We have often been amused with the different wonders of ancient Rome,
but seldom more than with the following piece of antiquarianism
burlesqued:--
M. Simond, in his Tour in Italy and Sicily, tells us that the Coliseum
is too ruinous--that the Egyptian Museum in the Vatican puts him in
mind of the five wigs in the barber Figaro's shop-window--that the
Apollo Belvidere looks like a broken-backed young gentleman shooting
at a target for the amusement of young ladies. Speaking of the
Etruscan vases, he says, "As to the alleged elegance of form, I should
be inclined to appeal from the present to succeeding generations, when
the transformation of every pitcher, milk-pot and butter-pan, into an
antique shape, has completely burlesqued away the classical feeling,
and restored impartiality to taste."
* * * * *
About six or seven-and-twenty years ago, an effort was made to revive
the fashion of ladies visiting the House of Commons. The late Queen
Caroline, then Princess of Wales, upon one or two occasions made her
appearance, with a female attendant, in the side-gallery. The royal
visit soon became generally known, and several other females were
tempted to follow the example. Among these was Mrs. Sheridan, the wife
of the late Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan; but this lady,
considering herself an intruder, to whose presence, if known,
exception might be taken, thought fit to disguise her person in male
attire. Her fine dark hair was combed smooth on her forehead, and made
to sit close, in good puritanical trim, while a long, loose, brown
coat concealed her feminine proportions. Thus prepared, she took her
seat in the Strangers' Gallery, anxious to witness a display of her
husband's eloquence; but he did not speak, and the debate proved
without any interest. The female aspirants whose taste was thus
excited, were, however, confined to a few blue-stocking belles,
without influence to set the fashion; and the attempt did not succeed.
* * * * *