DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68073#0357
ENGLISH, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 331
of brocade or lutestring silk, much painted, powdered and patched,
glancing archly beneath their coquettish “gipsy hats” at their gal-
lant escorts, who know so well how to lead them through the steps of
a minuet or a gavotte to the rococo tunes of Rameau, Dr. Arne, or
Couperin with their quirls and pretty runs and trills and long pauses
for stately bows.
That world is so fascinating to us that we fancy we, too, could
wear without embarrassment the elaborate costume and that we,
too, would feel much at home with Horace Walpole and his friends
at Strawberry Hill. We, too, might be able to prepare minced chicken
in a chafing-dish, just as satisfactorily as the Miss Berrys; and we
like to fancy that we could take part in their airy conversation of
charm, banter, and light mockery. At any rate, if we should not be
able to succeed in entertaining Horace Walpole, we are very certain
that Sir Horace could entertain us!
All the Society people of London of this time seem very friendly to
us and we are strangely “at home” with the portraits of Gainsborough,
Sir Joshua, and Romney.
When we look upon Diana, Lady Crosbie, Lady Betty Delme,
Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester,
Lady Derby, and The Hon. Mrs. Davenport do we not feel that we
have known and talked to these people in the flesh? Their eyes meet
ours and our thoughts meet theirs,—and we are not strangers to one
another.
And when we look upon Gainsborough’s Mall does it not bring
back memories of the time when we, ourselves, walked there with all
the gay throng of a bright morning?
Lord Gower said very aptly:
“ Gainsborough created a new school by making a lady’s petticoat
a thing of beauty. He could even throw a halo upon a ribbon or a
scarf.”
That is true; but Lord Gower forgot the fact that the lady had by
her taste and her high-bred elegance conferred distinction on her
clothes by the fitness with which she selected them and by the manner
in which she wore them.
of brocade or lutestring silk, much painted, powdered and patched,
glancing archly beneath their coquettish “gipsy hats” at their gal-
lant escorts, who know so well how to lead them through the steps of
a minuet or a gavotte to the rococo tunes of Rameau, Dr. Arne, or
Couperin with their quirls and pretty runs and trills and long pauses
for stately bows.
That world is so fascinating to us that we fancy we, too, could
wear without embarrassment the elaborate costume and that we,
too, would feel much at home with Horace Walpole and his friends
at Strawberry Hill. We, too, might be able to prepare minced chicken
in a chafing-dish, just as satisfactorily as the Miss Berrys; and we
like to fancy that we could take part in their airy conversation of
charm, banter, and light mockery. At any rate, if we should not be
able to succeed in entertaining Horace Walpole, we are very certain
that Sir Horace could entertain us!
All the Society people of London of this time seem very friendly to
us and we are strangely “at home” with the portraits of Gainsborough,
Sir Joshua, and Romney.
When we look upon Diana, Lady Crosbie, Lady Betty Delme,
Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester,
Lady Derby, and The Hon. Mrs. Davenport do we not feel that we
have known and talked to these people in the flesh? Their eyes meet
ours and our thoughts meet theirs,—and we are not strangers to one
another.
And when we look upon Gainsborough’s Mall does it not bring
back memories of the time when we, ourselves, walked there with all
the gay throng of a bright morning?
Lord Gower said very aptly:
“ Gainsborough created a new school by making a lady’s petticoat
a thing of beauty. He could even throw a halo upon a ribbon or a
scarf.”
That is true; but Lord Gower forgot the fact that the lady had by
her taste and her high-bred elegance conferred distinction on her
clothes by the fitness with which she selected them and by the manner
in which she wore them.