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 LECTURE ONEASHION: 
 
 DELIVERED BEFOKE THE NEW YORK LYCEUM, 
 
 BY N. P. WILLIS. 
 
 I HAD thought — as is thought, perhaps, 
 by many who are now before me — that the 
 subject of fashion was one susceptible only 
 of very light handling— to be treated with 
 humor, anecdote, satire, and possibly some 
 moralizing upon its whims and follies. I 
 commenced the preparation of my lecture 
 with scarce more design than this. 
 
 It was suggested, very sensibly, I thought, 
 by one of the gentlemen who waited on me 
 with the invitation to lecture, that the sub- 
 jects were usually too dry ;— that it would 
 be worth while to start a new range of 
 popular addresses— if not upon trifling to- 
 pics, at least upon such, as, conveying 
 information, would still bear embroidering 
 with trifles. 
 
 The subject of fashion was instanced and 
 approved. I thought I might easily enter- 
 tain an audience with a history of the follies 
 of fashion in diflferent countries and times, 
 and that in the hearer^s keener appreciation 
 of the absurdity of fashionable extremes, 
 from seeing them in the ludicrous light of 
 disuse and distance, might lie the utility of 
 such a lecture. Those who are familiar 
 with the literature of the sixteenth century 
 will remember that the fashions were, at that 
 day, the great target of pulpit eloquence —   
 that, with a vein half humorous, though 
 with violent denunciation, the clergy de- 
 tailed the follies of fashion, and dwelt upon 
 their sinfulness ; and that more particularly 
 in New England, in the Puritan days of 
 Cotton Mather, this great Divine, and others, 
 
 held forth on this subject with the very 
 extremity of wrathful fervor. 
 
 A reference to the serious books and to 
 the sermons of that period would sufficiently 
 show, that, had I followed out my original 
 intention, and taken the fashions themselves 
 for* the text and burthen of my lecture, I 
 should not have lacked for grave precedent, 
 nor for material and inference, worth the 
 while of both speaker and hearer. The 
 fashions are not my theme, however. Fash- 
 ion is — and between /a^^ioTi and the fashions 
 you will at once comprehend the distinc- 
 tion. Of the importance of the subject, in 
 the light in which I view it, you will be the 
 judges when you have heard me to the end 
 —but I may say, by way of bespeaking 
 your favorable attention, that I am inclined 
 to believe few topics — short of religion and 
 constitutional law — to be, at this period of 
 our country's history, of greater importance 
 to us. Before entering upon this generali- 
 zing view, however, let me say a few w^ords 
 on the fashions, as to the degree with which 
 they affect the standard of true taste — in this 
 same degree, giving Aveight and color to 
 fashion, in which taste and elegance are of 
 course prominent features. 
 
 The origin of fashion would probably 
 start even with the history of taste. The 
 first hour of a community's existence — if 
 created full grown, like the family of Deu- 
 calion and Pyrrha — would betray differen- 
 ces in the demeanor of men ; and the most 
 graceful and showy would probably be 'Uhe 
 
 408 
 
THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 fashion," by acclamation. Taste is instinc- 
 tive, and homnge is paid irresistibly, by all 
 human beings, to supremacy in elegance. 
 The rise and progress of fashion up to its 
 present condition, however, is not uniform- 
 ly a history of taste. What are more con- 
 tradictory than the caprices of fashion ? 
 There are certain standards of beauty, deci- 
 ded upon by the common instinct — stand- 
 ards which artists irresistibly follow, and 
 which the eye invariably acknowledges 
 true, and these standards are as often vio- 
 lated as adhered to, by the votaries of fash- 
 ion. The ladies very well know, that, be 
 their faces long or short — be their forms 
 queenly or fairy-like, — there is but one in- 
 exorable size and shape for a fashionable 
 bonnet; and, of course, if one style of 
 beauty is favored, all others are unbecom- 
 ingly marred. The male figure, it has 
 beeA decided by centuries of progressive 
 art, has its laws of beauty, — but in the 
 fashions, of what age of civilized Europe 
 have not these laws been violated. 
 
 Strange to say, and worth speculating 
 on, if we had time for a digression, it is only 
 in the semi-barbarous nations — in modern 
 Greece and Turkey, and among the indolent 
 and unthinking tribes of the Asiatics, that 
 costume, once regulated by art, remains in 
 unchangeable good taste — comfortable and 
 convenient, as well as picturesque and be- 
 coming. But look at the fashions of Eu- 
 rope. Positively the most incredible true 
 books with which I am acquainted are the 
 amusing records of the fashions of the last 
 two hundred years in England. White 
 periwigs of enormous bulk, were, for in- 
 stance, the fashion for ladies in the begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth century. It is an 
 accredited fact, that there died in London 
 in 1756, a white-headed old woman of great 
 age, whose hoary hair, cut off after her 
 death, sold for fifty pounds to a ladies' peri- 
 wig maker. Black patches on the faces of 
 court beauties were the fashion in the same 
 age, and hoops and high heels — utter de- 
 struction 10 grace of form and movement — 
 were worn by all ladies with any pretension 
 to quality. It is a rule of art that, in 
 
 the male figure, the shoulders should be 
 broad, for beauty, and the hips narrow, 
 and it has been said in support of this 
 standard that it is an aristocratic forma- 
 tion — as those whose ancestors had carried 
 burthens would naturally have large hips, 
 while those whose forefathers had been of 
 warlike habits and taken exercise princi- 
 pally in the saddle, would be more devel- 
 oped in the chest and shoulders. In the 
 teeth of the arts, however, and of these 
 aristocratic objections, padded hips were 
 the fashion in King James's time, while the 
 collarless coat, with seams converging to 
 the throat, narrowed the chest and shoul- 
 ders and gave to the male figure the outline 
 of the female. 
 
 Ridiculous as most fashions, when not 
 based upon legitimate principles of art, seem 
 at a distance, however, it is astonishing how 
 unaware the excesses creep upon us, and 
 howeasily and unsuspectingly men of sense 
 pass, from ridiculing a new fashion, to ap- 
 proving and adopting it. It would puz- 
 zle any one present, except perhaps an 
 artist, to tell, in a moment, what are the 
 absurdities of the present fashions. Yet 
 absurdities there are, that will be laugh- 
 ed at fifty years hence, and you can easily 
 detect them, by applying to the present 
 modes the severe test of their utility as 
 heighteners of natural beauty. And here 
 let me, in passing, throw a pebble into the 
 scale of art — hinting at the importance of 
 keeping in view the principles of art and 
 true elegance in adopting the changes of 
 the fashions. If the portraits of men of 
 mark and women of great beauty, in our age, 
 are to be painted for posterity, let it be 
 within the painter's power to make an ar- 
 tistic disposition of drapery, without painting 
 his sitters in the unfitting costume of a clas- 
 sic age, floating them in clouds, or disguis- 
 ing them with cloaks and mantles. We 
 have all laughed at the portraits that have 
 descended to us from the days of periwigs 
 and red-heeled shoes. There have been 
 celebrated painters, ^vho have followed the 
 fashions of the time even in historical pic- 
 tures — gravely representing the apostles and 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 martyrs in bag-wigs, and the Virgin Mary 
 in hoop and farthingale. There is no know- 
 ing how far the habituation of monstrosities 
 in common wear may corrupt the taste even 
 of artists. I am not sure, by the way, that 
 the national style of dress may not have 
 something to do with the heroic in national 
 character. There was pride of country in a 
 Roman toga, that hardly appertains to a hat 
 and frock coat; and Cesar's death might not 
 have descended so dramatically to posterity, 
 if, instead of wrapping his head majestically 
 in his mantle, he had fallen at the base of 
 Pompey's statue — with his overcoat pulled 
 over him ! 
 
 Leaving the fashions with thus much of 
 notice, I come now to the subject of fashion 
 — a term of most elusive and changeable 
 import, and expressive of a condition of life, 
 which it is next to impossible to analyze or 
 define. Fashion is a position in society — 
 attained by different avenues in different 
 countries — but, however arrived at, giving 
 its possessor consequence in common re- 
 port, value in private life, authority in all 
 matters of taste, and influence in every 
 thing. Rightly to appreciate what fashion 
 is, or rather what it is likely to be hereafter 
 in our own country, let us, without defining 
 it further, look a little into what it is abroad. 
 Let us see what fashion is in France, and 
 what it is in England — for it is from these 
 two countries, only, that Ave borrow any 
 thing in the way of social distinctions — and 
 by contrast with our future models, we can 
 the more easily make out what fashion is 
 in the great metropolis of our own country, 
 if not as to which way it is tending. 
 
 There is wonderful activity of amusement 
 in all the grades of society in Paris, and no 
 one class, or grade, wastes much time in 
 thinking about the other— differing in this 
 respect, (I may say in passing), from Eng- 
 land, where all classes that pretend to socie- 
 ty at all, occupy themselves to any uncom- 
 fortable degree with gazing enviously at the 
 highest. Of necessity, in a monarchical 
 country, rank has its weight, and the an- 
 cient nobility of France can scarcely be said 
 to be out of fashion, though the verbal ho- 
 
 mage and high consideration with which per- 
 sons of noble family are invariably named, 
 is merely nominal and ceremonious, and the 
 old families, unless fashionable from intrin- 
 sic causes, are practically shelved and for- 
 gotten in the celebrated Faubourg where 
 they reside. Wealth, too, as in all coun- 
 tries, has its weight, and the rich man in 
 Paris may soar, on wings of lavish expense, 
 to the acquaintance of fashionable people ; 
 though, like Icarus with his wings of wax, 
 he drops like a clod when his wings are 
 melted. The court-circle — those who are 
 officially or amicably in habits of inter- 
 course with the family of the king, are 
 not necessarily, the fashion. But beyond 
 the control of either of these three pow- 
 erful grades of society, — rank, wealth and 
 court favor — there exists in Paris a sphere of 
 fashion ; and whatever else may purchase 
 admission to it by outlay of splendor, or 
 come into temporary contact with it by 
 caprice or accident, there is but one homo- 
 geneous and predominating principle in it 
 — but one invariable '' open sesame," and 
 that is, intellect! Personal beauty goes far 
 in France, but it must be accompanied by 
 the tact of being agreeable, or, if it were 
 Venus herself, the beauty would soon be 
 ridiculed and neglected. Celebrity, of every 
 description, is a passport to fashion. Cele- 
 brated players and singers, travellers, sol- 
 diers, artists, scholars, statesmen and diplo- 
 matists, range freely through the penetralia 
 of Parisian fashion. Nothing is excluded 
 that is eminent — that is distinguished, that 
 can amuse. All manner of mental superi- 
 orit}^ is unhesitatingly acknowledged. And, 
 intellect being the constituency of this legis- 
 lature of fashion, who are its leaders. The 
 manifest controllers of the tide of thought 
 and of the great interests of the present hour 
 — the living authors, the editors of newspa- 
 pers, active politicians, resident diplomatists, 
 find talented clergy — these are the influen- 
 tial leaders of fashionable society in Paris, 
 and the indispensable guests at all fashion- 
 able entertainments. With all the French 
 passion for dress and elegance, they exact 
 nothing ornamental in the persons of their 
 
THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 ihtellectual favorites — in their admired po- 
 ets, and artists. They appreciate eminence 
 in dress and personal accomplishment, for 
 it is a shape of talent, and the consummate 
 dandy has commonly a passport in his tact 
 and wit — but the lions of Paris are as often 
 ill-dressed and awkward as the contrary, 
 and the mere exteriors of men have little 
 lo do with making them permanently fash- 
 ionable. A sphere of society so constituted 
 is teeming with power, for, besides standing 
 at the very fountain of respect, which is in- 
 tellect, it is contributed to by all the differ- 
 ent levels of life in that great metropolis — 
 taking to itself the ambitious core and spirit 
 of every class, rank and condition. Its 
 power, too, goes farther than mere opinion. 
 The most conspicuous members of the pre- 
 sent government of France, were first the 
 idol^of its fashionable society — as editors of 
 newspapers, poets and men of science. In- 
 tellect like theirs, however manifested, is 
 the road to fashion, and, driven onward by 
 fashionable influence and eclat, it is the 
 easy and flowery road to every thing desi- 
 rable in position and power. Without di- 
 gressing to look for the causes of this in the 
 political and moral revolutions of France, 
 let me say simply of the present hour, that 
 if there be in the world an indisputable re- 
 public of intellect, it is the fashionable so- 
 ciety of witty and giddy Paris! 
 
 Let us glance now at fashion in England 
 — differing from that of France in some very 
 essential particulars. Rank, is more highly 
 prized in England. A man who is noble- 
 born is already three fourths fashionable — 
 the remtaimng fourth depending not at all 
 on his fortune y but wholly on his appear- 
 ance and manners. A clownish young lord, 
 or a girl who is Right Honorably plain and 
 awkward, though presentable at court, and 
 invited for formes sake to the sweeping 
 entertainments which embrace the giver's 
 entire acquaintance ^ can never be fashion- 
 able, and is pointedly overlooked in the 
 invitations to parties more select, and very 
 soon discouraged and mortified out of soci- 
 ety. Wealth has much less influence than 
 in France, in making its possessor fashiona- 
 
 ble. A person who is merely wealthy — not 
 ornamental to society in his own person, is 
 hopelessly shut out from the sphere of the 
 exclusives. A certain competency, it is true, 
 is necessary to fashion. A stylish man in 
 London must spend three times as much as 
 would serve his purpose in France, in hav- 
 ing about him the appointments of a gentle- 
 man, including an equipage. But, beyond 
 what is necessary for his own personal ele- 
 gance, and convenience, he requires no 
 riches to pass freely through all the favor- 
 itism of fashion. The immense number 
 of wealthy people in England has neutrali- 
 zed the distinction of wealth ; and money, 
 nowhere in the world, I think, goes so little 
 way as in that country, beyond providing 
 for personal luxury and comfort. 
 
 Rank and wealth, then, not being inva- 
 riable passports to fashion in London, we 
 come next to the third social estate — that 
 of intellect. Your mind immediately passes 
 in review the politicians, the men of sci- 
 ence, the authors, dramatists, artists — whose 
 names — written at the height they have 
 attained to, are legible at the distance at 
 which we read them — the breadth of the 
 Atlantic ! You ask — has the genius that 
 makes these men immortal, made them the 
 favorites of the hour they illuminate — the 
 fashion in the country on which they shed 
 lustre ! When they are down from the 
 height of inspiration in which their wings 
 were visible to the universe, do the choicest 
 of fair women and noble men, contend, as 
 in France, to do them honor and give them 
 pleasure 1 No ! The exclusive sphere in 
 England has no such class in its confidence, 
 as men of genius. A man whose star has 
 culminated — who has forced the world to 
 hear of him by some undeniable burst of 
 intellect — finds his way open, it is true, 
 into the houses of the nobility, and into 
 the more common resorts of the fashioji- 
 ables. He is the *Uion of the season" — and 
 what the position is, of the merely intel- 
 lectual lion in the fashionable circle of 
 England, English writers have honestly 
 enough put down! It is a hell of in- 
 visible humiliations* Not to oflfend any 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 living author by sketching his position, 
 suppose Keats, the apothecary's boy, to 
 have returned from Italy, where he died ; 
 and, having outbved the sneer of the high- 
 born critic who counselled him to " return 
 to his gallipots,", to have become a lion in 
 London society. He had nothing in birth, 
 or personal appearance, to give him value 
 — nothing but incomparable genius — that 
 which, in all theories and essays on the 
 distinctions of life, is put down as the no- 
 blest aristocracy. He would have been 
 invited every where ! He would have dined 
 and supped and danced, if he liked, in every 
 nobleman's house in London, and would 
 have been, for a season or two, constantly 
 in the presence of the exclusives, male and 
 female. But the entrance to the noble- 
 man's house, and the nobleman^ conde- 
 scension at dinner, and the attentive listen- 
 ing of the entire company to his eloquent 
 conversation, would never have broken 
 down the wall of glass between him and 
 the ladies of his host's family and circle ! 
 The belles of Almack's would never have 
 known Mr. Keats. The beauties familiar 
 with the dandies of St. James street, would 
 as soon h-ave thought of feeling a tender- 
 ness for a Chinese juggler who had amused 
 them, as for the literary lion they had list- 
 ened to at dinner. There is an invariable 
 manner of uninterested and polite suffer- 
 ance, cultivated for the express use of a 
 non-conductor between the exclusives and 
 the unprivileged who may have access to 
 their resorts. This has been felt by every 
 self-made celebrated man in England, and 
 as most of them have been content with 
 one or two seasons of such life, men of 
 genius, unless newly risen, are seldom to 
 be found in vogue among the exclusives. 
 
 But the sphere exists— powerful, splen- 
 did, and dazzling to all eyes,— the sphere 
 of high fashion in England,— and what is 
 the key to it, and for whom are its intoxi- 
 cating triumphs 1 
 
 In civilization, as in many other things, 
 extremes meet. The highest possible cul- 
 tivation approaches nearest to the simpli- 
 city of nature, and England, which, at this 
 
 moment, probably, is at a higher point of 
 civilization than was ever before attained, 
 shows, in its most accomplished circle, the 
 nearest approach to nature. The passport 
 to fashion in England is that which would 
 be a passport to pre-eminence in an Indian 
 tribe — beauty of person combined with assu- 
 rance and a natural air of superiority. With 
 a mien of graceful boldness, and such a face 
 and form as would suit a sculptor, or grace 
 a chief, the son of a country curate in Eng- 
 land may pluck fashion from an earl. And 
 the same with the other sex. With no pre- 
 tension to parentage or position, above re- 
 spectability, a girl of remarkable beauty, 
 let it be only such beauty as would sit 
 gracefully upon title, and bear itself proudly 
 among the proud, is marked from her child- 
 hood for high connection. She attracts the 
 regard of her titled neighbors, is taken up 
 as a guest to London, and made the belle 
 of the season, and, if an attachment spring 
 up between her and a man of rank, the 
 passion is fanned and favored by generous 
 acclamation. The exclusives rejoice in an 
 addition of beauty to their set, and the coro- 
 net is more graced from being worn even by 
 plebeian blood, more gracefully. 
 
 I am not sure that this is not a commen- 
 dable aristocracy — at least not sure that the 
 acknowledging and adopting of nature's 
 stamp of superiority is not the best se- 
 cret for the securing of power and in- 
 fluence to the most elevated class. The 
 finest race in the eastern hemisphere — 
 the most gallant and manly in its men, 
 and the most beautiful and high-born 
 looking in its women — is the fashionable 
 aristocracy of England. The requisite 
 loftiness of bearing Avhich accompanies 
 the beauty admired by this class, is not 
 attained without superiority in the natu- 
 ral character, and the successful fashiona- 
 bles of England are the best stuff, I believe 
 — the men for action, and the women for 
 the maternity of nature's noblemen. I am 
 inclined to think, I repeat, that nature's 
 mark of superiority is well and wisely ac- 
 knowledged. The balance of the physical 
 and intellectual endowments — the power 
 
« 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 of bold action on a level with other men, 
 and with a superiority that all men can ap- 
 preciate — may be, to the eye of nature, su- 
 perior to what we call genius — superior to the 
 concentration of the whole force upon par- 
 ticular qualities of the brain. There are, 
 doubtless, many men, wholly undistin- 
 guished, who yet, in the harmonious pro- 
 portion of their persons and character — 
 in their sufficiency of brain for all the exi- 
 gences of action, and of spirit and dignity 
 to carry out all the desirable purposes of 
 the brain, are superior to geniuses, born for 
 nothing but to write books of fancy, or 
 made immortal by a didproportioned devel- 
 opment of one faculty only. Upon such 
 men, — upon poets and novelists, artists and 
 musicians — nature has rarely put her legible 
 stamp of " first quality." It has been the 
 complaint of genius, through all ages, that 
 its superiority has not been acknowledged; 
 and it seems to be an invariable instinct in 
 human nature not to acknowledge it, where 
 the writer and his personal qualities are 
 known. May it not be natural therefore, 
 to revolt against disproportion in endow- 
 ment — and may not our great admiration 
 for authors at a distance, and our diminish- 
 ed homage when we know them, lie in the 
 disappointment we feel that they are not as 
 remarkable in other respects as in power of 
 fancy — an instinctive feeling that the ex- 
 cess of this quality is at the expense of 
 others as desirable ? 
 
 This is something of a digression — bu4 
 before leaving the subject of English fash- 
 ion, let me remark upon the prodigious in- 
 fluence of the fashionable class in England, 
 and the likelihood that it works as an im- 
 portant weight in the balance of power in 
 that country. It is time, I think, that like 
 the addition in France, of the Tiers Etat to 
 the political divisions of Church and State. 
 Fashion, in England, should be named as a 
 power, after King, Lords ' and Commons. 
 It is a combination — a class — an order — form- 
 ed exclusively from no other class — capable, 
 as was shown in Brummel's time, of giving 
 a slight to the blood royal, and in the con- 
 stant habit of putting down rank that does 
 
 not look like rank, and selecting nature's 
 favorites from the people. The Queen 
 fears it — the nobility courts it — the people 
 worship it. It makes and unmakes popu- 
 lar idols. It rules the stage. It puts down 
 pretension. It is always elegant and lofty, 
 even in its oppressions. It fosters taste. It 
 maintains the beautiful against the costly, 
 — and it has for its exclusive use, and with 
 power to direct them alike against over- 
 bearing authority and vulgar wealth, the 
 formidable weapons of contempt and ridi- 
 cule. In all monarchies that ever existed 
 before, the aristocracy have dwindled in 
 mind and person by the exclusive inter- 
 marriage of noble blood. England is the 
 first that has made tributary the nobili- 
 ty of nature, taking grafts from the strong 
 and beautiful, wherever grew strength and 
 beauty in the capricious garden of supe- 
 riority. A revolution cannot put down 
 such a class ! There is a natural homage in 
 the high and low-born alike, paid, without 
 stint or scruple, to the stamp of God. The 
 aristocracy of England, with all their pride 
 and superciliousness towards those who 
 crowd upon their skirts, is acknowledged 
 and admired, by the mass of the people, as 
 was never another aristocracy by its plebe 
 ian countrymen. The existence of such a 
 class, I repeat, is important to the balance 
 of power in England. The tides of opin- 
 ion, that would meet, embattled in oppo - 
 sing floods — the arbitrary dictates of the court 
 on the one hand, and the rebellious spirit 
 of a people never consulted, on the Other, 
 — find, in this intermediate class, a hr-eak- 
 water, that is a continual check to overflow 
 and devastation. 
 
 The next step in my argument is to get, 
 if possible, the same generalizing view of 
 the great metropolis of this country — to see 
 what it is that gives fashion and conse- 
 quence in JYew York. Let me premise, 
 however, that my remarks will apply to 
 no other city in this country, nor would 
 they have been true of New York forty 
 years ago. In cities of a certain size — 
 cities with the population of Boston, Phi- 
 ladelphia and Albany— the natural claims 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 to aristocracy have, at least, a hearing; 
 and combined with wealth and personal 
 worth, they take rank with little opposi- 
 tion. In a metropolis of four hundred 
 thousand inhabitants, these same distinc- 
 tions are lost in the number of claimants ; 
 and, in what I have to say of New York, 
 I confine myself to the period since this 
 state of things has existed — the last fif- 
 teen or twenty years, during which the 
 old aristocracy of the Knickerbockers has 
 been shoved aside, by the enormous in- 
 crease of wealthy and pretentious popu- 
 lation. 
 
 In the particular period at which we live, 
 our country differs from all the nations of 
 the earth in one remarkable feature — that 
 of being in a state of social transition unex- 
 ampled for extent and rapidity — passing, 
 that is to say, by lightning leaps of ambi- 
 tious imitation, from plain to sumptuous, 
 from primitive to luxurious. Study the pro- 
 gresss of innovations upon the manners of 
 older countries. See with what reluctant 
 advance, one by one, the few foreign 
 usages that prevail in England and France 
 have crept respectively upon those compla- 
 cent countries. How little that is French 
 there is in England — how little that is Eng- 
 lish in France! And with what an unnatu- 
 ralized strangeness these few outlandish 
 features are incorrigibly worn. Here, on 
 the contrary, in the cities of America, cus- 
 toms that would be twenty years obtaining 
 foothold in Europe, are adopted at sight — 
 domesticated and made universal in a single 
 season. Our commerce is on the alert, our 
 merchants are novelty-seeking travellers, 
 ready to freight ships with any thing they 
 find that would be new at home, and we 
 have not a single prejudice in our national 
 character which shuts the door upon an 
 innovation. Nothing appears abroad— in 
 dress, equipage, usage of society, style of 
 furniture or mode of amusement, that is not 
 conjured over the water with aeriel quick- 
 ness, copied with marvellous fidelity in 
 New York, and incorporated at once into 
 national habituation. The drawing-rooms 
 of our wealthy classes are types, neither 
 
 faint nor imperfect, of the sumptuous inte- 
 riors of May Fair, and of the exclusive 
 saloons of France. Our ladies are scarce 
 thirty days behind the fashions of Paris. A 
 change in men's dress in St. James street, 
 is adopted in New York before it is detect- 
 ed east of Temple Bar. The stained glass 
 of Bohemia, while still a curiosity in Eng- 
 land, had grown common upon our dinner- 
 tables. The toys of the age of Louis the 
 Fourteenth, Egyptian couches, and the 
 carved furniture of the age of Elizabeth, 
 have been in turn the fashion abroad, and, 
 of either style, there were profuse speci- 
 mens in common wear among us, while the 
 novelty was still fresh in the capitals of Eu- 
 rope. We copy every thing w'e can hear 
 of — import and imitate instantly every new 
 model of equipage — follow every whim of 
 society, take the new dance, the new by- 
 word, the new public amusement, — and 
 enter heart and soul into every rage that is 
 handed over to us, dramatic, operatic, sump- 
 tuary, and literary. This daguerreotype im- 
 itation is no less improving in its results, 
 however, than it is miraculous for its facile 
 rapidity. We have beaten England and 
 France in progressive civilization and eleva- 
 tion, three centuries in one. At this rate, 
 and with the increasing facilities of com- 
 merce, we shall soon have nothing to learn 
 from Europe, but what transpires between 
 the traverses of packets — and when that 
 period arrives, we shall be, of all countries 
 the most cosmopolite — comparing with other 
 nations as the enlightened and liberal tra- 
 veller compares with the home-keeping vil- 
 lager. I am anticipating, however. Be- 
 fore saying more of the future, let us take 
 our proposed view of the present — as shown 
 in the fashion of this great metropolis. 
 
 Though there is probably a greater mar- 
 ket for the fashions in New- York than in 
 any other capital in the world, (from the 
 fact that all classes, above the lowest, dress 
 as extravagantly here as only the first class 
 does abroad) there is still very little of what 
 can be fairly fixed upon as fashion. No one 
 circle confessedly holds the power. Of 
 rank, we can hardly name the value in 
 
9 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 New York, for, coming to us from abroad, 
 it has the exaggerated value of an exotic — 
 much more worshipped here than where 
 it comes from. It does not strike me, how- 
 ever, that we show any symptoms of relish 
 for the indigenous rank that would natu- 
 rally be now taking root in the families 
 among us most honorably descended. It 
 would require some research to discover, in 
 New York, even the residences of those 
 whose fathers' names are in the page of our 
 history. Wherever they are, they get little 
 position, consequence, or fashion, from the 
 mere eminence of their forefathers — few of 
 them it is certain, being even what the most 
 conspicuous people would call " in socie- 
 ty." I think this will bear putting still 
 more strongly, and that I may venture to 
 eay there is an instinctive hostility to the 
 ossiunption of consequence by old families 
 and somewhat, perhaps, from a feeling 
 on the part of the undistinguished, that 
 there is still a chance for competition with 
 dignities of so recent date, but more from 
 the application of that exacting standard, 
 by which merit in the inheritor alone 
 makes valid an inheritance of glory. 
 
 In the absence of rank, and particularly 
 in a republic, you would naturally suppose 
 that official power— the appointment by 
 public honor to the highest dignities of the 
 State — would give, to the family of the 
 holder, a deference that would make them 
 the fashion. Yet you all know the value 
 of this claim to consequence I The Gov- 
 ernor, Secretary, Treasurer of the State, the 
 Senators and Representatives of the Sov- 
 reign People, come and go with no more 
 eclat than other men, and their families are 
 no more sought, imitated or caressed, for 
 their official dignity. It neither makes a 
 man nor his family particularly the fashion 
 in New York, if he be Mayor of the city ; 
 though, in the administration of his office, 
 he exercises a sway as powerful for the 
 time being, as many a crowned head of 
 feudal Europe. Instead of fashionable ho- 
 *"^6> paid to such dignity a» we had a 
 hand in making, we seem on the contrary 
 to feel for it a fashionable indifference. 
 
 Is it here as in France, and does intel- 
 lect give consequence in New York ? Does 
 wit in man, or conversational talent in wo- 
 man, make the possessor an indispensable 
 acquaintance to all givers of fashionable 
 parties. Are the powerful controllers of 
 public opinion, the gentlemen of the press 
 — keepers as they are, or might be, of the 
 key of each momentous to-morrow — are 
 they, in a country where the press, far 
 more than in France, is the citadel of power 
 — are they, as in France, courted for their 
 intellect, and for the influence they could 
 give to the class they particularly belonged 
 to. Are the gentlemen of the bar — the gla- 
 diators of intellect — who, in society, as in 
 courts of justice, have on their armor of wit, 
 and in the absence of any class possessing 
 the leisure to be conversationists only, arc 
 the most amusing as well as the most im- 
 proving members of society — are they sought 
 for by the ambitious, and are their houses 
 and resorts made fashionable by their intel- 
 lect? Are men of science, distinguished 
 artists, poets, authors, politicians and native 
 celebrities generally — is this varied body of 
 men, representing certainly the intellect of 
 the day, sought out for fashionable enter- 
 tainments, courted, and made friends and 
 favorites of, by fashionable women ? These 
 questions are answered by the reasonable- 
 ness of a doubt — whether one in ten of 
 the most pretentious fashionables of New 
 York, have any definite idea who are the 
 intellectual masters and controllers of that 
 grand vehicle of society to which they 
 themselves are — the incomparable varnish I 
 
 Is it then as in England 1 Docs fashion- 
 able society take pains to secure to itself 
 Nature's mark of aristocracy ? Are the rare 
 accidents of mingled grace and beauty — the 
 lovely and admirable women who do live 
 sometimes in unfashionable neighborhoods, 
 and do belong to families that are only re- 
 spectable, — are such ornaments of their sex 
 sought out for embellishment to fashionable 
 parties, or would they find the way easy if 
 they attempted to rise, by their own exer- 
 tions, to spheres more suitably ornamental ? 
 Is masculine beauty— combined with a look 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 9 
 
 of spirit, and a mien of natural chivalry and 
 superiority — are these attractions, in a youth 
 of unknown family and of no fortune, suffi- 
 cient to give him, in New YOrk as in Eng- 
 land, easy access to fashionable circles, and 
 consequence and influence, the town over, 
 in all matters of taste and elegance 1 These 
 questions, too, are easily answered by a rea- 
 sonable doubt — whether a well-bred stran- 
 ger, thrown into a mixed assembly in New 
 York, w^ould not make blunders, (as he 
 hardly could do in England), in an attempt 
 to pick out the fashionables by their look 
 of aristocracy. 
 
 Nature's stamp of nobility, then, not be- 
 ing a passport to fashion in New York — 
 nor family name and descent — nor intellect 
 — nor that official dignity, which in theory, 
 you would say, should give rank in a re- 
 public — what is the predominating princi- 
 ple of fashion 1 What is it that gives con- 
 sequence and enviable station 1 
 
 There is a condition of life in that city, 
 which without forming a definite and com- 
 bined class, as in France and England, 
 may still be called " the fashion" — a kind 
 of quicksand of conspicuousness and conse- 
 quence, stable hitherto for no footing, but 
 crowded successively by exclusives, few 
 of whom have ever kept their place long 
 enough to be identified by public rumor. 
 The uncertainty as to who the fashiona- 
 bles are, is somewhat increased, too, by 
 their great number, as no recognizable cir- 
 cle ever comes twice together, and no 
 twenty fashionables would agree as to the 
 fashionableness of twenty more. The great 
 secret of vogue in this upper sphere — the 
 passport to its conspicuousness and conse- 
 quence, — is not exactly money— not ex- 
 actly the being rich — but expense, and the 
 dressing, driving and entertaining with 
 lavish expensiveness. Extravagance, here, 
 takes the place that, in France, is given to 
 intellect, and in England, to the nobility 
 of nature. It is true, that even under this 
 dynasty, it has not invariably been as diffi- 
 cult as now to tell who were the leading 
 fashionables of New York. Fashion, from 
 time to time, has made head and taken a 
 
 stand, and within my own memory of New 
 York society, fifteen or twenty years, there 
 have been eight or ten confident and estab- 
 lished aristocracies. They have risen and 
 fallen, duly, w^ith " the stocks" — but never 
 before, after the break up of a Board of 
 Fashionable Directors, has there been so 
 prolonged a state of anarchy as exists at 
 this moment. The great convulsion in 
 Wall street in '36, scattered the last defi- 
 nite combination of " people necessary to 
 know;" and since that time there has 
 never been a circle that was not rivalled 
 by twenty others, nor have there been 
 any leaders of fashion, nameable without 
 a smile to two consecutive believers. 
 Fashion there is — the fashion as I said 
 before of conspicuousness in expense — but 
 it is a commonwealth without govern- 
 ment or centre — without limits or barriers. 
 Any body belongs to it who spends up to 
 the mark, and if there are any two who 
 have combined to be exclusive, or make " a 
 set" — it is by no means generally suspected! 
 
 This state of promiscuous pomp, how- 
 ever, cannot long exist. It would not have 
 existed till now, if money alone could 
 make, again, a potentate among fiishion- 
 ables. The ambition to be, as the French 
 say, *^ the cream of the cream '^ is not 
 wanting. It never sleeps. But money — 
 mere money — is omnipotent no more ! The 
 setting up of an equipage, the adopting of 
 crest and livery, and the giving of balls and 
 dinners, can but make a man — now — one of 
 five hundred. Not till this five hundred is 
 decimated to fifty, by some other superi- 
 ority, that, w^ith the aid of money, can make 
 itself paramount, and not till that fifty is 
 decimated, still again, to five, who, by 
 the consent of the fifty, shall be their lea- 
 ders and rulers, will there be a fashion in 
 New York, worth courting or fearing. Is 
 this a consummation to be wished ? I think 
 I can show you that it is ! 
 
 The very core and essence of that which 
 constitutes a republic is the first principle 
 in fashion — rebellion against unnatural au- 
 thorit)^ What would be the state of Eng- 
 land at this enlightened day, with no coun- 
 
10 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 terpoise to that nobility whicb is an acci- 
 dent of birth, and no asylum in society 
 from the overbearing liaiightiness of offi- 
 cial and court privilege ? There would be 
 a tyranny of ill-endowed aristocrats — the 
 more tyrannical in proportion as they were 
 more brutal ; — and a chasm between them 
 and the people — between them and hum- 
 ble-born merit, which, if not crossed by 
 the bridge of a revolution, would engulf 
 them in the darkness of feudal barbarism. 
 Now, there is a republic in the heart of 
 monarchical England— fcLshion, ruled by the 
 manifest stamp of superiority. There is a 
 republic in the heart of monarchical France 
 —fashion^ ruled by wit and intellect. These 
 are intermediate powers inseparable from 
 a state of high civilization, let the govern- 
 ment be what it will. Under the two 
 hoary monarchies just named, they are 
 a check to the tyranny of rank, the inso- 
 lence of wealth and the pomposity of the 
 court — to all of which intolerable evils the 
 smile or frown of fashion is wholesomely 
 and triumphantly paramount. But have 
 we no work for Fashion to do in America ? 
 Are there no monsters to be put down by 
 a combination of refinement and intellect? 
 Have we no evils in our system of society, 
 no oppressions, likely to get the upper 
 hand of a republic, and for which we need 
 therefore the well-tried countercheck of 
 fashion 1 
 
 Rank — we have none to contend against. 
 Court favor, as dispensed at Washington, 
 makes no man formidable. The influence 
 of mere wealth, as I have already said, is 
 evidently on the wane — though were it not 
 80, the tyranny of a sordid aristocracy of 
 money might indeed call for a well-armed 
 antagonist. A monster there is, however, 
 reigning over this country, strange to say, 
 in the shape of its greatest blessing — a 
 monster it would scarce be safe to name, 
 without first unmasking and showing his 
 deformity, and, for this monster, we require 
 the check that can alone be given by the 
 combination I speak of as fashion, for it is 
 the only shape and mouth-piece he will 
 not himself usurp and turn to his tyranni- 
 
 cal uses. Look a little into his anatomy. 
 To how many men in a hundred, taken 
 indiscriminately from the miscellaneous 
 population of New York, would you en- 
 trust a decision upon any question that 
 affected your personal position or happi- 
 ness. Count among them the vicious, the 
 wilful, the ignorant and short-sighted, — 
 who are, and must necessarily be, in a 
 great metropolis like this,* the majority in 
 numbers. In the capitals of other coun- 
 tries the ignorant and vicious classes have 
 little or no moral power — no power at all, 
 except in the hand to hand conflict of a 
 revolution. In this country every one of 
 them forms part of the constituency of a 
 newspaper and has a voice as loud as your 
 own on all questions that can come to the 
 threshold of public notice. With such a 
 population as America had in '76, this 
 level suflfrage of opinion was the heaven 
 of liberty. Taking the country, now, from 
 ocean to ocean, it is so still. But in our 
 great cities — more especially in our great- 
 est city — the proportion of evil in the popu- 
 lation gives danger to its sovereign impulse. 
 Free discussion and the vigilance of patri- 
 ots, may control it on great questions, and 
 if every so-called popular impulse were 
 fairly dragged to light, and known by 
 honest counting to be the wish of the ma- 
 jority, it would be still more effectually 
 bridled. But no ! The oracle of the peo- 
 ple finds utterance when the people are 
 asleep. The monster I have not yet na- 
 med is enthroned within it, and it is he, 
 and not the people, speaking oftenest in 
 its voice of thunder. The laws are palsied 
 by his threat — private character trembles in 
 its sanctuary — the arts and all the interests 
 of taste and elegance are benumbed and 
 discournged, and while the public is a 
 *' chartered libertine," the individual is a 
 slave, for no man dare do otherwise than 
 as the mass approve, for fear of detraction 
 and outcry. It is in this monster that envy 
 and ill-will, and the natural hatred of the 
 low and vicious for those above them, find 
 a ready weapon for their malice. Desperate 
 men who have seen better days, and ty- 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 11 
 
 rants without thrones, of whom there is 
 never a lack in any community of the 
 earth, are the ready trumpeters of the will 
 of this many-eyed monster. And now shall 
 I tell you his false name ? Shall I tell you 
 what lurks in the shadow of liberty, like 
 oppression behind a throne of a monarch 7 
 You have anticipated it by my description. 
 It is unexamined, unauthorized, uncontrol- 
 led PUBLIC OPINION — the monster whose false 
 throat claims utterance for the people. The 
 judge on the bench thinks of him in his 
 verdict. The criminal at the bar trusts him 
 more than his lawyer. He points his fin- 
 ger, and the representative of the people 
 turns bully in the halls of legislation. He 
 stands before the statesman — hiding from 
 him the page of history and posterity's con- 
 tempt. Women dreads him on her pillow 
 — for detraction is his most appetizing food. 
 Religion trembles at her altar — for, on the 
 ashes of the house of God he avenges an 
 insult to his myrmidons. 
 
 But it is not alone in shapes so palpable 
 to view that this black shadow of freedom 
 stalks through a republic. There is a tyr- 
 ranny of public opinion, in every grade and 
 hiding-place of this country — worn so ha- 
 bitually as to be thought an inseparable 
 evil of human society — worn like the hair 
 shirt of penance till its irritation has be- 
 come a habit of second nature. It takes 
 twice as bold a man here as in Europe, to 
 be economical — twice as bold a man to pre- 
 fer paying a debt to putting his name to a 
 subscription. We put ourselves to twice 
 the inconvenience here, that people in Eu- 
 rope do, to seem what we are expected to 
 be by our neighbors. The pain and morti- 
 fication of reducing our style of living to 
 suit a reduced prosperity in business, is 
 twice, here, what it is abroad — thrice what 
 it need be. And on the other hand, look 
 at the invidious criticism and malice drawn 
 upon men or women, by any step, however 
 well it can be afforded, toward embellishing 
 their condition of life. We do not live in 
 liberty, here — we do not spend our money 
 or enjoy our firesides in rational freedom. 
 The country is free, the press is free, reli- 
 
 gion is free, and public opinion remarkably 
 free — but the individual is a slave ! The 
 stab of Brutus was struck at nothing half so 
 tyrannical in the bosom of Cesar as our des- 
 potism — despotism of the public of which 
 we, who suffer, severally make one. Since 
 government was first invented, the most 
 dreaded evil has been tyranny in the sove- 
 reign power. In a monarchy the king 
 holds the power, and the people and pri- 
 vate life are to be protected against the 
 king. In a republic the people are the 
 sovereign, and the laws and private life 
 are to be protected against the people. 
 The President is but the subservient prime 
 minister of the sovereign people. His 
 many-headed master never loses him from^ 
 his sight one hour : and while in a monar- 
 chy there is an appeal, from the oppression 
 of the king to the vengeance of the people, 
 in a republic there is no appeal from op- 
 pression but to God — for who can impeach 
 the sovereign people ! 
 
 You may think, if you have not given 
 me your close attention that I have wan- 
 dered from my subject. But no. It is in 
 my subject — in the influence of a circle of 
 acknowledged fashion — that I see a release 
 from this invisible monster. As Leather- 
 stocking said when the Prairie was burn- 
 ing, " fire shall fight fire." Opinion from 
 a more authentic source, shall stem and 
 countercheck opinion. We are awed, now, 
 by what we vaguely suppose the public to 
 think. Give us a class whose opinion 
 is entitled to undeniable weight — a class 
 whose judgment is made up from elevated 
 standards — a class whose favor is alike valu- 
 able to the ambitious of both sexes — a class 
 it is important to know and propitiate if 
 possible, but at any rate to quote as un- 
 questionable authority — and the evil is at 
 once abated. The most radiant feature as 
 well as the most salutary principle of mo- 
 dern civilization is the organizing in France 
 and England of the classes I have descri- 
 bed — umpires between tyranny and the 
 people, — arbiters, that with right on their 
 side are stronger than the despot. As I 
 have endeavored to show, this umpire in 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 12 
 
 England is/ashiony made potent by the up- 
 holding of nature's aristocracy. In France 
 it is fashion, made all but sovereign in its 
 influence, by the enlisting of intellect. In 
 our country, as you all know, the class that 
 is destined to protect us against our shape 
 of the tyranny universal on earth, is still 
 unorganized, and the locum tenens, the 
 temporary key of fashionable superiority, 
 is showy expensiveness. But this anar- 
 chy is not to last — nor, (I trust you are 
 prepared to agree with me,) is it desirable 
 that it should. I may venture, I think, to 
 predict, by shadows cast before, that it is 
 on the eve, now, of a new and lasting for- 
 mation. 
 
 But, of what stuff is to be built our inner 
 republic 1 Who, in our great metropolis, is 
 to be eligible to that privileged class whose 
 judgment shall rebuke the im weighed opin- 
 ions of the mass, as well as the insolence 
 of overbearing wealth and authority. The 
 material lies about us in prodigal abun- 
 dance. We have intellect, of God's purest 
 kindling, burning before our eyes like stars 
 before our closed windows in the last watch 
 before morning. We have nature's nobility 
 — men of such spirit and bearing, and wo- 
 men of such talent and beauty, as would 
 draw homage alike from the Indian on the 
 Prairie, or the exchisives at Almack's. We 
 have master-spirits — men who possess the 
 unaccountable, but lordly, power of control 
 over popular masses — capable of swaying 
 the most important flood-tides of the politi- 
 cal sea, yet not capable of giving influence 
 or fashion to their families, or the circles 
 they live in. We have every degree, range, 
 and quality, of material for fashion, in as 
 great abundance as any country on earth. 
 And now, of what stuff, I ask again, is to 
 be moulded our fashionable republic — what 
 class of superiority is to be set up for our 
 umpire — counterpoise, to protect the sub- 
 ject individual against the sovereign people 1 
 
 In this question the whole country has a 
 voice. With the rapid and facile inter- 
 course between our cities, and with our 
 singularly gregarious habits — the distin- 
 guished of all the cities of the union, com- 
 
 ing frequently together—every society in 
 the country can influence the character of 
 aristocracy in the metropolis. That me- 
 tropolis is the great throbbing heart in 
 whose pulsations the distant hand and foot 
 have sympathy and influence. It was time 
 — high time — that attention was called to 
 the quality of the blood at this heart of 
 our country. We have kept our vigils on 
 all other subjects — we have slept at our 
 watch over this! The first beat of this 
 chronic pulse may be regulated, easily and 
 irresistibly, by public volition. The fear is 
 that the wrong elements may creep in- 
 sensibly uppermost, and ossify into power 
 without moulding or controlling! It was 
 time, I say, that it should become a ques- 
 tion of lively agitation, — in the metropolis 
 and in every city in the Union — of what 
 stuff is to be formed the coming American 
 aristocracy? Discussion, enquiry, active 
 ridicule of false pretension, and generous 
 approbation of that which is truly admi- 
 rable, are means — ample means — in our 
 hands, to make it what we will. Let us 
 beware, however — for, choose what we will 
 — do homage to what we may, as worthy of 
 privilege and distinction — whatever we do 
 choose — whatever becomes the fashion, with 
 the consequence that fashion is destined to 
 have, — accumulates power from the mo- 
 ment of taking the lead, and is elevated in 
 character, as well as hedged about with 
 protection and aggrandizement! It is for 
 the general vigilance — for you, on your part 
 — to say, whether high morality shall be 
 indispensable to fashion. It is for you to 
 say, (and these are important questions) 
 whether political rectitude shall give con- 
 sequence to a man in the highest circle, 
 or whether men who value consequence 
 and position, shall dare to meddle with 
 politics at all. In short, whether the " al- 
 mighty dollar" — whether intellect, as shown 
 in wit or conversation, or as shown in 
 the arts, the press and the professions — 
 whether official rank, or manifest superi- 
 ority, as stamped by nature on strength 
 and beauty — whether one, or any com- 
 bination of these, is to be the confessed 
 
13 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 title to American aristocracy, is yet to 
 be decided. 
 
 I liave discoursed more gravely of fashion 
 than was perhaps anticipated — less amuse- 
 mgly and more gravely than I might have 
 done, it is certain. Fashion is a trifling 
 word, and there are those to whom words 
 never change meaning or value. Import- 
 ant as it may become, too, in the aggre- 
 gate, fashion is known, and contributed to, 
 by what the wise call trifles. Trifles they 
 are — and so are the foam-bubbles on the ad- 
 vancing wave ! But that glittering crest is 
 no more certain to be the rider upon a tide, 
 fetterless and resistless, than are the trifles 
 of fashion the precursors of a powerful ele- 
 ment, surging in, at this hour, upon the yet 
 incomplete character of our country. Shall 
 we be indifferent to the beauty or the de- 
 formity, the viciousness or the healthful- 
 ness of this impending aristocracy? Is it 
 not worth while — momentously worth while 
 — to arrest its presuming avatar, outside the 
 citadel of power, and challenge its authori- 
 ty from God and reason ! I may give it you 
 as my opinion, that aristocracy in a re- 
 public must needs be more powerful than 
 those of monarchies, limited or despotic — 
 for it must fight the Avhole battle of superi- 
 ority, unaided by rank, prejudice or long 
 usage. Its formation were inevitable at 
 this stage of our progress, even were we 
 alone in the world — for there is no high 
 civilization without it — but we are borrow- 
 ing, as I said before, the social usages, as 
 
 well as the fashions and luxuries, of the 
 countries over the water — borrowing forms 
 and laws of aristocracy faster than fashions 
 or luxuries. And is not this a matter of 
 interest to the public ? " Where lies pow- 
 er?" "Where are the combinations that 
 hold power?" are questions for the patriot 
 and statesman — questions answered, Avide 
 of the mark, by the hackneyed divisions of 
 political economy. '* Church and state," 
 " rich and poor," " King, Lords and Com- 
 mons," give no clue to the power para- 
 mount in England — the well-organized 
 mastery of fashion ! Let no man think it 
 impossible that a class designated by so 
 trifling a word as fashion, may soon crowd 
 mammon from our altars, and become the 
 antagonists of ill -begotten, public opinion, 
 and the oracle of all that affects the indi- 
 vidual. This, I repeat again, is the coming 
 epoch in our social history. Thus far — to 
 this level of preparation for an aristocracy — 
 America has built her pyamid of civiliza- 
 tion — overtaking astonished Europe, cen- 
 turies in a day. To top this pyramid — 
 to complete our broad-based and towering 
 republic, we have a class to create — a 
 summit-stone to lay — to which we can 
 point without shame or hesitation, when 
 it is lifted to the scrutiny of the world. 
 Thank God, we have yet the time and 
 opportunity to decide, from what quarry 
 it shall be hewn, and to what mortar of 
 public sentiment it shall owe its stability! 
 
 lOTE. 
 
 It may amuse the reader to quote a chap- 
 ter from one of the serious works on the 
 fashions referred to in the beginning of the 
 Lecture. " THE SIMPLE COBBLER OF 
 AG AW AM," the work from which it was 
 taken, was a classic of the sixteenth century, 
 written by a New England emigrant clergy- 
 man. Rev. Nathaniel Ward. He thus dis- 
 courses of the lady- fashions of New-England 
 of that day : — 
 
 " Should I not keepe promise in speaking 
 a little to Womens fashions, they would 
 take it unkindly : I was loath to pester bet- 
 ter matter with such stuffe ; I rather thought 
 it meet to let them stand by themselves, like 
 the Quce Genus in the Grammar, being Defi- 
 cients, or Redundants, not to be brought 
 under any Rule : I shall therefore make bold 
 for this once, to borrow a little of their loose 
 tongued Liberty, and mispend a word or 
 two upon their long-wasted, but short-skirted 
 
14 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY, 
 
 \^ 
 
 patience : a little use of my stirrup will do 
 no harine. 
 
 Ridentem dicere rcrwm, quid prohibet ? 
 
 Gray Gravity it aelfe can well bcteam, 
 That Limguage be adapted to the Theme. 
 He that to Parrots speaks, must parrotize: 
 He that instructs a foole, may act th* unwise. 
 
 .^ It is known more then enough that I am 
 Jieither Nignrd, nor Cinick, to the due 
 bravery of the true Gentry : if any man mis- 
 likes a bully mongdrossock more then I, let 
 him take her for his labour: I honour the 
 woman that can honour her selfe with her 
 attire ; a good Text alwayes deserves a fair 
 Margent: I am not much offended if I see a 
 trimme, far trimmer than she that wears it : 
 in a word, whatever Christianity or Civility 
 will allow, I can afford with London mea- 
 sure: but when I heare a nugiperous Gentle- 
 dame inquire what dresse the Queen is in 
 this week : what tlie nudiustertian fashion 
 of the Court is ; I meane the very newest : 
 with egge to be in it in all haste, w^hat ever 
 it be ; I look at her as the very gizzard of a 
 trifle, the product of a quarter of a cypher, 
 the epitome of nothing, fitter to be kickt, if 
 shee were of a kickable substance, than 
 either honour'd or humour'd. 
 
 To speak moderately, I truly confesse, it 
 is beyond the ken of my understanding to 
 conceive, how those women should have 
 any true grace, or valuable vertue, that have 
 so little wit, as to disfigure themselves with 
 such exotick garbes, as not only dismantles 
 their native lovely lustre, but transclouts 
 them into gant bar-geese, ill-shapen-shotten- 
 shell-fish, Egyptian Hyeroglyphicks, or at 
 the best into French flurts of the pastery, 
 which a proper English woman should 
 scorne with her heels : it is no marvell they 
 weare drailes on the hinder part of their 
 heads, having nothing as it seems in the 
 fore -part, but a few Squirrils brains to help 
 them frisk from one ill-favourM fashion to 
 another. 
 
 These whimm' Crown'd sheas, these fashion-fancying wits. 
 Are empty thin brain'd shells, and fiddling Kits. 
 
 The very troublers and impoverishers of 
 mankind, I can hardly forbear to commend 
 to the world a saying of a Lady living some- 
 
 time with the Queen of Bohemia^ I know 
 not where shee found it, but it is pitty it 
 should be lost. 
 
 The World is full of care, much like unto a bubble ; 
 Women and care, and care and women, and women and 
 care and trouble. 
 
 The Verses are even enough for such odde 
 pegma's. I can make my selfe sicke at any 
 time, with comparing the dazzling splender 
 wherewith our Gentlewomen were embel- 
 lished in some former habits, with the gnt- 
 foundrcd goosdom, wherewith they are now 
 surcingled and debauched. Wee have about 
 five or six of them in our Colony : if I see 
 any of them accidentally, I cannot cleanse 
 my phansie of them for a moneth after. I 
 have been a solitary widdower almost twelve 
 yeares, purposed lately to make a step over 
 to my Native Country for a yoke -fellow : 
 but when I consider how women there have 
 tripe-wifed themselves with their cladments, 
 I have no heart to the voyage, least their 
 nauseous shapes and the Sea, should work 
 too sorely upon my stomach. I speak sad- 
 ly ; me thinkes it should breake the hearts 
 of Englishmen to see so many goodly Eng- 
 lish-women imprisoned in French Cages, 
 peering out of their hood-holes for some men 
 of mercy to help them with a little wit, and 
 no body relieves them. 
 
 It is a more common then convenient 
 saying, that nine Taylors make a man : it 
 were well if nineteene could make a woman 
 to her minde : if Taylors were men indeed, 
 well furnished but with meer morall princi- 
 ples, they would disdain to be led about like 
 Apes, by such mymick Marmosets. It is a 
 most unworthy thing, for men that have 
 bones in them, to spend their lives in 
 making fidle-cases for futilous womens phan- 
 sies ; which are the very pettitoes of infirmi- 
 ty, the gyblets of perquisquilian to)^es. I 
 am so charitable to think, that most of that 
 mystery would worke the cheerfuller while 
 they live, if they might bee well discharged 
 of the tyring slavery of mis-tyring wome.n : 
 it is no little labour to be continually putting 
 up English-women into Out-landish caskes : 
 who if they be not shifted anew, once in a 
 few moneths, grow too sowre for their Hus- 
 
LECTURE ON FASHION. 
 
 15 
 
 bands. What this Trade will answer for 
 themselves when God shall take measure 
 of Taylors consciences is beyond my skill to 
 imagine. There was a time when 
 
 The joyning of the Red-Rose with the White, 
 Did set our State into a Damask plight. 
 
 But now our Roses are turned to Flore de 
 licesj our Carnations to Tulips, our Gilli- 
 llowers to Dayzes, our City-Dames, to an 
 indenominable Qusemalry of overturcas'd 
 things. Hee that makes Coates for the 
 Moone, had need take measure every noone; 
 and he that makes for women, as often, to 
 keepe them from Lunacy. 
 
 I have often heard divers Ladies vent 
 loud feminine complaints of the wearisome 
 varieties and chargable changes of fashions : 
 I marvell themselves preferre not a Bill of 
 redresse. I would Essex Ladies would lead 
 the Chore, for the honour of their County 
 and persons ; or rather the thrice honoura- 
 ble Ladies of the Court, whom it best be- 
 seemcs : who may well presume of a Le Roy 
 le veult from our sober King, a Les Seigneurs 
 ont Assentus from our prudent Peers, and the 
 like Assentus from our considerate, I dare 
 not say wife-worne Commons: who I believe 
 had much rather passe one such Bill, than 
 pay so many Taylors Bills as they are forced 
 to doe. 
 
 Most deare and unparallel'd Ladies, be 
 pleased to attempt it : as you have the pre- 
 cellency of the women of the world for 
 beauty and feature ; so assume the honour 
 to give, and not take Law from any, in mat- 
 ter of attire : if ye can transact so faire a 
 motion among yourselves unanimously, I 
 dare say, they that most renite, will least 
 repent. What greater honour can your 
 Honors desire, then to build a Promontory 
 president to all foraigne Ladies, to deserve 
 so eminently at the hands of all the English 
 Gentry present and to come : and to confute 
 the opinion of all the wise men in the 
 world ; who never thought it possible for 
 women to doe so good a work ? 
 
 If any man think I have spoken rather 
 merrily than seriously he is much mistaken, 
 I have written what I write with all the 
 indignation I can, and no more than I ought. 
 
 I confesse I veer'd my tongue to this kinde 
 of Language de industria though unwill- 
 ingly, supposing those I speak to are unca- 
 pable of grave and rationall arguments. 
 
 I desire all Ladies and Gentlewomen to 
 understand that all this while I intend not 
 such as through necessary modesty to avoyd 
 morose singularity, follow fashions slowly, a 
 flight shot or two off, shewing by their mo- 
 deration, that they rather draw counter- 
 mont with their hearts, then put on by their 
 examples. 
 
 I point my pen only against the light- 
 heel'd beagles that lead the chase so fast, 
 that they run all civility out of breath; 
 against these Ape-headed pullets, which 
 invent Antique foole-fangles, meerly for 
 fashion and novelty sake. 
 
 In a word, if I begin once to declaime 
 against fashions, let men and women look 
 well about them, there is somewhat in the 
 businesse ; I confesse to the world, I never 
 had grace enough to be strict in that kinde ; 
 and of late years, I have found syrrope of 
 pride very wholesome in a due Bos, which 
 makes mee keep such a store of that drugge 
 by me, that if any body comes to me for a 
 question-full or two about fashions, they 
 never complain of me for giving them hard 
 measure, or under- weight. 
 
 But I addresse my selfe to those who can 
 both hear and mend all if they please : I 
 seriously feare, if the pious Parliament doe 
 not find a time to state fashions, as ancient 
 Parliaments have done in some part, God 
 will hardly finde a time to state Religion or 
 Peace : They are the surquedr37^es of pride, 
 the wanton nesse of idlenesse, provoking 
 sins, the certain prodormies of assured judge- 
 ment, Zeph. 1. 7, 8. 
 
 It is beyond all account, how many Gcn- 
 tlemens and Citizens estates are deplumed 
 by their feather-headed wives, w^hat usefull 
 supplies the pannage of England woukl 
 afford other Countries, what rich returnes to 
 it selfe, if it were not slic'd out into male 
 and female fripperies : and what a multi- 
 tude of misimploy'd hands, might be better 
 improv'd in some more manly Manufactures 
 for the publique weale : it is not easily ere- 
 
16 
 
 THE MIRROR LIBRARY. 
 
 dible, what may be said of the preterplural- 
 itiea of Taylors in London : I have heard an 
 honest man say, that not long since there 
 were numbered between Tempie-barre and 
 Charing-Crosscy eight thousand of that 
 Trade : let it be conjectured by that propor- 
 tion how many there are in and about Lon- 
 don^ and in all England, they will appeare 
 to be very numerous. If the Parliament 
 would please to mend women, which their 
 Husbands dare not doe, there need not so 
 many men to make and mend as there are. 
 I hope the present dolefuU estate of the 
 Realme, will perswade more strongly to 
 some considerate course herein, than I now 
 can. 
 
 Knew I how to bring it in, I would speak 
 a word to long haire, whereof I will say no 
 more but this : if God proves not such a 
 Barbor to it as he threatens, unlesse it be 
 amended, Esa. 7. 20. before the Peace of 
 the State and Church be well setled, then 
 let my prophcsie be scorned, as a sound 
 ininde scornes the ryot of that sin, and more 
 it needs not. If those who are termed Rat- 
 
 tle-heads and Impuritans, would take np a 
 Resolution to begin in moderation of haire, 
 to the just reproach of those that are called 
 Puritans and Round-heads, I would honour 
 their manlinesse, as much as the others god- 
 linesse, so long as I knew what man or 
 honour meant: if neither can find a Bar- 
 hours shop, let them turne in, to Psal. 68. 
 21. Jer, 7. 29. 1 Cor. 11. 14. if it be thought 
 no wisdome in men to distinguish them- 
 selves in the field by the Scissers, let it bee 
 thought no injustice in God, not to distin- 
 guish them by the Sword. I had rather God 
 should know me by my sobriety, than mine 
 enemy not know me by my vanity. He is 
 ill kept, that is kept by his owne sin. A 
 short promise is a farre safer guard than a 
 long lock : it is an ill distinction which God 
 is loth to looke at, and his Angels cannot 
 know his Saints by. Though it be not the 
 mark of the Beast, yet it may be the mark 
 of a beast prepared to slaughter. I am sure 
 men use not to weare such manes ; I am 
 also sure Souldiers use to weare other mark- 
 lets or notadoes in time of battell. 
 
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