"Painters describe this disposition of ornament, etc. by the word picturesque, and have contrived what they call a fancy dress. This is wholly at their own disposal, and they profess to combine in it all the principles of beauty. But, unhappily, should their figures walk across the room, these fantastic garments would drop from their shoulders. Were they contrived with a little attention to common sense, they might have their uses. Such a succedaneum would not only keep their works out of the reach of ill-natured critics, by covering false anatomy, etc., but give an artist such latitude for light and shadow as might enable him to shine in the grand historical style; though in painting the manners of the present day, where dress forms a part of the character, he might be totally at a loss. On the same ground that I think it more difficult to delineate scenes built on real life than to display such as originate in fiction, I believe it an easier task to write tragedy than comedy: I mean true comedy, not a Dutch droll. Dress is in some cases an index to the mind, and characters in improper habits would destroy the illusion at the best performed play. "Simplicity, little as it is attended to, is the most attractive principle of beauty. By this I mean that the habit should not be divided into too many parts, like an old-fashioned furbelowed and flounced petticoat: this preposterous mode confounds the eye, and gives an idea of rags and tatters. The plain unadorned dress of a country girl is often more engaging than the richest court habit, in which beauty is frequently obscured, overwhelmed, and buried by gaudy and heavy ornaments that totally destroy the effect they are intended to produce. Yet here, as in composition, simplicity must be corrected by intricacy, to prevent its degenerating into meanness. Parts of every dress should be loose, and at liberty to play into folds, some of which will move with the figure; nay, it sometimes produces grace to contrive things to rest in winding forms, as is demonstrated by the figure of a sphinx. "Quantity, as I have before remarked, adds dignity; robes of state are always made large and full; the long sweeping trains of queens have a majestic effect. To attain this, the ladies endure great fatigue, and encumber themselves with an enormous hoop petticoat, as much as they would by carrying a pair of panniers on their hips. While they preserve the figure of the pyramid, this produces some degree of dignity, but excess renders it ridiculous. "The horse-grenadier, mounted, caparisoned with his sword and other accoutrements, gives a good example of the noble effect of quantity, so combined as to come within pyramidal lines. What a contrast would it produce, to see the little jockey fitted, trimmed, and pared down for a race, riding by the side of him!"