THE GUARDIAN. 199 ficulty, and transport you two thousand leagues | from hence, into a country where you shall be nation; we owe most of our jaunty fashions now The most fruitful in geniuses is the French reverenced by men as much as you were before in vogue, to some adept beau among them. this adventure.' I am content,' says Barsisa; Their ladies exert the whole scope of their fandeliver me, and I will worship thee.' Give cies upon every new petticoat; every head-dress me first a sign of adoration,' replies the devil. undergoes a change; and not a lady of genius Whereupon the santon bowed his head, and will appear in the same shape two days toge said, 'I give myself to you.' The devil then ther; so that we may impute the scarcity of raising his voice, said, 'O, Barsisa, I am satis-geniuses in our climate to the stagnation of fied; I have obtained what I desired;' and with fashions. these words, spitting in his face, he disappeared; and the deluded santon was hanged. I HAVE in a former precaution, endeavoured to show the mechanism of an epic poem, and given the reader prescriptions whereby he may, without the scarce ingredient of a genius, compose the several parts of that great work. I shall now treat of an affair of more general importance, and make dress the subject of the following paper. The ladies among us have a superior genius to the men; which have for some years past shot out in several exorbitant inventions for the greater consumption of our manufacture. While the men have contented themselves with the retrenchment of the hat, or the various scallop of the pocket, the ladies have sunk the head-dress, inclosed themselves in the circumference of the been disposed of at will, the stays have been hoop-petticoat; furbelows and flounces have lowered behind, for the better displaying the beauties of the neck; not to mention the varicircumstances of dress upon which every lady ous rolling of the sleeve, and those other nice employs her fancy at pleasure. The sciences of poetry and dress have so near an alliance to each other, that the rules of the other. one, with very little variation, may serve for the Dress is grown of universal use in the conduct of life. Civilities and respect are only paid to appearance. It is a varnish that gives a lustre to every action, a passe par tout that intro-have a harmony with the whole; so to keep to As in a poem, all the several parts of it must duces us into all polite assemblies, and the only the propriety of dress, the coat, waistcoat, and certain method of making most of the youth of breeches, must be of the same piece. our nation conspicuous. strict observance of time, place, and action, in As Aristotle obliges all dramatic writers to a order to compose a just work of this kind of poetry; so it is absolutely necessary for a person that applies himself to the study of dress, to have a strict regard to these three particulars. There was formerly an absurd notion among the men of letters, that to establish themselves in the character of wits, it was absolutely necessary to show a contempt of dress. This inju. dicious affectation of theirs flattened all their conversation, took off the force of every expres. sion, and incapacitated a female audience from giving attention to any thing they said. While the man of dress catches their eyes as well as ears, and at every ludicrous turn obtains a laughingly supplied by the Turkey handkerchief and of applause by way of compliment. I shall lay down as an established maxim, which hath been received in all ages, that no person can dress without a genius. A genius is never to be acquired by art, but is the gift of nature; it may be discovered even in infancy. Little master will smile when you shake his plume of feathers before him, and thrust its little knuckles in papa's full-bottom; miss will toy with her mother's Mechlin lace, and gaze on the gaudy colours of a fan; she smacks her lips for a kiss at the appearance of a gentleman in embroidery, and is frighted at the indecency of the house-maid's blue-apron: as she grows up, the dress of her baby begins to be her care, and you will see a genteel fancy open itself in the ornaments of the little machine. We have a kind of sketch of dress, if I may so call it, among us, which, as the invention was foreign, is called a dishabille: every thing is thrown on with a loose and careless air; yet a genius discovers itself even through this negligence of dress, just as you may see the masterly hand of a painter in three or four swift strokes of the pencil. surd than the velvet gown in summer? and what To begin with the time. What is more abis more agreeable in the winter? The muff and fur are preposterous in June, which are charm season, and there can be no propriety in dress the fan. Every thing must be suitable to the without a strict regard to time. gives a lady a more easy air than the wrapping ing and dress. Nothing appears graceful with- dress will appear stiff and affected, and the most | throughout, as curious observers of dress have gay habit fantastical and tawdry. remarked, is changed from top to toe, in the pe riod of five years. A poet will now and then, to serve his purpose, coin a word, so will a lady of genius venture at an innovation in the fashion; but as Horace advises, that all new-minted words should have a Greck derivation to give them an indisputable authority, so I would counsel all our improvers of fashion always to take the hint from France, which may as properly be called the fountain of dress,' as Greece was of lite rature. As different sorts of poetry require a different style: the elegy, tender and mournful; the ode, gay and sprightly; the epic, sublime, &c. so must the widow confess her grief in the veil ; the bride frequently makes her joy and exultation conspicuous in the silver brocade; and the plume and the scarlet dye is requisite to give the soldier a martial air. There is another kind of occasional dress in use among the ladies; I mean the riding-habit, which some have not injudiciously styled the hermaphroditical, by rea- Dress may bear a parallel to poetry with reson of its masculine and feminine composition; spect to moving the passions. The greatest mobut I shall rather choose to call it the Pindaric, tive to love, as daily experience shows us, is as its first institution was at a Newmarket dress. I have known a lady at sight fly to a horse-race, and as it is a mixture of the sub-red feather, and readily give her hand to a limity of the epic with the easy softness of the fringed pair of gloves. At.another time I have ode. seen the awkward appearance of her rural humble servant move her indignation; she is jealous every time her rival hath a new suit; and in a rage when her woman pins her mantua to dis advantage. Unhappy, unguarded woman! als! what moving rhetoric has she often found in the seducing full-bottom! who can tell the resistless eloquence of the embroidered coat, the gold snuff-box, and the amber-headed cane! There sometimes arises a great genius in dress, who cannot content himself with merely copying from others, but will, as he sees occasion, strike out into the long pocket, slashed sleeve, or something particular in the disposition of his lace, or the flourish of his embroidery. Such a person, like the masters of other sciences, will show that he hath a manner of his own. On the contrary, there are some pretenders to dress who shine out but by halves; whether it be for want of genius or money. A dancingmaster of the lowest rank seldom fails of the scarlet stocking and the red heel; and shows a particular respect to the leg and foot, to which he owes his subsistence; when at the same time perhaps all the superior ornament of his body is neglected. We may say of these sort of dressers what Horace says of his patch-work poets: Purpureus late qui splendeat unus et alter A few florid lines Others who lay the stress of beauty in their face, exert all their extravagance in the periwig, which is a kind of index of the mind; the full-bottom, formally combed all before, denotes the lawyer and the politician; the smart tie-wig with a black riband, shows a man of fierceness of temper; and he that burdens himself with a superfluity of white hair which flows down the back, and mantles in waving curls over the shoulders, is generally observed to be less curious in the furniture of the inward recesses of the scull, and lays himself open to the application of that censure which Milton applies to the fair sex, of outward form Elaborate, of inward, less exact.' I shall conclude these criticisms with some general remarks upon the milliner, the mantua maker, and the lady's woman, these being the three chief on which all the circumstances of dress depend. The milliner must be thoroughly versed in physiognomy; in the choice of ribands she must have a particular regard to the complexion, and must ever be mindful to cut the head-dress to the dimensions of the face. When she meets with a countenance of large diameter, she must draw the dress forward to the face, and let the lace encroach a little upon the cheek, which casts an agreeable shade, and takes off from its masculine figure; the little oval face requires the diminutive commode, just on the tip of the the several ages of women: the head-dress must crown of the head: she must have a regard to give the mother a more sedate mien than the virgin; and age must not be made ridiculous with the flaunting airs of youth. There is a beauty that is peculiar to the several stages of life, and as much propriety must be observed in the dress of the old, as the young. mist; and must, if judiciously chosen, have a The mantua-maker must be an expert anatohow to hide all the defects in the proportions of name of French termination; she must know the body, and must be able to mould the shape by the stays, so as to preserve the intestines, that while she corrects the body, she may not interfere with the pleasures of the palate. The lady's woman must have all the qualities A lady of genius will give a genteel air to her of a critic in poetry; as her dress, like the cri whole dress by a well-fancied suit of knots, as a tic's learning, is at second-hand, she must, like judicious writer gives a spirit to a whole sen- him, have a ready talent at censure, and her tence by a single expression. As words grow tongue must be deeply versed in detraction; she old, and new ones enrich the language, so there must be sure to asperse the characters of the is a constant succession of dress; the fringe ladies of most eminent virtue and beauty, to insucceeds the lace, the stays shorten or extend dulge her lady's spleen; and as it hath been rethe waist, the riband undergoes divers varia- marked, that critics are the most fawning sycotions, the head-dress receives frequent rises and phants to their patrons, so must our female erifalls every year; and in short, the whole womantic be a thorough proficient in flattery: she must 1 add sprightliness to her lady's air, by encouraging her vanity; give gracefulness to her step, by cherishing her pride; and make her show a haughty contempt of her admirers, by enumerating her imaginary conquests. As a critic must stock his memory with the names of all the authors of note, she must be no less ready in the recital of all the beaux and pretty fellows in vogue; like the male critic, she asserts, that the theory of any science is above the practice, and that it is not necessary to be able to set her own person off to advantage, in order to be a judge of the dress of others; and besides all those qualifications, she must be endued with the gift of secrecy, a talent very rarely to bo met with in her profession. will not come up to it. Is it not rather the good providence of that being, who in a supereminent degree protects and cherishes the whole race of mankind, his sons and creatures? How shall we, any other way, account for this natural affection, so signally displayed throughout every specics of the animal creation, without which the course of nature would quickly fail, and every various kind be extinct? Instances of tenderness in the most savage brutes are so frequent, that quotations of that kind are altogether unnecessary. If we, who have no particular concern in them, take a secret delight in observing the gentle dawn of reason in babes; if our cars aro soothed with their half-forming and aiming at By what I have said, I believe my reader will articulate sounds; if we are charmed with their be convinced, that notwithstanding the many pretty mimicry, and surprised at the unexpected pretenders, the perfection of dress cannot be at-starts of wit and cunning in these miniatures tained without a genius; and shall venture boldly to affirm, that in all arts and sciences whatever, epic poetry excepted, (of which I formerly showed the knack or mechanism) a genius is absolutely necessary. No. 150.] Wednesday, September 2, 1713. -Nescio qua dulcedine læti, of man; what transport may we imagine in the breasts of those, into whom natural instinct hath poured tenderness and fondness for them! how amiable is such a weakness in human nature! or rather, how great a weakness is it, to give humanity so reproachful a name! The bare consideration of paternal affection should methinks create a more grateful tenderness in children toward their parents, than we generally sce; and the silent whispers of nature be attend Progeniem nidosque fovent- Virg. Georg. iv. 55. ed to, though the laws of God and man did not I WENT the other day to visit Eliza, who in the perfect bloom of beauty is the mother of several children. She had a little prating girl upon her lap, who was begging to be very fine, that she might go abroad; and the indulgent mother, at her little daughter's request, had just taken the knots off her own head, to adorn the hair of the pretty trifler. A smiling boy was at the same time caressing a lap-dog, which is their mother's favourite, because it pleases the children; and she, with a delight in her looks, which heightened her beauty, so divided her conversation with the two pretty prattlers, as to make them both equally cheerful. call aloud. These silent whispers of nature have had a marvellous power, even when their cause hath been unknown. There are several examples in story of tender friendships formed betwixt men who knew not of their near relation. Such ac counts confirm me in an opinion I have long entertained, that there is a sympathy betwixt souls, which cannot be explained by the proju. dice of education, the sense of duty, or any other human motive. The memoirs of a certain French nobleman, which now lie before me, furnish me with a very entertaining instance of this secret attraction implanted by Providence in the human soul. It will be necessary to inform the reader, that the person whose story I am going to relate, was one whose roving and romantic tem As I came in, she said with a blush, Mr. Iron-per, joined to a disposition singularly amorous, side, though you are an old bachelor, you must not laugh at my tenderness to my children.' I need not tell my reader what civil things I said in answer to the lady, whose matron-like behaviour gave me infinite satisfaction; since I myself take great pleasure in playing with children, and am seldom unprovided of plums or marbles, to make my court to such entertaining companions. had led him through a vast variety of gallantries and amours. He had, in his youth, attended a princess of France into Poland, where he had been entertained by the king her husband, and married the daughter of a grandce. Upon her death he returned into his native country; where his intrigues and other misfortunes having consumed his paternal estate, he now went to take care of the fortune his deceased wife had left him in Poland. In his journey he was robbed before he reached Warsaw, and lay ill of a fever, when he met with the following adventure, which he shall relate in his own words. Whence is it, said I to myself when I was alone, that the affection of parents is so intense to their offspring? Is it because they generally find such resemblances in what they have pro. duced, as that thereby they think theinselves re- I had been in this, condition for four days, newed in their children, and are willing to trans- when the countess of Venoski passed that way. mit themselves to future times? Or is it, be- She was informed that a stranger of good fishin cause they think themselves obliged, by the dic-lay sick, and her charity led her to see me. I tates of humanity, to nourish and rear what is remembered her, for I had often seen her with placed, so immediately under their protection; my wife, to whom she was nearly related; but and what by their meaus is brought into this when I found she knew not me, I thought fit to world, the scene of misery, of necessity? These conceal my name. I told her I was a German; that I had been robbed; and that if she had the | lady, and then upon the gentleman I had thought charity to send me to Warsaw, the queen would to be her lover. My heart beat, and I felt a seacknowledge it; I having the honour to be cret emotion which filled me with wonder. I known to her majesty. The countess had the thought I traced in the two young persons some goodness to take compassion of me; and order of my own features, and at that moment I said ing me to be put in a litter, carried me to War- to myself," Are not these my children?" The saw, where I was lodged in her house until my tears came into my eyes, and I was about to run health should allow me to wait on the queen. and embrace them; but constraining myself with pain, I asked whose picture it was? The maid, perceiving that I could not speak without tears, fell a weeping. Her tears absolutely con. firmed me in my opinion, and falling upon her neck, "Ah, my dear child," said I, yes, I am your father." I could say no more. The youth seized my hands at the same time, and kissing, bathed them with his tears. Throughout my life, I never felt a joy equal to this; and it must be owned, that nature inspires more lively emotions and pleasing tenderness than the passions can possibly excite.' My fever increased after my journey was over, and I was confined to my bed for fifteen days. When the countess first saw me, she had a young lady with her about eighteen years of age, who was much taller and better shaped than the Polish women generally are. She was very fair, her skin exceeding fine, and her hair and shape inexpressibly beautiful. I was not so sick as to overlook this young beauty; and I felt in my heart such emotions at the first view, as made me fear that all my misfortunes had not armed me sufficiently against the charms of the fair sex. The amiable creature seemed afflicted at my sickness; and she appeared to have so much concern and care for me, as raised in me a great inclination and tenderness for her. She came every day into my chamber to inquire after my health; I asked who she was, and I was answered, that she was niece to the countess of Venoski. No. 151.] Thursday, September 3, 1713. Accipiat sane mercedem sanguinis, et sie A dear-bought bargain, all things duly weigh'd, To the Guardian.. Dryden. 'I verily believe that the constant sight of this charming maid, and the pleasure I received from her careful attendance, contributed more to my recovery than all the medicines the physicians gave me. In short, my fever left me, and I had the satisfaction to see the lovely crea- OLD NESTOR,-I believe you distance me not ture overjoyed at my recovery. She came to so much in years as in wisdom, and therefore see me oftener as I grew better; and I already since you have gained so deserved a reputation, felt a stronger and more tender affection for her I beg your assistance in correcting the manners than I ever bore to any woman in my life; when of an untoward lad, who perhaps may listen to I began to perceive that her constant care of your admonitions, sooner than to all the severe me was only a blind, to give her an opportunity checks, and grave reproofs of a father. With of seeing a young Pole, whom I took to be her out any longer preamble, you must know, sir, lover. He seemed to be much about her age, that about two years ago, Jack, my eldest son of a brown complexion, very tall, but finely and heir, was sent up to London, to be admitted shaped. Every time she came to see me, the of the Temple, not so much with a view of his young gentleman came to find her out; and studying the law, as a desire to improve his they usually retired to a corner of the chamber, breeding. This was done out of complaisance where they seemed to converse with great ear-to a cousin of his, an airy lady, who was con nestness. The aspect of the youth pleased me wonderfully; and if I had not suspected that he was my rival, I should have taken delight in his person and friendship. "They both of them often asked me if I were in reality a German, which, when I continued to affirm, they seemed very much troubled. One day, I took notice that the young lady and gen. tleinan, having retired to a window, were very intent upon a picture; and that every now and then they cast their eyes upon me, as if they had found some resemblance betwixt that and my features. I could not forbear to ask the meaning of it; upon which the lady answered, that if I had been a Frenchman, she should have imagined that I was the person for whom the picture was drawn, because it so exactly resembled me. I desired to see it; but how great was my surprise, when I found it to be the very pointing which had sent to the queen five years before, and which she commanded me to get drawn to be given to my children. After I had viewed the picre, I cast my eyes upon the young tinually teazing me, that the boy would shoot up into a mere country booby, if he did not see a little of the world. She herself was bred chiefly in town, and since she was married into the country, neither looks, nor talks, nor dresses like any of her neighbours, and is grown the admiration of every one but her husband. The latter end of last month some important business called me up to town, and the first thing I did, the next morning about ten, was to pay a visit to my son at his chambers; but as I began to knock at the door, I was interrupted by the bedmaker in the staircase, who told me her master seldom rose till about twelve, and about one I might be sure to find him drinking tea. I bid her somewhat hastily hold her prating, and open the door, which accordingly she did." The first thing I observed upon the table was the secret amours of, and by it stood a box of pillst on a chair lay a snuff box with a fan half broke, and on the floor a pair of foils. Having seen this furniture, I entered his bed-chamber, not without some noise; whereupon, he began to THE GUARDIAN. swear at his bed-maker (as he thought) for disturbing him so soon, and was turning about for the other nap, when he discovered such a thin, pale, sickly visage, that had I not heard.his voice, I should never have guessed him to have been my son. How different was this countenance from that ruddy, hale complexion, which he had at parting with me from home! After I had waked him, he gave me to understand, that he was but lately recovered out of a violent fever, and the reason why he did not acquaint me with it, was, lest the melancholy news might occasion too many tears among his relations, and be an unsupportable grief to his mother. To be short with you, old Nestor, I hurried my young spark down into the country along with me, and there am endeavouring to plump him up, so as to be no disgrace to his pedigree; for, I assure you, it was never known in the memory of man, that any one of the family of the Ringwoods ever fell into a consumption, except Mrs. Dorothy Ringwood, who died a maid at fortyfive. In order to bring him to himself, and to be one of us again, I make him go to bed at. ten, and rise half an hour past five; and when, he is pulling for bohea tea and cream, I place upon a table a jolly piece of cold roast beef, or well powdered ham, and bid him eat and live; then take him into the fields to observe the reapers, 203 are such a country booby, that you forget the writ, "Memorandum, To send her word I have Friday, September 4, 1713. Quin potius pacem æternam pactosque hymenæos admire than that wherein he advises an author THERE is no rule in Longinus which I more who would attain to the sublime, and writes for eternity, to consider, when he is engaged in his composition, what Homer, or Plato, or any other of those heroes in the learned world, would have said or thought upon the same occasion. I have often practised this rule, with regard to the best the moderns. authors among the ancients, as well as among to the judgment of others. I may at least venWith what success, I must leave ture to say with Mr. Dryden, where he professes to have imitated Shakspeare's style, that in imitating such great authors I have always excelled how the harvest goes forwards. There is nobody pleased with his present constitution but his gay cousin, who spirits him up, and tells him, he looks fair, and is grown well-shaped; but the honest tenants shake their heads, and cry, "Lack-a-day, how thin is poor young master fallen!" The other day, when I told him of it, he had the impudence to reply, "I hope, sir, you would not have me as fat as Mr. Alas! what would then become of me? how would the ladies pish at such a great monstrous thing!"—If you are truly, what your title im. ports, a Guardian, pray, sir, be pleased to consider what a noble generation must, in all pro. bability, ensue from the lives which the town-myself. bred gentlemen too often lead. A friend of mine, not long ago, as we were complaining of the times, repeated two stanzas out of my lord Roscommon, which, I think, may here be applicable: ""Twas not the spawn of such as these, That dy'd with Punje blood the conquer'd seas, And quash'd the stern acides; Made the proud Asian monarch feel How weak his gold was against Europe steel: And won the long-disputed world at Zama's fatal field; Either they dug the stubborn ground, Had changed the shadows, and their task was done, Home with their weary team they took their way, And drown'd in friendly Bowls the labours of the day." 'I am, sir, your very humble servant, 'JONATHAN RINGWOOD. 'P. S. I forgot to tell you, that while I waited in my son's anti-chamber, I found upon the ta⚫ble the following bill: "Sold to Mr. Jonathan Ring. £ wood, a plain muslin head and ruffles, with colbertine lace, antiquated ways of writing, which, though very I have also, by this means, revived several instructive and entertaining, had been laid aside and forgotten for some ages. I shall in this place only mention those allegories wherein virtues, vices, and human passions are introduced as real actors. Though this kind of com. position was practised by the finest authors among the ancients, our countryman Spenser is to it with success. the last writer of note who has applied himself That an allegory may be both delightful and ought to be perfect, and, if possible, to be filled instructive; in the first place, the fable of it next, there ought to be useful morals and rewith surprising turns and incidents. In the flections couched under it, which still receive a greater value from their being new and uncommon; as also from their appearing difficult to have been thrown into emblematical types and shadows. I was once thinking to have written a whole canto in the spirit of Spenser, and in order to d. it, contrived a fable of imaginary persons and 18 6 characters. I raised it on that common dispute between the comparative perfections and pre 8. 1 |