You may ramble in the one a whole day together, and every moment discover something or other that is new to you; but when you have done, you will have but a confused imperfect notion of the place in the other your eye commands the whole prospect, and gives you such an idea of it as is not easily worn out of the memory.


Irregularity and want of method are only supportable in men of great learning or genius, who are often too full to be exact, and therefore choose to throw down their pearls in heaps before the reader, rather than be at the pains of stringing them.

Method is of advantage to a work, both in respect

it, Though the matter in debate be about Douay or Denain, it is ten to one but half his discourse runs upon the unreasonableness of bigotry and priestcraft. This makes Mr. Puzzle the admiration of all those who have less sense than himself, and the con tempt of all those who have more. There is none in town whom Tom dreads so much as my friend Will Dry. Will, who is acquainted with Tom's logic, when he finds him running off the question, cuts him short with a "What then? We allow all this to be true; but what is it to, our present purpose?" { have known Tom eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the superiority of the argument, when he has been nonplussed on a sudden by Mr. Dry's desiring him to tell the company what it was that he endeavoured to prove. In short, Day is a man of a clear methodical head, but few words, and gains the same advantages over Puzzle, thai a small body of regular troops would gain over a num berless undisciplined militia,

-An me ludit amabilis

Insania? Audire, et videor pios

Errare per lucos, amænæ

Quos et aquae subeunt et auræ.-Hoя, 3 Od. iv. 5,

-Does airy fancy cheat

My mind well pleas'd with the deceit ?

I seem to hear, I seem to move,

And wander through the happy grove,

Where smooth springs flow, and murin'ring breeze
Wantons through the waving trees-CREECH.

to the writer and the reader. In regard to the first. No. 477.] SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1712. it is a great help to his invention. When a man has planned his discourse, he finds a great many thoughts rising out of every head, that do not offer themselves úpou the general survey of a subject. His thoughts are at the same time more intelligible, and better discover their drift and meaning, when they are placed in their proper lights and follow one another in a regular series, than when they are thrown together without order and connexion. There is always an obscurity in confusion; and the same sentence that would have enlightened the reader in one part of a discourse, perplexes him in another. For the same reason, likewise, every thought in a me-sures of the Imagination, I was so taken with your thodical discourse shows itself in its greatest beauty, as the several figures in a piece of painting receive new grace from their disposition in the picture. The advantages of a reader from a methodical discourse are correspondent with those of the writer. He comprehends every thing easily, takes it in with pleasure, and retains it long,


"HAVING lately read your essay on The Plea

thoughts upon some of our English gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a letter upon that subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as a humourist in gardening. I have several acres about my house, which I call my garden, and which a skilful gardener would not know what to call. It is a confusion of kitchen and parterre, orMethod is not less requisite in ordinary conversa-chard and flower-garden, which lie so mixt and intertion than in writing, provided a man would talk to make himself understood. I who hear a thousand coffee-house debates every day, am very sensible of this want of method in the thoughts of my honest countrymen. There is not one dispute in ten which is managed in those schools of politics, where, after the three first sentences, the question is not entirely lost. Our disputants put me in mind of the scuttlefish, that when he is unable to extricate himself, blackens all the water about him until he becomes invisible. The man who does not know how to methodize his thoughts, has always, to borrow a phrase from the Dispensary, "a barren superfluity of words:" the fruit is lost amidst the exuberance of leaves.

Tom Puzzle is one of the most eminent immethodical disputants of any that has fallen under my observation. Tom has read enough to make him very impertinent: his knowledge is sufficient to raise doubts, but not to clear them. It is pity that he has so much learning, or that he has not a great deal more. With these qualifications, Tom sets up for a freethinker, finds a great many things to blame in the constitution of his country, and gives shrewd intimations that he does not believe another world. In short, Puzzle is an atheist as much as his parts will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen common-place topics, into which he never fails to turn the conversation, whatever was the occasion of

woven with one another, that if a foreigner who had seen nothing of our country, should be conveyed into my garden at his first landing, he would look upon, it as a natural wilderness, and one of the uncultivated parts of our country. My flowers grow up in several parts of the garden in the greatest luxuri ancy and profusion. I am so far from being fond of any particular one, by reason of its rarity, that if I meet with any one in a field which pleases me, I give it a place in my garden. By this means, when a stranger walks with me, he is surprised to see se veral large spots of ground covered with ten thousand different colours, and has often singled out flowers that he might have met with under a common hedge, in a field, or in a meadow, as some of the greatest beauties of the place. The only method I observe in this particular, is to range in the same quarter the products of the same season, that they may make their appearance together, and compose, a picture of the greatest variety. There is the sames irregularity in my plantations, which run into as great a wilderness as their natures will permit. L take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the soil, and am pleased, when I am walking in a labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the next tree I shall meet with is an apple or an oak, an eba or a pear-tree. My kitchen has likewise its parti cular quarters assigned it; for besides the wholesome

the verdure of an evergreen comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our trees in the summer season. But I have often wondered that those who are like myself, and love to live in gardens, have never thought of contriving a winter garden, which should consist of such trees only as never cast their leaves. We have very often little snatches of sunshine and fair weather in the most uncomfortable parts of the year, and have frequently several days in November and January that are as agreeable as any in the finest months. At such times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater pleasure than to walk in such a winter garden as I have proposed. In the summer season the whole country blooms, and is a kind of garden; for which reason we are not so sensible of those beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when nature is in her desolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren prospects, there is something unspeakably cheerful in a spot of ground which is covered with trees that smile amidst all the rigours of winter, and give us a view of the most gay season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged myself in this thought, that I have set apart a whole acre of ground for the execu• tion of it. The walls are covered with ivy instead of vines. The laurel, the horn-beam, and the holly, with many other trees and plants of the same nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively scene. The glowing redness of the berries, with which they are hung at this time, vies with the verdure of their leaves, and is apt to inspire the heart of the beholder with that vernal delight which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former papers. It is very pleasant, at the same time, to see the several kinds of birds retiring into this little green spot, and enjoying themselves among the branches and foliage, when my great garden, which I have before mentioned to you, does not afford a single leaf for their shelter.

luxury which that place abounds with, I have always thought a kitchen-garden a more pleasant sight than the finest orangery, or artificial green-house. I love to see every thing in its perfection; and am more pleased to survey my rows of coleworts and cabbages, with a thousand nameless pot-herbs, springing up in their full fragrancy and verdure, than to see the tender plants of foreign countries kept alive by artificial heats, or withering in an air and soil that are not adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a fountain rising in the upper part of my garden, which forms a little wandering rill, and administers to the pleasure as well as the plenty of the place. I have so conducted it, that it visits most of my plantations: and have taken particular care to let it run in the same manner as it would do in an open field, so that it generally passes through banks of violets and primroses, plats of willow, or other plants, that seem to be of its own producing. There is another circumstance in which I am very particular, or, as my neighbours call me, very whimsical: as my garden invites into it all the birds of the country, by offering them the conveniency of springs and shades, solitude and shelter, I do not suffer any one to destroy their nests in the spring, or drive them from their usual haunts in fruit-time; I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs. By this means, I have always the musie of the season in its perfection, and am highly delighted to see the jay or the thrush hopping about my walks, and shooting before my eye across the several little glades and alleys that I pass through. I think there are as many kinds of gardening as of poetry: your makers of parterres and flower-gardens are epigrammatists and sonneteers in this art; contrivers of bowers and grottos, treillages and cascades, are romance writers. Wise and London are our beroic poets; and if, as a crític, I may single out any passage of their works to commend, I shall take notice of that part in the upper garden at Kensing- "You must know, Sir, that I look upon the plea ton, which was at first nothing but a gravel-pit. It sure which we take in a garden as one of the most must have been a fine genius for gardening that innocent delights in human life. A garden was the could have thought of forming such an unsightly habitation of our first parents before the fall. It is hollow into so beautiful an area, and to have hit the naturally apt to fill the inind with calmness and traneye with so uncommon and agreeable a scene as quillity, and to lay all its turbulent passions at rest. that which it is now wrought into. To give this par- It gives us a great insight into the contrivances and ticular spot of ground the greater effect, they have wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable made a very pleasing contrast; for, as on one side subjects for meditation. I cannot but think the very of the walk you see this hollow basin, with its seve- complacency and satisfaction which a man takes in ral little plantations, lying so conveniently under the these works of nature to be a laudable, if not a vir. eye of the beholder, on the other side of it there ap-tuous habit of mind. For all which reasons, I hope pears a seeming mount, made up of trees, rising one you will pardon the length of my present letter. higher than another, in proportion as they approach "I am, Sir," &c. the centre. A spectator, who has not heard this acceant of it, would think this circular mount was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hollow space which I have before mentioned. I never yet met with any one, who has walked in this garden, who was not struck with that part of it which I have here mentioned. As for myself, you will find, by the account which I have already given you, that my compositions in gardening are altogether after the Pindaric manner, and run into the beautiful wildness of nature, without affect ing the nicer elegances of art. What I am now going to mention, will perhaps deserve your atten tion more than any thing I have yet said. I find that, in the discourse which I spoke of at the beginning of my letter, you are against filling an En-ing them. glish garden with evergreens; and indeed I am so "I fancied it must be very surprising to any one far of your opinion, that I can by no means think who enters into a detail of fashions to consider how


No. 478.] MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1712.
Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma-
HOR! Ars Poet. v. 72.
Fashion, sole arbitress of dress.

"It happened lately that a friend of mine, who
had many things to buy for his family, would oblige
me to walk with him to the shops. He was very
nice in his way, and fond of having every thing
shown; which at first made me very uneasy; but as
his humour still continued, the things which I had
been staring at along with him began to fill my head,
and led me into a set of amusing thoughts concern-

far the vanity of mankind has laid itself out in dress, what a prodigious number of people it maintains, and what a circulation of money it occasions. Providence in this case makes use of the folly which we will not give up, and it becomes instrumental to the support of those who are willing to labour. Hence it is that fringe-makers, lacemen, tire-women, and a number of other trades, which would be useless in a simple state of nature, draw their subsistence; though it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely rich, because their original fault being founded upon vanity, keeps them poor by the light inconstancy of its nature. The variableness of fashion turns the stream of business, which flows from it, now into one channel, and anon into another; so that different sets of people sink or flourish in their turns by it.

"From the shops we retired to the tavern, where I found my friend express so much satisfaction for the bargains he had made, that my moral reflections (if I had told them) might have passed for a reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the discourse run upon the use of fashions.

"Here we remembered how much man is governed by his senses, how livelily he is struck by the objects which appear to him in an agreeable manner, how much clothes contribute to make us agreeable objects, and how much we owe it to ourselves that we should appear so.

"We considered man as belonging to societies; societies as formed of different ranks, and different ranks distinguished by habits, that all proper duty or respect might attend their appearance.

sooner draw the eyes of the beholders. And to the end that these may be preserved with all due care, let there be a keeper appointed, who shall be a gentleman qualified with a competent knowledge in clothes, so that by this means the place will be a comfortable support for some beau who has spent his estate in dressing.

[ocr errors]

The reasons offered, by which we expected to gain the approbation of the public, were as follows:First, That every one who is considerable enough to be a mode, or has any imperfection of nature or chance, which it is possible to hide by the advantage of clothes, may, by coming to this reposi tory, be furnished herself, and furnish all, who are under the same misfortune, with the most agreeable manner of concealing it and that on the other side, every one who has any beauty in face or shape, may also be furnished with the most agreeable manner of showing it.


[ocr errors]

Secondly, That whereas some of our young gentlemen who travel, give us great reason to suspect that they only go abroad to make or improve a fancy for dress, a project of this nature may be a means to keep them at home; which is in effect the keeping of so much money in the kingdom. And perhaps the balance of fashion in Europe, which now leans upon the side of France, may be so altered for the future, that it may become as common with Frenchmen to come to England for their finishing stroke of breeding, as it has been for Englishmen to go to France for it.


Thirdly, Whereas several great scholars, who might have been otherwise useful to the world, have "We took notice of several advantages which spent their time in studying to describe the dresses are met with in the occurrences of conversation; of the ancients from dark hints, which they are fain how the bashful man has been sometimes so raised, to interpret and support with much learning: it as to express himself with an air of freedom, when will from henceforth happen that they shall be freed he imagines that his habit introduces him to com- from the trouble, and the world from these useless pany with a becoming manner; and again, how a volumes. This project will be a registry, to which fool in fine clothes shall be suddenly heard with posterity may have recourse, for the clearing such attention, till he has betrayed himself; whereas a obscure passages as tend that way in authors; and man of sense, appearing with a dress of negligence, shall be but coldly received till he be proved by time, and established in a character. Such things as these we could recollect to have happened to our own knowledge so very often, that we concluded the author had his reasons, who advises his son to go in dress rather above his fortune than under it.

"At last the subject seemed so considerable, that it was proposed to have a repository built for fashions, as there are chambers for medals and other rarities. The building may be shaped as that which stands among the pyramids in the form of a woman's head. This may be raised upon pillars, whose ornaments shall bear a just relation to the design. Thus there may be an imitation of fringe carved in the base, a sort of appearance of lace in the frieze, and a representation of curling locks, with bows of ribands sloping over them, may fill up the work of the cornice. The inside may be divided into two apartments appropriated to each sex. The apartments may be filled with shelves, on which boxes are to stand as regularly as books in a library. These are to have folding-doors, which being opened, you are to behold a baby dressed out in some fashion which has flourished, aud standing upon a pedestal, where the time of its reign is marked down. For its further regulation let it be ordered, that every one who invents a fashion shall bring in his box, whose front he may at pleasure have either worked or painted with some amorous or gay device, that, like books with gilded leaves and covers, it may the

therefore we shall not for the future submit ourselves to the learning of etymology, which might persuade the age to come that the farthingale was worn for cheapness, or the furbelow for warmth.

"Fourthly, Whereas they, who are old themselves, have often a way of railing at the extravagance of youth, and the whole age in which their children live; it is hoped that this ill-humour will be much suppressed, when we can have recourse to the fashions of their times, produce them in our vindi. cation, and be able to show that it might have been as expensive in Queen Elizabeth's time only to wash and quill a ruff, as it is now to buy cravats or neckhandkerchiefs.

"We desire also to have it taken notice of, that because we would show a particular respect to foreigners, which may induce them to perfect their breeding here in a knowledge which is very proper for pretty gentlemen, we have conceived the motto for the house in the learned language. There is to be a picture over the door, with a looking-glass and a dressing-chair in the middle of it; then on one side are to be seen, one above another, patch-boxes, pincushions, and little bottles; on the other, pow. der-bags, puffs, combs, and brushes; beyond these, swords with fine knots, whose points are hidden, and fans almost closed, with the handles downwards, are to stand out interchangeably from the sides, until they meet at the top, and form a semicircle over the rest of the figures; beneath all, the writing is to run in this pretty sounding manner:→→→→

« VorigeDoorgaan »