quiet walks of life should not be ignorant of what goes on among those that are pleased to style themselves their betters: But, I do think that this is rather too entire and bona fide an initiation into a train of existence, which is, luckily, as inconsistent with the permanent happiness, as it is with the permanent duties, of those who cannot afford all their lives to be mere fine ladies. For myself, after living so quietly in Cardigan, I have been on the whole much pleased with the full and leisurely view I have now had even of this out-skirt of the beau-monde. I do not think matters have undergone any improvement since I last peeped into its precincts. The ladies are undoubtedly by no means so welldressed as they were a few years ago, before these short waists and enormous tetes of flowers and ringlets were introduced from Paris.-There is, perhaps, no one line in the whole of the female form, in which there lies so much gracefulness as in the outline of the back. Now, that was seen as it ought to be a few years ago; but now, every woman in Britain looks as if her clothes were hung about her neck by a peg. And then the truly Spartan exposure of the leg, which seems now to be in fashion, is, in my judgment, the most unwise thing in the whole world; for any person can tell well enough from the shape of the foot and ancle, whether the limb be or be not handsome; and what more would the ladies have? Moreover, the fashion has not been allowed to obtain its ascendency without evident detriment to the interests of the majority, for I have never yet been in any place where there were not more limbs that would gain by being concealed, than by being exposed. But, in truth, even those who have the shape of a Diana, may be assured that they are not, in the main, gainers by attracting too much attention to some of their beauties. -I wonder that they do not recollect and profit by the exquisite description of the Bride, in Sir John Suckling's poem of the Wedding; "Her feet beneath her petticoat, As for those, who, with bad shapes, make an useless display of their legs, I must own, I have no excuse for their folly. I know well enough, that it is a very difficult thing to form any proper opinion about one's own face; because it is universally admitted that faces, which have no regularity of feature, may often be far more charming than those which have, and, of course, those who are sensible enough to perceive, that their heads could not stand the test of sculpture, may be very easily pardoned for believing, that their expressiveness might still render them admirable studies for a painter. But as to limbs,-I really am quite at a loss to conceive how any person should labour under the least difficulty in ascertaining, in the most exact way, whether handsomeness may, or may not, be predicated concerning any given pair of legs or arms in existence. Their beauty is entirely that of Form, and by looking over a few books of prints, or a few plaster-of-Paris casts, the dullest eye in the world may learn, in the course of a single forenoon, to be almost as good a critic in calves and ancles as Canova himself. Yet nothing can be more evident, than that the great majority of young ladies are most entirely devoid of any ideas concerning the beauty of Form, either in themselves, or in others; they never take the trouble to examine any such matters minutely, but satisfy themselves with judging by the general air and result. In regard to other people, may do very well; but it is a very bad plan with respect to themselves. this Even you, my dear lady Johnes, are a perfect tyro in this branch of knowledge. I remember, only the last time I saw you, you were praising with all your might the legs of Colonel Bthose flimsy worthless things, that look as if they were bandaged with linen rollers from the heel to the knee. I beg you would look at the Apollo Belvidere, the Fighting Gladiator, and the Farnese Hercules. There are only three handsome kinds of legs in the world, and in these, you have a specimen of each of the three -I speak of gentlemen. As for your own sex, the Venus is the only true model of female form in existence, and yet such is your culpable ignorance of yourselves, that I devoutly believe she would be pronounced a very clumsy person, were she to come into the Aberystwith ballroom. You may say what you will, but I still assert, and I will prove it if you please, by pen and pencil, that, with one pair of exceptions, the best legs in Cardigan are Mrs P's. As for Miss JD's, I think they are frightful, * + A great part of this letter is omitted in the Second Edition, in consequence of the displeasure its publication gave to certain individuals in Cardiganshire. I hope I need not say how much I was grieved, when I learned in what way some the passages had been regarded by several ladies, who have of It is a great mistake under which the Scotch people lie, in supposing themselves to be excellent dancers; and yet one hears the mistake reechoed by the most sensible, sedate, and danceabhorring Presbyterians one meets with. If the test of good dancing were activity, there is indeed no question, the northern beaux and belles might justly claim the pre-eminence over their brethren and sisters of the south. In an Edinburgh ball-room, there appears to be the same pride of bustle, the same glorying in muscular agitation and alertness-the same "sudor immanis," to use the poet's phrase, which used of old to distinguish the sports of the Circus or the Campus Martius. But this is all ;-the want of grace is as conspicuous in their performances, as the abundance of vigour. We desiderate the conscious towerlikę poise-the easy, slow, unfatiguing glide of the fair pupils of D'Estainville. To say the truth, the ladies in Scotland dance in not a more sincere admirer than myself. As for the gentleman, who chose to take what I said of him in so much dudgeon, he will observe, that I have allowed what I said to remain exactly in statu quo, which I certainly should not have done, had he expressed his resentment in the proper manner, P. M. |