No. VII.] THE SALE-ROOM. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1817. A Periodical Paper, published weekly at No. 4, Hanover-Street, Edinburgh. which must be handled not only delicately, To the Conductor of the SALE-ROOM. "I know that a woman "Is a dish for the Gods, if the devil dress her not." Antony and Cleopatra. WE this day lay before our readers Letters | ject on which he has adventured is one from two correspondents, each of them preferring a complaint, and paying us the compliment of supposing that our interference may have the effect, in a greater or less degree, of remedying the grievance from which the writers have received disquietude. The first, who assumes the formidable name of TIMON, Seems inclined to be at war with the scanty longitude of the ladies' petticoats; and the last, under the insinuating cognomen of HARMONICUS, Would venture to remonstrate against their love of reels and strathspeys. At least we fear some such ungallant feelings are lurking under the equivocal phraseology of Timon, and the musical meditations of his fellow-murmurer. For our own part, we do confess that the ire which we are bound, as sober moralists, to encourage at the spectacle which has provoked the animadversions of Timon, hath, as it were, oozed and melted away under the glance of the sparkling eye with which it is generally accompanied; and we recollect the time-alas, it is but recollection-when we would not have given a merry Scotch jig, whether danced or lilted, for all that ever Beethoven composed, or Catalani sung. But it is fit that these gentlemen should speak for themselves; and Timon shall have precedence; for the sub "Our very petticoats will catch them." GENTLE MR SALE-ROOM, As You Like it. I am afraid, from the nature of the above quotations, your female readers may take the alarm, and begin to conjecture that they are perusing the work of some morose and disappointed old bachelor, who has unfortunately outlived his feelings of admiration for the ladies, and who, kicking his heels over his solitary fireside, fulminates from his retirement these splenetic animadversions on the fair sex. But I do solemnly assure them, (it is impossible not to get a little hot under so grievous an imputation) Ꮐ that they do me much injustice, and that, if the warmest admiration for grace, and gentleness, and beauty,-for every thing which is included under the idea of female fascination, can at all vindicate me in their eyes, I possess this, as I am sorry to say, to my cost, in no common degree. Neither do I at all come under the description of an old bachelor; and although I certainly do recollect, that when I was about five years old, my nurse gave herself great credit for pulling out of my brown little bullet of a head one solitary grey hair, which she told me was a certain omen I should one day be a judge, I do yet aver, that this is the only interloper of the kind which I have ever discovered. Should any one wish for ocular demonstration, they may satisfy themselves by repairing to Jenny Skelpweel's, No. 9, Nether Bow, where I understand it is still to be seen, having been preserved in the honest old creature's red pocket-book as a favourable augury. But, to return to the subject. I happened the other day, in the course of one of those perambulations with the "women-kind" of your own household, into which the gravest are sometimes entrapped, to be left in the back room of a celebrated ladies' dress-maker. It was immediately contiguous to the shop, and, from this fortunate circumstance, I overheard a dialogue between a company of young ladies and the blooming and bedizened female who presided at the counter, which gave me no common pleasure. I am sure these petticoats (elevating her foot, and disclosing to me as I peeped from behind the door an uncommonly neat ancle,) are not so short as your own, certainly not an atom shorter than Lady Flaminia Flimsy's. Now, you know, by your own confession, your ancle is not so good, and Lady Flam's not better than mine; and, pray, why should I not give the world an opportunity of forming the same opinion? I declare the men are grown such cold and callous monsters now-a-days, one has enough to do to get them to look about them at all." "Indeed, Julia," said Miss Jessy," your defence won't do. As to your competition with Lady Flam I say nothing; but you know short petticoats with me are a sort of moral duty,-a matter of absolute necessity. Were I to wear them long, people would see nothing but my poor ancles, which I allow are bad. Is it not then quite fair to shorten them as much as possible that they may have some idea of the leg to which they lead, which even you allow is good?— But what do you say, Mrs Puckerwell ?” turning to the lady at the counter; "I'm sure, when I ordered them, I told you not to make them very short." Why, ma'am," replied the obsequious Mrs Puckerwell, assuming an air of pleased importance, and retiring backwards a little, as if to take a decisive coup d'auil of the subject of discussion, "I must confess, although I always bow to your superior judgment, I do rather think you ment, I do rather think you here too scru pulously nice and critical. Few ladies of my profession have often such an ancle as Miss Julia's put into their hands, and, in this case, to have muffled it up, would have been, as my favourite poet, Tom Milton, says, Well, Julia," said one of them, "you may get your petticoats of any dimensions you please; but remember I told you, even with that broad trimming they will be much too short." "My dear Jessy," replied the lady who had just received this negative sort of carte blanche, "how can you talk such nonsense? an injury and sullenness against nature.' Had it come down but a fraction of an inch lower, it would have obscured that beauti ful sweep between the upper ancle and the delicate commencement of the calf, which I heard a young gentleman of my acquaintance affirm, the other day, formed one of the finest features in the female leg, and of which, he added, I know few such perfect specimens as Miss--but I don't know," but I don't know," added she, looking cunningly at the expectant Julia, "that I ought to tell secrets." "Oh, my dear Puckerwell," exclaimed both ladies at once, " do let it out." Well," continued she, "I must not tantalize you, of which,' said he, striking his boot, (upon which the animated| goddess of the needle, to imitate the action of the beau, elevated her leg in a very ludicrous manner,)-well, ma'am, as I said before, striking his boot with a crack that electrified me, "of which I know few such perfect specimens as the inimitable ancle of Miss Julia Lightfoot." At this moment both young ladies clapped their hands, but declared next moment, with perfect presence of mind, that they did not believe a word of it. Such was the conclusion of this interesting and edifying little dialogue, and the young damsels tripped out of the shop, kicking up their under garments in a manner which proved them to have amply profited by the disinterested communications of Mrs Puckerwell. In returning home, I acknowledge that the scene which had just passed called my attention from the faces to the feet of my fair countrywomen. I do not by any means deny, that, where nature has kindly given a graceful figure, all fair methods of exhibiting it to the best advantage ought undoubtedly to be adopted. Any thing ap proaching to neglect or inattention to dress, is, I have always thought, blameable even among ourselves, certainly unpardonable in the fairer part of the creation. The question then comes to be, regarding the properest mode of enhancing and adorning female beauty; and, upon this momentous subject, all that I should dare to offer to my female readers, can, of course, amount to nothing more than a few nothing more than a few vague and imperfect hints. To lay down any thing like general principles, is infinitely above my ambition, and must be left to that memorable æra when an accurate analysis of the paraphernalia of the toilet shall have conducted to an age of more perfect illumination. Now, as we are here treating of that important division of female dress, the petticoat, I may notice, in the first place, that I have frequently had an opportunity of remarking among the Will Honeycombs, or men of the beau monde, with whom I have the honour to be acquainted, that the ca sual discovery of a fine ancle, when accidentally exposed, has done infinitely more execution, and been the subject of more sincere encomium, than the finest foot in the world, if brandished, as we see them too often now-a-days, in the eyes of the public, with all the exultation of modern nudity. The one creates admiration, not only at the moment, but even after the love. ly little object has again modestly retired to its original concealment; its appearance will often rise to the memory with redoubled pleasure, and this effect is enhanced by its bringing along with it the associated ideas of modesty and beauty. The other astonishes you, no doubt, and excites, perhaps, as much admiration for the perfection of the physical form; but this is accompanied by a vague, yet disagreeable presentiment, that the same boldness which leads to so fearless an exhibition of beauty, is not indicative of the gentlest or serenest character of mind. Tom Flirt, a particular friend of mind, would often persecute me with the praises of Lady Bab Racket's ancle. Tom married her; and the second week of the honeymoon received from his favourite foot an ungentle hint, which at once put an end to his public raptures, and, probably, considerably cooled his private admiration. Every one must have remarked, that in the fashions of the day there are two classes of the community upon whose conduct these fashions have the greatest influence. The first description of persons are those who, in our sister country, compose the court and nobility; and include here, where, alas! we have no longer a Scottish court, those who fill the higher ranks of our nobility and gentry. The second class embraces that middling rank of persons who raise themselves into notoriety by caricaturing the manners, exceeding the expences, and running into extravagant imitations of their superiors. These are the persons who, possessing no sense of taste or discernment themselves, the moment that any new fashion is broached by the higher ranks in the gay world, adopt and exaggerate it with the most ludicrous expedition. If my Lord Gusto chuses to stuff and stiffen his neckcloth, Tom Tasty, his humble imitator, immediately bandages and tightens his throat till he croaks and gasps like a Moor in the bow-string. If his Lordship, on the other hand, speaks to you in that mumbling tone of fashionable nonchalance which renders it difficult to find his meaning, Tom favours you immediately with a jargon of his own composition, which positively defies all ef forts at comprehension. It ought, there. fore, always to be considered, by those su perior classes who institute the fashions, that whatever these may be, there is a middling class in the community by whom they will inevitably be caricatured. When, therefore, I consider the application of this exaggerating principle to the short petticoats and bare shoulders of the present day, it is not without some little alarm that I look at the dimensions prescribed to the one, and the nudity permitted to the other, by the higher and more fashionable orders in our country. The consequences amongst those classes who exaggerate the costume of their superiors, are what I feel ought only to be delicately glanced at. All indeed that I dare hint is addressed more to the statesman and political economist than to any other class of readers; for who does not foresee that, in this gradual approach of the extremities of dress to each other, that useful and industrious class of citizens, whose livelihood depends on their furnishing clothing for the human form, may soon find themselves exceedingly narrowed in their vocation? One consequence has already, in a great measure, taken place; for at present this very fashion, which has in several cases favoured us with a peep at some of the finest ancles in the world, in other instances has indulged us with a sight of not a few legs whose strength and sturdiness it was impossible to witness without a silent prayer that they should never be employed in any thing approaching to offensive operations; and as the possessors of such supporters may literally be said not to " stand upon trifles," the result is the more to be deprecated. TIMON. To the Conductor of the SALE-ROOM. SIR, Shakespeare's assertion, that "the man who hath no music in his soul, and is not moved by concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;"—and his advice, "let no such man be trusted," though certainly not to be taken literally, yet, coming from that profound observer of human nature, are not to be regarded as words without meaning. It cannot be reasonably doubted, that a mind which preserves its susceptibility to the charms of music, must have also preserved much of the simple and enthusiastic feeling of early youth, and that it will, therefore, be comparatively free from that cold, hard, unfeeling selfishness, in which most of the vices and miseries of human nature originate. No man, while his mind is under the influence of the pure and sim It is somewhat difficult to explain how it happens that so little has been written, at least in our language, on the subject of Music. Why, among the innumerable systems, treatises, and dissertations, which are constantly pouring from the press, upon the other arts and sciences, we should hardly be able to find a single straggling work on the subject of this art, appears unaccountable. Surely it is not that the subject is in itself deficient in interest. There are few who do not feel that music has been given us by the bountiful Author of our nature, as one of our greatest blessings. It is, to use the language of the poet, " laborum dulce leni-ple feeling produced by the fine arts, can, men," and one of the greatest sweeteners of human life. It heightens and improves all our better and happier feelings, while it subdues and soothes those of an opposite nature. The soldier, at the sound of the melodies of his native hills, rushes to the battle with the enthusiastic resolution never to disgrace the country at that instant so powerfully brought into his mind; the labourer toils from morning till night without repining, cheered and strengthened by the sound of his song or whistle ;—and the shepherd, on his lonely hill, finds society and happiness in the company of his pipe. "Sweet power! that cheer'st the daily toil "Or he, by bards the shepherd hight, JOANNA BAIllie. at that moment, be a bad man, to whatever conduct his passions at other times may drive him; and, if this be the case, the habitual influence of those pure and simple feelings must be highly conducive to virtue. Among the many wild and unnatural schemes of ancient legislators, none diction of the fine arts; as if human society appears more preposterous than the intercould be rendered virtuous and happy by removing the exciting causes of many of those kindly affections, on which both our happiness and virtue depend. If it has been always found that music elevates devotion into rapture, heightens patriotism into contempt of danger and death, refines and purifies love, dispels care, soothes affliction, and lightens labour, surely it is not to be discouraged as a vain and frivolous amusement, but cherished as one of the best blessings of mankind. Music, then, not only ought to be, but is, a subject of great and almost uni |