nique by reason of scientific discoveries,
mechanical inventions and chemical achievements, coupled with the
gigantic political upheaval of the French Revolution.

It is unique, distinguished and enormously fruitful. For example, the
modern frenzy for chintz, which has made our homes burst into bloom in
endless variety, had its origin in the eighteenth century looms at Jouy,
near Versailles, under the direction of Oberkampf.

Before 1760 silks and velvets decorated man and his home. Royal
patronage co-operating with the influence of such great decorators as
Percier and Fontaine gave the creating of beautiful stuffs to the silk
factories of Lyons.

Printed linens and painted wall papers appeared in France
simultaneously, and for the same reason. The Revolution set mass-taste
(which is often stronger than individual inclination), toward
unostentatious, inexpensive materials for house furnishing and wearing
apparel.

The Revolution had driven out royalty and the high aristocracy who, with
changed names lived in seclusion. Society, therefore, to meet the
mass-desire, was driven to simple ways of living. Men gave up their
silks and velvets and frills, lace and jewels for cloth, linen, and
sombre neck-cloths. The women did the same; they wore muslin gowns and
their own hair, and went to great length in the affectation of
simplicity and patriotic fervour.

We hear that, apropos of America having at this moment entered the great
struggle with the Central Powers, simplicity is decreed as smart for the
coming season, and that those who costume themselves extravagantly,
furnish their homes ostentatiously or allow their tables to be lavish,
will be frowned upon as bad form and unpatriotic.

These reactions are inevitable, and come about with the regularity of
_tides_ in this world of perpetual repetition.

The belles of the Directorate shook their heads and bobbed their pretty
locks at the artificiality Marie Antoinette et cie had practised. I fear
they called it sinful art to deftly place a patch upon the face, or make
a head-dress in the image of a man-of-war.

Mme. de Stael's familiar head-dress, twisted and wrapped around her head
a la Turque, is said to have had its origin in the improvisation of the
court hairdresser. Desperately groping for another version of the
top-heavy erection, to humour the lovely queen, he seized upon a piece
of fine lace and muslin hanging on a chair at hand, and twisting it,
wrapped the th