Cleopatra, who is represented as being both dark and stout, could wear only the robes of white or purple, the heavy diadem, the strings of pearls that were the allotted garb of Egyptian princes. How dark and how uncomely must have been the majority of her country women may be judged from the sensation she made. The Roman ladies were famed for their stately carriage, and somewhat large but noble features; and when to these charms are added those of regularity, and delicacy, and beautiful coloring, no doubt their simple peu coquette style of dress was especially becoming to them; but without these latter qualifications how gaunt and coarse they must have appeared! What can be more lovely than the figure of Agrippina-bending that stately head above the ashes of Germanicus? The robe falls in long sweeping folds; the bare arm, naked to the shoulder, supports the urn; the hair braided back, the smooth brow, the magnificent eye, in its large and lofty chamber; not a ribbon, not the gleaming of a jewel, breaks the calm outline or disturbs the severe unity. Perhaps among the circle of our acquaintance there are two or three women who would appear to advantage so attired! - but, O, how well for the dumpy and the scraggy "nez retrousse," and the "nez snub," that they fall upon better days! As we descend the stream of time, the number of celebrated beauties decreases; this we may attribute to the increasing knowledge of the art of dress; indifferent complexions, bad figures, irregular features, began to have something like fair play shown them; exigencies of person met with some assistance from costumes; and in the same degree as the plain women were made to appear less plain, were the beauties rendered less prominent, and the distance between the parties lessened. Still we hear of some so strikingly lovely, as to be known to all the world by the fame of their eyes only; of these we may name Edith of the Swan Neck, so called from the brilliant whiteness of a skin capable of resisting the exposure to sun and wind, which tanned and freckled into frightfulness the queens and lofty ladies of those rude days; Rosamond the Fair so fair that it was said of her, "None but a jealous and exasperated woman could have harmed her;" Beatrice Cenci, whose beauty makes one shudder, so mysterious seems the light in those large untroubled eyes, soon about to close beneath the pressure of so awful a fate; Lucrezia Borgia, an angel in face, a demon in heart; Mary of Scotland, whom "no man ever beheld without love," and some few others, until we reach that famous trio recorded in the letters of Horace Walpole, as the loveliest women of their time, the Misses Gunning. One of these, the Duchess of Hamilton, was so renowned for her charms, that her fame spread far and near, insomuch that, when travelling once from the north to town, the mob, in the places where she rested at nights, assembled round the hotels, nor would they depart until she had appeared on the balconies to display to them her world-famed face. And there is something strangely sad in the account of the death of another of the sisters, Lady Coventry, who perished of consumption while in the highest pride of youth and beauty. She is recorded as patiently awaiting the approach of death -her looking-glass her constant companion-as scarcely ever removing her eyes from the reflection of her own face, and as bewailing only the too early extinction of a beauty worthy of immortality. At a later time, when the names of some favorite beauties are again recorded, the costume, totally different, was so hideous, that no one could wear it with impunity-hence the high reputation for beauty of Pauline Bonaparte and Madame Recamier. The former is described as appearing at a party, given by her mighty brother, in a tunic of white muslin, reaching little below the knee, and commencing far below the shoulders, the waist exceedingly short, and bound with a narrow girdle; sandals clothed the small feet, while a mantle of leopard skin hung around the perfect form of Canova's fairest model. And there are many who can remember the appearance of Madame Recamier in the parks of London, clad in a robe as scanty and as simple- her dark hair wreathed around her head and fastened with a bodkin to the summit, and a scarlet mantle wrapped around her. Now-a-days, the toilet of a lady is exactly conducted upon the principles most becoming to all; few figures look ill in the sweeping robes and lengthened corsage — ample and stately, without stiffness; ankles, however thick, are concealed by the long dresses, now the mode. Features, however coarse, can be softened and shaded into something like symmetry, by the judicious arrangement of locks, permitted to be worn in bands, or braids, or ringlets, just as best suits the face they surround. And while no arbitrary fashion forces the exposure of a frightful profile, a clumsy arm, a ponderous ankle, no rule exists to prevent the reverse of these being shown. Every lady is at liberty to bring out her own "good points" as she thinks best, and it is easy to do so, as well as to conceal her weak ones, without departing from the fashions that prevail. THE SEWING CIRCLE. "I cannot stop to alter words once written." READER, did you ever go you music rare; Or, perhaps, you'd like this guard; |