Year: 1879

The room, writes a correspondent of the
London Queen, describing a lecture in an
aesthetic household" was medley of blue
china, of Japanese fans and screens scattered
about in .faiSceau1 1 saw afterwards that
there were some charming and artistic objects
in it. Against this background detached itself
the strangest and most melancholy most
original group of men and women it had ever
been my luck to gaze on. All the women
looked wan, untidy, picturesque-all very like
figures of queer pre-Raphaelite pictures stepped
out of their frames. My first confused notion
was that they were all going to fancy ball
after the lecture, where the mot Gordre was to
appear with unkempt hair and puffed sleeves,
and that the news of some fearful disaster had
met them and turned away their thoughts
from this worlds frivolities. The attitudes
were also listless and limp, with certain
grace of melancholy intensity. Coming straight
from Paris, where there is, perhaps too little
individuality in the style of dress adopted by
the women, and where the tone of society is
gay and brisk, the contrast here presented was
almost too much for my risible muscles. After
while l began to perceive that there was
distinct intention in the colors and arrange
ment of some of these costumes. They struck
me as striving after emotional expression. One
lady was in red; red gloves covered her hands
and arms l could see that her stockings were
red; red tulips were in her hair Her hair!
What a fuzz it was-what passionate tangled
1t must have taken packets of hairpins and an
agony of plats to have produced this marvel
lous untidiness. She was the fateful the ter
nil, al
whose golden locks were also frizzed and fuzzed
till their pretty heads looked as that of sweet.
mad Ophelia. They wore lank garments of white
muslin, crumpled into a million creases-emi-
nently suggestive Of the clothes basket. Lii
les were fastened in their fair locks, and each
carried long stalk of the Annunciation lily
in her hand, adorned with leaves, buds, and
blossoms. A damSel i'll a clinging, fesh-col-
ored dress sat in crouchjng posture The
line OF hips and knees, every curve of her fig
ure, could be distinctly traced. On her head
was wreath of long pointed leaves. She
looked like broken-hearted dryad torn from
her forest tree. My eyes rested with amused
curiosity on a plump, rosy, small damsel at
tired in what have since learned to call
symphony in green. Her shoes and stockings
were pale green, q garland of brilliant green
wreathed her yellow tresses; sage green was
her dress, with various shades of the color cum
ningly wrought through it. 1t was pretty
costume and becoming one. The little maid
might have been painted by Greuze, or sat for
the dearest of love-lorn shepherdesses. 1t
would have been delightful to have come
across the dainty figure singing blithely under
a greenwood tree, health on her cheeks and
laughter on her lips Here she twisted her
chubby face into woe-begone expression, and
did everything in her power to cultivate the
intense melancholy that must properly belong
to the handful of lovers of the beautiful in
Philstine world.


Near her was the handsomest, saddest and
untidiest of all the wan, respondent women in
the room. Hollow cheeks, deep-set gray eyes,
mass of red-gold hair, a fine chin and Jaw
shaped somewhat like the keel of boat, gave
her singular and impressive type of beauty.
She was dressed in a raiment of gold tissue; in
good sooth know not how it was made or
held. saw no vestige of waist or of band.
The only distinct form could trace were the
two puffs on the shoulders; these puffs some
how gave the impression of being dilated by an
immense sigh. The garment hung very loose
ly about her neck, and revealed traces of the
petticoat bodice beneath. Tiger lilies were in
her hair and crimson gloves reached midway
up her arms. Her attitude was of utter ex-
haustion. have seen since this pose of Ian
guild grace and this pale and striking face re-
produced in pictures of an artist who has his
ardent admirers.