ページの画像
PDF
ePub

that the attraction of these amiable sis-
ters made an equal impression upon the
English and the Irish Courts. If we mis-only comfortable, but splendid.
take not, Sir Joshua Reynolds has exhi-
bited them in a picture, as the three Graces
crowning the statue of Hymen.

that increase of fortune which has since
made their domestic arrangements, not

Among those whose friendship and admiration the Marchioness had attracted by her virtues and amiable qualities, we think it but justice to mention Mr. Devaynes, who bequeathed her a considerable legacy, and expressed in his will, that he left it as a token of his esteem, and a mark of his admiration of her exemplary conduct, both as a wife and a mother, in superior station."

Upon the first introduction of the Marchioness into the splendid circle of the English Court, she was no less admired for the graces of her person, than for those many amiable qualities of the heart, by which she gave dignity to her rank, and diffused happiness around her. Being of an enlarged and liberal mind, and of an education which had given her the strong-ness the Princess of Wales, the Marchio

Upon the marriage of her Royal High

ness of Townshend was appointed Mistress of the Robes, a situation which she still holds.

est sense of religious and domestic duties, she was not qualified for that dissipation and pursuit of pleasure which is so conspicuous in the rest of our nobility, and more particularly in those who are unex-beautiful family; Anne, the eldest, was pectedly elevated to high rank and dignified station.

Her Ladyship has a numerous and most

born Feb. 1, 1775, married to Harrington Hudson, Esq.; Charlotte, born March 17, 1776, married August 9, 1797, to his Grace the Duke of Leeds; Honoria Maria, born July 6, 1777; William, born September 5, 1778; Harriet, born April 20, 1782; James Nugent Boyle Bernardo, born September

11, 1785.

Her discretion, equally with her taste, led her to prefer a life of retirement, which at this time was peculiarly suited to the fortune of the Marquis. They lived at his Lordship's seat, at Raynham, in Norfolk, for many years, in the enjoyment of a most pure domestic felicity. But at this Her Ladyship, though from her partitime we are sorry to add that the scene cular office frequently called to attend the was somewhat overclouded by an extraor- Court, is still devoted to a life of domestic dinary depression of spirits which took retirement and seclusion. Her time is place in the Marquis, arising from a chiefly occupied in the most tender and straitness of circumstances and the en-affectionate solicitudes for the health and creasing demands of a very young and nu-comforts of the Marquis, who is now conmerous family. At this period, however, | siderably declined in the vale of years. Providence seemed to smile upon their Raynham Hall, however, is still the seat of conjugal virtues and endearments by bestowing a considerable accession of fortune from the death of numerous relatives and friends. It will not be deemed flattery to observe, that the admirable conduct of the Marchioness had secured her several strong and powerful attachments among many who were not within the cirele of her own immediate connections. It was to these that the Marquis was chiefly indebted for No. I. Vol. I.

an elegant and dignified hospitality; and the poor and distressed of a most populous neighbourhood are liberally supplied by the kind and extensive charities of the Marchioness. We shall conclude this slight sketch by observing, that a more brilliant and perfect example of virtue in high life, cannot be proposed to our female readers.

D

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

LETTERS TO A YOUNG LADY,
INTRODUCTORY TO A KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD.

MY DEAREST SISTER,

I HAVE often heard that life is a succession of sacrifices; that every good we possess must be obtained at a price, that pleasure and pain share the influence of every hour; and that such a disposition of things is necessarily suited to, as it originates from, the wisdom which orders all things aright.

cumstances of life will dissipate; but I write from the present preference, and I will hug it to me till another comes, who is to make such a revolution in my heart, as to turn all its former tenants out of it, or at least to become a Lord Paramount in it. You cannot forget the mirth which was once occasioned by the naiveté of our observations, on the consolations given to the Queen, in Dr. Boyce's Bridal Anthem, on her marriage. "Instead of thy fathers thou shalt have children." How this may be, I know not, but the greater evil which I have experienced has been to quit home? or, as is the present case, by your departure, to have half my home quit ine.

Such is the picture which has again and again been held forth to my unmatured understanding. Occasional glimpses of it I have caught and forgotten, but now I feel the truth of it, forcibly and irresistibly for the first time. I am now sensible, and in no small degree, of those sensations, when great pleasure is sacrificed for the enjoyment of great good. If I lose the society Our last year's visit to London, with our aunt of my sister, I am become the companion, W————— did not satisfy us as we expected, may I not add the consolation of my father. It though it was the unremitting study of that exis your absence that occasions this affecting, but cellent relation to render our abode in the metroI presume useful experience. In losing you,|| polis as pleasant as the metropolis could be, and what do I not lose the sweetest companion, she possessed all the means of doing so. The the kindest friend, the most affectionate sister in novelty pleased us at first, but we soon languishthe world. From infancy to the present hour, ed for home, and sought our native mansion how seldom have we been separated a day from with all the eagerness of children returning from each other. As there is little more than the school. Indeed, that was your own pleasant difference of a year in our respective ages, we idea of our feelings on the occasion, and our may be said almost to have been rocked together || hearts told us it was true. Whether another in the same cradle, and to have known the year will have made any change in your mind, early attachment that twins have been said by I shall not pretend to conjecture. We are cersome, as it were instinctively, to possess for each || tainly of an age, when, as we have been told, other. In short, the same hand appeared to strange metamorphoses will take place in the feguide our first steps, as the same care has super- male character, and it is not for us to suppose, intended the formation of our minds, and been that we are to be exempt from the progressive thus far in our course, the rudder of our under-changes incident to our state and nature. standings. How this circumstance, among others, has strengthened our natural union to each other, the same studies the same amusements, the same pursuits, the same inclinations, in short, what happiness! the same mind, have ever engaged and directed us. Never did I feel the jealousy of a moment at your superiority. My most anxious ambition has been, as far as nature You, my dearest Caroline, are gone to pass a would allow it, to resemble you, and never was winter's apprenticeship, in the great, the gay, I so flattered, as when it has been observed, the fashionable world, to learn the geography of that Eliza grew up like her eldest sister. I set at the country in which you are to live, to inform defiance the recollection of a moment, when any yourself of the manners of its inhabitants, to bedispute has arisen between us, but in the con- come acquainted with its language and its custest of good offices. Nor has my mind hi-toms, and to inform yourself of its dangers; so therto acknowledged the probability, that any that, while you fit yourself for your right conduct future settlement, though titles, wealth and all || in all the various duties of your station and chathat is held out as composing the charms of racter, you may be enabled to communicate life, to youthful, and particularly to female your experience to me, and be my protectress in fancy, were to grace and decorate it, would the science of duty and the arts of life. It is compensate my final absence from you. This, this consideration which, in some measure, reperhaps, may be a dream, which the future cir- Il conciles me to your absence. I look to your

C'est ce que nous verrons.

We are, however, separated for the first time. This reflection forces a deep sigh from my breast, and I am disposed to believe, that when your eyes reach this part of my letter, your bosom will feel an equal sensation, and be responsive to that of your sister's.

letters as forming a preparatory course of lectures to prepare me for that instruction, which your conversation, when you return to us will fully complete. I have heard of a system being adopted in a gentleman's family, where the children were very numerous, and the cost of a general education too great for its finances, which was to indulge in every expence to give the eldest daughter the most finished education, that she might communicate the advantages of it to all her younger sisters, at no expence at all.— Now, though money is not an object with us, time is; and I come at length to the great object of my letter, not with the view to address it to your heart, for I well know how that is directed, but to ease my own.

Pardon me, my dearest sister, in repeating what we have often said, that one of us must constantly remain at home. The situation of our incomparable father would demand such a sacrifice, if it were possible, which, thank heaven, it is not, to be a sacrifice. His decaying sight, added to his other bodily infirmities, renders it an indisputable duty that one of his children should be ever with him. He who has never ceased to lament the loss of our mother, now a saint in heaven, since she was laid in the tomb, must not be left alone to feel that loss, embittered and aggravated by comfortless solitude. Our aunt Sarah, who, in the direction of family affairs and domestic economy, cannot be surpassed, and who loves him and us ten times more than she ever loved any thing or any body, does not possess the gentle disposition and soothing manners; in short, she is incapable of those graduating attentions which his peculiar situation, and the fine wrought web of his mind requires. He understands no signs but words, and has no more idea of preventing an unexpressed want, than she has of refusing to gratify it, when good plain English has discovered it to

.her.

It would be an idle waste of words and of time, to enlarge upon my duties to you, who have set me the example of performing them, and who must now aid me in following that example You will, of course, enrich your letters with every topic that can relieve my duties, and enable me to embellish them. This, my dear Caroline, was the subject of our last conversation, and I wish to supply a very material deficiency in it. I allude to our cousin Henry, who ought to have been a principal feature of it. He might add very much, indeed, to our father's amusement, if he would write an occasional letter to him, or to me if he should like it better, on the transactions which must pass under his observation. He lives much in the world, possesses no common share or discernment, and could tell a great deal that would never reach our distant woods, but by such a communication. Ask him to employ a couple of hours every week (am I unreasonable)? to this object. As he will inherit my father's estate and title, he ought to consider himself as in the place of a son to him, and a brother to us. Not that we have hitherio had any reason to complain of him. His wife, with all her civilities does not like us: but let that pass. He will, I doubt not, instantly feel the force of a suggestion of this sort, and act as becomes him.

Having been advanced to the post of Prime Minister at Iappoint you and Henry, without any other description, to be Ambassadors from that Court to the World of Fashion, Science, and Politics, and shall expect frequent dispatches from you both.

Adieu, my dear Caroline,
Your ever fond and affectionate Sister,
E-C

[To be continued]

SIR,

ON THE DRESS OF WOMEN.

As I believe it to be part of the interesting Publication you are about to introduce to the world, to consider the Science of Costume not merely as subsidiary to female vanity, but likewise to the morals and chastity of the female mind, I have ventured to send you some observation on the dress of Women, which, though probably too severe for the present taste, I can trust to your candour to admit.

It would be easy to write the history of the manners of a people by tracing its costumes; and it has been remarked that, at the periods when morals were most corrupt, the taste for the naked fashion was carried to the greatest

excess.

Among the Romans the women wore dresses of a kind of stuff so transparent that the body might be seen through it as if entirely naked. This stuff was made of silk, so extremely fine that it was dyed a purple colour before it was made up; for when this species of gauze was manufactured,

it was so delicate that it could not possibly have admitted the dye. The shell-fish which furnished the precious material for this colour, was found near the island of Cos, whence writers have denominated this stuff the dress of Cos. It is further curious to remark, that it was a woman who invented this transparent stuff, which inclosed the female body, as it were, in a case of glass; she was most assuredly well acquainted with the taste of her sex. The name of the woman was Pamphilia. Pliny has recorded her name: "This woman," says he, "ought not to be deprived of the glory which is due to her, that of having invented a dress which exhibi's the women perfectly naked.

Seneca speaks of these habiliments in the following words: "Do you see those transparent habits, if, however, they may be called habits. What do you there discover that is capable of defeuding the person or preserving modesty? Dare those who wear them venture to swear that they are not naked?"

[ocr errors]

Varro calls these habits dresses of glass. Another author denominates them woven wind, and a silken vapour. "Is it decorous," says he, in a virtuous woman, to wear a habit of wind, and be clothed in a silken vapour ""

It would appear that in those days, as at present, the females, whose superannuated charms called for the prudent aid of a discreet veil, sacrificed their self-love to the fashion, in generously adopting a costume which publicly revealed the progress of age and the inroads of time. Horace ridicules Lyce, one of his former mistresses, who, though on the wane, wore, Jike young females, transparent habits of gauze of Cos.

This mode prevailed during a very long period. It was at first adopted by courtezans, and soon followed by females who imitated them in more than one particular; and it continued till the time of St. Jerome, who declaims against these garments.

We learn from Isaiah, that the women and maidens of Jerusalem wore dresses of a similar

nature.

I know not how far back it is necessary to go, to discover the origin of this mode, which consists in wearing a dress so fine that the wearer might as well go naked. I have found models of it in the most remote ages. In Montfaucon's learned work, entitled, "Antiquity explained by Figures," I have seen a representation of an Egyptian female, dressed in a tunic so fine as to shew the shape in the most perfect manner; and what appeared to me the most remarkable is, that this woman holds her robe exactly in the same manner as the Parisian females of the present day are represented to hold it, that is, she

draws it tightly round the body, so as to exhibit all the forms still more distinctly.

More than four hundred years ago, the women of France went, as at present, with their shoulders and bosoms uncovered. Historical monuments teach us, that thus Queen Isabel of Bavaria, the wife of Charles VI. was dressed. We are told, it was the who introduced this fashion.

During the reign of Henry II. and Charles IX. the ambitious and voluptuous Catherine de Medicis, who wished to enervate by pleasure all the French, that she might afterwards govern them, introduced a new indecency of dress. It appears that this fashion continued under Henry III.

It again made its appearance under Louis XIV. disappeared at the conclusion of his reign, and returned in the first year of that of Louis XV. But at no period, and in no civilized country, was excess in this particular carried to such a height as during the years of the Trench Revolution.

Before that time women had been the slaves of silly customs and of ridiculous and Gothic fashions; they suddenly burst asunder all the fetters which bad taste had imposed upon them, and taking as models the Grecian women, so celebrated for their beauty, they exhibited, together with the perfection of taste, a complete neglect of decency. In this, I must confess, they deviated from their models; but such is the usual practice of the human mind; it is incessantly running into extremes. Accordingly, women exchanged a barbarous for a cynical costume.

A dress too prudish conceals beauty; a costume too free prostitutes it. A Latin poet has observed: "I do not like Diana when dressed, or Cytherea quite naked; one is destitute of voJuptuousness, the other has too much."

If the sex intended to imitate the Grecian females, they however deviated widely from their decency and their morals. The Grecian women lived extremely retired, in impenetrable apartments; their costume set off their charms without exposing them. The example of the young girls of Sparta was not followed in other parts of Greece, and the costumes handed down to us were those of courtezans; besides which, it may easily be conceived, that the artist has allowed himself con: iderable liberties. Are we enabled at the present day, to judge of the dress of our handsome women by the fancy portr its delineated by our painters? And will our descendants say, that our women went naked, beause Madame ***, Madame ***, and Madame *** caused themselves to be painted in that manner.

Not only was the costume of the Grecian females extremely austere, but they were seldom permitted to appear before men; and Plutarch relates, that Elpinice became an object of unis

« 前へ次へ »