Jacques Callot was born 1593, and died March, 1635.—Philosophers and Actresses.
THE FEMALE FACE.
Felibien, an eminent French writer of the early part of the 17th century, thus describes his beau ideal of the female ace:—
“The head should be well rounded, and look rather inclining to small than large. The forehead white, smooth, and open: not with the hair growing down too deep upon it, neither flat nor prominent, but like the head, well rounded, and rather small in proportion than large. The hair either bright, black, or brown; not thin, but full and waving, and if it falls in moderate curls the better; the black is particularly useful for setting off the whiteness of the neck and skin. The eyes black, chestnut, or blue, clear, bright, and lively, and rather large in proportion than small. The eyebrows well divided, rather full than thin; semicircular, and broader in the middle than at the ends, of a neat turn, but not formal. The cheeks should not be wide; they should have a degree of plumpness, with the red and white finely blended together, and should look firm and soft. The ear should be rather small than large, well-folded, and with an agreeable tinge of red. The nose should be placed so as to divide the face into two equal parts, of a moderate size, straight, and well squared; though sometimes a little rising in the nose, which is but just perceivable, may give it a very graceful look. The mouth should be small, and the lips not of equal thickness; they should be well turned, small rather than gross, soft even to the eye, and with a living red in them. A truly pretty mouth is like a red rose-bud that is beginning to blow. The teeth should be middle-sized, white, well-ranged, and even. The chin of a moderate size, white, soft, and agreeably rounded. The skin in general should be white, properly tinged with red, with an apparent softness, and a look of thriving health in it.”
LONDON IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
Sir William Davenant gives a true though ludicrous picture of the habitations of London in his day:—
“Sure,” says the angry critic, “your ancestors contrived your narrow streets in the days of wheelbarrows, before the greater engines, carts, were invented. Is your climate so hot that as you walk you need umbrellas of tiles to intercept the sun? Or are your shambles so empty that you are afraid to take in fresh air, lest it should sharpen your stomachs? Oh, the goodly landscape of Old Fish Street, which, had it not the ill-luck to be crooked, was narrow enough to be your founder’s perspective; and where the garrets (perhaps not for want of architecture, but through abundance of amity) are so made that opposite neighbours may shake hands without stirring from home. Is unanimity of inhabitants in wise cities better expressed than by their coherence and uniformity of buildings, where the street begins, continues, and ends in a like stature and shape? But yours, as if they were raised in a general insurrection, where every man hath a separate design, and differ in all things that can make distinction. There stands one that aims to be a palace, and next another that professes to be a hovel; here a giant, there a dwarf; here slender, there broad; and all most especially different in their faces, size, and bulk. I was about to defy any Londoner who dares pretend there is so much ingenious correspondence in this city, as that he can show me one house like another. Yet your old houses seem to be reverend and formal, being compared to the fantastical works of the moderns, which have more ovals, niches, and angles than are in your custards; and inclosed in pasteboard walls like those of malicious Turks, who, because themselves are not immortal, and cannot for ever dwell where they build, therefore will not be at the charge to provide such lastingness as may entertain their children out of the rain; so slight, so prettily gaudy, that if they could move they would pass for pageants. It is your custom, where men vary after the mode of their habits, to turn the nation fantastical; but where streets continually change fashion you should make haste to chain up the city, for it is certainly mad.”