,
upon the absurdities of the world. Fashion could not supply the place of
reason, if reason were not absent; and most irrational and unaccountable
indeed are all her ladyship's ways. Her capriciousness is proverbial,
and her agency is generally illustrated by comparison with the most
unsteady elements of the physical world. We say "Fashion that
_fluctuating_ lady," alluding to the ebbing and flowing of the tide--and
"Fashion that weathercock," implying that she veers about with every
puff of wind. There are some few cases, however, on the other hand, in
which she may be compared to a rock, because she stands immovably fixt
to her seat; supplying, according to the idea of the philosopher
abovementioned, the place of reason, who stands self-exiled forever. It
would seem as if fashion never could take repose but in supreme
irrationality. There and there alone she is firm. Whoever will take the
trouble (or rather the pleasure) to read "Browne's Vulgar Errors," will
see how much deeper root absurd notions strike in "the brain of this
foolish compounded clay man," than those that belong to sound sense and
reason. The insignia of fashion, therefore, may be considered in
relation to the human head, as the notification on the door of an empty
house, signifying that the family has removed to another tenement. Hence
no one of common sense expects any caprice of that lady to be accounted
for on rational grounds. There is one of her freaks, however, which we
have endeavoured to trace to its source in the wilds of luxuriant
absurdity, and have never been able to succeed. Nay, we venture to
affirm that if the most sagacious man in America were asked, why it was
considered a violation of the laws of fashion for a lady to attend the
theatre on the opening night of a season, he would be puzzled for any
other reply than that it was permanently fashionable, because it was
prodigiously absurd. On the opening of our theatre this season the house
was full of MEN. The audience presented one dark tissue of drab and
brown, and black and blue woolen drapery, with here and there a solitary
exception of cheering female attire. Had there been a heavy fall of
snow, the ladies would have been sleighing--had there been a public ball
the darkness of the streets would have been broken by multitudes of
attractive meteors in muslin, either "hanging on the cheek of night," or
hurried along like gossamer through the air. But fashion has so ordained
it: and a