VI.
The Beauty of Englishwomen — Their Dress — Their Hair — Advice to French Ladies — Hyde Park — Interior of English Theatres — O Routine! such is thy handiwork.
The French women are more graceful and more piquant than the English; but they are less healthy and less fresh-looking. Their eyes are brighter, their mouths much prettier, and their figures a great deal finer; but their complexion is not so clear, nor nearly so fine.
Regular walks and baths are the secret of the health and beauty of the English woman. She fears neither draught nor douche. She sleeps with her window open, and, on rising, inundates herself with cold water. In winter weather, the least hardy wrings a hard towel in water, and rubs herself with it from head to foot to promote the circulation of the blood, till her skin shrieks for mercy. The appetite thus awakened, she descends, fresh and vigorous, to breakfast heartily on eggs and cold meat, and then sets out for the lawn-tennis ground, or goes about her daily task.
It is in the fields, or on the lawns of their gardens; always in open air, that most Englishwomen pass six months of the year.
The neck is very freely displayed in England by ladies in evening dress; less so, however, than formerly, I am told. It would seem as if, starting from the head downwards, an Englishwoman did not mind how much she uncovered herself: provided she does not show her feet, she is happy. When the streets are muddy—and Heaven knows what black, dirty mud we have in London—you will never see the women lift their skirts as they walk; they seem by instinct to prefer getting them muddy to the waist. Consequently, the gentleman who follows a neat pair of ankles in Paris is never seen in London.
The Englishwoman’s skin is generally fine, and beautifully white and smooth; satin and alabaster; a neck like the swan’s. The shoulders and hips are frequently too narrow; and, unfortunately, the bosom is too often a quantité négligeable in the enumeration of an Englishwoman’s charms. But when there is something to display, good heavens, how proud they are of it! They carry it like church banners.
The first thing that strikes one in Paris on arriving from England is the embonpoint of the women. By the powers! they seem to be having a good time under the Republic. What development! What exuberance! Ladies, it is really alarming: a little moderation, pray, or you will soon have to throw your corsets over the hedge.
The Englishwoman walks on the flat foot, and lets her arms hang; the Frenchwoman puts her toes to the ground first, and her arms are folded in front of her: it is more graceful, but not so comfortable. The last time I visited Paris, I saw with pleasure that the high, pointed heels, that were stuck in the centre of the sole, had begun to give place to the English heels: this is a great progress.
And, mesdames, since you are beginning to imitate what is sensible in the English toilette, allow me to give you a piece of advice that your husbands will be very pleased to see you follow.