124 
TAINE’S “TRAVELS IN ITALY.” 
[Nature and Art, September 1, 1866. 
a manufacture in all but the feathers of which it is inge- 
niously formed — a little glittering cheat, spreading its 
artificially-made wings over the golden circlet. Humming- 
bird jewellery may not become common, but it is new, and 
that fits it exactly for my pen. 
For some time chains and medals have been the rage — 
curls have been imprisoned, white throats encircled, bonnets 
laden, and dresses ornamented with these emblems of thral- 
dom ; they have been twisted in the hair, to fall in loops on 
the neck ; and, as with the savage princesses of the Oceanic 
islands, suspended to the ears in guise of ear-rings. The 
gilt sequins have become old ; we are all tired of their 
Oriental charms. Eastern Jew dealers have worn the style 
threadbare, and fashion has consigned them to oblivion. 
Paris has started its own medal style, and, with chains, it 
is becoming quite the mode. I have seen a number of 
ombrelles ( parasols we call them now, d V Anglaise) with a 
medal on each segment, and chains connecting the tip of 
each rib with the next, and, in some cases, festooned on the 
silk. I have seen black silk parasols with chains and medals 
in frosted silver, and blue parasols with oxidized ornaments. 
Sometimes, too, small stuffed birds and bright-winged but- 
terflies are placed hovering on the sun-shades ; but to 
my eye they look awkward, though, of course, it may be 
said, in defence of the fancy, that birds and butterflies 
might pause in their flight, and poise on the passing silken 
canopy. I confess I had rather not have my parasol laden 
with medals and chains, however pretty ; but some people 
are so fond of novelty that the incongruity does not strike 
them, and things really pretty in themselves earn their 
admiration and gain their support without their troubling 
themselves much about the convenience ; and then the 
clinquant, some gentlemen say, is itself dear enough to the 
female senses — an assertion which we must, of course, repel 
as an impertinence. 
If medals and chains are out of place on a parasol, they 
are pretty enough elsewhere, and I send you sketches, 
which I was compelled to reduce to one half the real size to 
get them on to my paper, of two neck ribbons which are 
extremely pretty. They are of black, or purple watered 
silk, with gold ornaments, or of blue, with oxidized silver. 
Where the medallions are really good, these neck ribbons 
are very tasteful. The mixture of metal with the silk in 
the tassels is effective and artistic, carrying the idea 
throughout. 
At the foot of my sketch is another article de Paris, 
a gilt comb, also with chains effectively disposed, and, 
suspended from the comb top, are drops of the brilliant 
. German crystal, as it is called, but which, I rather suspect, 
owes its beauty, and its cracklin appearance in the interior, 
to human ingenuity. In the present case the drops are green, 
but I have seen them of different colours, and sometimes 
of clear crystal. 
Can I leave unheeded the inexhaustible subject of 
bonnets ? Its elevated position seems to assert its right 
and demand a gracious word. The fashions of ladies’ 
bonnets vary a hundred times in a quarter of a century, 
and the last is always the most charming. What endless 
fancy Paris has lavished to produce the marvellous trans- 
formations of gauze and ribbons, lace, straw, and flowers 
of the present day, those fairy-like fabrics, mere charming 
pretexts to pose on the hair ! I was beginning to imagine 
that her resources must be nearly exhausted, but she is 
proving their richness more than ever. 
One of the last creations of Parisian coquetry is the 
fanclion espagnol, most pretty but most fanciful. It is 
composed of a broad piece of black lace fastened by two 
flowers ; one nestling in the hair, and the other placed on 
the brides, where they cross beneath the chin. I am not at 
all sure about the taste of the inspiration which produced 
the pouff dejleur, but its novelty at least merits a descrip- 
tion. A large rose on the summit of the head forms the 
bonnet ; the gauze brides which secure it are fastened under 
the chin by a small rose, and the whole is sprinkled with 
glass “tears” imitating drops of dew. I have not yet 
seen it on a pretty head, where, perhaps, this new rose- 
bonnet might win my admiration in spite of me. 
Paris is getting out of town as fast as possible, flying 
from the hot, dusty grandeur of the bouleva/rcls to breathe 
the fresh, pure air of the country, before seeking the still 
fresher breezes of the Bains de Mer. It is horrible to 
have to acknowledge being here still ; but, as I am, I 
send you what I trust will not be unacceptable. 
K. E. F. 
TAINE’S TRAVELS IN ITALY.* 
S O much has been written about Italy, that to 
look for anything new upon this subject seems 
somewhat Utopian. Yet novelty may arise, not 
from the country itself and its invaluable treasures, 
but from the mind and ideas of the writer. In 
fact, almost every person who visits Italy returns 
with different opinions about everything there, so 
that human organs may be said to possess percep- 
tions as varied as the expression of individual 
features and physiognomy. Now, M. Taine has 
explored no unknown corner of Rome or Naples ; 
he has made no archaeological discovery ; he has 
elucidated no pendent question about doubtful 
pictures or uncertain authorship ; he has, in fact, 
gone through the ordinary routine of travellers in 
Italy, and yet his book is a most interesting one, 
merely from the original point of view in which 
the writer has placed himself throughout his artistic 
rambles. 
M. H. Taine belongs to that young and some- 
* Voyage en Italie. By M. Taino. Yol. I. Naples and 
Rome. Paris, 1866. 
what boisterous school, of which M. Edmond 
About also is a member. After passing some years 
at the ecole normale — a nursery not only of able 
professors, but of lively and clever journalists — the 
former entered literary life with critical articles 
in the Journal cles Debats. When literature 
left his pen unoccupied, the young professor, in 
partibus, made excursions in the dominions of art, 
and attracted attention by his bold expression of 
daring (or at least so considered) views on men and 
things about which so many people, especially in 
France, think there can be only one reasonable 
point of view. 
M. Taine’s deliberate and independent disposi- 
tion made him at once a decided favourite with the 
younger portion of his contemporaries, and no 
lecture-room is so full, no lesson better attended, 
than Taine’s course of Aesthetics and the History of 
Art at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris. It 
was that notorious sympathy, together with his 
undoubted talent, that secured for the young pro- 
fessor a .position which lie, with his political ideas, 
would not have postulated any more than the 
