The Temptation of Eve
"My Love in her attire doth shew her wit."
IT is an old and honoured jest that Eve—type of eternal womanhood—sacrified the peace of Eden for the pleasures of dress. We see this jest reflected in the satire of the Middle Ages, in the bitter gibes of mummer and buffoon. We can hear its echoes in the invectives of the reformer,—"I doubt," said a good fifteenth-century bishop to the ladies of England in their horned caps,—"I doubt the Devil sit not between those horns." We find it illustrated with admirable naïveté in the tapestries which hang in the entrance corridor of the Belle Arti in Florence.
These tapestries tell the downfall of our first parents. In one we see the newly created and lovely Eve standing by the side
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