A head-dress, rising upwards of half a yard in height, seemed to
place her face near the middle of her body; her stomach was
compressed into a stiff case of whalebone, which checked respiration,
and deprived her almost of the power of eating; while a pair of
cumbersome hoops, placed on her hips, gave to her petticoats the
amplitude of a small elliptical, inflated balloon. Under these
strange accoutrements, it would, at first sight, almost have puzzled
BUFFON himself to decide in what species such a female animal should
be classed. However, this is no longer an enigma.
With the parade of a court, all etiquette of dress disappeared.
Divested of their uncouth and unbecoming habiliments, the women
presently adopted a style of toilet not only more advantageous to the
display of their charms, but also more analogous to modern manners.
No sooner was France proclaimed a republic, than the annals of
republican antiquity were ransacked for models of female attire: the
Roman tunic and Greek _cothurnus_ soon adorned the shoulders of the
Parisian _élégantes_; and every antique statue or picture, relating
to those periods of history, was, in some shape or another, rendered
tributary to the ornament of their person.
This revolution in their dress has evidently tended to strengthen
their constitution, and give them a pectoral _embonpoint_, very
agreeable, no doubt, to the amateur of female proportion, but the too
open exposure of which cannot, in a moral point of view, be
altogether approved. These treasures are, in consequence, now as
plentiful as they were before uncommon. You can scarcely move a step
in Paris without seeing something of this kind to exercise your
admiration. Many of those domains of love, which, under the
old-fashioned dress, would have been considered as a flat country,
now present, through a transparent crape, the perfect rotundity of
two sweetly-rising hillocks. As prisoners, wan and disfigured by
confinement, recover their health and fulness on being restored to
liberty, so has the bosom of the Parisian belles, released from the
busk and corset, experienced a salutary expansion.
In a political light, this must afford no small satisfaction to him
who takes an interest in the physical improvement of the human
species, as it tends to qualify them better for that maternal office,
dictated by Nature, and which, in this country, has too long and too
frequently been intrusted to the uncertain discharge of a mercenary
hireling. Another advantage too arises from the established fashion.
Thanks to the ease of their dress, the French ladies can now satisfy
all the capacity of their appetite. Nothing prevents the stomach from
performing its functions; nothing paralyzes the spring of that
essential organ. Nor, indeed, can they be reproached with
fastidiousness on that score. From the soup to the desert, they are
not one moment idle: they eat of every thing on the table, and drink
in due proportion. Not that I would by any means insinuate that they
drink more than is necessary or proper. On the contrary, no women on
earth are more temperate, in this respect, than the French; they, for
the most part, mix water even with their weakest wine; but they also
swallow two or three glasses of _vin de dessert_, without making an
affected grimace, and what is better, they eat at this rate without
any ill consequence, Now, a good appetite and good digestion must
strengthen health, and, in general, tend to produce pectoral
_embonpoint_.
In this capital, you no longer find among the fair sex those
over-delicate constitutions, whose artificial existence could be
maintained only by salts, essences, and distilled waters. Charms as
fresh as those of Hebe, beauties which might rival the feminine
softness of those of Venus, while they bespeak the vigour of Diana,
and the bloom of Hygëia, are the advantages which distinguish many of
the Parisian belles of the present day, and for which they are, in a
great measure, indebted to the freedom they enjoy under the antique
costume.
In no part of the world, perhaps, do women pay a more rigid attention
to cleanliness in their person than in Paris. The frequent use of the
tepid bath, and of every thing tending to preserve the beauty of
their fine forms, employ their constant solicitude. So much care is
not thrown away. No where, I believe, are women now to be seen more
uniformly healthy, no where do they possess more the art of assisting
nature; no where, in a word, are they better skilled in concealing
and repairing the ravages of Time, not so much by the use of
cosmetics, as by the tasteful manner in which they vary the
decoration of their person.