in a Brussels lace dress, worth some fabulous
number of hundreds of guineas. No: our
dolls are not made to set off the dresses; they
are beauties, beauteously beautiful in
themselves, and only attired because it is proper
so to be in public, and because they deserve
to be well-dressed.

We feel that our dolls would feel
themselves neglected if we were to wander far
from their little world; but the wax modelling
of the " human face divine," tempts us to say
a word or two concerning anatomical models.
Many of these are extraordinary productions,
developing the minuteness of anatomical detail
with wonderful correctness. Dr. Auzoux, of
Paris, is a master in this art. He has
produced, among other wax models, one of
the entire human body, life size, composed of
a hundred and thirty separate pieces, which
may be detached, and made to exhibit seventeen
hundred vessels, nerves, muscles, arteries,
&c. In a second model, also life size, he
exhibits on one side all the superficial veins;
and on the other the bones, with the complete
vascular net-work of arteries and veins, from
the heart to their minutest ramifications, with
the nervous ganglia and the lymphatic vessels.
A third example is the brain, with all its
learned divisions into cerebrum, cerebellum,
and medulla oblongata; so that we can study
our bumps with true phrenological ardour.
Nor does the biped man alone engage the
attention of Dr. Auzoux; he has modelled a
waxen horse, about four feet high, in two
hundred pieces, and exhibiting more than
three thousand arteries and other minute
anatomical details—all imitating the colour
and forms of the original as closely as human
skill can effect it. The modelling of fruit
and flowers in wax is another example of this
beautiful art, as we have lately had many
opportunities of seeing, in the exquisite
imitations of the Victoria Regia, the fuchsia, &c.
The art of modelling small figures in wax, for
other purposes than mere dolls, has attained
to great excellence. Witness the remarkable
group of Mexican figures by Montanari—
figures which show, much better than
pictures, the appearance and costume of the
inhabitants of that country, from the Indian
of the wide-spreading plains, to the Spaniard
of the capital. There are twelve civilised
Indians, such as are met with in the environs
of the city of Mexico, laden with produce
and manufactures; there are twelve mecos, or
Indians of the less civilised districts; there
are four blacks, employed at different
occupations; there is a pretty scene representing
a court-yard in Mexico, with a wealthy
farmer and his lady preparing to ride on the
same horse, and a groom holding the reins;
there is another group of three figures, dancing
the never-ending Spanish fandango; there
is a painful figure, portraying the last hours
of life in consumption; and another of rather
a ticklish nature, representing an American
Indian preparing to scalp a white traveller.
Among the larger productions in the same
material are those most captivating heads of
ladies and gentlemen which are to be seen in
the windows of the barb—we were about to say
barbers, but we will rather say perruquiers.
Never certainly were such beautiful men seen
elsewhere; never such blushing complexions
and attractive hair, such arched eye-brows,
such long eye-lashes, such luxurious whiskers,
mustachios, and beards; how such men could
ever wash their faces without ruining their
hair, we cannot conceive. The French are
famous for their skill in making these paragons
of beauty, in hair-work more especially. But
beauty is only skin-deep; and there are dolls
with actual accomplishments.

The triumph of genius in doll-making is to
produce a doll which will speak. Few are
such examples, and necessarily somewhat
costly. This is mechanism, true mechanism;
and the doll rises to the dignity of an
automaton. What was the mechanical pigeon of
Archytas, and the clock of Charlemagne, and
the speaking head by Roger Bacon, and the
fly of Regiomontanus; what was the automaton
made by Albertus Magnus, which opened its
door when any one knocked?— were they not
all dolls, pleasant and curious but not useful?
Then there were the little actors who
represented a pantomime in five acts; and M.
Camus's wonderful production of the coach
and horses, and lady and page; and
Vaucanson's flute-player and flageolet-player;
and Mälzel's trumpet-player; and M. Droz's
artist; and Vaucanson's duck, which—if Dr.
Hutton's account of it can be believed—not
only dabbled in the water, swam, drank,
quacked, moved its wings, dressed its feathers
with its bill, extended its neck, took barley,
swallowed it, and exhibited the natural motion
of the throat, but actually digested the food
by means of materials having the requisite
solvent properties.* We do not say that our
speaking-dolls equal these marvels, but we do
say that they are—just as useful. A doll that
can say "papa" and "mamma" is a veritable
automaton, and requires the same kind of
study as that which produced the more noted
examples, though of course less in degree.
Speaking-dolls are made only in very small
number, and we believe by only one person:
such a doll would be worth picking to pieces.

Whether the Indian Thugs are to be
ranked among doll-makers, is a knotty
question; but the series of little figures made
by a native artist at Madras, and placed
in the British Museum as illustrative of
Thuggee, are very dramatic dolls in their
way. Wherein Thuggee consists the readers
of this journal are not quite ignorant; but
the whole affair is exhibited in due form
by these figures. First is a group of figures,
showing how a traveller on horseback is
strangled by means of a handkerchief. Next is
a group showing how, with the handkerchief

          * See Household Words, vol. iv. p. 502.