Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
In a fine panelled room which gave, through two large windows, upon
the privy gardens of Whitehall Palace, a lady and a gentleman were
seated as far apart as the limits of the chamber would permit. She, in
her place, worked at a sampler, or affected to work; and he, in his,
read in a book, or affected to read.
The room was such as, with the best will in the world, we cannot,
lacking its appropriate human furniture, preserve, or reproduce, in
these days without vital loss to its character. We may possess the
sombre panels, the rich-hued pictures with their gilded frames
sufficiently illuminating the austerity, the Venetian glass
girandoles, reflecting in the polished floor below, as in water, their
starry opalescences; we may have, or acquire, the brass-studded, or
the stamped leather, or the screw-railed chairs, the elaborately
carved or the gate-legged tables, the priceless Persian rugs--which,
by the by, are but an early fashion resumed--the gilt caskets and the
silvered mirrors: we can _not_, unless to bring great ridicule upon
ourselves, wear the long lovelocks down our cheeks, or the silk
favours at our shoulders, or the jewelled cravats and beribboned hose
and breeches, without which all the rest must figure but as an
anachronism, a discordance, an Elgin marble ravished from its
Parthenon, and lined up for show in a glass-roofed museum. That we do
try to reconcile the irreconcilable in these matters, using Early
English cradles as receptacles for our faggots, and hanging up our
silk hats in antique ambries, is due to the fact that we have lost the
art, or the instinct, for decorative appropriateness. In those remote
but less “original” days the same mind that conceived the idol adorned
its shrine.
But if fashions in dress change and change, there was never in all
history but one fashion in human moods and tempers. Those, whether
figured in love, hate, desire, or jealousy, have been worn since the
Fall to the single unchangeable pattern which wrought and accompanied
it. One could not, in fact, from the fashion of their minds, have
distinguished these two seated apart from any ill-assorted married
couple of to-day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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