DESIGN, in a general sense, is the plan, order, representation, or construction of a building, book, painting, or the like.

Design, in the manufactories, expresses the figures with which the workman enriches his stuff or silk, and which he copies after some painter or eminent draughtsman, as in diaper, damask, and other flowered silk and tapestry, or the like.

In undertaking such kinds of figured stuffs, it is necessary, says M. Savary, that before the first stroke of the shuttle be made, the whole design be represented on the threads of the warp; we do not mean in colours, but with an infinite number of little packthreads, which, being disposed so as to raise the threads of the warp, let the workmen see, from time to time, what kind of silk is to be put in the eye of the shuttle for woof. This method of preparing the work is called reading the design, and reading the figure. The manner in which it is performed may be briefly described. A paper is provided, considerably broader than the stuff, and of a length proportionate to what is intended to be represented thereon. This is divided lengthwise by as many black lines as there are intended threads in the warp, and across these lines by others drawn breadthwise, which, with the former, make little equal squares; and on the paper thus squared the draughtsman designs his figures, and heightens them with colours as he sees fit. When the design is finished a workman reads it, whilst another lays it on the simblot. To read the design is to tell the person who manages the loom the number of squares or threads comprised in the space he is reading, intimating at the same time whether it is ground or figure. To put what is read on the simblot is to fasten little strings to the several packthreads which are to raise the threads named; and this is continued till the whole design is read.

Every piece being composed of several repetitions of the same design, when the whole design is drawn, the drawer, in order to begin the design afresh, has nothing to do but to raise the little strings, with slip-knots, to the top of the simblot, which he had let down to the bottom; and this he must repeat as often as is necessary, till the whole be manufactured. 1

The ribbon-weavers have likewise a design, but it is far' more simple than that now described. It is drawn on paper with lines and squares, representing the threads of the warp and the woof. But instead of lines, of which the figures of the former consist, these are constituted of points only, or dots, placed in certain of the little squares formed by the intersection of the lines. These points mark the threads of the warp which are to be raised, and the spaces left blank denote the threads which are to keep their situation; the rest is managed as in the former case.

Design is also used, in Painting, to signify the first idea of a large work, drawn roughly, and with an intention to be carefully executed and finished.

In this sense it means the simple contour or outline of the figures intended to be represented, or the lines which terminate and circumscribe them: and such design is sometimes drawn in crayons or ink, without any shadows at all; sometimes it is hatched, that is, the shadows are expressed by sensible outlines, usually drawn across each other with the pen, crayon, or graver. Sometimes, again, the shadows are done with the crayon rubbed, so that the lines may not appear; at other times, the grains or stroke of the crayon appear from its not being rubbed: sometimes the design is washed, that is, the shadows are done with a pencil in Indian ink, or some other liquor; and sometimes the design is coloured, that is, colours are laid on much like those intended for the grand work.

Design, in Music, is defined by Rousseau to be the invention and the conduct of the subject, the disposition of every part, and the general order of the whole.

It is not sufficient to form beautiful airs and a legitimate harmony; all these must be connected by a principal subject, to which the various parts of the work relate, and by which they become one. Thus unity ought to prevail in the air, in the movement, in the character, in the harmony, and in the modulation. All these must indispensably relate to one common idea which unites them. The greatest difficulty is, to reconcile the observation of these precepts with an elegant variety, which, if not introduced, renders the whole piece irksome and monotonous. Without question, the musician, as well as the poet and the painter, may risk every thing in favour of this delightful variety; if, under the pretext of contrasting, he do not endeavour to cheat us with false appearances, and, instead of pieces justly and happily planned, present us with a musical minced meat, composed of little abortive fragments, and of characters so incompatible that the whole forms a heterogeneous assemblage.