The history of fashion in France : $b or, the dress of women from the Gallo-Roman period to the present time — Challamel, Augustin

THE HISTORY OF FASHION IN FRANCE.

THE
HISTORY OF FASHION
IN FRANCE;

OR,

THE DRESS OF WOMEN FROM THE GALLO-ROMAN
PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME.

_FROM THE FRENCH OF_
M. AUGUSTIN CHALLAMEL.

BY
MRS. CASHEL HOEY AND MR. JOHN LILLIE.

[Illustration]

London:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1882.
[_All rights reserved._]

LONDON:
PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,
ST. JOHN’S SQUARE.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

INTRODUCTION.

Various definitions of fashion—The grave side of its
history—Quotations from the poets—Character of Frenchwomen—The
refinement of their tastes and fancies—Paris the temple of
fashion—The provinces—Mdlle. Mars’ yellow gown—The causes
of fashion—A saying of Mme. de Girardin’s—A remark of Mrs.
Trollope’s—The dress of actresses—Earliest theories of
fashion—The Gynæceum of Amman—First appearance of the “Journal
des Dames et des Modes”—Lamésangère—Other publications—An
anecdote concerning dolls—Plan of the History of Fashion in
France 1

CHAPTER I.

THE GALLIC AND GALLO-ROMAN PERIOD.

Gallic period—Woad, or the pastel—Tunics and boulgètes—“Mavors”
and “Palla”—Cleanliness of the Gallic women—The froth
of beer or “kourou”—The women of Marseilles; their
marriage-portions—Gallo-Roman period—The Roman garment—The
“stola”—Refinement of elegance—Extravagant luxury of
women—Artificial aids—A “vestiaire” or wardrobe-room of the
period—Shoes—Jewels and ornaments—The amber and crystal
ball—Influence of the barbarians 13

CHAPTER II.

THE MEROVINGIAN PERIOD.

Modifications in female dress after the Invasion of the
Franks—Customs of the latter—The Merovingians—Costumes of skins
and felt; cloaks and camlets—The coif, the veil, the skull-cap,
the “guimpe,” the cape—Fashionable Merovingian ladies adorn
themselves with flowers—Various articles of dress—The
“suint”—Young girls dress their hair without ornaments—St.
Radégonde—The hair of married women 21

CHAPTER III.

THE CARLOVINGIAN PERIOD.

Reign of Charlemagne—The women of the tenth century wear two
tunics—Judith’s belt—A veil is obligatory—Miniatures in the
Mazarin Library—Charles the Bald’s Bible—Shoes—Dress of Queen
Lutgarde—Dress of Rotrude and Bertha—Gisla and other kinswomen
of the Emperor—The successors of Charlemagne—Cannes—Adelaide of
Vermandois—The dress of widows 25

CHAPTER IV.

THE CARLOVINGIAN PERIOD.

Earliest times of the Carlovingian period—Variety of
costume in the provinces—Fashions in the Duchy of
France—French taste dating from the eleventh century—Luxury
increases with each generation—The dominical—The
“bliaud”—Canes of apple-wood—Women in the twelfth
century—Head-dresses—“Afiche”—Serpent-tails—Pelisses—The
thirteenth century—“Grèves” and veils are in fashion—The
“couvre-chef” in the fourteenth century—The skirt, or
“cotte-hardie,” surcoat, or overall, or over-skirt, cape,
trained skirt, and “gauzape”—Accessories—Emblazoned
gowns—Various kinds of stuffs 31

CHAPTER V.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE CRUSADES.

Severity of feminine costume—Long gowns and
_guimpes_—Marguerite of Provence—“Fermaux”—Reappearance
of splendour in dress—Eastern customs—The priests
of fashion—Haberdashery and peacock-feathers—Female
embroiderers—Taste for embroidery—Continual
temptations—Earliest sumptuary laws—Furs—St. Louis’s opinion
on dress—Prohibitions by Philippe le Bel; speech made by his
wife—Crépine 39

CHAPTER VI.

REIGNS OF JOHN AND OF CHARLES V.

The States of Languedoc—A young French lady in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries—Low dresses—Saying of
a mercer—_Damoiselles_—_Garnaches_ and _garde-corps_—_Le
Parement des dames_—Social distinctions—High character is worth
more than gilded belt—Precious stones—The castles and other
dwellings of the Middle Ages—Splendid furniture—Humble abodes
of the poor—Evening assemblies 45

CHAPTER VII.

REIGNS OF CHARLES VI. AND CHARLES VII.

Taste in dress becomes purer—Heart-shaped head-coverings,
the “cornette,” and the “hennin” in the reign of Charles
VI.—Husbands complain—Preachers denounce—Thomas Connecte
declaims against the diabolic invention—Brother Richard tries
to reform it—The “hennin” gains the victory—Costume of Jeanne
de Bourbon—“Escoffion”—An absurd figure—Gravouère—Isabeau
de Bavière—Gorgiasetés—Tripes—Splendour of the court—Agnes
Sorel—“Coiffe adournée;” diamonds; the carcan—Walking-sticks 51

CHAPTER VIII.

REIGNS OF LOUIS XI., CHARLES VIII., AND LOUIS XII.

Duchesses and bourgeoises under Louis XI.—“La grand’gorre,”
or sumptuosity—The “troussoire”—Allegorical and moral
costumes—Trains—Head-dresses—“Collets rebrassés”—Wigs
and false hair—Some results of the war in Italy—Italian
fashions—“Sollerets” and slippers—Gorgets—Garters—Jean Marot
writes against novelties—Anne of Brittany—Pins—Menot “the
golden-tongued”—A Parisian in the time of Louis XII.—Coat à
l’Italienne—Manufacture of stuffs 61

CHAPTER IX.

REIGN OF FRANCIS I.

The court of Francis I.—A speech of Charles V.—The
king’s liberality—Order of the Cordelière—Word-paintings
of the fashions of the day, by Rabelais—Costumes of
the seasons—Feather-fans—Sunshades—The “hoche-plis” or
vertugadin—Mme. de Tressan saves her cousin’s life—Satires
and songs—Mdlle. de Lacépède—“Contenances”—Silk shoes with
slashes—Head-dress called a “passe-filon”—Increase of love of
dress—The bean-flower—Artistic head-dresses—Twists of hair
called _ratraprenades_—Ferronières—Coaches in Paris; their
influence on the fashions 71

CHAPTER X.

REIGN OF HENRI II.

Fashions under Henri II.—The ruff—A satirical print of
the time—Catherine de Médicis eats soup—The Italian
taste—Regulations for dress—Crimson—Who shall wear silk?—Lines
on velvet, by Ronsard—Rotonde—“Collet monté”—Spring-water—Style
of gowns and head-dresses—Wired sleeves—Girdles—Caps, bonnets,
and hoods—The “touret de nez”—The “coffin à roupies”—Shoes—A
quotation from Rabelais 81

CHAPTER XI.

REIGN OF FRANCIS II.

The earliest queens of fashion—Mary Stuart’s costumes;
her jewels—Description of bodices and sleeves of that
period—Crosses—The “loup” or small mask—Coiffure “en
raquette”—An anecdote concerning high heels—Regulations
respecting fashion—Remark of a lady of our own day on
distinctions in dress—Exordium of the Edict of July 12,
1549—Maximum of marriage portions—The first knitted silk
stockings 89

CHAPTER XII.

REIGN OF CHARLES IX.

The wars of religion—The fashions of Italy are brought
across the Alps, and are welcomed in France—Effects of
the expeditions into Italy—Articles from Venice and Genoa
are very fashionable—A cloud of sugar-plums, and a shower
of scents—Effeminate style of dress—Charles IX. and his
Edicts against extravagant display—Fashion rebels against
sumptuary laws—Women of high rank, bourgeoises, widows,
and spinsters—Wedding dresses—Observations of a Venetian
ambassador—“Corps piqué”—Drawers—Paint—Cosmetics—Breast
mirrors, girdle mirrors—Court dresses—“Arcelets” 95

CHAPTER XIII.

REIGN OF HENRI III.

Opposition to the laws of King Henri III. on dress—The wife
of President N——.—How both sexes evaded the edicts—Gowns
from Milan—Mixture of masculine and feminine fashions—Rage
for perfumes—Recognition of rank is demanded—Costumes
worn at Cognac by Marguerite de Valois in presence of the
Polish ambassadors, and her costume at Blois—Brantôme’s
opinion—Pointed bodices, puffed-out sleeves, and
“bourrelets”—Remarks on hair—Ridiculous dress of men—Poucet,
the preacher—Satirical lines on Joyeuse—Witty remark of Pierre
de l’Estoile—Starch used by Henri III.—Cushions 103

CHAPTER XIV.

REIGNS OF HENRI IV. AND LOUIS XIII.

Universal mourning on the death of the Guises; intolerance
of showy dress—Vertugadins, “espoitrement,” “corps
espagnolé”—Diversity of colours—The pearls, jewels,
and diamonds belonging to Gabrielle d’Estrées and
to the queen—Dress of Marguerite de France—Low-cut
bodices—Head-dresses of hair—Various styles—Venetian
slippers—Edicts of Louis XII.—Caricatures: “Pompe funèbre de
la Mode”—Words and fashions—Ribbons or “galants”—Dress of
widows—“Demi-ceint” girdles—Gloves of all sorts—Patches—Masks;
their use—“Cache-laid”—The Frondeuses—Mme. de Longueville 113

CHAPTER XV.

REIGN OF LOUIS XIV.

Louis XIV. commands—Court luxury and pleasure; disguises—The
Temple jewellery—Fashion and etiquette—Successive
fashions—Royal edicts—The “Tombeau du sens commun”—Dress
of La Vallière—Of Mme. de Montespan—Costume of a
lady of rank in 1668—The “échelles de Mme. de la
Reynie”—“Transparencies”—Manufactures—Champagne, the
hair-dresser—Female hair-dressers—“Hurluberlus” and Mme. de
Sévigné—Moustaches for women; patches—Palatines—Slippers;
high heels—Corsets; fans; sweet lemons—Dog-muffs—Hair
dressed “à la Fontanges”—English style of dressing
hair—“Esther”—Steinkerks—“Crémonas”—“Amadis” and Jansenist
sleeves—Hair dressed “à l’effrontée”—Dresses of the Duchesse de
Bourgogne—Mignardises 125

CHAPTER XVI.

REIGN OF LOUIS XIV. (CONTINUED).

Painted faces—Reply of a Turkish ambassador—Ineffectual
criticism—Mme. Turcaret’s “pretintailles”—Mme. Bonnet’s
law-suit—Brocaded materials—“Andriennes”—“Criardes”—Return
of “hoops” and paniers—A sailor’s leap—Actresses’ paniers,
and the Greek head-dress—Mme. de Létorières—D’Hèle arrives
frozen at the Café Procope—Waterproofs—Finishing touches—Fans
and fan-makers in the seventeenth century—What Mme. de
Staël-Holstein thought of fans—Transition 143

CHAPTER XVII.

REIGN OF LOUIS XV.

The Regency—War is declared against paniers—The Oratorian
Duguet—Opinion of the “Journal de Verdun”—Various
publications against paniers—Lines by Voltaire—Whale-fishery
company—Paragraph from the “Journal de Barbier”—Mmes. Jaucourt,
De Seine, Delisle, Clairon, and Hus—Lines in praise of
corsets—New bodices—Coloured prints are forbidden—“Perses”
or “Persiennes”—Bagnolette—Adjuncts of dress: necklaces,
ridicules, and poupottes—Contents of a patch-box—A sermon
by Massillon—“Les mouches de Massillon,” or Massillon’s
patches—“Filles de Mode,” or Fashion-girls—Some passing
fashions—Powder remains in fashion—“Monte-au-ciel”—Simply made
gowns—The first cachemire 151

CHAPTER XVIII.

REIGN OF LOUIS XVI.

The influence of Marie Antoinette on fashion—Letter from
Maria Theresa—Léonard and Mdlle. Bertin—Various styles
of head-dresses—“Pouf”—The “Journal de Paris”—Reign of
Louis XVI.—Male and female hair-dressers—Plumes—Hair
worn low—The queen’s “puce”-coloured gown; shades of
colour in dresses—Oberkampf and the Jouy prints—Expensive
satins—Trimmings, their great number and importance—Gauze,
blond, tulle, and ribbons—Some kinds of shoes—Venez-y-voir—The
“Archduchess” ribbons—A dress worn at the opera 161

CHAPTER XIX.

REIGN OF LOUIS XVI. (CONTINUED).

Peasant dress is universal—Fashion “à la
Marlborough”—Caps—Bonnets—Mdlles. Fredin and Quentin—Ruches—Low
bodices; “postiches”—Costume of Contat-Suzanne—Fashions “à
la Figaro”—Literature and politics signified in dress; the
Princess de Monaco’s pouf—Pouf “à la circonstance;” the
“inoculation” pouf—The “innocence made manifest” caraco—The
“harpy” costume—Coats, cravats, and waistcoats—Sailor jackets
and “pierrots”—Déshabillés; “the lying fichu”—Etiquette in
dress—Seasonable costumes—The queen’s card-table—State of trade
in Paris, _circa_ 1787—“Pinceauteuses,” or female colourers 171

CHAPTER XX.

THE FRENCH REPUBLIC.

The year 1789—Masculine style of dress—The double dress
vanishes—Caps “à la grande prêtresse,” “à la pierrot,”
and “à la laitière”—The “pouf” bonnet—Paint and powder
disappear—Prediction by the _Cabinet des Modes_—Anonymous
caps—Cap “à la Charlotte Corday”—Trinkets “à la Bastille”—Mme.
de Genlis’ locket—Cap “à la Bastille”—Federal uniforms—Claims
to equality in dress—Reaction under the Directory—“Incroyables”
and “merveilleuses”—Coiffures “à la victime” and “à la
Titus”—Blond wigs and black wigs—The Hôtel Thélusson—_Which is
the most ridiculous?_—Mme. Tallien’s costume—Epigram on bonnets
“à la folle”—Reticules—Transparent dresses—Lines by Despréaux 179

CHAPTER XXI.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON I.

Fashions under the Empire—Sacks—“Personnes cossues”—A saying of
Napoleon’s—White gowns—Valenciennes lace—Ball dresses; walking
dresses—Polish “toquets” and bonnets—Turbans—Muslins—Artificial
flowers—Wenzel’s manufactory; “The Offspring of Imposture,”
Campenon’s verses—Parisian ladies, as sketched by Horace
Vernet—Stays—Cashmeres—Protest by Piis—Ternaux assists
in establishing the manufacture of cashmere shawls in
France—Cotton stuffs—Richard Lenoir; importance of the Rouen
manufacture—Violets during the Hundred Days—The “eighteen
folds,” and white silk 191

CHAPTER XXII.

REIGNS OF LOUIS XVIII. AND CHARLES X.

Importation of foreign fashions in 1815—White dresses,
white feathers, and fleurs de lys—Emigrant ladies—Russian
toques—Male and female dressmakers—Ruchings—Short sleeves
and long gloves—Herbault’s bonnets—“Chefs”—Anglomania in
1815—Green gauze veils; spencers—The “canezou”—Lacroix, the
stay-maker—Dr. Pelletan and Charles X.—Wasps—The “Ourika”
fashions—The famous leg-of-mutton sleeves—Fashions “à
l’Ipsiboé,” “au Trocadéro,” and “à la Dame Blanche”—Blonde caps
and turbans—Head-dresses—Fashions “à la giraffe;” “the last
sigh of Jocko”—Female book-keepers; shopwomen—The Café des
Mille-Colonnes 197

CHAPTER XXIII.

REIGN OF LOUIS PHILIPPE.

The Revolution of July, 1830—Fashions in Louis
Philippe’s reign—Microscopical bonnets, called “bibis,”
“cabriolets”—Variety of caps—Fashions of the Middle Ages and
of the Renaissance—The stage—Historic costumes—Influence of
Rachel, the actress—Greek and Roman fashions—Colours—Various
designations of materials—Bedouin sleeves—Bonnets and
head-dresses—Pamela bonnets—Novel eccentricities—Taglioni
gowns, gathered “à la Vierge,” laced “à la Niobé,” &c.—The
“Sylvestrine”—Costumes to be worn on occasions of attempts on
the king’s life—Bouquets for balls 205

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SECOND REPUBLIC.

Tricoloured stuffs of 1848—Girondin mantles—Open gowns—Summer
dresses—Kasawecks and their derivatives—Beaver bonnets; velvet
bonnets, and satin or crape drawn bonnets—Cloches, Cornelia,
Moldavian, and Josephine cloaks; mantles—Isly green—Opera
cloaks—Numerous styles of dressing the hair: à la Marie
Stuart, à la Valois, Léda, Proserpine, and Ceres—Marquise
parasols—Jewellery—Straw bonnets—“Orleans” and “armure”—Work
reticule or bag—“Chinés”—Pagoda sleeves—Waistcoats; basque
bodices—New and economical canezous 213

CHAPTER XXV.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III.

Ready-made mantles—Talmas, mousquetaires, and rotondes—The
Second Empire; reminiscences of the reign of Napoleon
I.—Marriage of Napoleon III.; dress of the new Empress; her
hair dressed by Félix Escalier; court mantle and train—Four
kinds of dress—Opera dress in 1853-4—Bodices “à la Vierge,”
Pompadour bodices, and Watteau bodices—Skirt trimmings—A
new colour, “Théba”—Light tints—Social and theatrical
celebrities—The Eugénie head-dress and Mainnier bands—End of
the first period of Imperial fashions 221

CHAPTER XXVI.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

Crinoline inaugurates the second era of Imperial fashions—The
reign of crinoline—Starched petticoats—Whaleboned
petticoats—Steel hoops—Two camps are formed, one in favour
of, and one inimical to crinoline—Large collars—Marie
Antoinette fichus and mantles—Exhibition of 1855—Cashmere
shawls—Pure cashmeres—Indian cashmere shawls—Indian woollen
shawls—“Mouzaia” shawls—Algerian burnouses—Pompadour
parasols—Straight parasols—School for fans—The fan drill—The
Queen of Oude’s fans—The Charlotte Corday fichu 227

CHAPTER XXVII.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

Sea-bathing and watering-places—Special
costumes—Travelling-bags—Hoods and woollen shawls—Convenient
style of dress—Kid and satin boots; high heels—Introduction
of the “several” and the “Ristori”—Expensive
pocket-handkerchiefs—Waists are worn shorter—Zouave, Turkish,
and Greek jackets—Bonnet-fronts—Gold trimmings universally
used—Tarlatane, tulle, and lace 233

CHAPTER XXVIII.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

Fashions in 1860 and 1861—Jewellery—Shape of “Russian”
bonnets—Nomenclature of girdles—Different styles of dressing
the hair—The “Ceres” wreath—Flowers and leaves for the
hair—Prohibition of green materials—Anecdotes from the
_Union Médicale_ and the _Journal de la Nièvre_—Cloth and
silk mantles—Braid and astrakan—Four types of bonnet—Morning
bonnets—Artificial flowers 237

CHAPTER XXIX.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

Sunshades, en-tout-cas, _métis_, in 1862—Sailors’ jackets,
jerseys, and pilot-jackets—Princess or demi-princess gowns;
Swiss bodices; corset or postillion belts—Lydia and Lalla
Rookh jackets; Vespertina opera cloaks—“Longchamps is no
more”—Bois de Boulogne—Russian or Garibaldi bodices—Paletot
vest—Empress belt—1885 patents for inventions regarding
dress are taken out in 1864—Victoria skeleton skirts; Indian
stays; train-supporters—“Titian”-coloured hair—The Peplum in
1866—Épicycloïde steels; aquarium earrings—Description of a
court ball-dress—The fashions of Louis XV., Louis XVI., and the
Empire are revived—Sedan chairs—Handkerchiefs at all prices 241

CHAPTER XXX.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (END).

Five different styles of dressing the hair in 1868 and
1869—“Petit catogan;” three triple bandeaus—The hair is
worn loose—Dress of the Duchess de Mouchy—Refinements of
fashion—Various journals—New shades—Crinoline is attacked; it
resists; it succumbs—Chinese fashions 247

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE THIRD REPUBLIC.

The years 1870 and 1871—The siege of Paris—General
mourning—Simplicity and economy—Parisian velvet and
pekin—A concert costume—A cloth costume—Alsatian bows and
costumes—Soirées at the Presidency—Marie Stuart and Michael
Angelo bonnets—“Hunting stockings”—Rabagas hats—The years
1872 and 1873—Fan parasols—“Leopold Robert” bonnets—The
year 1873—Return of luxury—“Regent” belts and “sovereign”
dress-improvers—Silks—“Moderate” costumes—The burning of
the Opera House—Sale on behalf of those made orphans by the
war—The ball for the Lyons weavers—Cashmere tunics—Dislike
to gloves—Petticoats—Charles IX. shoes—Slippers—The
year 1874—“Page” bonnets and “Margot” hats—Hair in the
Swiss style; false hair—The ball given by the Chamber of
Commerce—Green—Jet—Various costumes—Hair-dressing—“Mercury”
bonnets 251

CHAPTER XXXII.

FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

Dinner, casino, and ball dresses in
1875—Importation of false hair—Manufacture in
France—Modification of waterproofs—“Estelle”
bonnets—Tunic aprons—Cuirass bodices—“Montespan”
sleeves—“Saut-du-lit”—Shoes of past times—“Bonnes-femmes”
pockets—Henri III. plumes—“Inez” veils—Ribbons and
flowers—Heavy style of dress—“Pouf” petticoats—Composite
fashions of 1876—Armenian toques—“Ophelia” bonnets; “Danichef”
bonnets—Mdlle. Bettina Rothschild’s wedding trousseau—A
splendid parasol—Gondolier hair-nets—“Baby” sashes and
“Baby” bonnets—“Fontanges” fichus—“Platitudes”—Red, as a
colour—Pockets of various kinds—Majestic appendages—Princess
dresses—Bouquets on the bodices—Hair dressed in the
Greek style—A thousand curls—Breton style—Organ-pipe
frills—Coat-bodices—Trinkets in black and silver 263

CHAPTER XXXIII.

FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY (CONTINUED).

The International Exhibition of 1878—Foreign countries—Japanese
fans—The little lace-makers of Peniche—Retrospective exhibition
of costume in France—“Considérations sur le vêtement des
femmes”, by M. Charles Blanc—Historical Exhibition at
the Trocadéro—Comprehensive glance at the curiosities of
that exhibition—“The Movement” in 1879—“Merveilleuse,”
“Niniche,” and other bonnets—Plush—Gown-stuff at a
hundred francs the yard—Scarfs, casaques, and various
bodices—Madras costumes—Under-clothing; chemise-corsets,
morning-gowns—“Housewife” fans; fan-holders—Trinkets—New
materials—Visites; jackets; bows; neckties—The year
1880—“Cabriolet” bonnets; “passe-montagnes”—The pilgrim
costume—Satins—Favourite colours—Vests—Art buttons—Bulgarian
costumes—Jerseys—Scented gloves—Flowers in profusion; a bridal
bouquet—Midshipman bonnets—Nordenskiold—Dust-cloaks—Revolution
in bonnets—Art and fashion—“Porte-veines” 277

CHAPTER XXXIV.

CONCLUSION 289

[Illustration]

THE HISTORY OF FASHION IN FRANCE.

INTRODUCTION.

Fashion is the expositor, from the standpoint of costume, of our habits
and our social relations; in a word, of everything appertaining to the
charm of life.

Therefore to write the history of female fashion in France is a more
serious task than it might seem to be at the first glance. The levity
of the subject is mastered by its moral interest. Montesquieu remarks,
in his “Lettres Persanes,” “A certain lady takes it into her head that
she must appear at an assembly in a particular costume; from that moment
fifty artisans have to go without sleep, or leisure either to eat or
drink. She commands, and is obeyed more promptly than a Shah of Persia,
because self-interest is the mightiest ruler upon the earth.”

Far from serving only as a source of frivolous talk, even when it is
specially concerned with our dress and ornamentation, the subject
of fashion, it has been wisely observed, has its value as a moral
sign-post, and supplies the historian, the philosopher, and the novelist
with a guide to the prevailing ideas of the time.

Fashion, in fact, acts as a sort of thermometer of the infinitely various
tastes of the day, which are influenced by many external circumstances.
It is the continuous development of clothing in its thousand varying
forms, in its most striking improvements, in its most graceful or most
whimsical fancies. The type of dress scarcely changes within the limits
of a century; but its adjuncts and characteristics vary frequently every
year.

To the proverb, “Tell me your friends, and I will tell you who you are,”
might we not add, after serious reflection, “Tell me how such a person
dresses, and I will tell you her character”?

Numerous poets have defined Fashion, and for the most part petulantly and
disdainfully. One of them says,—

“La mode est un tyran, des mortels respecté,
Digne enfant du dégoût et de la nouveauté.”[1]

Another adds,—

“Les modes sont certains usages
Suivis des fous, et quelquefois des sages,
Que le caprice invente et qu’approuve l’amour.”[2]

A third remarks with truth, and less severity,—

“Le sage n’est jamais le premier à les suivre,
Ni le dernier à les quitter.”[3]

And La Bruyère asserts that “it shows as much weakness to fly from
Fashion as to follow it closely.” We must not limit the causes of Fashion
to three only,—love of change, the influence of those with whom we live
and the desire of pleasing them, and the interests of traders in the
transient reign of objects of luxury, so that their place may be supplied
with fresh novelties. There remains to be pointed out a fourth and
nobler cause; it is the frequently though not always successful desire
to improve the art of dress, to increase its charm, and to advance its
progress.

We do not undertake to relate the history of fashion in male attire,
albeit its variations and singularities are by no means less numerous and
remarkable than those of the history of fashion for women, which in every
age has proved itself both powerful and tyrannical.

We must restrict ourselves to the garments worn by women in each
succeeding age, and indeed we must confine ourselves to France alone, if
we would achieve as complete a picture as possible of the transformations
in female dress from the time of the Gauls to the day on which we shall
have accomplished our task.

Grace, vivacity, and, we must add, caprice, are the distinguishing
characteristics of Frenchwomen. With some very few exceptions we
shall find the qualities or the failings of our charming countrywomen
reproduced in their mode of dress. Be she a peasant or a dweller in
cities, a working woman or a duchess, every Frenchwoman in town or
country reveals herself frankly by the clothes she wears. Her innate
desire to please makes her especially object to wear garments of any one
particular fashion for long. She is ingenious in devising countless novel
accessories to her dress, and adding to its effect. She adorns herself
with embroidery, with lace, and with jewels, and, if need be, with
flowers, that she may be irresistibly attractive.

A Frenchwoman endeavours to supplement those gifts bestowed upon her
by nature by the refinements of the toilet. She maintains that fashion
is never ridiculous, because good sense is never wanting in France to
curb extravagance, and good taste will ever preserve the harmonious
proportions that are an inherent necessity in dress.

It has been said by a woman of tact and observation, “It is perhaps
allowable to be sentimental in a sky-blue bonnet, but one must not cry in
a pink one.”

This remark as to the fitness of dress shows that Frenchwomen are
properly attentive to the harmony that should exist between the moral
state of a person and the garments suitable for her wear. Mme. Emile de
Girardin observes acutely, “There is but one way of wearing a beautiful
gown, and that is to forget it.”

“Go where you will,” wrote (in 1835) the travelled Englishwoman Mrs.
Trollope, “and you see French fashions, but only in Paris do you see
how they should be worn.... The dome of the Invalides, the towers of
Notre-Dame, the column of the Place Vendôme, the windmills of Montmartre
belong to Paris less essentially and less exclusively than the style of a
bonnet, a cap, a shawl, a curl, or a glove ... when worn by a Parisian in
the city of Paris.”

It is therefore perfectly true to say that a history of fashion in
women’s dress in France has a singular likeness to a history of the
French female character. There exists not a woman, according to Mme. de
Genlis, who does not possess at least one secret in the art of dress, and
that secret she is sure to keep to herself.

In France, the classic land of fancy, the empire of Fashion has assuredly
been more deeply felt than elsewhere. From time immemorial Frenchwomen
have altered their fashions each succeeding day. An eminently French poet
was thinking of his countrywomen when he composed the following lines,
which sum up all that has been said on our present interesting subject:—

“Il est une déesse inconstante, incommode,
Bizarre dans ses goûts, folle en ses ornements,
Qui paraît, fuit, revient, renaît en tous les temps;
Protée était son père et son nom est la Mode.”[4]

Now, Proteus the sea-god, in order to escape from questioning upon the
future, changed his shape at pleasure.

It might be said that the poet we have just quoted was referring to
Parisian ladies in particular; but this would be a mistake; for a great
number of elegant women reside in the provinces, and have quite as
fervent a devotion to the inconstant goddess as their Parisian sisters.
In former times Fashion reserved its great effects and its utmost
brilliancy for the rich only; in the present day it pervades every rank
of society, and exercises its influence even over the national costume of
the peasant; for a cotton gown will now be cut on the same pattern as a
velvet one.

All Frenchwomen like perpetual change in dress, and foreigners follow
French fashions almost implicitly. Spanish women only, actuated by their
national pride, refused for a long time to make any change in their
costume, yet even they are now beginning to dress “à la Française.”

At present the type of feminine dress always originates in Paris, and
spreads thence, throughout France, into the most distant regions of
Europe, and even into Asia and America. In both those countries our
fashion-books are widely circulated. “Paris,” writes a contemporary
author, “possesses the undisputed privilege of promulgating sumptuary
laws for nations. The fashions of Paris are and will be the fashions of
the world; that of which Paris approves will endure; that which Paris
condemns must disappear. But for the good taste and the fickleness of
Parisians, but for the inventive genius and manual dexterity of their
artisans, mankind might be clothed indeed, but never dressed.”

And what of womankind? Where is the Frenchwoman, the Englishwoman, the
Italian, the German, or the Russian, who does not require her milliner to
make her a bonnet on the pattern of those which emanate from a Parisian
‘atelier’? “France,” as Victor Hugo has said, “will always be in fashion
in Europe.” Those nations who are least in sympathy with her accept and
observe her laws on elegance and ‘ton.’

This can be proved by figures. The exportation of articles of fashion
manufactured in France reaches a very high figure; our importations of
foreign goods of the same kind are, on the contrary, quite insignificant.

The word “fashion” seems to convey to young people an almost absolute
sense of novelty. Yet are there distinctions. There is new and new, just
as, according to Molière, there are “fagots” and “fagots.” That which
is new to-day may be but a revival of what is old, a reminiscence of
the past. The axiom, “There is nothing new under the sun,” applies with
special force to Fashion.

What! nothing new? No, absolutely nothing. Who knows whether the pretty
trifles, the “mouches” worn by women at the present day, are not a
reproduction or at any rate an imitation of similar adornments once worn
by the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, or the Gauls?

The ruffs which are so generally worn at present were in fashion in the
time of Henri III. They were then an adjunct to masculine dress; they
hold their place now in a lady’s wardrobe.

As we study the history of the variations of Fashion in France alone,
we perceive that feminine fancy describes an endless circle; that a
particular garment is readily cast aside just in proportion as it has
been eagerly adopted; that supreme, unjust, and unreasonable contempt
succeeds to irresistible attraction.

Fashion changes her idols at times with such rapidity, that one might
exclaim with reference to female dress,—

“Je n’ai fait que passer, il n’était déjà plus!”

It frequently happens that the general public will adopt any costume,
however eccentric, which has been worn by a celebrated person. That which
seemed hideous before the whim of a celebrity induced her to appear in
it, becomes the height of fashion immediately afterwards.

We may quote as an instance of this an anecdote that appears in the
“Indiscrétions et Confidences” of Audebert, a work published a few years
ago.

Mdlle. Mars was giving some performances at Lyons, and was not a little
astonished, on the day after her first appearance, to receive a morning
visit from one of the principal manufacturers in that city.

“Mademoiselle,” said he, “I hope you will pardon the motive of my visit;
you can make my fortune.”

“I, monsieur? I should be delighted, but pray tell me how?”

“By accepting this piece of velvet.”

So saying, he spread out on the table several yards of yellow terry
velvet. Mdlle. Mars began to think she was being “interviewed” by a
madman.

“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed in an agitated voice, “what do you wish me to
do with that velvet?”

“To have a gown made of it, mademoiselle. When once you have been seen
in it, everybody will wear it, and my fortune will be made.”

“But nobody has ever worn a yellow gown.”

“Exactly so; the point is to set the fashion. Do not refuse me, I implore
you.”

“No, monsieur, I will not refuse you,” replied Mdlle. Mars. And she moved
towards a writing-table on which lay her purse.

“Mademoiselle will not affront me by offering payment. All I ask is that
mademoiselle will have the goodness to give the address of my factory,
which I may say stands high in reputation.”

Mdlle. Mars promised, and was delighted to be rid of her visitor. On her
return to Paris she saw her dressmaker, and in the course of conversation
said, “By-the-bye, I must show you a piece of terry velvet that I have
brought back from Lyons; you must tell me how it can be used.”

“It is of beautiful quality—quite superfine. But what is to be done with
it?”

“It was given to me for a gown.”

“A yellow gown! I never sent one out in my life!”

“Well, then, suppose we make the experiment.”

“Madame can venture on anything.”

A few days later, Mdlle. Mars, who had gone early to the theatre, put on
the yellow terry velvet gown. When her toilet was finished, she inspected
herself in the glass from every point of view, and exclaimed,—

“It is impossible for me to appear on the stage in such a gown!”

Vainly did the manager, vainly did her fellow-actors implore her not to
ruin the performance by refusing to appear. Mdlle. Mars was obstinate.
“She would not,” she declared, “look like a canary bird.” At length Talma
succeeded in persuading her that her dress was in perfect taste, and
eminently becoming.

Convinced by his arguments, Mdlle. Mars at length ventured, though with
some misgiving, on the stage, where she was received with a murmur of
admiration. All the ladies inspected her through their opera-glasses;
there was loud applause, and “What a charming gown!” was uttered on all
sides.

The next day all Paris was ringing with Mdlle. Mars’ yellow gown, and
the week was hardly over before a similar one was to be seen in every
drawing-room. Dressmakers were overwhelmed with work, and from that day
yellow has held its own among the colours considered as the right thing
for gowns.

A few years later Mdlle. Mars revisited Lyons; the manufacturer, whose
fortune she had made, gave a splendid fête in her honour, at his charming
country house on the banks of the Saône. He had paid for the mansion out
of the profits arising from the enormous sale of yellow terry velvet.

How often since Mdlle. Mars’ time have actresses decisively set the
fashion in dress! The Théâtre-Français, the Gymnase, and the Vaudeville
have been, as it were, exhibitions, where the feminine world has taken
lessons in dress. Who does not recollect Sardou’s comedy, “La Famille
Benoîton,” in which for several years there was a continuous show of
eccentric costumes?

It must be admitted that actresses, who charm by their genius, their
gestures, and their diction, confer on costume all the expression of
which it is capable, and lend a significance all their own to the
achievements of the mantua-maker.

Is it enough to be brilliantly attired? to be remarkable for
eccentricities in dress? to display costumes of the most fantastic kinds?
Certainly not. Besides these things the wearer must know how to make the
very most of her attire. Fashion and coquetry are twins. It matters not
how far we may look back into antiquity, among the Egyptians, the nations
of the East, the Greeks, the Romans, or the inhabitants of Gaul, we shall
always find these two sisters linked together, giving each other mutual
help, and adapting themselves to the climate, to the peculiarities of the
soil, and to the passions of the inhabitants.

From earliest childhood our French girls are trained in coquetry by their
own parents, innocently enough no doubt, but still such training is not
without its dangers.

“Louise,” says a mother to her little daughter, “if you are a good child
you shall wear your pretty pink frock on Sunday, or your lovely green
hat, or your blue socks,” &c. The little girl accordingly is “good,” in
order to gratify her taste for dress, and her budding love of admiration:
both of these qualities will develope as her years increase.

“Cast a glance on the graceful perfection, on the inimitably attractive
charm which distinguishes the dress of a Frenchwoman from that of all
other women on earth,” says a contemporary writer, “and you will soon see
a difference between mademoiselle and madame; the very sound of their
voices is not the same. The heart and the mental faculties of a young
girl seem to be wrapped in slumber, or at any rate dozing, until the day
comes when they are to be roused by the marriage ceremony. So long as
only mademoiselle is speaking, there is in the tone, or rather in the key
of her voice, something limp, monotonous, and insipid; but let madame
address you, and you will be fascinated by the charm with which rhythm,
cadence, and accentuation can invest a woman’s voice.”

As we have said, Paris and the whole of France have for a very long
time inaugurated the fashions which every other nation has adopted.
Yet the first journal especially devoted to fashion was not published
in France. One Josse Amman, a painter, who was born at Zurich, and
who died at Nuremberg, brought out, in 1586, a charming series of
plates on the fashions of his day, under the title of “Gynæceum, sive
Theatrum Mulierum,” &c. (“The Gynæceum or Theatre of Women, in which
are reproduced by engraving the female costumes of all the nations of
Europe”). This work was published at Frankfort, and although it cannot
be duly appreciated by women, because it is written in Latin, it must be
regarded as the origin of all the Journals of Fashion which have since
grown and multiplied.

Under the title, “Les Modes de la Cour de France, depuis l’an 1675
jusqu’à l’année 1689,” two folio volumes of coloured fashion-plates were
published in Paris; but they principally related to special costumes
for the courtiers of Louis XIV.; the “city” was treated with contempt,
and admiration was reserved for fine “court-dresses.” There was no
periodical paper in France, relating to novelties in female dress,
before the time of the Directory, in the closing years of the eighteenth
century. Until then there had been no development of theories on this
interesting subject. Our neighbours imitated our dress, after having
visited our salons or our promenades, or they consulted some desultory
drawings of costume.

In June 1797, Selléque, in partnership with Mme. Clément, _née_ Hémery,
founded the “Journal des Dames et des Modes.” They were joined, in the
matter of engraving only, by an ecclesiastic named Pierre Lamésangère, a
sober and grave personage, who a few years before had been Professor of
Literature and Philosophy at the College of La Flèche, and who by reason
of the evil times was embarking on a career very far opposed to that of
the Professor’s chair. On the death of Selléque, Lamésangère carried on
the journal, and made it his chief business from the year 1799.

The “Journal des Dames et des Modes” was published at intervals of five
days, with a pretty coloured plate of a lady in fashionable dress. On
the 15th of each month there were two plates. Lamésangère himself kept
the accounts, edited the magazine with as light a touch as possible, and
superintended the engraving of the plates. He attended the theatres and
all places of public resort in order to observe the ladies’ dresses.

So successful was the undertaking that Lamésangère acquired a
considerable fortune. His own attire was above criticism. At his death
his wardrobe contained a thousand pairs of silk stockings, two thousand
pairs of shoes, six dozen blue coats, one hundred round hats, forty
umbrellas, and ninety snuffboxes.

Truly a well-provided wardrobe! and greatly exceeding that of a wealthy
person at the present day.

The “Journal des Dames et des Modes” reigned without a rival for more
than twenty years, viz. from 1797 to 1829. It forms an amusing collection
of three-and-thirty volumes, and may be consulted with profit both by
philosophers and fine ladies.

Some of his contemporaries used to compare Lamésangère to Alexander. His
empire over the world of fashion was as wide as that of Alexander. At his
death his kingdom was divided, even as the possessions of the King of
Macedonia were. “Le Petit Courrier des Dames,” “Le Follet,” “La Psyché,”
and a hundred other fashion-books appeared: among them we must name “La
Mode,” a journal published under the patronage of the Duchess de Berri,
sumptuously printed, and which became a sort of arbiter of fashion in
“high life.”

At the present day there are innumerable guide-books to Fashion.
Women are at no loss for description, history, practical details, or
information concerning the business of their toilet. Intelligent minds
are daily at work to invent or to perfect the numberless trifles that are
either aids or snares to beauty.

In addition to books, albums, and newspapers, Fashion also makes use of
dolls for its propaganda. Dolls serve as models to the women of foreign
nations, and for a length of time they have played their part in this
important matter. In 1391, Isabeau de Bavière, the Queen of Charles VI.,
made a present of dolls dressed in the latest fashion to the Queen of
England; and the books of the Royal Household mention a similar gift from
Anne of Brittany to the celebrated Isabella of Castile, Queen of Spain,
in 1496.

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries these gifts of dolls became
very frequent. They were so highly valued, that during the terrible war
of the Succession in Spain between the English and French, the Cabinets
of Versailles and of St. James’s granted a free pass for an alabaster
doll, which, with dress and hair arranged in the newest fashion of the
Court of France, conveyed our latest novelties across the Channel.

Like Dandin, the judge in “Les Plaideurs,” who begs Intimé the lawyer to
“pass on to the deluge” so as to escape his lecture on the creation of
the world, our fair readers must hope that we are not about to begin our
history with the origin of our country.

But while we restrict ourselves within proper limits, it is not possible
to avoid speaking of the dress of the most remote ancestresses who are
known to us, of the women of Gaul and Roman-Gaul.

We must, for a short space, return to those far-off ages, because certain
attributes of dress which existed of old have reappeared at different
times, and at the very date at which we write, more than one Gallic or
Gallo-Roman fashion may be recognized in the garments or the head-dresses
of our countrywomen.

We therefore ask permission to dwell for a short time on the earlier
centuries of our history. Then the Merovingian period will supply us
with curious documents. The Carlovingians and the early branches of the
family of Capet will claim a larger share of our attention. Finally we
shall dwell on the Middle Ages, and the period of the Renaissance, which
were remarkable for luxury, love of wealth, and splendour of Art, and so
we shall pass on to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, over which
Fashion reigned an absolute monarch.

The Revolution of 1789, the Empire, the Restoration, the Monarchy of
July, the Second Empire—in a word, Contemporary History as it is called,
will bring us to 1881, and the fashions of which our fair readers can
judge for themselves: we have no intention of taking a place among
archæologists, or arraying a multitude of historical notes before them.
Moreover documents are few, and even if we wished to relate our story
in full, it would not be possible, since we are bound to observe the
limits of historical truth. We may, indeed, endeavour to present it in a
pleasant light, but we must not change its natural expression.

CHAPTER I.

THE GALLIC AND GALLO-ROMAN PERIOD.

We learn with horror from ancient writers that certain women of Gaul were
accustomed to dye their skin with a whitish matter, procured from the
leaves of the woad or pastel, a cruciform plant from which is derived
a starchy substance, that may be substituted for indigo for certain
purposes. Others were tattooed in almost the same manner as the savages
of America.

Such were our mothers in primitive Gaul, a country which differed little
in extent from modern France.

But time did its work, and a little later, when the inhabitants began
to practise industrial arts, the costume of a Gallic woman consisted of
a wide plaited tunic and of an apron fastened round the hips. She would
sometimes wear as many as four tunics, one over the other, a mantle,
part of which veiled her face, and a “mitre” or Phrygian cap. She made
use also of pockets or of leathern bags, and of “bouls” or “boulgètes,”
made of network, which are still in use in Languedoc, and are called
“reticules.”

Rich women remarkable for their beauty and elegance adorned themselves
with many-coloured linen mantles, fastening with a clasp on the shoulder;
or else they were entirely unclothed to the waist, and draped themselves
in a large mantle, which floated over their skirts, and was kept in its
place by a clasp or fibula of gold or silver, greatly resembling the
modern brooch.

A veil covered the head and bosom; when short, it was called a ‘mavors;’
when long, falling for instance to the feet, it bore the name of ‘palla.’

The cleanliness of the Gallic women, which has been praised by
historians, added another charm to their unrivalled natural beauty. No
Gallic woman, whatever her rank, would have consented or even ventured
to wear dirty, untidy, or torn garments; nor did any one of them fail
to frequent the baths which were established everywhere, even in the
very poorest localities. The Gallo-Roman woman was admired for her fair
complexion, her tall and elegant figure, and her beautiful features; and
she neglected nothing that might tend to procure her that homage. Cold
bathing, unguents for the face and often for the entire body were to her
a delight, a duty, and a necessity. In order to preserve the freshness
of her complexion, she bathed her face in the froth of beer or _kourou_,
dyed her eyebrows with tallow, or with a juice taken from the sea-pike,
a fish found on the coast of Gaul. She made frequent use at her toilet
of chalk dissolved in vinegar, a mixture injurious to health, but very
efficacious as a pommade; she coloured her cheeks with vermilion, put
lime on her hair, which she covered with a net, or plaited it into narrow
bands, either throwing it back or giving it the curve of a helmet.

Her luxury was not limited to ornaments only, to necklaces, bracelets,
rings, or waist-bands of metal; she borrowed her charms from Nature too,
and, as we have seen, had little reason to complain. Bracelets, which
still held their place under the Merovingians, do not seem to have been
worn in the Middle Ages.

In the south, on the shores of the Mediterranean, the women were
strikingly beautiful. They wore a quantity of jewels, a short garment
reaching only to the knees, and a gorgeously bright red apron, such as is
worn by the Neapolitans to this day.

At Marseilles the civilization of the Greeks had spread among the people.
The young girls of the city were always dressed with elegance, and,
doubtless lest drink might impair the ivory white of their complexion,
custom forbade them to partake of wine; also in order to guard against
an excess of luxury, the law required that the highest marriage-portion
of a woman should not exceed one hundred golden crowns, nor her finest
ornaments five hundred crowns. And that arbitrary law seems to have been
strictly enforced.

After the conquest of Gaul by Cæsar, Roman civilization and Roman
corruption were introduced into our country.

It is difficult to resist the attractions of beautiful things, and
however great may have been the hatred of their husbands towards the
conquerors, the Gallic women, now become Gallo-Romans, were very ready,
as may easily be imagined, to follow the example of the ladies from
Italy. They declined to be beaten in the art of pleasing, as their
warriors had been vanquished on the battle-field.

The fair Gallo-Roman adopted the fashions of Rome. Extravagance in dress
became boundless, and dissimilarity of garments denoted various degrees
of wealth. The “stola,” a tunic reaching to the ground, and gathered by
a girdle round the hips, while a band adjusted it to the bosom, allowed
only the tips of the feet to be seen. It fell in numerous rich folds, and
was as characteristic of the matron as was the “toga” of a citizen of
Rome.

One lady might be satisfied with a chemise, with the wide drapery of the
tunic scolloped at the edge, a short apron and sandals; while another
would load herself with tunics, the upper one being sleeveless, sometimes
embroidered and sometimes not, confined by a band round the waist, and by
a clasp on either shoulder. A sort of mantilla veiled the entire figure.

Some few ladies chose to wear garments which on account of their great
breadth were called “palissades” by Horace, the satirical poet of the
Augustan age.

From these the first idea of those vertugadins and crinolines, which we
shall frequently be called upon to notice in the course of the present
history, appears to have been derived.

An elegant town lady would also adorn herself with a mantle that half
covered her head, and with the “pallium,” a golden tissue without either
clasps or pins, thrown across the left shoulder and round the figure.
Another would, like a Gallic woman, wear the Phrygian cap, which allowed
her beautiful hair to be seen and admired. This was fastened back with
the “vitta,” a ribbon or band which only patricians had the right to
use, crossed with narrow bands or confined in a net, and arranged with
much skill. The hair was frequently dyed red or yellow; or brown plaits
would be concealed under the fair locks taken from some German slave, and
lightly sprinkled with gold-dust.

The face of a Gallo-Roman lady was resplendent in beauty, thanks to the
refined arts of dress, and her complexion remained incomparably fair in
spite of the lapse of years. Beneath the tunic she wore the “strophium,”
a sort of corset which defined the figure, and in which she could carry
her letters. Ovid observes that to equalize the shoulders, if one were
rather higher than the other, it was sufficient to drape lightly the
lower of the two. Thus did “postiches” and padding originate.

The Gallo-Roman lady soon began to make use of the “sudarium” or
pocket-handkerchief, a piece of stuff, either plain or embroidered,
which she held in her hand to wipe the damp from her forehead, or to
use as we use our handkerchiefs. We can imagine her leaving her gilded
chariot, a sort of palanquin whose shafts were supported by a pair of
horses, mules, or oxen. This was a closed carriage lined with skins and
strewn with straw, and the noble lady lay within it, softly reposing on a
“pulvinar,” or large silken cushion scented with roses. She had adopted
the manners, if not the morals of the East. She could appreciate and
admire and amass rings of gold, silver ornaments for her dressing-table,
for the bath-room, for travelling; mirrors, earrings of incrusted glass,
rings, and necklaces. She made use of many different perfumes: scented
and hygienic pomatums, essence of lilies, roses, and myrrh, unguents made
from the cock and from pure spikenard. She delighted in waist-bands and
ribbons, in cushions, furs, and felt,—in one word, in all the luxuries
that contribute to cleanliness and elegance. She had a decided taste for
showy colours.

The wardrobe of a Gallic-Roman lady would consist of tissues of linen,
cotton, or silk, taking the place of the modern chemise; of a sort of
boneless corset to support the bosom, of a dressing-gown, of robes of
ceremony, of tunics, half tunics, and violet-coloured mantles, shaped
much like a modern pelerine. A Frenchwoman of the present day has not a
better assorted wardrobe.

On going out Gallic-Roman ladies donned a short mantle, which covered
their shoulders, and a scarf for their head, the light and transparent
veil of which their head-dress was composed sparkled with gold and silver
spangles, mingled with narrow bands, ribbons, and beads. They left their
pointed and cork-soled slippers, turned up at the toes and without heels,
at home. Similar shoes may be seen to this day in the Museum at Clermont,
in Auvergne.

Whenever an elegant patrician lady left her home to take a drive or pay
visits, she changed her shoes. Sandals took the place of the “lancia,”
or house-slippers. She sometimes wore the “cothurnus,” a walking-boot,
unrivalled, except by the light shoes called “campodes,” habitually worn
by the peasant women. Shoes were marks of distinction. For instance,
those called “peribarides” denoted that the Gallo-Roman lady, their
wearer, belonged to one of the highest families.

In Gaul, as in Rome, extravagance in jewels and ornaments defied all
the sumptuary laws, although the latter were as plentiful as they were
useless. Gallo-Romans would not be denied their gold and silver ornaments.

Cameos and engraved stones, emeralds, amethysts, sapphires, and the
finest pearls give immense value to the necklaces, rings, bracelets,
large circular earrings, and even garters, of that remote period.
Garters, we beg to point out, were not used to keep up stockings, which
were not worn in those times, but served to confine a sort of trouser of
fine linen. Some of the Gallo-Roman ladies wore these garters or anklets
on the bare leg, as they wore bracelets on the arm.

Parasols, steel mirrors, fans—all these things were known to the
Gallo-Roman period. Perfumers were constantly making fresh discoveries,
and there were dentists who manufactured marvellous false teeth, so as
“to repair the irreparable injuries of Time.” Any defects in the face
were remedied by drugs of all kinds. The eyelids were stained in order to
give brilliancy to the eyes.

At least twenty women were in the service of each patrician lady, and the
latter always devoted much time and thought to her dress. These women
attired her with exceeding care; they were admirable hair-dressers, and
used pomatum profusely. One was the proud bearer of a parasol. A Roman
fashion, borrowed from the Egyptians, prescribed that slaves should
carry in silver or golden nets the amber and crystal balls used by their
mistresses.

With what grace and skill did these noble ladies twist and press the
crystal balls in their fingers at a public fête, or at the circus or
theatre! They subdued by this means the excessive warmth of their hands,
and secured a constant coolness. When the crystal ball became heated,
it was succeeded by one of amber, which as it warmed gave forth a most
delightful odour.

In like manner the fan offered opportunities for the Gallo-Roman ladies
to display all their grace and skill, and the fan has retained its place
down to our own time, while it has found an historian in M. Blondel, who
has published a very curious monograph on fans among ancient and modern
peoples.

The Gauls of both sexes had a patriotic love of their national costume,
which they would not discard even when travelling in Asia. Nevertheless,
they did not refuse to learn from their Roman conquerors, whose
advanced civilization took gradual hold of our ancestors, and ended by
metamorphosing them.

Did they borrow something from the costumes of the Vandals, Huns, Goths,
and Burgundians, from the various barbarians who appeared in succession
on the soil of Gaul? We may believe that they did, for the women who
accompanied those wild invaders must have left everywhere behind them
some trace of their passage. As they sat making their garments in their
tents, they must have inspired the Gallo-Roman women with a wish to
imitate this or that accessory of the toilet, so soon as the terror
caused by the presence of the soldiery had passed away. And though some
of these strangers wore only the skins of beasts, others were accustomed
to “the purple,” and to tissues from the East; some few combined Greek
elegance with Latin wealth, and were covered with valuable ornaments.

The Visigoths mingled with the peoples of Southern Gaul, and the women
were sufficiently civilized to be not unpleasing to the vanquished.

At Toulouse, where the Gothic kings had fixed their abode, a large and
splendid court, which was destined to exercise an undisputed sway during
many centuries, had risen round them.

The Burgundians, who had established themselves between the banks of
the Lake of Geneva and the confluence of the Moselle and the Rhine,
looked upon the Gallo-Romans not as subjects, but as brethren; nor did
their laws forbid marriage between themselves and the inhabitants of
a conquered country. They evidently followed more or less slowly the
progress of civilization in Gaul, and their manners and customs and even
their dress influenced and were influenced in their turn by those of the
inhabitants of the occupied country.

It may be that no history of the art of Dress will ever be verified by
the documents necessary for the accurate reconstruction of the details of
female costume from the first invasion of the barbarians until the last,
that of the Franks, of which we are now about to note the most striking
effects.

Such lapses are to be regretted, but they could not be filled up without
venturing on unfounded hypotheses or unsupported fancy. It is better to
restrict ourselves to the exact truth than to change the pen of history
for that of romance.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: GALLIC

GALLO-ROMAN

MEROVINGIAN

CARLOVINGIAN]

CHAPTER II.

THE MEROVINGIAN PERIOD.

428 TO 752.

The influence of political events on costume is more decisive than is
generally supposed. Cæsar’s conquest of Gaul had greatly modified the
dress of the Gallic women. After the invasions of the barbarians, and
when the Franks had snatched the most vivacious region of our country
from the Romans, a material change took place in the dress of the women.

Former invasions had generally been of a temporary nature, but the
invasion of the Franks was of a permanent character. This rendered it
highly important in regard to the moral life of the population. The
Franks, like the Romans at an earlier period, made a real conquest of our
country, in which they founded a different state of society from that
which had been established by Cæsar and his successors. The rough, not
to say ferocious manners of the north crossed the Rhine together with
the bold and indomitable warriors whose adventurous exploits have been
made known to us by history, and both private and public life felt their
influence.

The Frankish woman, who was large and coarsely built, wore a long black
gown, or a gown edged with scarlet, but her arms were bare and her bosom
was uncovered. She crowned her head with flowering gorse, and would rush
fully armed into the bloody fray. At times inspired, or filled with the
spirit of prophecy, she sang the deeds of father, husband, or son, or
recounted the victories of the confederacy. She resembled the other
Allemanni women in her dreamy creed and gentle superstitions, and she
possessed quiet energy and comparative sociability which enabled her
to triumph over obstacles. While holding tenaciously to many primitive
customs she was not altogether averse to innovations, nor to art,
industries, and southern civilization. She held her place admirably at
the court of Clovis, who, as tradition informs us, liked to dispense his
favours and had a taste for magnificence.

No sooner were the Franks firmly established this side of the Rhine, on
the northern and eastern territories, than the rusticity of the Germans
began to blend with the refinements of the Latin race, and in some cases
to counteract the elements of corruption in the latter. The customs of
the Franks took root among the Gallo-Romans, and for a time the smaller
details of dress disappeared, or at least held their place with the
utmost difficulty.

During the first period of the Merovingian monarchy, both men and women
were clothed in the skins of animals. At times both sexes would wear
garments of felt, or narrow, short-sleeved silken mantles, dyed red or
scarlet, or garments of a coarse material made from camels’ hair and
thence named camlet. Camlet was sometimes woven with a silk warp.

Generally speaking, the women covered their heads with coifs, not unlike
the ancient mitres that originated in Persia, or they wore a linen or
cotton veil, ornamented with gold and gems, and drew the end of the right
side over the left shoulder. But the Frankish women proper wore a small
skull-cap called an “obbou.” Any person who knocked this cap off rudely
was mulcted in a heavy fine by the Salic law. Respect towards woman was
enforced by Franks and Germans alike.

Queen Clotilde is frequently represented as wearing a tunic, confined
round the waist by a band of some precious material. Her mantle is laced
together across the breast, and her hair falls in a long plait. Later
than this, St. Radégonde wore a sort of “guimpe” called “sabanum,” made
of lawn, rudely embroidered in gold, if we may credit Fortunat the poet,
who was frequently in her company. After her conversion the Queen of
Clotaire I. followed the fashions of the barbarians. Six years after
her marriage she withdrew from the court, in order to devote herself to
religious exercises, diversified by literary pursuits.

The Merovingian women were partial to many-coloured tunics, to
embroideries, to flowered stuffs, and to a sort of cape known to them of
old. This consisted of a piece of striped material of circular shape,
with an aperture for the head, and two holes for the arms; it covered the
chest and shoulders, and was fastened by strings round the loins. They
wore two belts, one above and the other below the bust. Their arms were
bare, as it was the custom of dwellers on the banks of the Rhine.

Sometimes—an instance is supplied by Ultrogothe, the wife of
Childebert—they made use of a large mantle, a sort of chlamys, fastened
at the throat or on the right shoulder by a clasp.

If to this we add an “escarcelle” or purse, in which kings and queens
carried coins to distribute to the poor, my readers will have an exact
idea of the female dress of the time.

In such costumes the fair Merovingians were wanting neither in charm, nor
dignity, nor in a certain modest elegance. They probably borrowed some
details of attire from the Gallo-Roman fashions and added them to their
own.

Bishop Fortunat, a Latin poet of that day, who was present at the wedding
of Siegbert and Brunehilde, alludes to the custom his countrywomen had
adopted of wreathing their hair with sweet-smelling flowers. Another
bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours, who from his position was also
well acquainted with the customs of the Merovingian court, speaks of
silken robes, which he describes as splendid.

Every wealthy woman loaded herself with jewels. They wore pearl
necklaces, jacinths, diamonds, gowns with long trains, mantles, tunics,
hoods, veils, and casques; earrings, bracelets, necklets, and rings;
stomachers and belts of woollen, linen, or silk.

Their dresses on festive occasions sparkled with gold and jewels. St.
Gregory of Nazianzen rebuked them for their innumerable perfumed plaits
of hair, yet they knew of one pommade only—“suint,” an animal grease
which proceeds from the skin of the sheep and clings to its wool.
Such a perfume would be nauseous to the women of our day, but it was
much liked by the Frankish women, either for its novelty, or from its
efficaciousness in giving smoothness to the skin.

A MS. of 660 gives the picture of a Merovingian lady wearing her hair
smoothly parted on the brow and hanging down in two thick plaits,
lessening in size as they fall over her shoulders. A fluted diadem of
gold, placed like a crown on the head, confines the hair, and imparts to
the pictured form a certain air of majesty.

Young girls, with whom it was customary to wear their hair flowing
loosely, were permitted no ornaments on the head. This was so general a
custom that if as they grew older they remained unmarried, they were said
to “wear their hair.” The beautiful Radégonde, after the murder of her
brother by her husband Clotaire I., received permission from the tyrant
to withdraw from the world. As a mark of humility she placed on the altar
her diadems, bracelets, clasps of precious gems, fringes, and golden and
purple tissues. Then she broke in twain her belt of massive gold. The
sacrifice was consummated; Radégonde belonged to God alone. She died in
the odour of sanctity at the monastery of Sainte-Croix, which she had
founded at Poitiers.

One of the councils forbade married women to cut their hair, as a symbol
of their subjection to their husbands. But this prohibition did not cure
them of their vanity; they might still plait their hair with ribbons, and
wear it parted in the middle and falling in two wide plaits, like that of
Swiss peasants at the present day.

Numerous statues have preserved for us this Merovingian fashion, which
was not wanting in grace, while it conferred on women an appearance of
severe simplicity, less majestic than that of the figure I have described
in speaking of a manuscript of the seventh century.

[Illustration: CAPETIAN COSTUMES 1100 to 1364

CARLOVINGIAN COSTUMES 9th and 10th Centuries]

CHAPTER III.

THE CARLOVINGIAN PERIOD.

752 TO 987.

The reign of Charlemagne, and the passing away of the first race of our
kings, to be succeeded by the second, made no essential difference as
to dress. We cannot, in fact, ascribe much importance to the German and
Byzantine influences which succeeded each other at that period, but did
not destroy what we may denominate the Gallo-Roman style.

The most elegant dress of a woman in the tenth century consisted of two
tunics of different colours, one with long, the other with short sleeves;
on the feet were boots laced up in front. Wide bands of embroidery
bordered the throat, sleeves, and lower edge of the skirt. The waist-band
was placed just above the hips. This belt was generally of great value,
being studded with gold and jewels. The belt belonging to Judith, wife of
Louis le Débonnaire, weighed three pounds. At the present day there are
no waist-bands either of that weight or value.

The Carlovingian women wore splendidly embroidered veils, covering the
head and shoulders, and reaching almost to the ground. This lent a
character of severity to the costume, which was especially aimed at by
the women of that period. The veil was indispensable, being regarded as
the penalty of the sin of our Mother Eve, and the hair was concealed
beneath it.

Among the admirable miniatures in the Mazarin Library, there is one of
a queen wearing a triangular diadem, and a veil falling on either side
over the shoulders. The under-tunic is black, the upper, in the style of
a mantle, is violet. Both are bordered with yellow, her shoes are yellow
also, and borderings and shoes alike were probably ornamented with gold.

In the celebrated Bible of Charles the Bald, a most curious historical
treasure, there are paintings of four women wearing the chlamys in
different colours.

The chlamys is always white, with sleeves of gold brocade, with one
exception, when it is rose-coloured. The under-garments are bright
orange, light brown, light blue, and violet, with pale blue sleeves,
trimmed with strips of red embroidery on bands of a gold ground.

We find that gold was used everywhere and always, and while making due
allowance for the imagination of the artist, his pictures throw light on
the costumes of the period.

Observe that the four women all wear shoes, not boots.

The historian has in general but scanty material with which to trace the
dress of the princesses and ladies of the court under the Carlovingians,
on account of the many wars both civil and foreign that took place
between the time of Charlemagne and that of Charles the Simple.

Still less do we know concerning the dress of the women of the people,
for on that point history is almost silent. We learn, however, that their
skirts were extremely long, and that they wore veils much resembling the
veil of nuns, but thicker, and hanging more closely round the figure.

Among women of noble rank the love of dress harmonized with the taste for
needlework displayed by the kinswomen of Charlemagne, as recorded by the
old chroniclers.

They worked with their own hands on silk and wool, but this did not
prevent them from loving and seeking to acquire magnificent possessions,
splendid ornaments and trimmings of excessive richness. The Empress
Judith, mother of Charles the Bald, was considered to have great skill in
embroidery. She gave to her godchild, the Queen of Denmark, a gown made
by herself and adorned with gold and gems. The ladies excelled in the
manufacture of small articles, such as bags, scarfs, sleeves, and belts.

Narrow purple bands were plaited in Queen Luitgarde’s beautiful hair, and
encircled her brow of dazzling fairness. Cords of gold held together her
chlamys, a splendid mantle thrown over her right shoulder. A beryl, that
clear and precious stone of bluish green, was set in her diadem. Her gown
was of fine linen, dyed purple; her neck sparkled with jewels.

Rotrude, the eldest daughter of Charlemagne, wore a mantle with a clasp
of gold and precious stones. Violet bands were plaited with her luxuriant
fair hair. A golden coronet diapered with gems as beautiful as those
in the clasp of her mantle encircled her brow, and gave her a truly
queen-like look. Rotrude had been promised in marriage to the Emperor
Constantine, who had heard of her beauty from beyond seas and mountains.

Bertha, another of Charlemagne’s daughters, who was married secretly to
Angilbert, a disciple of Alcuin, and a member of the Palatine school,
wore her hair confined in a golden fillet, and her head-dress was as
impressive as that of her sister. Yellow-green chrysolites sparkled on
the gold leaves with which her garments were embroidered.

Gisla, the best known of the great Emperor’s kinswomen, wore a purple
striped veil, and a dress dyed with the stamens of the marsh-mallow or
“mauve.”

Rhodaide rode on a superb horse; a gold bodkin set with jewels fastened
her flowing silken chlamys.

The mantle of Théodrade was hyacinth, and trimmed with moleskin; beads of
foreign fabric shone on her beautiful throat; on her feet she wore the
Greek cothurnus, like the Byzantine women.

Such are the descriptions given us by writers of the period, from whom we
also learn that the Carlovingian ladies wore but one girdle, placed very
low. The materials of their gowns were frequently transparent, revealing
the shoulders, arms, and lower limbs, and the gowns themselves were
somewhat clinging, so that the graceful undulating movement of the body
was visible, as in the antique times.

These transparent materials disappeared by degrees under the successors
of Charlemagne, and women’s dress became heavier and more ample. Long
veils were worn.

Under the last Carlovingians the splendour and elegance of female dress
declined. Ladies began to wear extremely simple hoods and copes. They
retained the habit of being delicately shod, shoes being for the most
part black and embroidered in beads. Were they already aware of the
important part played by shoes in the elegant appearance of a woman?

Carlovingian ladies frequently made use in their walks of a cane,
ornamented at the top by a bird; the use of a stick lessening their
fatigue and imparting uprightness to the figure.

If we may judge by the statue of Adelaide de Vermandois, the widow of
Count Geoffrey of Anjou, surnamed “Grisgonelle,” who died in 987, the
dress of aged women in the tenth century was somewhat as follows:—A
mantle was worn over a wide-sleeved gown, under which appeared another
garment, with close-fitting sleeves, buttoning at the wrist. A “guimpe”
covered the upper part of the bust, encircled the throat and was joined
to the veil, which, arranged in two large pads over the ears, presented a
strange appearance.

We may conclude by saying that the women of that period preferred a
rich but severe style of dress. Tightly fitting gowns displayed the
slenderness of the waist. Their ornaments, sometimes of inestimable
value, had none of the gaudiness that afterwards disfigured the dress of
the noble court ladies. Intrinsic value in jewels was much appreciated,
and they were worn, according to a Byzantine fashion, fastened to the
dress of which they appeared to form part. For a long time past jewels
had been worn attached to the sides of the circlet or coronet, and
falling over the hair as low as the shoulders.

It is noticeable that the garb of widows resembled that of our nuns. Ten
centuries have scarcely changed its principal characteristics.

We learn from the romances of chivalry that to have the insteps of the
hose cut open was a sign of mourning, and that damosels and the people
of their suite would make a vow as a mark of mourning to put on their
garments “the wrong side out.” Widows of the highest rank wore their
gowns high up to the throat, and wrapped themselves in a veil.

The fashion of their head-dress was an important point with Carlovingian
ladies. If of noble birth they wore their hair long, falling behind the
ears over the shoulders, and reaching below the waist. It was curled or
waved on the forehead. Their earrings were short pendants ending in a
pearl.

Like the Germans, they united to a love of dress a love of cleanliness,
and were accustomed to make use of the bath, either at the public
establishments, or in their own villas, which were provided with every
necessary for their daily wants. In these respects certain customs of
the East had rather gained than lost ground, and this in spite of the
prohibitions of the Catholic Church, which sought to prevent scandals, or
exaggerated practices hurtful to the public health.

But it would be a great mistake to imagine that baths were taken during
the Carlovingian period in splendidly decorated halls like those of the
Romans; statues, paintings, and mosaics were alike absent.

The thermæ of Julian on the left bank of the Seine, of which the ruins
remain to this day in the Hôtel de Cluny on the Boulevards St. Michel and
St. Germain, included gardens, porticoes, nay, even an immense palace, in
which many kings and queens of the earliest race took up their abode, and
in all probability made use of its baths. Childebert, for instance, set
up his court there with Ultrogothe and his daughters.

But with these exceptions no Merovingian or Carlovingian king has
possessed baths of such size. It is almost certain that the great lords
and ladies built no large bathing establishments in connexion with their
private dwellings; on the other hand, their toilet apparatus, plate,
brushes, fine towels, and other articles were often of very great value.
The bath itself was of wood, marble, or stone.

The public baths served as a place of meeting, where the news of the day
might be ascertained, and business and pleasure discussed.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: CAPETIAN COSTUMES Second half of the 10th Century

CAPETIAN COSTUMES 11th Century]

CHAPTER IV.

THE CARLOVINGIAN PERIOD.

987 TO 1270.

By degrees, according as the nation acquired unity, and France was
in process of self-construction, dress became more original and more
special. The remembrance of the Roman occupation and the influences of
the barbaric invasion were visibly fading away. Gallo-Roman, Frankish,
and German women no longer dwelt on the soil of our country, their
place was taken by Frenchwomen of feudal times and of the middle ages,
whose nationality became every day more decided. These were our real
ancestresses, who neither in their dress nor in their homes were content
to follow the fashions of antiquity.

From the accession of the Capet family until the Renaissance, variety in
dress became developed in all those western provinces that were destined
to be welded at a later period into one homogeneous France. In Brittany,
Burgundy, Flanders, Gascony, and Provence, the women adopted a costume of
their own, adding to one general principle of form a number of details.
Some of these still exist at the present day, but it would be too tedious
to describe them.

The Duchy of France, which formed the kernel of our modern France, will
suffice to afford us an exact idea of olden fashions; just as Paris is
nowadays the great centre and starting-point of every innovation in the
toilet of our fair contemporaries.

Dress, fashion, and luxury varied considerably from and after the
eleventh century. William, Archbishop of Rouen, caused a Council of
the Church to be held in 1096. At this council it was decreed that men
wearing long hair should be excluded from the Church during life, and
that after death prayer should not be offered for their souls.

Taste in France became improved through the commercial relations existing
with the East, and the rudimentary style of dress of the two earlier
races was succeeded by something more artistic, and more easily adapted
to the art of chivalry. Women adorned their brows with bands of jewels,
wreaths of roses, or golden nets.

It is no exaggeration to say that each succeeding generation saw greater
attention paid to dress by both men and women, the latter especially;
that caprice began to show itself in those curious eccentricities which
still afford us food for laughter, and that luxury reigned in consequence
over all the population, in spite of the efforts of those in authority,
who endeavoured to regulate the tastes of all classes by sumptuary laws.

There are many miniatures of women of rank in the eleventh century, in
which they are represented as wearing a mantle and veil. The latter was
called a “dominical,” because it was usually worn at the services of the
Church on Sundays. Women were bound to wear this veil when receiving Holy
Communion. According to the synodical statutes women who were without
their veil were obliged to defer their Communion until the following
Sunday. At the moment of receiving the Sacred Host they held one end of
the “dominical” in the left hand.

A crown or a diadem encircled the veil of queens and princesses. Widows
wore, in addition, a bandeau covering the forehead and fitting round the
face so as to hide the throat and neck. They wore no jewels, not even
rings. The veil of a lady of gentle birth reached to her feet, but that
of a plebeian might not fall below the waist.

In the eleventh century women also wore “bliauds,” a sort of gown
reaching to the feet, with deep folds on either side, but scanty in front
and behind. The shape of the “bliaud” was afterwards altered, and long
sleeves were used in place of half sleeves. For travelling they might
wear the “garde-corps,” a long dress, open for a short distance from the
edge of the skirt in front, and with long wide sleeves; these they often
did not use as such, and in that case they hung loosely at the sides.

They also made use of walking-sticks of apple-wood, such as had been used
in earlier times by the Frankish warriors. It is recorded that Constance,
the second wife of King Robert, knocked out the eye of her confessor with
one of these canes. The Carlovingian women, as we have seen, had also
made use of walking-sticks.

From the beginning of the twelfth century many women wore round their
head a simple ribbon, ornamented with flowers or embroideries in the
case of the court ladies, who wore besides either a sort of chin-cloth
surrounding the face, or a “claque-oreille”—i.e. a hat with falling brims.

Women of the people wore veils or cloth hoods; those of high rank hoods
of velvet. These head-dresses were very becoming to Frenchwomen, who
altered them but slightly in the progress of time. In addition to these,
we remark in old illuminated MSS. head-dresses of hair only, a very
simple and yet elegant style.

From 1130 to 1140, women of noble rank divided their hair into two thick
plaits, falling in front of the shoulders, or, parting it as before,
they fastened the two long locks together by means of narrow bands of
silk or of gold tissue. Such hair-dressing as this required much care
and attention. Long plaits remained in fashion until about 1170, when
our countrywomen began to conceal their hair under a veil, or by a band
passing under the chin and fastened on the crown of the head, while the
hair was gathered together in a chignon at the nape of the neck.

At the same period they preferred plaques to necklaces. They wore these
plaques on the chest as brooches or clasps. The “afiche” or chest-clasp
was generally of a circular shape, and ornamented at each end with
a network of fine workmanship in precious metal set with pearl. The
handkerchief, of some valuable material, hung at the waist with the keys.

At the end of the twelfth century, Mabille de Retz, a noble and learned
lady of Provence, wore a fur-bordered gown without a waist-band. The
left side and left sleeve of the bodice are white, the other side blue.
Parti-coloured garments were already in vogue.

At times women wore their sleeves _à la bombarde_, like the leg-of-mutton
sleeves, of which I shall treat when writing of the Restoration. At other
times they ornamented their gowns with gold round the throat; again, they
preferred before everything a dress _à queue de serpent_. The Prior of
Vigeois raised his voice against the long-tailed gowns. “The tail,” said
he, “gives a woman the look of a serpent.”

The Council of Montpellier forbade the appendices in question under
penalty of excommunication. Tunics made of fur were called “pelisses.”
The sleeves of “bliauds” were trimmed with puffs, braid, or embroidery.
Beneath the “bliaud” drawers or the “bache” were worn.

One hundred years later women divided their hair in front, forming a
parting that was called a “grève” (or shore). Many of them began to dress
their hair without extraneous ornament, in all kinds of ways, and with no
little skill. They wore a veil, as was rigorously enforced by the Church;
for according to an Article of the Council of Salisbury, no priest might
hear the confession of an unveiled woman. This veil covered the head so
entirely that it was impossible to see whether a woman had any hair or
not.

In the fourteenth century Frenchwomen left off the veil in favour of the
“cornette,” a sort of coif or hood. Their hats were called “couvre-chefs”
(or head-coverings). The frame was of parchment, covered with fine cloth,
silk, or velvet; it was fantastic enough, if I may make use of that
modern expression.

But the couvre-chef did not remain long in fashion; it lasted during a
few years only, probably on account of its extraordinary appearance.

With regard to head-dresses women were about to fall, as we shall see,
into strange and costly vagaries, and even to take pleasure in offending
against the laws of modesty.

For a very long period Frenchwomen had assumed a costume almost similar
to that of men, and consequently of a grave style. They had worn both the
skirt or “cotte hardie” and the surcoat, with a pointed head-dress, from
which hung a veil covering their shoulders and neck, something like the
_guimpe_ of a nun. To the surcoats were added enormous flowing sleeves,
which softened the severity of their appearance, and made them more
agreeable to the eye.

In the romance of “Ermine de Reims” the following passage occurs:—

“Two women approached me, wearing surcoats a yard longer than themselves,
so that they must needs carry in their arms that which would have dragged
on the ground; and they had also long cuffs on their surcoats, hanging
from the elbows....”

The greater number of the romance writers of the Middle Ages describe
costumes of a similar nature. The surcoat, worn by both sexes alike in
the reign of St. Louis, derived its name, in all probability, from the
German _cursat_, signifying a sort of gown. A garment worn over their
cloaks by the Knights of the Star, an Order instituted by John the Good,
was also called a surcoat.

The surcoat was passed over the shoulders. It was as wide behind as in
front, and was hollowed out at the sides. It reached to below the hips,
where it was attached to a very long skirt. Marguerite de Provence, the
wife of St. Louis, wore a surcoat of ermine, and a gown, the lower edge
embroidered with pearls and precious stones.

According to some bas-reliefs in ivory (twelfth century) the Queen of
France wore a dress buttoned in front, with sleeves also buttoning from
the elbow to the wrist; a mantle open at the sides so as to afford a
passage for the arms, and a large collar that left the throat and neck
uncovered, ending in two points. The other figures wear gowns closed in
front, and in some instances with double sleeves. The upper sleeve is
wide at the edge and reaches only to the elbow.

At the same period both men and women wrapped themselves during the
severe cold of winter in a cape or cope, a long mantle with a hood that
could be drawn over the head in wet weather. The “chape à pluie,” hood or
cope, was probably gathered in front. How indispensable it must have been
to ladies in travelling! It preserved them from cold and fog, and was as
useful as the waterproof of the present day. An ancient writer speaks of
a count and countess whose poverty was so great that they had but one
“chape” between them. In the reign of Louis VII. only virtuous women had
the right to wear these garments in the streets.

By retaining only the upper part of the chape or mantle, the hood came
into existence, with its curtain or cape for the shoulders. To this was
generally added a roll on the top, and a veil hanging down behind. The
chaperon or hood was a sign of plebeian estate, and remained in fashion
for several centuries.

The long-trained skirt of princesses and noble ladies, with turned
back collar and narrow closed sleeves, was sometimes open down to the
ground in front, and sometimes closed and trimmed with buttons, and
covered with a mantle. The lower part of the face and throat were
hidden by a “guimpe.” Ladies frequently adopted the “gauzape” or
sleeveless gown, which was emblazoned, long-trained, and bordered with
ermine, thus distinguishing them from plebeians; for the most part
they wore a handsome hood, or a coronet of pearls, and an aumônière
or bag, remarkable either for its material or the needlework lavished
upon it. This was generally speaking either a gift, or embroidered
by the fair hands of the wearer. When the lady was travelling, her
aumônière contained besides coin and jewels, a few simple medicaments,
writing-tablets, etc. It was a small bag closed by a clasp or a
running-string. It was destined to remain in fashion during all the
Middle Ages, and afterwards to reappear as a passing caprice at various
periods.

The costumes of Blanche of Castille, and of Marguerite of Provence,
are interesting examples of the fashions of their day. Feminine dress
first became splendid in the thirteenth century, when great ladies and
wealthy bourgeoises with their long tresses and with something in their
carriage not unlike the Greek priestess, or the Roman matron, began to
wear closely-fitting gowns, frequently ornamented with a belt of silk, or
cloth of gold; the surcoat, and the fur-bordered mantle. A veil, fastened
on the crown of the head, flowed over the shoulders. Occasionally the
gown was open on the chest, and disclosed a sort of collar or chemisette
artistically embroidered.

The ladies of highest birth then began to emblazon these closely-fitting
gowns, fastened high at the throat. On the right side they placed their
husband’s coat of arms, on the left that of their own family. They cut
open their sleeves in an extraordinary way, from elbow to wrist, whence
hung a piece of the stuff.

A gown was made “historical” by embroidering it with _fleurs-de-lis_,
birds, fishes, and emblems of all sorts, and thus became a portable guide
to genealogy.

Let us here remark that materials for garments had greatly increased in
number. There was “cendal” almost the same as our silk at the present
day, and “samite” which apparently greatly resembled cendal. The latter
was made in every colour, both plain, and striped in two or three shades.
Samite, a thick silk of six strands, was, for the most part, white,
green, or red. Then there was “pers,” or dark blue cloth; “camelin,” a
fabric made from camels’ hair, of which “barracan” was only a variety.
The warp of the barracan assumed the appearance of bars, whence many
historians derive the name of the material itself. There was “isambrun”
also, viz. cloth dyed brown; “molekin,” a linen material; “brunette,” a
brown stuff; “bonnette,” a green cloth, and “galebrun,” a brown coloured
cloth.

There was also a material still coarser than camelin called “bureau,”
there was “fustaine,” a strong stuff manufactured from cotton, and
finally “serge,” woven of wool and occasionally mixed with thread.

The arts of weaving and dyeing had made extraordinary progress; a taste
for handsome materials had spread even among the lowest ranks of society.

It would appear that the silk manufacturers of Rheims were not very
scrupulous. They cheated their customers by introducing wool or thread
into stuffs that they sold as pure silk; or they made use of silk badly
dyed. At Rheims and many other places the saying, “He lies like a dyer,”
passed into a proverb.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE CRUSADES.

1270 TO 1350.

Owing to the influence of the Crusades and the predilections of St.
Louis, the dress of women assumed much of that severity proper to
masculine garments. Under Louis VIII. a mantle had been the distinctive
mark of a married woman. It is asserted that St. Louis’s daughters, whose
legs and feet were ill-shaped, contrived to wear very long gowns in order
to hide them. This was surely a pardonable piece of coquetry, and long
skirts became the order of the day. Similar causes have led to similar
results in more recent times.

When once the long skirt had been introduced, it resisted many attempts
to dislodge it. In the reign of Philip III. women hid their busts under
a “guimpe,” and looked almost like our sisters of Charity. The coat and
the guimpe seem to have been introduced by Marie, the king’s second wife,
whose throat was too long, while her bust was absolutely flat, and the
wives of the courtiers in this instance also copied the Queen of France.
Imbued with the religious spirit that exercised at that time so great a
power over the imaginations of mankind, or at any rate overmastered by
it, the ladies of the court, with few exceptions, were modest in their
attire. They added indeed to the elegance of their veils, but continued
to wear them in obedience to ecclesiastical decrees. Queen Marguerite
of Provence wore a dress close-fitting in the bodice, the sleeves were
long and narrow; her mantle was embroidered with _fleurs-de-lis_, and was
made with long open sleeves. Her veil was folded with a band beneath the
chin, but not setting closely to the face. Her head-dress was not unlike
a turban.

But such humility as this could not long prevail over the malicious demon
of coquetry. On the one hand, people of wealth indulged themselves in
luxury and splendour, and many knights on returning from the Crusades,
retained in France the habits they had acquired in the East, and on the
other, the middle and lower classes tried to walk in the steps of the
nobles, and the bourgeoises endeavoured to array themselves like the
haughty consorts of the Crusaders.

In consequence of the relations existing between France, Europe, and the
East, and notwithstanding the deep religious convictions of the time,
innumerable artisans and working women were employed in the service
of Fashion; drapers or weavers, dress cutters and makers, trimmers,
ribbon-makers, manufacturers of thread, or silk-fringers who made coifs;
weavers of the coarse flaxen thread called “canevas,” sellers of precious
stones or jewellers, who exhausted their ingenuity in hundreds of new
inventions; goldsmiths, whose art astonished the world; gold-beaters and
silver-beaters, dyers, skilful in altering the colours of materials;
moulders of buckles and delicate clasps; furriers who possessed the
rarest and most costly furs; and makers of brass, copper, and wire
buttons.

It was at the shops of haberdashers that the wives of the nobles bought
the splendid “parures” with which they ornamented their heads. Gowns of
siglaton and cendal (a material like modern silk) were ornamented with
rubies and sapphires.

Head-dresses in Paris were sometimes surmounted with peacock’s feathers;
and these soon called into existence “paoniers” or peacock-hatters. One
Geneviève had great custom as a feather-seller, and after having made a
large fortune by her trade, she devoted it to the decoration of a chapel.

A very striking head-dress, though simpler than that of peacock’s
feathers, consisted of wreaths of natural flowers, principally roses,
and was prepared by the herbalists or floralists who abounded in several
parts of the capital.

Epernon, the haberdasher of Rue Qui-qu’en-poist (Quincampoix), had
certainly the largest choice of ornamental finery for feminine attire.
His fame was in every one’s mouth, and his shop always crowded with
customers.

A large number of embroideresses obtained a living in Paris; there were
also many who made up purses with beautiful embroidery, or elegantly
worked borders. These purses were fastened to the waist-band, and were
called “aumônières sarrasinoises,” or Saracen alms-bags. Their name
recalled their benevolent object to the wearers, though they were used to
hold other articles besides coin for the poor.

Within their castles noble ladies employed their long hours of leisure in
needlework, imitating and sometimes excelling the work of the East. They
embroidered veils, scarfs, armlets, belts, alms-bags, gloves, and shoes;
they copied the family coat-of-arms in silken, gold, or silver embroidery
on their gowns, their surcoats, and their mantles.

The bourgeoises also devoted their time to needlework, so as to increase
the elegance of their dress, without infringing the regulations of the
sumptuary laws.

Glove-makers made use of sheepskin, grey fur, hareskin, and doeskin in
their factories. They also made woollen or silken gloves; long buttoned
gloves and scented gloves, and “gloves made of kid prepared with violet
powder.” Italy, Spain, and several French towns were famous for their
skill and trade in gloves. But it was not enough to possess those
articles; it was also necessary to wear them according to the latest
fashion, and on suitable occasions.

There were numerous makers of felt hats, flower head-dress makers of
both sexes, makers of cotton, and of peacock-feathers, without counting
the women weavers of silken head-coverings (a sort of milliner), women
who made hats of orfrey, and silk-spinners. The principal towns of the
kingdom abounded in hosiers, manufacturers of cloth, linen, or silk
hose; in tanners; in clever shoemakers, who well knew how to turn the
point of a shoe _à la poulaine_—that is, extravagantly curved upwards
and resembling the prow of a ship. Generally speaking the shoe _à la
poulaine_ distorted the foot very unpleasantly.

In the goldsmiths’ shops women’s eyes were dazzled by clasps, bracelets,
necklaces, and other articles of marvellous workmanship; tailors
exhibited goods that were in fact only too splendid. Some few mirror
manufacturers kept open shops; their wares were exquisitely lovely.
We may mention one mirror representing a betrothal, that may still be
admired in a celebrated collection.

On every side there was constant temptation. Fortunes were swallowed
up by the passion for dress, and poorer people made the most senseless
sacrifices in the same cause. It was becoming impossible to determine the
rank of a Frenchwoman by her garments.

In order to restore respect for the inequality of ranks, which inequality
was a fixed principle actually corroborated by dress itself, and to
prevent one woman from wearing garments exclusively reserved for another,
sovereigns began to issue sumptuary laws.

Philip Augustus raised his voice against fur; though his court set no
example of simplicity. “The gown and furred cloak of the Queen, at St.
Rémy, cost twenty-eight pounds, less three sous.”

It is interesting to learn what St. Louis, ninth of the name, thought
about fashion and its rights. He said to his courtiers: “You should dress
yourselves well and neatly, in order that your wives may love you the
more, and your people also will esteem you the higher for it.” Women of
rank consequently dressed with great splendour. They frequently wore a
long train fastened to their outer garment, and gilt belts enriched with
jewels. They often wore two tunics, and a veil that was brought round
under the chin. The fastenings of their mantles were of gold and jewels.
They had rosaries of bone, ivory, coral, amber, or jet.

Luxury knew no bounds. The copes, or mantles without hoods, made of
silken cloth, and trimmed with ermine, embroidery, and edgings of gold
were magnificent, and overloaded with ornament.

After the Crusade the ruling powers endeavoured to repress the prevailing
extravagance. St. Louis issued several enactments previous to the
prohibitions of Philippe le Bel respecting dress.

The wording of those prohibitions enlightens us considerably with regard
to the manners and customs of those times. No bourgeoise may possess a
chariot. “No bourgeois and no bourgeoise,” says Philippe le Bel, “may
wear minever, or grey fur, or ermine, and all such persons must get rid
of those furs in their possession within a year from next Easter, and
they may not wear gold, nor jewels, nor belts, nor pearls.... Dukes,
counts, and barons, with six thousand livres a year or more, may have
four pairs of gowns a year and no more, and their wives may have as
many.... No damosel, unless she be châtelaine in her own right, or lady
of two thousand livres a year or more, shall have more than one pair
of gowns a year, or if she be, then two pairs only and no more....
No bourgeois nor bourgeoise, nor esquire, nor clerk shall burn wax
lights....”

It was forbidden to barons’ wives “howsoever great” to wear gowns of a
higher value than twenty-five sous (of the Tours mint) by the Paris yard;
the wives of knights-banneret and lords of the manor were restricted
to materials at eighteen sous; and the gowns of bourgeoises might cost
sixteen sous nine deniers by the yard at the very most. The sumptuary law
of Philippe le Bel proceeded probably from the following circumstance. On
the occasion of his wife’s solemn entry into Bruges in 1301, she had seen
the bourgeoises so gorgeously apparelled that she exclaimed, “I thought
_I_ was the Queen, but I see there are hundreds!”

From a document relating to the king’s household in 1302, we learn that
the complete costume of a lady of the palace cost eight livres, that
of a woman of inferior rank one-third less, and that of a waiting-maid
fifty-eight sous. The price of a Parisian bourgeoise’s cashmere shawl at
the time of the Restoration would have renewed the whole wardrobe of a
court lady.

According to another document of 1326, Isabelle de France wore a
head-dress, sugar-loaf shape, of prodigious height; a veil of the finest
gauze depended from it and concealed her hair.

Certain head-dresses of the period were ornamented with feathers, others
were shaped like bushels of greater or less altitude. Occasionally
the hair was confined in a net, called a “crestine, crépine,” or
“crespinette.” The side-locks were shaped into horns. Sometimes, too,
women dyed their hair, or wore false hair.

Guimpes were arranged something like collerettes; and were made lighter
and lighter in material, so as to harmonize with every kind of costume.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Charles V 1364-1386

Charles VI 1380-1395]

CHAPTER VI.

REIGNS OF JOHN AND OF CHARLES V.

1350 TO 1380.

The States of Languedoc—A young French lady in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries—Low dresses—Saying of
a mercer—_Damoiselles_—_Garnaches_ and _garde-corps_—_Le
Parement des dames_—Social distinctions—High character is worth
more than gilded belt—Precious stones—The castles and other
dwellings of the middle ages—Splendid furniture—Humble abodes
of the poor—Evening assemblies.

Notwithstanding the efforts of legislation, extravagant expenditure on
dress continued as great as ever, while the large majority of the French
nation was suffering from great poverty. In 1356 the States of Languedoc
forbade the use of rich clothes until the release of King John, who was
a prisoner of war in England. But noble lords and ladies insulted the
nation in its hour of misfortune by their prodigality, and defied the
regulations that forbade them to wear gold, silver, or fur on their
garments or open hoods, or any other sort of ornamentation.

As for widows, they found themselves unable to oppose the established
custom. They therefore conformed to the regulation forbidding them to
wear voilettes, crépines, and couvre-chefs. In like manner with nuns,
they never appeared in public without a guimpe that entirely concealed
the head, ears, chin, and throat. There seems, however, to have been no
particular etiquette for the nobility as to mourning, before the reign of
Charles V.

We may endeavour to sketch the portrait of a lady as she existed in
feudal times, by means of the scanty materials in our possession, for
we have no paintings, and very few sculptures of the time, only a few
learned writers who supply us with valuable hints.

We know, however, that the gowns of the fourteenth century were of the
same shape as those of the thirteenth; we also know that the Frenchwoman
of the period began to discover the beauty of a small waist, and
endeavoured to compress her own by means of lacing, and, finally, we know
that, dating from the later years of the reign of Charles VI. a habit of
uncovering the shoulders to an extent that at times became immodest was
adopted.

Their “couvre-chefs” of silk were made by a special class of workwomen,
called “makers of couvre-chefs.” The couvre-chefs of Rheims were
specially renowned.

There were no milliners in Paris either in the thirteenth or the
fourteenth centuries. The haberdashers, of whom I have already spoken,
sold articles of dress, scents, and elegant finery. In the “Dit d’un
Mercier” we find the following lines:—

“J’ai les mignotes ceinturêtes,
J’ai beaux ganz à damoiselêtes,
J’ai ganz forrez, doubles et sangles,
J’ai de bonnes boucles à angles;
J’ai chaînêtes de fer bèles,
J’ai bonnes cordes à vièles;
J’ai les guimpes ensafranées,
J’ai aiguilles encharnelées,
J’ai escrins à mêtre joiax,
J’ai borses de cuir à noiax,”[5] etc.

At mercers’ shops, besides, ladies bought molekin, fine cambric, ruffs
for the neck with gold buttons, the tressons or tressoirs that they were
fond of twisting in their hair, and gold or pearl embroideries used for
head-dresses, or for ornament generally, the silken or velvet gown being
even bordered with them sometimes.

Lay figures, called “damoiselles,” were used for fitting on ladies’
dresses and other garments.

A young Frenchwoman in the fourteenth century wore her hair twisted
round her head, with a black ribbon; a white dress embroidered in silver,
bordered at the throat, shoulders, and elbows, and at the edge of the
skirt with a fillet of gold. Small sleeves reaching from elbow to wrist
were in red and white check, bordered with a double fillet of gold. Her
shoes were black.

Sometimes her hair was confined by a white veil, mingled with
pearl-embroidered ribbon; at other times she wore a coronet of beads, and
her hair flowed loose over her shoulders. She frequently appeared in a
short sleeveless tunic, called “corset fendu.” Frequently, too, her hair
was parted simply in two, and the long plaits arranged on the forehead.
To this she would add a “fronteau,” that is to say, either a tiara of
beads or a circlet of gold. She made “atours” for herself, or pads
stuffed in the shape of hearts, clubs, or horns.

A young girl of high birth wore the arms of her family; a married woman
wore both her husband’s and her own. Montfaucon, in his “Antiquités de la
Couronne de France,” gives us a drawing of an emblazoned gown belonging
to a noble lady; and in an ancient Bible we find a picture of a woman on
whose hair is a ribbon of gold tissue, and above it a small yellow cap
with gold buttons. The upper dress is bordered on the bosom with ermine
and gold bands, the skirt is of silver cloth, bearing a lion rampant and
three red stars. The under garment, of a dull yellow, is confined by a
gold band. The National Library contains the miniature of a French lady
of the fifteenth century. She wears a head-dress of silken material, the
white upper gown is bordered with fur, the under garment is yellow, and
ornamented at the throat with gold embroidery. The shoes are black.

Long narrow white gowns without any ornament were worn by great ladies
at home, when there was no occasion for ceremony; and they remained
in fashion for a considerable length of time. There were also short
sleeveless garments like the “sarreaux,” probably called “garnaches,” and
short ones with half sleeves called “garde-corps.”

Peasant women wore blue gowns, beneath which was a woollen petticoat
bordered with velvet. Their hats were of straw, and a becoming white
guimpe encircled the face.

Hoods or “aumusses” protected the head in bad weather. The chaperon or
hood was much like a domino. It was made during the reign of Philippe
le Bel in a peak, which fell on the nape of the neck, and was called a
“cornette;” there was an opening or “visagière” for the face. As for the
aumusse, made either of cloth or velvet, it resembled a pocket, and fell
over on one side or other of the neck. On fine days ladies would carry
their aumusse on their arm, as is done with a shawl or mantle.

In “Le Parement des Dames,” by Oliver de la Marche, the poet and
chronicler of the fifteenth century, he mentions slippers, shoes (of
black leather probably), boots, hose, garters, chemises, cottes,
stomachers, stay-laces, pinholders, aumônières, portable knives,
mirrors, coifs, combs, ribbons, and “templettes,” so-called, because
they encircled the temples and followed the edge of the coif with an
undulating line. To these we must add the “gorgerette,” gloves of chamois
and of dogskin, and the hood, and we shall understand the “under” dress
of a noble lady in the earlier half of the fifteenth century. With regard
to the “outer” dress, we must remember that the material nearly always
bore a large brocaded pattern. The paternoster or rosary put a finishing
touch to the costume. These rosaries were either of coral or of gold, and
were considered as ornaments taking the place of bracelets.

Notwithstanding legislative prohibitions and social distinctions, the
desire of attracting attention led all women to dress alike. From this
resulted a confusion of ranks absolutely incompatible with mediæval ideas.

St. Louis forbade certain women to wear mantles, or gowns with
turned-down collars, or with trains, or gold belts. He wished that both
in Paris and throughout his whole kingdom the distinction of class should
be defined and obvious.

Afterwards, in 1420, the Parliament of Paris renewed the same
prohibitions with no greater success. It is said that women of high
character comforted themselves by saying: “_Bonne renommée vaut mieux
que ceinture dorée._”[6] This, whether true or not, has passed into a
proverb.

A great number of jewellers existed in Paris in the fourteenth century.
Yet real pearls were little known. The Government thought they had
provided against every danger by forbidding the sale of coloured glass
in the place of real stones. Trade with the Levant initiated us into the
science of precious stones, and at first they were regarded with general
reverence, supernatural virtues being attributed to them. People imagined
that rubies, sapphires, and sardonyx produced certain marvellous effects.

The second period of the Middle Ages was full of artistic instincts, and
beautiful castles and dwellings rose up on every side. Meanwhile, home
life had become more refined in some classes of the population.

Every man who had acquired wealth, or even a modest competence only,
built himself a residence according to his taste, and frequently
displayed magnificence far beyond his means. Dressers, cupboards, carved
chests, ivory, bronze, enamelled copper, miniature statues, reliquaries,
and a quantity of other articles, hitherto unknown, were to be seen in
palaces and wealthy houses, and even in humbler abodes.

But among the poor there was no such change. Their homes had remained the
same for many centuries, their cottages and little enclosures of land
were unaltered. These contained the barest necessaries only. Yet a marked
improvement was apparent in furniture and cooking-utensils.

With greater comfort in their homes and with better furniture than in the
past, both Frenchmen and Frenchwomen were making an onward progress in
their mode of life and their social relations. In the towns as well as
in the depth of the country, people met together of an evening to listen
to a band of skilful minstrels—a sort of concert. On the eves of feasts
the women sat together at their embroidery or the spinning-wheel. Long
legends were narrated, to the delight of family circles, and children
were made happy by little picture-books drawn expressly for their
amusement, while maidens and youths would draw sweet music from their
lyres.

These assemblies naturally developed a taste for dress. The poet Eustache
Deschamps speaks of the splendour of women’s dress, of their gold and
silver chains and belts, and of the little bells with which they adorned
their garments.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Charles VI 1395 to 1422

Charles VII and Louis XI 1422 to 1483]

CHAPTER VII.

REIGNS OF CHARLES VI. AND CHARLES VII.

1380 TO 1461.

It is a curious fact, of more frequent occurrence than might be imagined,
but the terrible Hundred Years’ War, which cost so much French and
English blood, in nowise diminished women’s passion for dress and
fashion, whims and extravagance of all kinds.

It must even be acknowledged that this melancholy period of our history
was remarkable for the splendour of its fashions.

From the time of the Capets there had been much variation in dress and in
luxury. The taste of the nation was stimulated and improved by foreign
importations. Emblazoned garments had become a thing of the past.

In the reigns of Charles V. and Charles VI. especially caprice began to
play an important part in the dress of women. The “beguins,” or hoods,
were changed at first into high heart-shaped head-gear, with two wide
wings fastened to the head with wire and bearing a strong resemblance to
the sails of a windmill. Next, the heart-shapes having been criticized
by the clergy were transformed into “hennins,” the _nec plus ultra_ of
fashion, and were of a most prodigious height.

Very different from the masculine head-gear bearing the same name was
the “cornette” or “hennin” worn by women. This was a kind of two-horned
head-dress, with horns about a yard high, which was introduced into
France by Isabeau de Bavière, the wife of Charles VI. The “hennins” were
made of lawn stiffly starched and kept in shape by fine wire, but were of
less exaggerated size.

Such a novelty was irresistible; all the ladies eagerly copied the
Queen, and vied with each other as to who should wear the most handsome
head-gear, “peaked like a steeple,” says Paradin, and the tallest
horns. From these horns there hung like flags, crape, fringe, and other
materials, falling over the shoulders. Such head-dresses were naturally
very expensive, and husbands were loud in complaint. Matrons and maidens
alike “went to great excesses, and wore horns marvellously high and
large, having great wings on either side, of such width, that when they
would enter a door it was impossible for them to pass through it.”
The height of the hennins was so great that a small woman looked at a
distance like a moving pillar.

In mourning, however, the cornette was rolled round the throat and thrown
backwards.

“Never, perhaps,” observes Viollet-le-Duc, “did extravagance in head-gear
reach such a pitch with the fair sex as during those melancholy years
from 1400 to 1450; the hair itself formed but a small part of the
head-dress; hoods, couvre-chefs, chapels, horns, cornettes, hennins,
twists, knots, frémillets, and chains were built up into the most
extraordinary edifices.”

Yet it was far worse than all this in England, where eccentricity and
caprice reached a height never attained at the French court.

Confessors in France, and monks especially, added their animadversions to
those of grumbling husbands. They considered the “hennin” as an invention
of the Evil One, and a deadly warfare against the obnoxious article was
soon organized.

In 1428 a Breton monk, named Thomas Connecte, preached throughout
Flanders, Artois, Picardy, and the neighbouring provinces. He travelled
from town to town, riding on a small mule and followed by a crowd
of disciples on foot. On reaching his destination he said mass on a
platform expressly prepared for him, then he preached against non-juring
priests, the “hennins” of great ladies, and also against gamblers,
calling upon the latter to burn their draught-boards and chess-boards,
cards, ninepins, and dice. He called on children to help him, frequently
shouting out the first, by way of example, “_au hennin!_” whenever he
caught sight of any woman wearing a high head-dress in the streets; and
if she failed to find a speedy refuge in some house she was soon covered
with mud, dragged in the gutter, and sometimes severely wounded.

Connecte was looked upon by the people as an admirable reformer, but he
failed to reform the head-gear of women; victory remained with the hennin.

Another monk, a Franciscan, one Brother Richard, followed in the steps
of Connecte the Carmelite. On the 16th April, 1429, he began a course
of sermons at the Abbey Church of St. Geneviève, which lasted till
April 26th. He ascended the pulpit at five in the morning, and remained
there until ten or eleven o’clock. He, too, endeavoured to reform the
dress of women and their towering head-gear. His discourses occasioned
some disturbances. After the tenth sermon Brother Richard received his
dismissal from the Governor of Paris.

It could not be said that the holy men preached in the desert, for
wheresoever they lifted up their voices there were large audiences, and
for a time the obnoxious hennins disappeared; but only for a time. “The
ladies,” wrote Guillaume Paradin, the historian, “imitate the snails who
draw in their horns, and when the danger is over put them out farther
than ever; and in like manner hennins were never more extravagant than
after the departure of Brother Thomas Connecte.”

Finally, whether their husbands spoke on behalf of economy, or their
priests appealed to the decrees of the Church, victory remained with the
women. They only gave up the hennins from a caprice similar to that which
had invented them.

No one will expect to find Frenchwomen more constant or more economical
in dress than their husbands. In the reign of Charles V., beauty had
already asserted its claims, and coquetry filled the heart of women who
sought for admiration. They gave up the fashions of the Middle Ages,
and uncovered their bosoms; in addition to hennins they wore padded
head-dresses with horns, or pieces of stuff cut out and laid one upon the
other like the petals of a flower.

At the beginning of the fifteenth century, scalloped sleeves were
attached to the corsets, or rather to the bodices, which were separated
from the skirt behind, ending in a horizontal fold on the hips, while in
front they were ungirdled, and reached down to the feet. These bodices
were cut very low in the neck: the shoulders were slightly covered by a
hood.

Jeanne de Bourbon, the wife of Charles V., wore “royal robes wide and
flowing, _en sambues pontificales_, that they call ‘chapes’ or copes,
that is, mantles of gold or silk covered with jewels.” The wives of
barons wore earrings, “outrageous toes to their shoes, and they seemed to
be sewn up in their too scanty garments.”

The expression “too scanty” was probably applied to the mantilla
introduced by Queen Jeanne, and which was called a “corset.” The mantilla
reached to the waist both in front and behind; in winter it was made of
fur, and in summer of cloth or of silk; it had a sort of busk covered
with gold braid, and matched in colour the borders of the surcoat, thus
relieving the monotony of the lines as well as the sameness of colouring.

Those ladies who wore trains to the skirts of their surcoats, used to
tuck them up for walking. The surcoat, in fact, was very similar to a
gown, and its dimensions soon became so enormous, that, as we learn from
Christine de Pisan, a man-milliner of Paris made a “cotte hardie” for a
lady in Gâtinais, in which were five yards, long measure, of Brussels
cloth. The train lay three-quarters of a yard on the ground, and the
sleeves fell to the feet. This, no doubt, was an expensive costume. There
were women whose surcoats were longer than themselves by a full yard.
They were obliged “to carry the trains thereof over their arms, and
there were long cuffs to their surcoats hanging to the elbows, and their
busts were raised high up.”

The fashions of head-dresses changed from bare heads to crépines, and
coifs with tow underneath, and stuffed “à l’escoffion,” a sort of padded
beretta. The name “escoffion” became afterwards popularly used for the
head-dress of the women of the lower orders, or the peasant-women,
or that of women with their hair badly done. The fishwomen, when
quarrelling, had a trick of tearing off each other’s escoffions.

At the same period, the most absurd adjuncts to dress were daily
invented, causing that charming poet, Eustache Deschamps, to exclaim,—

“Atournez-vous, mesdames, autrement,
Sans emprunter tant de barribouras,”[7] &c.

In the reign of Charles VI., the houppelande was the fundamental article
of women’s attire, but passing from one extravagance to another, they at
last adopted the strange fashion of giving an abnormal development to the
front of the figure! This continued in fashion for forty years.

In the Charvet Collection there is an earring of the fifteenth century,
ornamented with a polyedrus in incrusted purple glass. We still possess
framed rings (_bagues chevalières_) and other ornaments of that period,
and, in particular, one silver-gilt medal in the shape of a heart; on the
reverse the Virgin and St. Catherine are represented in mother-of-pearl.
Enamelled gems were much in vogue among the nobility during the reign
of Charles VI. There were also enamels of flowers, insects, domestic
animals, and small ornamented human figures, initials, and mottoes.

A little instrument was invented for parting the hair. It was a sort
of stiletto or bodkin called a “gravouère,” generally made of ivory or
crystal, and sometimes mounted in gold. It remained in use as an article
of the toilet during the whole of the Middle Ages.

The custom of wearing bracelets and necklaces dates so far back as the
reign of Charles VI., when Isabeau de Bavière introduced the fashion of
trinkets. They were called “gorgiasetés” in the language of the day, and
it used to be said of persons whose dress exceeded the limits of decorum,
that they dressed “gorgiasement.” Isabeau also patronized very long
trained gowns, and mantles with trains, carried by ladies’-maids or pages.

This custom still prevails at court; likewise liveries of certain colours
to distinguish all the household of great nobles. Liveries, which had
already existed for several centuries, became much more prevalent in the
reign of Charles VI.

The “cotte hardie” was long and flowing, but was confined at the waist,
partially revealing the outline of the figure. It was lined with rich
fur. As the surcoat concealed the cotte everywhere except at the sleeves,
the latter were tucked up very high by the wearers so as to display the
valuable material of the “cotte hardie.” They also made an opening in the
surcoat in order to show the girdle. Sermons were vainly preached against
the latter fashion.

Isabeau de Bavière, the sovereign arbiter of dress, had fanciful tastes
which became law to other ladies, both in the matter of head-gear and of
toilet generally.

There appeared successively the “tripe,” a sort of light jockey cap made
of knitted silk; the “atour,” stuffed with tow; and, lastly, head-dresses
of such towering height that the ceilings in the Castle of Vincennes,
then a royal abode, were raised to enable the ladies to move about in
comfort and safety.

It was of course absolutely necessary to be beautiful, to attract
admiration, to dazzle the crowd, to make use of every device to prove
that universal homage was both deserved and obtained. To this end
therefore the French ladies heaped ornament upon ornament. Beautiful
prayer-books were in general use, and indeed formed an integral portion
of fashionable attire:—

“Heures me fault de Nostre-Dame,
Si comme il appartient à fame (femme)
Venue de noble paraige,
Qui soient de soutil (subtil) ouvraige,
D’or et d’azur, riches et cointes,
Bien ordonnées et bien pointes,
De fin drap d’or très bien couvertes;
Et quand elles seront ouvertes,
Deux fermaux d’or qui fermeront,”[8] &c.

These prayer-books were carried in cases suspended to the arm or waist.

Until the reign of Charles VI. the under-garments of Frenchwomen were of
coarse stuff or serge, that is, of woollen material.

Isabeau de Bavière was the first to wear a linen chemise; she possessed,
however, two only. The fine ladies of the fifteenth century naturally
imitated her, and in order to show that they wore linen under-garments,
they made openings in their gown sleeves that the chemise might be seen;
they even opened their skirts on the hips in order to display the length
of the chemise; and they ended by having those garments made of fine
linen only in the parts visible to the public, the rest was in coarse
stuff or serge. Linen chemises were regarded as luxuries until the time
of Louis XI. They were called “robes-linges.”

In the reign of Charles VI., the dress of servant-maids was generally
composed of three pieces; a bodice of one colour, a tucked up skirt of
another, and a petticoat with a kilted flounce at the edge, such as are
worn at the present time. The hair was covered with a kind of cap “à la
musulmane.”

Such is the costume we find represented in the miniatures of the latter
period of the fourteenth century.

Every one knows what evil times had befallen our country under Charles
VI. The English were masters of a great part of France, at the time
that Charles VII. ascended the throne and was called in mockery “King
of Bourges.” That affront was wiped out by Joan of Arc. At that period,
Fashion was confined for a long time within narrow limits; but no sooner
had France returned to her normal state, than the court of Charles VII.
displayed a magnificence of which the sovereign set the example on the
occasion of his entry into Rouen. He rode a palfrey caparisoned in blue
velvet, embroidered with gold lilies, and the “chanfrein,” or nose-piece,
was of plates of solid gold with ostrich plumes.

The beautiful Agnes Sorel was as much devoted to splendour as Isabeau de
Bavière. Certain changes began to take place in women’s dress. We meet
with trailing gowns, high head-dresses in great variety, splendid stuffs,
lace, gloves, mittens, rings, and necklaces, towards the middle of the
fifteenth century; and with sundry additions of a still more extravagant
nature; with conical hats of which our Cauchoises have retained the
shape, and the “coiffe adournée,” a cylinder or tube diminishing in size
towards the top, where it either terminated in a flat crown, or curved
over towards the back and hung down like a veil.

Agnes Sorel, famous both for wit and beauty, acted as it were the part
of a queen. All women were led by her in the matter of dress, and this
brilliant creature, surnamed the “Lady of Beauty,” began to adorn herself
in the most magnificent costumes. If we may believe a chronicler of those
times, her “train was a third longer than that of any princess in the
kingdom, her head-gear higher, her gowns more numerous and costly,” and
her bosom bare to the waist.

She is thus represented by a painter of the time, whose portrait of
her may be seen in the Historical Gallery of Versailles. The fashions
introduced by the “Lady of Beauty,” were indecorous in other respects
besides that of uncovering the shoulders. Display became excessive under
her auspices; she was the first to wear diamonds in the hair, and it is
said also that she first endeavoured to get them cut with facets. Her
heavy and splendid diamond necklace she called “my carcan.”[9]

Isabelle de Portugal wore a necklace from which hung a locket. The
necklace was of pearls strung on gold thread.

In the fifteenth century the scarlet coat of a duke or baron cost twenty
livres the ell (about 400 francs of our coinage). Two ells and a half
were necessary for a very sumptuous coat, which therefore cost 1000
francs; it lasted however for several years. Cloth of gold cost ninety
livres the ell (1800 francs).

This gives us some idea of the cost of clothes in general.

Women’s gowns required a greater quantity of material, because of their
greater length. A lady who had neither page nor handmaiden to carry her
train, was obliged to fold it across her arm. Certain dresses, “à quinze
tuyaux” (or fifteen-fluted), fell in stiff tubes round the skirt, like
the pipes of an organ. On horseback women wore shorter gowns, called
“robes courtes à chevaucher.”

Many women of rank carried at that period light walking-sticks of
valuable wood, with handles ornamented with the image of a bird. In
place of mittens they wore violet-scented gloves, which were, according
to Olivier de la Marche, imported from Spain. Towards the end of the
fifteenth century, kid and silk gloves were in fashion, with gold and
silver embroidery on the back. It was indecorous to give one’s hand
gloved to any one, or to wear gloves for dancing. In France at the
present time the contrary is our custom.

Women made use of fans at church to disperse the flies. Their fans were
ordinarily made of feathers, peacocks’ feathers in particular.

The Queen of France astonished the Parisians by driving about among them
in a swinging chariot of great splendour, that she had received as a
present from the King of Hungary. For a long time she was the only woman
in France who possessed such a vehicle.

The court was beginning to decree official costumes of ceremony. Fashion
had now founded her absolute rule.

During the whole of the Middle Ages fair hair alone was considered
beautiful. On this point the French and the ancient Greeks were of one
mind. Homer has described the fair hair of Aphrodite, Hera, and Pallas
Athene; in like manner our ancient poets describe their heroines as
blonde beauties, and they invented the word “blondoyer,” to become, or
to grow fair-haired. This fashion must have led to the manufacture of
enormous quantities of false hair.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Charles VIII 1483 to 1498

Louis XII 1498 to 1515]

CHAPTER VIII.

REIGNS OF LOUIS XI., CHARLES VIII., AND LOUIS XII.

1461 TO 1515.

The Empire of Fashion was scarcely founded, ere it began to promulgate
those despotic laws which have never been relaxed to the present day.

The spread of luxury, art, and comfort, which became manifest at the dawn
of the Renaissance, led to a sudden change in the whole character of
costume. This fact has been commented on by all historians; and can be
verified and explained by the archives of the period.

Although for the most part Louis XI. affected a great simplicity in
his dress, and was fond of playing the “bourgeois,” yet at times he
desired to see his palace filled with nobles richly attired, and wearing
magnificent stuffs, even of foreign manufacture. The astute sovereign
appreciated the influence of fashion on commercial prosperity.

Then commenced a competition in dress between the bourgeoisie of the
towns and the nobility; as says the poet,—

“En Paris, y en a beaucoup
Qui n’ont d’argent, vergier, ne terre,
Que vous jugeriez chascun coup
Alliés aux grands chefs de guerre.
Ils se disent issus d’Angleterre,
D’un comte, d’un baron d’Anjou,
Parents aux sénéchaux d’Auxerre,
Ou aux châtelains du Poitou,
Combien qu’ils soient saillis d’un trou,
De la cliquette d’un meunier,
Voire ou de la lignée d’un chou,
Enfans à quelque jardinier ...
Une simple huissière, ou clergesse
Aujourd’hui se présumera
Autant et plus qu’une duchesse;
Heureux est qui en finira!
Une simple bourgeoise aura
Rubis, diamans et joyaux,
Et Dieu sait si elle parlera
Gravement en termes nouveaux!”[10]...

Maillard, a preacher of the day, declaimed against “gorgeous” women
(“femmes à la grand’gorre”), rebuking them for their long trains, their
furs, and gold ornaments. He sketched the portrait of a lawyer’s wife
dressed like a princess. Other preachers drew comparisons between the
poverty of the people and the self-indulgence of fine ladies. “The poor,”
says one of them, “are dying of cold; while you, Madame Pompous, Madame
Boastful (“la braguarde”), you have seven or eight gowns in your coffer
that you do not put on thrice in the year.”

So long as the bourgeoises dressed above their station, it was naturally
next to impossible that the female aristocracy should not endeavour to
eclipse their humbler rivals. “The married ladies, and the young ladies
at the court of Louis XI., no longer wore trains to their gowns, but
they wore borderings of fur and of velvet, and of other materials the
same width as velvet; on their heads they wore round padded caps, with
peaks half a yard in height—some more, some less—and fastened above these
were long veils reaching to the ground behind, with silken girdles four
or five inches wide, with both the metal work and the tissue wide and
gilt, and weighing six or seven silvern ounces; and on their necks broad
collars of gold of diverse workmanship.”

One side of their long skirts was held up by a “troussoire” or clasp.
The troussoire consisted of a chain, of more or less value, which was
attached to the girdle and to which a small scent-box, some keys, and a
strong clasp for holding up the gown, besides other little articles, were
suspended.

Olivier de la Marche in his poem of “Le Triomphe des dames” (1464),
recommended fine ladies to wear costumes of allegorical and moral
significance, viz., slippers of humility, shoes of diligence, stockings
of perseverance, garters of firm purpose, a cotte of chastity, a
waist-band of magnanimity, a pincushion of patience, a purse of
liberality, a knife of justice, a ring of faith, a comb of stings, a hood
of hope, &c.

He spoke in jest; but Jean Juvénal des Ursins was in serious earnest,
when in 1467 he told the States-General, “Another wound of the State
lies in coats of silk; and as to women, God knows how they are attired,
in gowns of the said material, cottes, and in many and divers ways. In
bygone days we have seen how damosels and other women, by merely turning
up the edge of their dresses in a fashion called “profit,” looked like
handsome white cats; nowadays they make these “profits” of silk material
as wide as cloth, with great horns or high towers on their heads, or
couvre-chefs of stuff or silk reaching to the ground....”

Dresses were now profusely trimmed with ribbons and cords; and the mode
of the silk corset separate from the skirt was adopted; the gown was of
Florence satin, open up the front, and in winter lined with badger’s fur.
By these means noble ladies marked the distinction between themselves
and mere bourgeoises. A thin wooden busk in the front of the corset was
called a “coche.” Occasionally the chemise, artistically arranged, took
the place of the corset, properly so-called, which had itself succeeded
to the “bliaud.”

Towards 1480, women uncovered the neck very much in full dress, and
“collets” or collars were worn turned downwards almost to the arms. These
were called “rebrassés,” and were often trimmed with fur. Villon mentions
them in his “Grand Testament:”—

“Dames à rebrassez collets,
De quelconque condicion.”[11]...

Working women going into the towns to sell their merchandise or their
work, wore a white apron and a gown of cloth, serge, or woollen; they
were bare-headed, the hair being confined by a band on the forehead and
hanging loosely behind. They imitated the bourgeoises in the make of
their dresses, but refrained from trains.

The fashion of hanging sleeves was succeeded by that of tight,
close-fitting ones. Gowns were made with bodices laced up in front like
the Swiss costume; and the collars, sleeves, and edge of the skirt were
bordered with a wide band of velvet; the sleeves hung down to the ground.
A girdle of velvet covered with gold-work fitted tightly to the waist.
Another girdle called a “surceinte” embroidered with mottoes, initials,
and even with heraldic arms, confined the outer garment.

There were three kinds of head-gear, the pyramid, the truncated,
terminated by a button, and the small “barillet,” which was like a little
barrel. Hats were more general under Charles VI. and Charles VII., and
were worn at all times.

Long hair, whether natural or false, was called a wig. Poets raised their
voices against the false hair, which was worn over the forehead till it
touched the eyes; the ears were hidden by it, and the ends, reaching to
the shoulders, were curled. The hair was either white, or of the bright
yellow colour fashionable at the present day. An infusion of onion-skin
was sometimes used as a dye.

In the reign of Louis XI., French ladies “adorned” themselves with
enormous head-dresses, three quarters of a yard in height, stuffed into
various shapes, viz., a heart reversed, a shell, or a cushion, and
covered with beads and precious stones. Doorways were widened that
ladies might pass through them. Montesquieu, writing on the subject, says
that “architects have often been obliged to contravene the rules of their
art as to the dimensions of entrances to our apartments, in order to
bring them into proportion with women’s adornments.”

The fashion of long hair and also of false hair lasted until the close of
the reign of Louis XII.

The admirable miniatures on the manuscripts of the fifteenth century
certainly point to an improvement in head-dressing, as well as in attire
generally. We learn from them that the sugar-loaf head-dress was in
fashion during the whole of that century. It was ordinarily bordered in
front with gold embroidery on black velvet. That portion of the dress
which covered the chest was of black velvet, embroidered in the upper
part, and of gold tissue as far as the waist. The outer dress was of
blue velvet, embroidered in gold, and lined and bordered with crimson
velvet. The edge of the sleeves was of the same. The veil was white and
transparent, the belt green, and sparkling with gold ornaments. That part
of the under-dress which was visible below was violet; the shoes were
black.

Generally speaking, the train of a great lady was borne by a young girl.
The head-dress of the latter was black or brown velvet.

Our fair readers will remember that Charles VIII., son of Louis XI., made
a warlike expedition into Italy, where the “French fury” was lavishly
displayed. They are familiar, no doubt, with accounts of the entry of
Charles VIII. into Florence, Rome, Capua, and Naples successively. “The
discovery of Italy,” an historian very justly remarks, “had turned the
heads of the French; they were not strong enough to withstand its charm.
We use the right expression when we say ‘discovery.’ The companions of
Charles VIII. were not less astounded than were those of Christopher
Columbus.”

The Italians, on the other hand, greatly admired the agreeable manners
of the French. As Charles VIII. made his progress through their country,
they assumed the French mode of dress, and sent for all manner of finery
from France. Victors and vanquished made mutual exchange of manufactured
productions. The French, who still wore the striking costumes of the
days of chivalry, excited eager curiosity wheresoever they went, and the
greater the contrast between their garments and those of the Italians,
the more did the latter delight in wearing the French fashions. They
willingly exchanged their Genoese trinkets and jewels against the
products of the Arras looms, if only from mere love of novelty.

When the King of France had once more crossed the Alps and returned to
his capital, the French ladies in their turn experienced the fascination
that the soldiers of Charles VIII. had succumbed to in Italy. Their
“heads were” likewise “turned,” and their enthusiasm naturally had its
effect on the fashions of the day.

Our fair countrywomen laid aside the sombre garments of the time of
Louis XI., and began to wear the brightest colours, as well as several
materials of Milanese or Venetian manufacture. Many Italian fashions
were added to our national costume—viz. tight-fitting bodices, highly
ornamented; very wide sleeves; white gowns trimmed with many-coloured
fringes; and black veils. The ladies would no longer wear the hennin,
which had been so fashionable in the reign of Charles VI., and declared
it was horrible.

For poulaines “sollerets” were substituted; these were rounded to the
shape of the feet. Very light slippers were made in velvet or satin, of
the same shape as sollerets; and shoes, something like high pattens, that
were worn over the slippers. “Nos mignonnes,” says the poet Guillaume
Coquillart, in “Les Droits Nouveaulx,”—

“Nos mignonnes sont si trèshaultes,
Que, pour paraître grandes et belles,
Elles portent pantoufles haultes
Bien à vingt et quatre semelles.”[12]

Hose, or stockings, were composed of several pieces of stuff sewed
together. Chemises of woollen stuff were in general use. The “gorgerette”
or gorget, a linen collar, either plain or plaited, reached as high up
as the collar-bones, and was worn over the “piece” or “plastron” of stuff
that was laced across the chest. The “demi-ceint” was a small silken
scarf, wound about the waist and fastened in front by a rosette. The
“ceinture” was a wide ribbon, worn flat over the hips and ending in an
angle on the skirt, where it formed a rosette with two floating ends.

Among the accessories of dress were garters, either fastened by a buckle
or simply tied. These were ornamented, in the fifteenth century, with
mottoes or initials. Women also made use of pincushions, of purses in the
shape of bags, of knives, of “rings”—meaning probably necklaces, and of
paternosters or rosaries of gold, pearls, or other valuable materials.
These were fastened to the knot of the girdle, and hung down in front of
the gown. We have already mentioned these rosaries.

In the reign of Louis XII., the successor of Charles VIII., the dress
of women was but slightly changed. The upper gowns were made shorter,
reaching only to the knees, and resembled a wide cloak or cape, cut low
on the bosom.

One great novelty was the shape of the sleeves, which in the upper gown
remained wide and flowing, but those belonging to the under bodice
consisted of several separate pieces fastened together by ribbons. We can
picture to ourselves the elegant appearance of a sky-blue bodice, of a
dark blue cloth gown, and of green sleeves in superfine cloth. Some women
dressed in Genoese, or Milanese, or Greek fashion. The poet Jean Marot is
unsparing in his criticisms on such women:—

“De s’accoustrer ainsi qu’une Lucrèce,
A la lombarde ou la façon de Grèce,
Il m’est avis qu’il ne se peut faire
Honnestement.

“Garde-toi bien d’estre l’inventeresse
D’habitz nouveaux; car mainte pécheresse
Tantôt sur toy prendrait son exemplaire.
Si à Dieu veux et au monde complaire,
Porte l’habit qui dénote simplesse
Honnestement.”[13]

A considerable number of wealthy ladies began to frequent the court,
attracted thither by the fascinating manners of Anne of Brittany, “the
good queen,” whose whims became a law, according to which all Frenchwomen
regulated their dress, whatever might be their position in the social
scale.

It is worthy of remark that, at the close of the Middle Ages and during
the first years of the Renaissance, brides wore red or scarlet on their
wedding-day.

Anne of Brittany was celebrated for the beauty of her leg and foot, and
liked to wear her skirts short. Most women followed her example in that
respect.

For a long time past ladies had made use of pins, gilt pins even; they
now began to outstrip the bounds of moderation in their use. “Oh,
ladies!” exclaimed Michel Menot, the Franciscan monk, surnamed the Golden
Tongue, “Oh, ladies! who are so dainty, who so often miss hearing the
Word of God, though you have only to step across the gutter to enter the
church, I am certain it would take less time to clean out a stable for
forty-four horses than to wait until all your pins are fastened in their
places.... When you are at your toilet you are like a cobbler, whose
business is to ‘stop up,’ and to ‘rub,’ and to ‘put to rights,’ and who
needs a thousand different articles for bits and patches.” He added: “A
shoemaker’s wife wears a tunic like a duchess.”

Vainly did the preacher thunder against pins. Fashion could not be in
the wrong. Presumptuous were they who attacked her, for her partisans
increased with the number of her opponents.

We must now point out a change in the mode of wearing mourning.

The former queens of France had worn white for mourning. On the death of
Charles VIII., Anne of Brittany for the first time wore black. She wore
a white silk cord round her waist, and had a similar cord affixed to her
coat-of-arms, knotted in four places and twisted into four loops, forming
the figure of 8,[14] so as publicly to display her grief for the loss of
so beloved a husband.

Clément Marot, the son of Jean Marot, has given us the following sketch
of a fashionable Parisian lady in the time of Louis XII.:—

“O mon Dieu! qu’elle estoit contente
De sa personne ce jour-là;
Avecques la grâce qu’elle a,
Elle vous avoit un corset
D’un fin bleu, lacé d’un lacet
Jaune, qu’elle avoit faict exprès.
Elle vous avoit puis après
Mancherons d’escarlate verte,
Robe de pers, large et ouverte.
...
Chausses noires, petits patins,
Linge blanc, ceinture houppée,
Le chaperon faict en poupée....”[15]

Some commentary is needed on the above description to enable the reader
to form an accurate idea of a fine lady in Marot’s time.

The “corset d’un fin bleu” must be rendered by “a bodice of the finest
sky-blue.” Instead of “mancherons d’escarlate,” we must read, “brassards
or sleeves of the finest possible quality,” because the word “écarlate,”
or scarlet, was used in those days to denote quality, not colour, as at
present. The “chaperon faict en poupée” was a piece of stuff placed on
the head-dress.

Sometimes, as we see by a manuscript in the National Library, French
ladies would dress after the Italian fashion, that is, with a greater
quantity of jewels, and without head-gear; their hair being curled at the
side, and plaits wound round the head.

Although extravagance in dress had not yet reached the point which it
afterwards attained under the chivalrous Francis I., yet it began to be
universally displayed in both masculine and feminine attire.

At the privileged fairs, quantities of materials of more or less value
were offered for sale. Bourges was so famous for its cloth, that wealthy
purchasers frequently stipulated that their coats should be made in “fine
Bourges cloth.” Foreign manufactures of gold, silver, and silk entered
France by way of Susa, when coming from Italy; Spanish goods were sent by
way of Narbonne and Bayonne, whence they were forwarded direct to Lyons,
where they were unpacked and sold. The Paris ell was longer by one-half
than that of Flanders, Holland, England, and other countries.

Ordinary wool for women’s garments was sufficiently plentiful in France.
The finer cloths were generally manufactured from English and Spanish
wools. Lower Brittany and Picardy supplied, it is true, a somewhat
finer quality, which was used in the manufacture of certain cloths, and
in particular for one called _camelot_. Linen-cloth was produced in
considerable quantities, but was inferior in quality to the Dutch linen,
which was much esteemed, and formed an important item in the trousseaux
of young girls.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Francis the First 1515 to 1526

Francis the First 1530 to 1545]

CHAPTER IX.

REIGN OF FRANCIS I.

1515 TO 1545.

Under the gallant knight, Francis I., the court of France shone with
a new and more refined splendour than that of the Middle Ages, and to
this was added all the magnificence of Italian art. An eye-witness has
described the court of Francis for us with characteristic and intelligent
simplicity. Michael Suriano, the Venetian ambassador, makes the following
remarks:—

“His Majesty expends 300,000 crowns on himself and his court, of which
70,000 are for the queen. The king wants 100,000 crowns for building
abodes for himself. Hunting, including provisions, chariots, nets, dogs,
falcons, and other trifles, costs more than 150,000 crowns. Lesser
amusements and luxuries, such as bouquets, masquerades, and other
diversions, 100,000 crowns. Dresses, tapestries, and private gifts cost
as much more. The lodgings of the king’s household, of the Swiss, French,
and Scottish guards, more than 200,000. I am now speaking of men. As for
the ladies, their salaries, it is said, amount to nearly 300,000 crowns.
Thus there is a firm belief that the king’s person, his household, his
children, and the presents he makes, cost yearly a million and a half
crowns. If you saw the French court the sum would not surprise you.
There are generally six, eight, ten, even twelve thousand horses in the
stables. Prodigality is boundless; visitors increase the expenditure by
at least one-third, on account of the mules, carts, litters, horses, and
servants that are necessary for them, and that cost more than double the
ordinary prices.”

On his journey through France, Charles V. saw the treasury and the
crown jewels. “There is a weaver of mine at Augsburg,” he disdainfully
exclaimed, “who could buy up all that!” It is not the less true,
notwithstanding the words of the envious Charles V., that the court of
Francis displayed the utmost magnificence, and that the king himself
lived in the midst of dazzling splendour. The court of this sovereign,
nicknamed “Long-nose,” or “Nosey” by the people, was a rendezvous for the
pursuit of pleasure.

Judging from prints of the time, the court of Francis I. differed
considerably from that of his predecessors. The ladies no longer took up
their station near the queen exclusively, nor did the men remain by the
king. The two sexes mingled together at the daily receptions, and Francis
I. formed a court in the true sense of the word. His liberality was very
great; he gave away presents of clothes far beyond any gifts of his
predecessors. Brantôme tell us that many ladies possessed wardrobes and
coffers so full of clothes given them by the king, “that it was a great
fortune.”

Women soon acquired extraordinary influence; everything was in their
hands, “even to the appointing of generals and captains.” Ladies of the
palace were nominated and lived at the Louvre. They belonged to an order
of knighthood called the Order of “la Cordelière,” intended to reward the
most prudent and virtuous women among the nobility. Francis I. almost
invariably wore a very splendid costume, and was considered the finest
gentleman in the kingdom. We are not concerned here with the numerous
different fashions adopted by the king and his nobles, suffice it to
mention that the “robes” of the gentlemen of the time were no whit less
magnificent than those of the ladies, and that consequently there was a
struggle for pre-eminence between the two sexes.

Feminine dress was coquettish, and generally speaking, very graceful in
form. François Rabelais, that encyclopædic writer who treated of every
subject, whether serious or trifling, describes the fashions of his time
in the following words:—

“The ladies wore scarlet or crimson stockings, the said stockings
reaching three inches above the knee, and the edge thereof finely
embroidered or cut out. The garters were of the same colour as their
bracelets, and fitted tight both above and below the knee. The shoes
or slippers of crimson, red, or violet velvet, were snipped like the
edges of a crab’s claw. Over the chemise they wore a fine vasquine
(corset) of rich silk camlet; on the vasquine they placed the vertugade
(hoop) of white, red, salmon-coloured, or grey silk. Above this the
cotte, in silver tissue, embroidered in fine gold needlework, produced
a charming effect. Or, if it pleased them better, and was in accordance
with the weather, their cottes were of satin, or damask, or of velvet,
orange-coloured, salmon, green, grey, blue, light yellow, crimson, or
white; or of gold cloth, silver cloth, or embroidery, according to the
festivals. Dresses were made, according to the season, in cloth of
gold crossed with silver, of red satin embroidered in gold canetille,
of white, blue, and black silk, of silk serge or camlet, of velvet,
of cloth, of silver, of drawn gold, or of velvet or satin with gold
threads variously interwoven. In summer ladies sometimes wore, instead
of dresses, graceful marlottes (or wrappers) of the aforesaid stuffs, or
bernes (sleeveless marlottes), after the Moorish style, in violet velvet
ornamented at the seams with small Indian pearls. And at all times they
wore the beautiful bouquet of feathers (or panache), according to the
colour of their muffs, thickly spangled with gold.”

In winter, silk dresses of the colours just described were lined with
costly furs.

To complete the costume we must add rosaries, ornaments in goldsmith’s
work hanging from the girdle, rings, gold chains, jewelled necklaces,
and carbuncles, balas rubies, diamonds, and sapphires; finally emeralds,
turquoises, garnets, beryls, pearls, and “unions d’excellence,” as
Rabelais says.

That great man almost seems to have written expressly in order to give us
these details of Parisian dress. He omits nothing, neither shape, nor
price, nor colour. He instructs us as to the fashions of each season; he
mentions fans, and “éventoirs” in feathers.

We observe, however, that there is no mention of autumn fashions in his
interesting description. We must infer, therefore, that the fall of the
year was included half in the summer and half in the winter season, and
that the ladies of the sixteenth century were as yet unacquainted with
that refinement of fashion at the present day, the autumn costume.

Umbrellas, which at first were ill-made, did not “take” in France. They
were considered inconvenient things. “There is no season more inimical,”
says Montaigne, “than the burning heat of a hot sun, for the umbrellas
that have been used in Italy from the time of the ancient Romans, fatigue
the arm more than they relieve the head.”

Head-gear varied with the seasons. In winter it was worn according to
the French, in spring to the Spanish, in summer to the Turkish fashion;
except on Sundays and festivals, when women covered their heads in the
French style, as being more honourable and more suggestive of “matronly
chastity.” On those occasions they generally wore a velvet hood with
hanging curtain.

The cap of the women of Lorraine consisted of a piece of stuff wound
about the head in cylinder shape; that of the Basque women resembled
a horn of plenty upside down, it was made of white lawn trimmed with
ribbon; and that of the Bayonne women was a “guimpe” arranged like a
turban, with a little peak or horn in the front.

The greatest innovation in feminine costume was the appearance of the
vertugadin, or hoop, in 1530. Dresses were stretched over wide, stiff
petticoats mounted on hoops of iron, wood, or whalebone. A band of coarse
linen, supported by wire, lifted them up round the waist.

It is said that Louise de Montaynard, the wife of François de Tressan,
contrived, by the aid of her hoop, to save the life of her cousin, the
brave Duc de Montmorency. The duke was hard beset by a great number of
the enemy in the town of Béziers. Louise bade him hide under her huge
bell-shaped hoop, and thus saved him from the vengeance that threatened
him.

The fashion of wearing three gowns, one over the other, shows the
prejudices of the time with respect to distinctions in dress:—

“Pour une cotte qu’a la femme du bourgeois,
La dame en a sur soy l’une sur l’autre trois,
Que toutes elle faict également paroistre,
Et par là se faict plus que bourgeoise cognoistre.”[16]

Songs and satires against “vertugadins” abounded. The “Débat et
Complainte des Meuniers et Meunières à l’Encontre des Vertugadins”
appeared in 1556, and the “Blason des Basquines et Vertugales, avec la
Remontrance qu’ont faict quelques Dames, quand on leur a remontré qu’il
n’en falloit plus porter,” in 1563. Next came the “Plaisante Complainte
...,” by Guillaume Hyver, beginning as follows:—

“Ung temps fut avant telz usaiges,
Lorsque les femmes estoient sages....”[17]

This epigram was quickly answered:—

“La vertugalle nous aurons,
Maulgré eulx et leur faulse envie,
Et le busque au sein porterons;
N’est-ce pas usance jolye?”[18]

Charles IX., Henri III., and Henri IV., all issued edicts against the
hoop. But far from disappearing, it became more and more generally worn.
Little shopkeepers imitated the great ladies; and in the “Discours sur la
Mode,” published in 1613, we read as follows:—

“Le grand vertugadin est commun aux Françoises,
Dont usent maintenant librement les bourgeoises,
Tout de mesme que font les dames, si ce n’est
Qu’avec un plus petit la bourgeoise paroist;
Car les dames ne sont pas bien accommodées
Si leur vertugadin n’est large dix coudées.”[19]

In Paris, the royal edicts against hoops had fallen into disuse, but in
the provinces certain parliaments had maintained a merciless severity.
It is recorded that at Aix a Demoiselle de Lacépède, the widow of the
Sieur de Lacoste, having been accused before the court of wearing a hoop
of seditious width, appeared before the counsellors and gave her word of
honour that the “exaggerated size of her hips, which was the cause of
complaint, was simply a gift of nature.” The judges laughed, and she was
acquitted.

The fashion of vertugadins was especially pleasing to women of humble
birth, who also wore hooped gowns, and thus, like high-born dames and
maidens, attained a likeness to pyramidal towers or gigantic beehives.
This extraordinary whim of fashion was destined to reappear, with various
modifications, at different periods.

Muffs, like those of the present day, were already used by women of rank.
They were called “contenances.” Long gold chains, or cordelières, were
twisted in the waist-band, and fell almost to the feet.

The women vied with the men in splendour of dress. At court or in town
they wore an under-skirt, showing below the gown, which was made with
pointed bodice, the skirt widely opened in front, with narrow sleeves to
the elbow, where they suddenly widened, and were bordered with lace or
fur. The bodice was cut low, disclosing a collerette of fine open-worked
cambric or of lace.

Silk and satin shoes were still in fashion, widely opened on the instep,
which, it must be owned, was not conducive to the elegance of the foot.
Some ladies preferred slashed shoes.

But if there was little change in shoes, there was much in the fashion
of head-dresses. Small rounded coiffures in satin or velvet, forming a
harmonious frame to the face, succeeded to the ancient head-gear; or else
graceful turbans, whose delicate softness could be perceived beneath a
network of pearls or precious stones. The head-dress “à la passe-filon,”
dating from the time of Louis XI., retained its place:—

“Les cheveux en passe fillon,
Et l’œil gay en émerillon,”[20]

says Clément Marot.

The hair was sometimes worn in curls round the face, and falling on the
neck. Many women, however, imitated Marguerite of Navarre, by wearing
ringlets on each side of the temples, and drawing back the hair above the
forehead. Wire pins were first imported from England about 1545; before
this invention ladies made use of extremely fine and flexible wooden pins
or skewers. We have already mentioned these.

There were, in fact, two distinct periods in the fashions under Francis I.

From 1515 to 1526 feminine attire was still influenced by the Middle
Ages, not only as regards form and cut, but also as to colouring, which
was somewhat grave. Ladies were averse to low dresses, nor did they care
for any fanciful trimmings. Some few even abstained from jewels and
diamonds; their dress was graceful, but without studied elegance.

From 1530 to 1545, on the contrary, tastes wholly changed. Women began to
wear necklaces and beads, light-coloured stuffs, and rich trimmings; they
became accustomed to baring the bosom and shoulders, and the habit grew
yet more upon them. Dress became a mass of small details, and women were
ingenious in contriving not to omit one of the thousand trifles intended
to add to their attractions.

In one word, coquetry began to wield its exclusive sway over the actions
of women. To please became their only business. They used perfumes of
all sorts—violet powder, Cyprus powder, civet, musk, orange flower,
ambergris, rosemary, essence of roses. They refreshed their complexions
with an infusion of the bean-flower, and washed with musk soap.

In the latter part of the reign of Francis I., feminine head-dresses
assumed a thoroughly artistic character, of almost exaggerated grace. The
Church and certain writers began to murmur, but with as little effect
as in the fifteenth century. A book entitled “Remontrance Charitable
aux Dames et Damoiselles de France sur leurs Ornements dissolus,”
implored women to renounce their “twists of hair,” which the author calls
“ratrapenades.” Another work, “La Gauléographie,” thundered against the
indecency of plaits; and a pamphlet, “La Source d’Honneur,” bestowed good
advice on women, which they were careful not to follow.

La belle Ferronière invented the head-dress which bore her name. A
skull-cap of velvet or satin, splendidly embroidered, was set amidst
curls that only reached to the shoulders. A narrow ribbon, or chain, in
the centre of which was fixed a jewel or _ferronière_, passed across the
brow and was fastened in a large knot at the back of the head.

Another style of head-dress formed the hair into bands half concealed
by lappets falling over the cheeks and a veil; the folds at one end
were gathered together into a golden tulip terminating in a cluster of
precious stones. The art of the goldsmith was thus combined with that of
the hair-dresser, and the most celebrated beauties adorned themselves in
every conceivable way.

They must have dreaded, especially after nightfall, the numerous thieves
abounding in the capital. Fancy going on foot so dazzlingly arrayed!

It is well to bear in mind that in the time of Francis I. there were but
three coaches in all Paris: one belonged to Queen Claude of France, a
daughter of Louis XII.; another to Diane de Poictiers, who at the age of
thirty-two had lost her husband, Louis de Brézé, Count de Maulevrier,
High Seneschal of Normandy, and who always wore the widow’s garb even
in the days of her greatest prosperity; and the third to a gentleman
named Réné de Laval, who could not mount on horseback on account of his
enormous size.

Our ancestors had nothing to fear from blocks of carriages, nor from the
mud by which we are often splashed in crowded streets.

At the end of the fifteenth century, Gilles le Maître, High President
of the Paris Parliament, executed a contract with his farmers, by which
the latter were bound “on the eves of the four great festivals of the
year, and at the time of the vintage, to provide him with a covered cart,
with good clean straw inside, in which his wife, Marie Sapin, and his
daughter, Geneviève, could be comfortably seated, and also to bring a
foal and a she-ass, on which their serving-women should ride, while he
himself should go first, mounted on his mule, and accompanied by his dog,
who would follow him on foot.”

Truly a humble conveyance for the wife of a High President, who himself
rode modestly on a mule!

If we examine the prints of the time of Henri IV., we shall be at a loss
to conceive how such very smart personages could pass through the streets
on foot, and with Brantôme, we shall begin to admire Marguerite de
Valois’s litters, as represented by the artists of that period, “heavily
gilt, and splendidly covered and painted with many fine devices, and her
coaches and carriages the same.”

The succeeding century witnessed great changes. The wife of the High
President, Christophe de Thou, was the first Frenchwoman, not a princess,
to whom permission to possess a carriage was granted. The bourgeoises
long envied her that delightful privilege!

It is difficult to understand how ladies, dressed in the costumes
handed down to us by artists of the time, contrived to get into their
litters. These must have been very roomy, and much like our modern closed
carriages. It is true, however, that a litter was used by one person only.

The use of carriages has contributed to the development of fashion,
for by their means ladies in very light attire are enabled to go long
distances, from one house to the other, without danger from exposure to
the weather, and without attracting the attention of thieves.

Hence, from the first appearance of coaches to the elegant carriages of
our own day, a particular style of dress has existed, suitable only for
persons possessing equipages, and ridiculous when worn by pedestrians
through rain, mud, and dust.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Henry II 1547 to 1548

Henry II 1555 to 1558]

CHAPTER X.

REIGN OF HENRI II.

1547 TO 1558.

The taste for display had received an irresistible impulse; dress was a
fascinating pursuit, and one well adapted to our manners and customs. In
the reigns succeeding to that of Francis I. there was neither a reaction,
nor any very remarkable novelty.

The principal characteristic of feminine attire, however, in the time
of Henri II. was the amplitude of skirts and sleeves. Costumes were
alternately either of extreme splendour, or of a grave, not to say sombre
appearance. It has been observed: “The sixteenth century offers a curious
mixture of very striking and of very simple costumes.”

Catherine de Médicis, the wife of Henri II., who was an Italian,
introduced “ruffs” into France.

The ruff was a sort of double collar, in stiff goffered plaits. It
completely encircled the throat, and sometimes rose above the ears. Ruffs
became immensely fashionable, both for men and women.

A print of the time proves this. It represents a shop in which three
grotesque figures are starching and ironing ruffs. A lady, seated, is
having her own ironed, and a gentleman is bringing others. Death is seen
on the threshold of the shop, on the right. On the margin there are half
a dozen inscriptions in German and French against the fashion of wearing
ruffs. Beneath the engraving are four German and four French lines, of a
highly satirical nature:—

“Hommes et femmes empèsent par orgueil
Fraises longues pour ne trouver leur pareil;
Mais en enfer le diable soufflera,
Et à brusler les âmes le feu allumera.”[21]

Brantôme, the historian, relates an amusing anecdote concerning the
starched ruffs. He tells us that on one occasion M. de Fresnes-Forget, in
conversing with Queen Catherine, expressed his surprise that women should
wear such deep ruffs, and affected to doubt that they could eat their
soup when thus attired.

Catherine laughed. The next moment a valet handed her a _bouillie_ for
collation. The queen asked for a long-handled spoon, ate her _bouillie_
easily and without soiling her ruff, and then said, “You see, Monsieur de
Fresnes, that with a little intelligence one can manage anything.”

French ladies copied the Italian fashions in their dress, but with
more grandeur and magnificence. The influence of the Renaissance still
prevailed, and art regulated the style of dress to a considerable extent.
There was little change in the actual shape of the garments worn, more
especially among the middle classes.

It became necessary to restrict foreign importation, in order not to
crush our home manufactures, and Henri II. also thought it right to issue
edicts with reference to propriety of attire, and to the diversity of
ranks as indicated by dress. Laws were even passed concerning the quality
and colour of stuffs.

Thus, no woman, not being a princess, might wear a costume entirely of
crimson; the wives of gentlemen might have one part only of their under
dress of that colour. Maids of honour to the queen, or to the princesses
of the blood, might wear velvet gowns of any colour except crimson; the
attendants on other princesses were restricted to velvet, either black
or _tanné_, viz. an ordinary red, not crimson.

The wealthy bourgeoises, without exception, longed to wear the forbidden
material, and thus to vie with the great ladies; but their ambitious
desires were necessarily thwarted, and the law only allowed them velvet
when made into petticoats and sleeves.

Working-women were forbidden to wear silk. This was an extremely
expensive material, and women would make any sacrifice to procure it.

But as we have already remarked, nothing is so difficult of application
as a sumptuary law. The wives of gentlemen, of bourgeois, and of artisans
were loud in complaint.

Then was the lawgiver moved with compassion, and gave permission for
bands of goldsmith’s work to be worn on the head, for gold braid as
borderings to dresses of ceremony, for necklaces and belts of the same
precious metal.

He allowed working-women to trim their gowns with borders or linings of
silk; and silk was also allowed for false sleeves, the whole dress only
of such costly material was forbidden.

But just in proportion as the relaxation of the first rigorous enactments
was reasonable and right, so did the authorities show themselves stern
and severe towards those women who ventured to transgress the king’s
commands.

Ronsard, the poet, exclaims admiringly, like the clever courtier he was:—

“Le velours, trop commun en France,
Sous toi reprend son vieil honneur;
Tellement que ta remontrance
Nous a fait voir la différence
Du valet et de son seigneur,
Et du muguet chargé de soye,
Qui à tes princes s’esgaloit,
Et, riche en drap de soye, alloit
Faisant flamber toute la voye.
Les tusques ingénieuses
Jà trop de volouter s’usoyent
Pour nos femmes délicieuses,
Qui, en robes trop précieuses,
Du rang des nobles abusoyent.
Mais or la laine mesprisée
Reprend son premier ornement;
Tant vaut le grave enseignement
De ta parole autorisée.”[22]

Starched and plaited linen ruffs, or “rotondes,” were first worn in this
reign, also Spanish capes and “collets montés.”

The proverbial expression, a “collet monté,” was applied then as now to
persons who affected great gravity of manner. It owes its origin to the
severity of the Spanish dress, which was adopted in certain quarters in
France.

Catherine de Médicis, who deemed it incumbent on her to grieve
unceasingly for her royal husband, manifested her sorrow by means of the
widow’s dress she habitually wore. Her costume was remarkably austere. It
consisted of a sort of cap, with the edge bent down in the middle of the
forehead, a collerette with large gofferings, a tightly-fitting buttoned
bodice, a wide plaited skirt, and a long mantle with a “collet montant,”
or high stand-up collar.

This simplicity of dress on the part of the queen-mother formed
an exception to the boundless caprices of the ladies who formed a
brilliant court circle around Catherine de Médicis. While confining
herself to black, she made no objection to the splendid attire of her
companions. Coquetry reached to the highest pitch. The beautiful Diana
of Poitiers preserved her beauty by bathing her face, even in winter,
in spring water. This heroic practice did not come into general use,
notwithstanding its supposed efficacy.

The form of women’s attire and head-dresses in the reign of Henri II.
was really admirable. There can be no more complicated needlework than
that employed on the bodice of a dress as represented in an engraving of
1558. It is trimmed with two little epaulettes, and is made with a basque
barely three inches in depth, and far from being “décolleté,” it is high
to the throat, like a man’s jacket (sayon).

Occasionally the fair wearer threw this bodice open, in order to show the
pourpoint or vest underneath, and generally it was also slashed either in
front or behind, or on the shoulders. By this means it looked less thick,
and kept the chest less warm.

The sleeves harmonized perfectly with the gown, particularly with the
bodice. They were not wide, though ten years previously they had been
puffed, but were slashed like the bodice. They diminished in size from
the shoulder to the wrist, and were slashed from top to bottom. They were
frequently trimmed with beads, and still more frequently with silk riband.

Certain ladies of high birth ornamented them with “fers,” or delicate
pieces of goldsmith’s work, not unlike metal buttons.

A curious appendage to the costume of the most fashionable ladies, such
as we are now describing it, existed; behind the sleeve there falls
straight down a false sleeve or “mancheron,” fastened to the epaulette.
We have already mentioned these.

The high collerette, detached from the bodice and embroidered or
goffered, was attached to a light cambric handkerchief covering the
throat, hence its name “gorgias,” from “la gorge,” the throat.

When ladies preferred a low-cut bodice, they would wear with it a very
large “gorgias,” covering the shoulders and neck, and of such material as
to add to the beauty of the costume.

Skirts were plain, and slightly open in front. A girdle, knotted at the
waist, fell gracefully from the peak or point of the bodice, in front,
down to the bottom of the skirt, or was worn hanging from the side, like
the rosary of a nun at the present day.

Exquisite lace, imported from Venice, completed the adornment of feminine
costume, and made it of immense value.

Various styles of head-gear were in fashion, and were worn without
distinction by persons in all ranks of society. There were caps, bonnets,
and hoods.

The hair was first kept in its place by a little bag called a “cale,” and
then the head-dress was put on. Cales remained in use for a long time,
and young girls of the class known as “the people” were subsequently
called by the name.

The cap was toque-shaped, and generally of velvet, with a white feather
over the right ear. The constant movement of the feather, waving in every
breeze, produced a charming effect, and conferred on the fair wearers
a little cavalier air that poets have frequently sung, and that modern
novel-writers have not overlooked.

Hats, which seem to have been less generally worn than caps or hoods,
were usually of oval shape. They were high with wide brims, and were made
in rich materials, or in very fine felt.

Hoods (a favourite head-dress of Catherine de Médicis) were also
generally preferred by Parisian women, and were very like those of modern
times. They were made of velvet, cloth, or silk, with deep fronts,
strings, and a curtain. By a royal edict, velvet hoods were forbidden
to all except “the ladies of the court;” on which the bourgeoises
ingeniously concealed the velvet under gold and silver embroidery, or a
mass of beads and jewels.

The coif suggested the ancient shape of the hood, of which we shall speak
hereafter. It was padded, and had a short veil falling down at the back.

“For going out in cold weather,” observes M. Jules Quicherat, “a square
of stuff was fastened to the strings of the hood, and covered all the
face from the eyes downwards, like the fringe of a mask.” This was called
either a “touret de nez,” or a “coffin à roupies,” according to the
humour of the satirists, whose jests, however, did not prevent ladies
from wearing it.

We must add that ladies also wore capes with hoods in the severe cold of
winter.

Nor must we omit the question of clothing for the feet. This is one of
the most important parts of dress, and the woman with the prettiest shoes
will generally be found the most graceful in other respects. Ladies wore
shoes and slippers, both adapted for indoor wear only, and quite unsuited
for the hard stones and thick mud of Paris. In the streets there were but
few coaches or litters, and so ladies wore pattens with cork soles, over
their shoes or slippers, to protect them from cold and damp.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Francis II 1559

Francis II 1560]

CHAPTER XI.

REIGN OF FRANCIS II.

1559 TO 1560.

Women of celebrity exercise a great influence on dress in general; and
certain historical personages of the sixteenth century gave laws on the
question of Fashion. Whether their celebrity overruled the caprices
of their contemporaries, or whether their perfect taste compelled the
approbation of the dandies and fine ladies of their time, certain it
is that their portraits are typical, and could we be shown any of the
costumes in which they have been painted, the original wearers would
immediately be suggested to us.

Such a celebrity was Mary Stuart, niece to the Guises, and wife of
Francis II., whose misfortunes and tragical fate have made her a deeply
interesting character.

There existed, only a few years ago, among the rare books, manuscripts,
and prints in the library of St. Geneviève, in Paris, two sketches in
coloured chalk, being probably copies of portraits of the Queen of Scots,
painted from life by the famous François Clouet, about the year 1558.

Those sketches, among many others, have been removed from St. Geneviève
to the National Library, where they are less easy of access to the public
than they formerly were in the less pretentious establishment of the
Place du Panthéon.

Let us picture Mary Stuart in her youth, and again in her widow’s garb.
Nothing can surpass the purity and delicacy of outline in those two
portraits. Calm intelligence sits on her brow, and shines from her dark
eyes. Her head is dressed in the Italian fashion, as was then the custom
at court; a high collerette encircles the throat, round which is a pearl
necklace.

On the day of her marriage with Francis II., the beautiful queen wore
a gown of dark blue velvet, “covered with jewels, and white embroidery
of beautiful workmanship, so that it was admirable to see.” Two young
ladies, standing behind her, bore her long train. On her head she wore
so splendid a coronet of jewels, that it was valued by many persons at
300,000 crowns, about 1,800,000 francs of our present money.

At balls, the queen of Francis II. wore a train nearly twelve yards in
length; it was borne after her by a gentleman. Nothing could be more
majestic than the royal mantle thrown over the gown on occasions of
ceremony. Mézeray describes Mary Stuart as wearing a ruff open in front
and standing high behind. Her hair is arranged in two curls that only
cover part of the ear; her crown is placed on a wide and starched coif,
coming down on the forehead, and widening at the sides. She was fond of
jewels. When, on the death of Francis, she was setting out for Scotland,
her uncle, the Cardinal de Guise, suggested that she should leave her
jewels behind, until he could send them to her by some safe hand.

“If I am not afraid for myself,” said Mary Stuart, “why should I fear for
my jewels?”

But we must now leave individual history, in order to continue our
account of feminine attire in general. At the period of which we are now
treating, the shape of dresses was extraordinarily elegant, and they
have often been cut on the same outlines since, in the varying phases of
French Fashion. It will be observed that the bodice is generally provided
with epaulettes, and with a basque two or three inches in depth. It was
usually worn high up to the throat, and opened sometimes between the
throat and the waist, in order to display the under-garments, especially
a waistcoat or “pourpoint” of handsome material. Sleeves were moderate in
size, and became narrower as they approached the wrist; they were drawn
in at equal distances so as to form puffs, and thus were not unlike
the leg-of-mutton sleeves in fashion at the Restoration. Occasionally
the bodice was slashed, and the openings of both bodice and sleeves
were drawn together by knots of pearls, or the “fers,” of which we have
already spoken. An embroidered or goffered collerette stood up round the
throat; it was attached to a cambric handkerchief, that still bore its
old name of “gorgias.” When low bodices were worn, the gorgias covered
the shoulders and neck.

Gowns of silk or velvet, of light or dark tint, and gowns of crimson
Genoa velvet, were opened in front, over an under-skirt of some pale
colour. The opening, beginning in a point at the waist, became gradually
wider, somewhat in the shape of a pyramid. A girdle of beads or gold hung
from the waist, and was often connected with ornaments of the same nature
trimming the bodice.

With a standing-up collerette there was no need of a necklace. But with
low-cut bodices, ladies wore pearl or gold necklaces, from which was
usually hung a valuable cross. At the present day also crosses are very
frequently worn. In a certain collection there is a necklace of the
sixteenth century, composed of six cameos of tragic and comic heads.

We must add that there were ladies who wore necklaces even with
standing-up ruffs, as may be observed in the fourth figure of our
engraving, which gives the costume of a French lady in the suite of Mary
Stuart.

The wives of nobles and of great merchants used both rouge and white
paint on their faces, and some of them adopted the “loup,” or small black
velvet mask, to preserve their complexion from sunburn. Masks received
the name of _loup_, or wolf, because at first young children were
frightened by them.

The head-dress of the period was the “cale,” or little bag in which
women imprisoned their hair, and above this they placed a cap or toque
with white feathers. They retained hoods also, or else they wore coifs,
generally of velvet, bent down over the forehead, and with a veil
attached behind. Little could be seen of the hair, beyond two rolls, one
on either side of the temples. Lastly, some ladies, Mary Stuart and her
attendants in particular, had their hair curled, confined it in a light
net, and encircled it with a diadem of beads or metal.

The coiffure “en raquette” consisted of open basket-work plaits.

Low shoes and slippers were still exclusively worn; but when it was
necessary to leave home and brave the mud, or when ladies wished to add
to their deficient stature, they wore light pattens with cork soles
over their house shoes. In the latter case, pattens occasionally became
perfect pedestals, marvellously increasing the height of dwarfs, and
laying them open to many ill-natured jests.

“I recollect,” says Brantôme, “that one day, at court, a very fine and
beautiful woman was looking at a tapestry whereon Diana and her nymphs
were very innocently depicted in short garments, and displaying their
beautiful feet and legs. Beside this lady stood one of her companions,
who was very short and small, and who also was admiring the tapestry.
‘Ah, my dear,’ said her friend, ‘if we were all dressed after that
fashion, you would not gain by it, for your high pattens would be seen.
Be thankful to the times and to the long skirts we wear that hide your
legs so neatly—the which, with their great pattens, are more like clubs
than legs; for if any one had no weapon for fighting, he need but to cut
off your leg, and holding it at the knee, he would find your foot and
shoe and patten would strike right well.’”

May we not say the same thing at the present day? Now that little women
wear inordinately high heels to give themselves the appearance of middle
height, dwarfs are induced to think themselves almost giants.

But without further digression let us return to the fashions of 1559-60,
and to the edicts of the period.

When we speak of past fashions, alas! we must always mention sumptuary
laws at the same time; that is to say, remedial measures against the
excesses of caprice and luxury. As if wisdom could be decreed by law!

We know their unsuccessful results. But even at the present day, when
difference of rank is no longer marked by difference of dress, we
sometimes meet with persons who are indignant with a working woman if
she ventures to wear a silk gown or a velvet cape on Sunday.

“No, I cannot understand the Government not interfering,” exclaimed
a charming “great lady,” the other day in my presence. “Only a week
ago I was almost elbowed in the Champs Elysées by a girl with a gown
identically like my own! It is really disgraceful!”

In a conciliatory tone I replied, “Probably she had good taste like
yourself.”

“It is disgusting! because, after all, the rest of the costume did not
harmonize with the gown, and the effect was wretched.”

“You must have been glad of that, madame.”

“Glad?”

“Yes; for harmony is everything, or almost everything in dress; and if
that young workwoman could not display an Indian shawl like yours, you
have nothing to complain of.”

“On the contrary, I do complain. Extravagance and ‘equality’ in dress are
the ruin of scores of working girls. There ought to be a law against it.”

“There were laws in former times, madame,” I replied; “but they were an
absolute failure.”

And then I repeated almost word for word what I have said farther back in
this book, concerning reforms imposed by law. But all my arguments failed
to convince my hearer, who was blinded by her prejudices. It is certain
that sumptuary laws, even if they could be revived at the present day,
would be as ineffectual as in the Middle Ages or the Renaissance. Neither
fines nor even imprisonment would put a stop to coquetry, in whatever
rank of life.

The opinions of my fair friend were probably the opinions of ladies
in the reign of Henri II., for in the exordium of an edict issued by
that king on July 12, 1549, we read that “gentlemen and their wives
went to excessive expense for their gold and silver stuffs, their
embroideries, braids, borderings, goldsmiths’ work, cords, cannetilles,
velvets, satins, or silks striped with gold and silver.” These articles,
therefore, were forbidden, except to princes and princesses. Those
exalted persons, however, set a bad example in the matter, that was too
often followed.

The chapter of prohibitions having been thus begun, arbitrary measures
became numerous. A maximum was actually fixed for marriage portions!
Fathers and mothers, or grandparents giving their daughter or
granddaughter in marriage, might not endow her with more than 10,000
livres (Tournois)! Truly a most obnoxious regulation! for was not such a
law an interference with marriage, and an encroachment on the rights of
parents?

The wives of plebeians were forbidden to wear coats like ladies, and
head-dresses of velvet. Dark colours only were permitted them, and common
materials.

But of what avail are severe laws, when broken? The stream of fashion was
in favour of splendid garments, and of all the aids that are given by
dress.

The first hand-knitted silk stockings were worn by King Henri II., at the
wedding of Marguerite of France with Emmanuel-Philibert of Savoy, in the
month of June, 1559. The common people, and even the well-to-do classes,
continued for a long time to wear stockings made of pieces of stuff sewed
together.

Extravagance and luxury pursued their way, and became more versatile and
ruinous than ever. Men and women spent their money, as well as money that
was not their own, on dress. Frenchmen and Frenchwomen seemed bent on
proving themselves absolute arbiters of fashion.

Now to hold the sceptre of taste and toilet involves obligations as
onerous as nobility itself, and to excite the admiration and envy of
coquettes is a costly privilege.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII.

REIGN OF CHARLES IX.

1560 TO 1574.

Hitherto we have seen only the brilliant side of the Renaissance, so to
speak, and its multiplicity of arts, fêtes, and ceremonials conducive
to splendour and display. Let us now glance at the darker side of the
picture, at the shadows cast by the religious wars, and let us note the
results of more than one disaster.

The name of Charles IX. immediately recalls to our recollection the
Massacre of St. Bartholomew, and fills us with horror and dismay; that
of Henri III. brings before our minds the League, with its grotesque and
sanguinary incidents, and its fatal termination by the dagger of Jacques
Clement. At the same time, both reigns afford us matter of a highly
interesting nature in connexion with our subject. In no other way can
these reigns be attractive to us; nor will the horrors of those times
ever be repeated, but the fashions of the sixteenth century have, on
the contrary, already reappeared in a certain measure, and at different
periods. They will revive completely, perhaps, at some future day. There
is nothing more present, sometimes, than the past, especially in matters
of dress, as every Frenchwoman knows. Why then should not our fair
contemporaries once more attire themselves in the fashions that were so
becoming to their predecessors?

When foreign fashions were likely to add to their attractions,
Frenchwomen have never refused to adopt them. They have alternately worn
pretty articles of dress from Spain, or copied the costumes of our fair
English neighbours, to which they imparted an elegance all their own.
They have seldom cared for the severe German style, but from Italy they
have frequently borrowed some of her Southern graces, offspring of that
sunny land and deep blue sky!

Thus, in the sixteenth century, did Italian fashions cross the Alps with
Catherine de Médicis. Heaven only knows whether the fine ladies of the
court were most interested in the bloodshed of the fatal night of August
24, 1572, or in the quantity of Milanese silks imported about the same
time. I have not the heart to blame them for turning away from such
frightful episodes.

But wherefore this love for the products of Italy, for the perfumed
sachets of Venice, for the gold filagree-work of Genoa? Until that period
Frenchwomen appear to have been unacquainted even with the names of the
countries which form the shores of the Adriatic, and suddenly they become
versed in all the minute details of the costumes of those countries!

This must not surprise my readers. Only that I fear to be tedious,
I would remind them that little things may spring from great, as
well as great things from little, and I would enter upon a lengthy
historico-philosophic dissertation.

Let it suffice to state that the filagree-work of Genoa, and the perfumed
sachets of Venice, found their way into France as a consequence of
the fatal expeditions of Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I.
into Italy. From Italy also came cambric handkerchiefs embroidered in
tent-stitch with red silk.

I need not dilate further on this subject, but I will add that we may fix
the period of which I am speaking as that of an invasion of France, by
fashions of Italian prodigality, and sudden and striking effect.

Charles IX. was entertained one day at dinner by a gentleman from the
south. Towards the end of the banquet the ceiling suddenly opened, a
dense cloud descended, and burst with a noise like thunder into a
hailstorm of sweetmeats, followed by a gentle shower of perfumed water.

We may judge from this instance how childish were the splendid customs of
the age, and understand the edicts by which the king vainly endeavoured
to curb the folly of his courtiers, who vied with him in magnificent
extravagance, and ruined themselves by their efforts to rise to the
height of the times, and to shine in galas and private entertainments.

We must begin by stating in a general way that the new fashions for women
were immensely popular, and influenced those for men in the highest
degree.

Gentlemen adopted an effeminate style of dress, which unfortunately
was perpetuated and developed in no small measure by their immediate
descendants.

Charles IX., however, openly professed his contempt for extreme attention
to dress.

Outside political affairs he cared for nothing but the pleasures of the
chase, and locksmith’s work, in which he greatly delighted. He could not
endure that men should wear busks to their pourpoints, nor dress like
Amazons at tournaments; nor would he even tolerate the costly fancy of
sending to Italy or the East for silks, ostrich feathers, perfumes, and
cosmetics.

In the very first year of his reign, on April 22, 1561, he drew up an
edict at Fontainebleau, from which we extract the following passages:—

“We forbid our subjects, whether men, women, or children, to use on their
clothes, whether silken or not, any bands of embroidery, stitching or
pipings of silk, gimp, &c., with which their garments, or part thereof,
might be covered and embellished, excepting only a bordering of velvet
or silk of the width of a finger, or at the utmost two borderings,
chain-stitchings or back-stitchings at the edge of their garments....

“We permit ladies and damsels of birth, who dwell in the country and
outside our towns, to wear gowns and cottes of silk stuff of any colour,
according to their estate and rank, provided always, they shall be
without ornamentation. And as for those who belong to the suite of our
said sister, or other princesses and ladies, they may wear the clothes
they now have, in whatever silk or manner they may be embellished, ...
and only when they are in our suite, and not elsewhere. We allow widows
the use of all silken stuffs, except serge and silk camlet, taffety,
damask, satin, and plain velvet. As to those of birth living in the
country and outside our towns, without any kind of embellishment, nor
other bordering than that which is put to fasten the stitches.... Nor
shall women of whatever sort wear gold on their heads, unless during the
first year of their marriage, &c.”

Such a king as that would, methinks, find much cause for prohibitory
edicts at the present day! What a fidgetty kill-joy! What a despiser of
fine clothes!

Charles IX. issued four edicts on the same subject. On January 17 and 18,
1563, he forbade vertugadins of more than a yard and a half in width,
gold chains, gold work whether with or without enamel, plaques, and all
other buttons for ornamenting head-dresses; and in 1567 he regulated the
dress of all classes, permitting silks only to princesses and duchesses,
prohibiting velvet, and allowing bourgeoises to wear pearls and gold in
their rosaries and bracelets only. The above edicts are to be found in
great awkward folio volumes, amid dry judicial regulations. They form
part of a mass of materials for the historian of the manners and customs
of France.

Do my fair readers imagine these sumptuary laws were obeyed? Do they not
feel that many women would prefer paying fines to the mortification of
not dressing according to their inclination? I leave them to decide the
question, and I proceed to describe feminine attire in the reign of a
prince who ventured to say to Fashion, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no
farther.”

What an extraordinary ruler was Charles IX.! He offered battle to
Fashion, a more absolute sovereign than himself!—to Fashion, whose
cause was that of millions of women! Moreover, he infringed his own
laws, by giving permission to the ladies of Toulouse, in 1565, to wear
“vertugales.”

Fashion gained the victory. Gowns with high collars were retained, and
pleased the Huguenot ladies without being distasteful to the Catholics;
while gold and silver were diversified in a hundred ways on various
dress-stuffs, or brocaded, or mixed with lace, or twisted, or placed in
bars or stripes on silk or velvet. The prohibitions were simply ignored.

Women of high rank wore head-tires of black velvet, or “escoffions”—coifs
of plaited gold or silk ribbons, often ornamented with jewellery. They
wore masks, and held them in their hands.

Bourgeoises, whose means did not allow them to run the risk of a fine,
contented themselves with cloth hoods, abstained from silk, and carried
no mask; but their cottes, cotillons, and gowns might be shaped according
to their pleasure, and were consequently the same in form as the garments
of noble ladies. Almost every bourgeoise made use of cloth stuffs or
camlets, and of black muffs, for only ladies of rank might use those of
various colours.

For a certain length of time, widows wore veils out of doors, high gowns,
a camisole, and a turned down collerette without lace. When in mourning
for a father, a mother, or a husband, long sleeves were worn, bordered
with white fur or swans’-down. No jewels, of course, nor trimmings of jet
or steel. For two years the hair was concealed. On becoming widows, even
queens were bound to remain in seclusion for forty days. The historian De
Thou accuses Catherine de Médicis of having set aside this obligation.

Unmarried daughters walked behind their mothers in the streets, followed
by their servants. When journeying into the country, they rode on a
pillion behind a man-servant.

The hair of married women was sometimes worn flowing loosely on their
shoulders, confined on the brow by a pearl coronet.

The wedding-gown of a girl of the people was generally of cloth, with
bands of black velvet, and open sleeves, hanging to the ground and lined
with velvet; that of young ladies of rank depended on the taste of the
wearer, whose thousand and one caprices were amenable to no law. Nor
would those high-born brides have wanted for protectors of their own sex,
had they infringed any of the edicts.

It is to a Venetian ambassador, an observer of French fashions towards
the time of Charles the Ninth’s death, that we are indebted for the
above interesting details. He adds: “French women have inconceivably
slender waists; they swell out their gowns from the waists downwards
by stiffened stuffs and vertugadins, the which increases the elegance
of their figure. They are very fanciful about their shoes, whether low
slippers or escarpins. The cotillon (under-skirt), which in Venice we
call _carpetta_, is always very handsome and elegant, whether worn by
a bourgeoise or a lady. As for the upper dress, provided it is made of
serge or ‘escot,’ little attention is paid to it, because the women,
when they go to church, kneel and even sit on it. Over the chemise
they wear a buste or bodice, that they call a ‘corps piqué,’ to give
them support; it is fastened behind, which is good for the chest. The
shoulders are covered with the finest tissue or network; the head, neck,
and arms are adorned with jewels. The hair is arranged quite differently
from the Italian fashion; they use circlets of wire and ‘tampons,’ over
which the hair is drawn in order to give greater width to the forehead.
For the most part their hair is black, which contrasts with their pale
complexions; for in France, pallor, if not from ill-health, is considered
a beauty.”

Our Venetian performs his task admirably. There is nothing omitted from
his description of the French ladies of the time; he is gallant, too, in
the highest degree. He moved in the best society, among the fine ladies
of the town and court.

The “corps piqué” mentioned by him was much like the corset or stays
of the present day, and tightly compressed the waist of women who were
determined, at any cost, to be slender; and all the more determined that
the men, as we have said before, vied with them in slenderness of waist.
They compressed their waists in an incredible and unbecoming manner,
quite unworthy of their sex.

On the other hand, women took more than ever to wearing the masculine
“caleçon,” a special kind of pourpoint made with hose.

We have already mentioned masks; we must now treat of paint, which was
introduced into France, it is said, by Catherine de Médicis.

Many of the court beauties coloured their cheeks in the evening with
sublimate, rendering it necessary to counteract its corrosive effects the
next morning. They used both pomades and cooling lotions for the face.
Perfumers manufactured their cosmetics for the toilet, by pulverizing and
blending together the claws and wings of pigeons, Venetian turpentine,
lilies, fresh eggs, honey, shells called “porcelaines,” ground
mother-o’-pearl, and camphor. All these ingredients were distilled with a
small quantity of musk and ambergris.

What a mixture! it is like an invention of Mephistopheles. I am not aware
whether perfumers of the present day compound such prescriptions, but I
do know that to my mind ladies have resumed the custom of painting the
face more than is desirable. But to proceed.

Jean de Caurres, a writer of the sixteenth century, says that the ladies
of his time, when masked, wore a mirror on the breast, and that the
fashion was becoming general; “so that in course of time,” he adds,
“there will be neither bourgeoise nor serving-maid without one.”

This curious fashion did not last long; that of wearing mirrors at the
girdle, in order that women might see whether their head-dress was in
order, was of longer duration. The mirrors in question were round, with
a more or less handsome handle, by which they were hung alongside the
aumonière.

Catherine de Médicis, whose shoulders were remarkable for beauty, had her
dresses cut as low in the bosom as at the back. Her court imitated her,
and many ill-made women dared not dress otherwise than their sovereign,
to whom also is to be attributed the spread of the fashion of whaleboned
bodices, so fraught with evil to numberless generations of women.
Opposition does not exist among good courtiers.

“Catherine de Médicis,” says Brantôme, “was the first who rode on a
side-saddle.”

Court dresses were made with immense trains; at balls these were held up
by a metal clasp or ivory button. Notwithstanding their weight, lined as
they were with ermine or miniver, no lady would appear without one, even
at the risk of suffocation.

Let us, however, do justice to the women of the time of Charles IX., and
while criticizing certain details of their attire, admit that it was of
enchanting grace, and extremely harmonious in design.

Can there be any costume in better taste than one in white brocade? What
can be more elegant than borderings in coloured stones or glass beads?
Then there was the fur mantle that a fine lady threw over her shoulders,
when a cool air made her tremble for her delicate health; and the white
kid gloves, so common now, so rare at that time, and the lace ruffs; and
those pretty white hoods, whence fell a long white veil half concealing
the figure, and the “arcelets,” or wire circlets, by which the hair
was raised from the temples. And what better finish could there be to
a costume of a grave style than those deep red linings, that starched
gorgerette, that simple, yet graceful, black hat?

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Charles IX 1560 to 1574

Henry III 1574 to 1589]

CHAPTER XIII.

REIGN OF HENRI III.

1574 TO 1589.

Simplicity seems to have been the motto of Charles IX., as we have seen
by the sumptuary laws he issued.

The ideal of his successor Henri III. was, on the contrary, splendour
of every kind. His courtiers indulged in the wildest extravagances,
in imitation of their sovereign, whose life was passed in continual
diversions and magnificent fêtes, and who set the example of extravagance
in dress, and yet constantly issued fresh edicts against luxury.

Henri de Valois cannot be said to have preached by example, for his
conduct was in flagrant contradiction of his precepts. A strong
opposition sprang at once into existence when he issued a sumptuary law
forbidding his great nobles to wear garments of gold or silver cloth.

It is told of the queen, that she was, on one occasion, in a
linendraper’s shop, and seeing a lady dressed with great elegance, she
asked, “And who are you?”

The lady, without looking at the speaker, replied that she was the wife
of President N——.

“In good truth, Madame la Presidente,” observed the queen, “you are very
smart for a woman of your rank.”

“At any rate, I am not smart at your expense,” returned the lady; and
then suddenly recognizing the queen, she threw herself at her feet.
Louise de Lorraine gently remonstrated with her upon her extravagance;
she herself having little taste for dress or display.

Those subjects of the king who felt offended by his edicts did not think
proper to visit the city in garments of serge, like Louise de Lorraine;
they had recourse to another expedient, and evaded the royal commands by
arraying their valets in the splendid clothes forbidden to themselves.
The lacqueys of the great nobles were thus attired in heavily embroidered
liveries of silk. Every one, on seeing a servant with all the seams
of his coat embroidered in gold, conceived a high idea of the noble
personage his master, and of that master’s wealth. Liveries served as an
advertisement of nobility and a demonstration of pride.

Women, however, acted on a different plan. Far from dressing up their
maids in pearls and diamonds, a proceeding by which they might have
created rivals to their own beauty, they discovered another way of
evading the law. They had recourse to subterfuge.

Since brocades were forbidden, they sent to Milan for gowns which,
without a thread of gold or silver in them, cost, generally speaking, 500
crowns each; and the Italian manufacturers gained by all that our own
lost.

Five hundred crowns for the material of a dress! This was a round sum.
Five hundred more were spent by French ladies on adjuncts and ornaments,
on fringes, braidings, twists, and “cannetilles;” and they were delighted
with the splendour they had attained without the help of either gold or
silver. Their love for the beautiful was satisfied; the Milan gowns were
quite equal to brocade!

What right had Henri de Valois, asked the belles of the period, what
right had he who “starched his wife’s collars and curled her hair,”
according to malicious reports, to show such severity concerning other
women’s dress?

Did not he himself wear a velvet hat, with a plume and an aigrette of
diamonds? Surely this head-dress had not a martial air? Had he not an
invincible propensity for effeminacy in everything? Had he not deeply
studied the contents of the queen’s wardrobe? and was he not more learned
than all her women on every matter of feminine attire?

And worse than this! Immediately on his return from Poland he eagerly
adopted the fashion of paint and violet powder, that women had initiated
at the end of the reign of Charles IX. A sort of rivalry sprang up under
his auspices between the great nobles, who made him their model, and the
ladies of the court. Not satisfied with his plumed cap, identical with
the feminine coif or “escoffion,” he was perfumed with amber from head to
foot. Never had such a thing been known in France.

The Italians at the court of Catherine de Médicis had introduced a
refined taste in perfumes. Nicolas de Montau, in his “Miroir des
François,” reproved ladies for “making use of every perfume—cordial,
civet, musk, ambergris, and other precious aromatic substances—for
perfuming their dresses and linen, nay, their whole bodies.” The fashion
spread, even among the bourgeois class. Everything was perfumed,
garments, hair, gloves, and shoes; cavities were contrived in rings,
bracelets, and necklaces to contain scent. Fans, which were used by
young dandies in ruffs and ringlets, as well as by ladies, exhaled an
unmistakable odour as they were gently fluttered in the breeze. The sexes
vied with each other in the use of perfumes. Every lady at the court wore
silk knitted gloves and scented gloves; and it has been asserted that the
good Jeanne d’Albret, mother of Henri IV., was poisoned by gloves sent
from Italy.

The dress of women consisted of a whalebone bodice, very tight to
the waist, with large leg-of-mutton sleeves. “When the princesses or
duchesses,” says Montaigne, “had not whaleboned bodices, they tightened
their waists with wooden splints; for, above all, it was necessary to
astonish the world by a slender waist.” They usually wore two gowns, one
over the other, either of the same colour with variegated trimmings, or
of different colours.

Flowered garters were worn. The mask or _loup_, worn when walking, as
in the reign of Charles IX., was not attached by strings, but held by a
glass button between the teeth. A round mirror, with a handle, hung at
the waist, and afforded means of ascertaining the state of the toilet at
any moment. This fashion had existed under Charles IX.

The head-tire most usually worn was a toque with or without an aigrette,
a “bourrelet,” or a small high-crowned hat, of which the material was, as
it were, crumpled up.

Many women still wore the old-fashioned hoods; for young unmarried ladies
they were made of velvet with long falling lappet at the back, with a
high “touret” and ear-pieces, sometimes ornamented with gold, and called
“coquilles” (shells). The hoods worn by bourgeoises were made of cloth,
and with a square “tournette.” Difference of rank was still indicated
by difference of dress, and was destined so to continue for several
centuries to come.

The heart-shaped head-dress of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries
again made its appearance, but the heart was now constructed of the hair
itself, instead of a piece of stuff as formerly.

Complaints began to be made by great ladies that certain bourgeoises were
so bold as to wear velvet and gold ornaments. Petitions from the nobles
at the États de Blois, 1588, set forth “that the wives of advocates,
procureurs and treasurers, bourgeoises, and other _ignoble_ women should
not be allowed to wear velvet hoods.”

What would be the feelings of women of the present day, if any one
ventured to forbid them any sort of head-dress! Can we picture to
ourselves the wives of lawyers or merchants prevented from dressing as
they please!

The ideal costume of the reign of Henri III. was realized in the dress
worn by Marguerite de Valois at Cognac, on the occasion of her visit
to that town at the commencement of her journey through France, and
before her marriage with the King of Navarre. She “put on her handsomest
and most superb apparel, that she wore at court on occasions of the
greatest magnificence.” She desired to dazzle the inhabitants of Cognac.
“Besides,” said she, “extravagance is with me a family failing.”

Marguerite was continually promoting fêtes and tournaments, where
splendid dress was combined with sparkling wit.

Let us hear what Pierre de Bourdeilles, Abbot and Lord of Brantôme, says
on the subject:—

“Marguerite appeared, superbly attired in a gown of cloth of silver and
colombine colour ‘à la Boulonnaise,’ with hanging sleeves; a magnificent
head-dress and a white veil, neither too large nor too small. All this
was accompanied by so sweet and gracious a majesty, that she seemed more
like a goddess from heaven than a queen of the earth.

“The queen said to her:—

“‘My child, you look very well!’

“And she answered:—

“‘Madame, here I wear out the gowns I brought with me from court, because
when I return thither, I shall not take them with me. I shall take only
scissors, and materials, in order to set myself up again in whatever may
be the reigning fashion.’

“The queen replied:—

“‘Why do you talk thus? since you know that it is yourself who invents
all the pretty fashions we follow; and wherever you may go, the court
will copy you, and not you the court.’”

Catherine de Médicis, who always feared that the sceptre of government
might be wrested from her, endeavoured by these words to make her
daughter desirous only of the sceptre of Fashion.

And in truth whatever Marguerite de Valois wore became at once the rage
among her sex.

The charm of her beauty and her still greater charm of manner invested
her with supreme rule over all the finery of the great court ladies. On
one occasion she would appear in a white satin gown, adorned with tinsel,
with a touch of crimson here and there, and a salmon-coloured crape or
Roman gauze veil thrown carelessly over her head; on another, her orange
and black gown and large veil would elicit general admiration; or she
would excite the most ecstatic delight by inventing a perfectly original
costume.

On the arrival of the Polish ambassadors who brought the news of the
election of the Duke d’Alençon (afterwards Henri III.) to the throne of
Poland, and were delegated by the nation to receive the oath of their
new king, Marguerite de Valois wore a gown of Spanish crimson velvet
richly trimmed with gold, and a toque of the same material adorned
with jewels and bright feathers. Thus attired, she looked so divinely
beautiful that she had her portrait painted in that costume. Marguerite
had resolved not to be outdone by the Polish envoys, who were attired in
the semi-Oriental, semi-fantastic style, with great plumes and widespread
eagles’ wings.

Her abundant hair required no artificial aid. On Easter Day at Blois,
at the procession, she wore large pearl stars in her hair, and a gown
of cloth of gold of Eastern manufacture, which had been given by the
Grand Turk to the French ambassador, who in his turn had presented it to
Marguerite. It was so heavily weighted with jewels, that only so strong a
woman as she was could have carried the weight of it.

But notwithstanding Brantôme’s approbation, Marguerite de Valois is
justly accused, by an eminent archæologist, of having degraded rather
than improved the fashions of her time. He asserts that her taste was not
good.

Marguerite de Valois was certainly mistaken in lengthening the waists of
dresses to a preposterous degree; in inventing sleeves puffed out at the
top and tight at the wrist; and, finally, in replacing vertugadins by
masses of padding on the hips, which made the skirt look like a big drum,
and took away all lightness and elegance from the figure.

Marguerite de Valois had magnificent black hair, but, setting little
value on this gift of nature, she usually covered it with false hair of a
light shade. She is said to have selected fair-haired pages, whose long
locks were occasionally shorn for her benefit.

Much the same custom prevails at the present day, the hair-market being
supplied by peasant girls.

According to the Gaignières collection in the National Library, which
consists of thousands of drawings and engravings, the ladies at the
court of Henri III. wore sleeves of enormous size, the whole dress,
bodice, and skirt being of the same material.

Servants of the period wore bodices with busks, and carried keys in the
right hand and a basket over the left arm. The costume was grave, and yet
not without elegance.

But however full of absurdities were feminine fashions under Henri III.,
those for men far exceeded them; their whims and eccentricities were
unbounded.

The enormous starched collars that rose from a fine lady’s shoulders,
and made a sort of hollow niche behind her head, could not long retain
their freshness, however carefully worn, and the padded “busts,” somewhat
like a piece of armour, must have greatly impeded all natural movement;
while the goffered ruff, separating the head from the shoulders, was far
from graceful, notwithstanding the “bichons,” or rolls of hair, on the
temples. All these constituted an affected and ungraceful costume, and
the wearers were called “poupins” by the ill-natured wits of the time.

The courtiers and favourites of Henri III. imitated the court ladies, not
only by wearing pearl necklaces, earrings, and rings of gold, silver,
precious stones, enamel, &c., but also wore their “bourets” of velvet,
and their “bichons” or rolled hair. They were “fraisés et frisés,” that
is, they wore both ruffs and curls. Their pourpoints were open, so as to
display the point lace, at that time recently imported from Venice. The
fans of these “curled darlings” were also ornamented with lace; and at
night they wore masks and gloves saturated with various cosmetics and
unguents to preserve the whiteness of their skin.

The dress worn by the Duc de Joyeuse, the favourite of Henri III., on the
occasion of his marriage with the queen’s sister, is worthy of note. The
event made a great sensation in the high and perfumed circles of the day.
The king gave fêtes, which cost at least 200,000 crowns, and this at a
time when France was impoverished by civil war.

Maurice Poucet, a famous preacher, protested from the pulpit against such
profuse expenditure; and the Duc de Joyeuse, meeting him on one occasion,
exclaimed with indignation, “I have often heard of you, and how you make
the people laugh by your sermons.” “It is right that I should make them
laugh,” the preacher coldly replied; “since you make them weep over the
subsidies and great expenses of your wedding.”

Joyeuse withdrew without daring to strike Poucet, as he had intended to
do.

The king and Joyeuse were dressed precisely alike at the wedding of the
latter. They were covered with embroidery, pearls, and precious stones.
Like the court ladies, they were scented with cordial water, civet,
musk, ambergris, and aromatic substances; their ruffs were starched and
goffered. They carried off the palm from the “poupins.”

Following their example, the dandies of the time not only adopted the
Italian turn-over collars, but attired themselves in such a fashion as to
attract the bitterest satire. The following lines were aimed at Joyeuse
and his imitators:—

“Ce petit popeliret,
Frisé, fraisé, blondelet,
Dont la reluisante face
Fait même honte à la glace,
Et la délicate peau
Au plus beau teint d’un tableau;
Ce muguet dont la parole
Est blèze, mignarde et molle;
Le pied duquel, en marchant,
N’iroit un œuf escachant,
L’autre jour prit fantaisie
De s’épouser à Marie,
Vêtue aussi proprement,
Peu s’en faut, que son (galant).
Et, venant devant le temple,
Le prêtre, qui les contemple,
Demande, facétieux:
‘Quel est l’époux de vous deux?’”[23]

The starched ruffs, or fluted collars, at first so fashionable at
the court of Henri III., and then capriciously discarded, made their
appearance once more, extraordinarily improved, for the king’s own wear.
This was in 1578. The king appeared wearing a ruff made of fifteen
breadths of cambric, and half a yard in depth. “To see his head against
that ruff,” said Pierre de l’Estoile, “put one in the mind of St. John
the Baptist’s head on a charger.”

But the king’s triumph was complete; and his favourites were equal to the
occasion, and expressed rapturous admiration of his good taste.

Being a true amateur in the matter of fluted collars, he had judged that
ordinary starch would not suffice to hold up such a quantity of material
as stiffly as was necessary, and the king of France had deigned to invent
a sublime mixture; his august hands had obtained a satisfactory result
from rice flour, and he had duly experimented upon it!

From the combination of the masculine and feminine styles, dress in
general had assumed an ungraceful stiffness. The attire of Henri III.
was considered monstrous by the serious minds of the time. D’Aubigné
exclaimed:

“Si, qu’au premier abord, chacun estoit en peine
S’il voyoit un roi-femme ou bien un homme-reine.”[24]

The ladies of the court, fortunately, were not such thorough courtiers
as to overpass all the bounds of decorum. They adopted the fashion of
cushions, which remaining fixed behind, while the hoop swayed, gave size
and roundness to the hips, but they did not imitate the king’s gentlemen
in wearing the “panse,” or paunch, an absurd invention, which gave the
male wearer a likeness to Punch, and was the exact opposite of the “buste
ajusté.” The “buste” flattened the figure, while the “panse,” consisting
of a quantity of cotton wool, formed an enormous Pantagruelian stomach,
and imparted a truly grotesque appearance to those who wore it. This
absurd fashion was of short duration; men found it cumbrous, and perhaps
became ashamed of the ridicule it excited.

If my fair readers will look at a painting at the Louvre, by Clouet,
otherwise Janet, _circa_ 1584, they will feel flattered; for they will
perceive that the palm of absurdity and singularity belonged of right at
that time to the sterner sex.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Henry IV 1590

Louis XIII 1614]

CHAPTER XIV.

REIGNS OF HENRI IV. AND LOUIS XIII.

1589 TO 1643.

There is no difficulty in ascertaining the relation between the events of
a certain period and the fashions of the same date.

It may be that if the spirit of the age be serious, if the social
community be exposed to severe trials, if continual misfortunes befall
the mass of the people, the mode of dress will reflect those vicissitudes
of the time; and, generally speaking, such is the case. Sometimes, on the
contrary, extravagance and luxury seem to be flaunted in the very face of
the general poverty, and the small prosperous minority are so profoundly
indifferent to the misfortunes of the greater part of mankind, that they
make not the slightest change in their mode of living, but indulge in
every whim and caprice, and continue to bend the knee before the “fickle
goddess.”

A remarkable exception to this rule is worthy of note. It occurred in
Paris in December, 1583, immediately after the murder of the Duc de Guise
at the États de Blois. Deep mourning prevailed among the “leaguers” of
the capital, and numerous expiatory or funereal processions took place.
No fashionable costume was tolerated. “If a demoiselle was seen wearing
a ruff ‘à la confusion,’ nay, even a single ‘rabat’ of extra length, or
sleeves too open, or any other superfluous adornment, the people would
attack her, drag off her ruff, and even tear her clothes.”

But this, we repeat, was an exception. In the most troubled times of
our history, fashion and luxury appear to have yielded none of their
rights. Frenchmen, and still more Frenchwomen, feel so imperious a need
of pleasure! Ennui comes to them so readily! The love of admiration, or
to speak more accurately, the love of elegance and of change is so deeply
rooted in the national character. If luxury did not exist in France, we
should be compelled to invent it. When it vanishes, we think that all is
lost—even our country!

It is unnecessary to recall the events of the reign of Henri IV., which
began in civil war, and ended with his assassination. The hero of the
day, the conqueror at Ivry, the king who “confounded both Mayenne and
Iberia,” loved fêtes as much perhaps as battles, for in both he was
triumphant over all rivals.

His court followed his example. Men still wore the curls and ringlets of
preceding reigns; ladies continued to use masks, so conducive to tricks
and adventures of all kinds. Nor did they give up their perfumes, whether
ambergris, musk, or cordial water; moreover they astonished the world by
the size of their “vertugadins.”

The vertugadin consisted of circles of iron, wood, or whalebone,
“resembling the hoops of casks.” These were sewn inside the skirts. It
dated from the first half of the sixteenth century, but attained no
extraordinary size under the Valois. Many eccentricities may be laid to
their charge, as we have seen, but on this point they were tolerably
reasonable.

From the first appearance of the vertugadin, which has become a type in
the history of Fashion, splints of wood were employed to compress the
waist, and give it slenderness and grace. Busks, whalebone bodices, and
corsets were used later. The object was to render the waist smaller;
hence resulted a whole architectural system intended to compass the
result at which our own contemporaries sometimes aim by means of the
corset. The waist was so tightly compressed that Henri Estienne speaks
of “l’espoitrinement des dames.”

The vertugadin came to us direct from Spain. “In order to obtain a real
Spanish figure,” says Montaigne, “what a gehenna of suffering will not
women endure, drawn in and compressed by great ‘coches’ entering the very
flesh; nay, sometimes they even die thereof?”

During the reign of Henri IV. the gigantic size of the vertugadin, in
spite of satire and sarcasm, was not lessened by one inch. In vain was
its absurdity manifest. The ladies nearly all looked “like church bells,”
to make use of a metaphor for which other historians are responsible.
Their bodices were usually buttoned in front, and were cut square at
the waist; but they often wore long pointed bodices partially opened
in front, and disclosing a white chemisette elegantly trimmed with
embroidery or lace. Lace was lavished on every part of the gown—on the
wrists, sleeves, and back.

Frenchwomen wore colours, and great was their number—from “rat-colour”
to that called “widow’s joy,” or “envenomed monkey,” or “chimney-sweep,”
according to D’Aubigné.

Gabrielle d’Estrées, who wore her hair frizzed and drawn back in the
shape of a heart, had a “cotillon” of the colour of “gold-dust of
Turkey.” Her black satin gown, slashed with white, is mentioned by some
writers. She paid 1900 crowns for the embroidered handkerchief she
carried at a ballet. Some court ladies loaded themselves with such a
weight of pearls and jewels that they were unable to move. At the baptism
of the king’s children, on September 14, 1606, the queen’s gown, covered
with “thirty-two thousand pearls and three thousand diamonds, was beyond
rivalry, and priceless.” Before that, in 1594, Gabrielle d’Estrées “was
so loaded with pearls and sparkling gems that she outshone the light
of the torches.” She possessed a “cotte of Turkish cloth of gold, with
flowers embroidered in carnation, white, and green,” and a “gown of
flowered green velvet, lined with cloth of silver, and trimmed with gold
and silver braid, and pipings of carnation satin.”

The display of diamonds was destined to increase as time went on.

The reign of the vertugadin, which Mme. de Motteville described as “a
round and monstrous machine,” came to an end in 1630. But red silk
stockings, called “bas de fiammette,” costing more than seventy-five
francs a pair, shoes with flaps fastened by a love-knot “à la Choisy”
in blue or red satin, and crimson velvet, pattens with high cork soles,
survived the vertugadin, as did likewise velvet, miniver, and ermine
muffs in winter.

Marguerite de France, the daughter of Henri II. and wife of Henri IV.,
is depicted wearing the following costume: Pearl necklace and earrings,
open-work fan, kid gloves completely covering the hands and wrists, where
they were drawn under white cuffs, a cap, since known as the Marie Stuart
cap, her hair frizzed and drawn up symmetrically over the forehead, an
under-dress of black satin, the upper one trimmed with gimp, an open
fluted collerette, and an immense ruff reaching to the nape of the neck.

Marguerite de France, whom courtiers called “the goddess,” was
extraordinarily beautiful, and was graceful, lively, and fascinating in
the highest degree. Her “carrures” (shoulder-breadths) and skirts were
made by her orders, it is said, much wider than was necessary. She was
enormously stout, and by way of improving her figure applied steel bands
to each side of her waist. There were, it seems, not a few doors through
which the fair princess could not pass.

Gowns were made not only of satin but of velvet, damask, and silk of
every colour. There were dresses “à collets débordés,” or with collars
falling over the shoulders and upper part of the arm; there were ruffs
“à grands godrons,” so cut out and open-worked that the skin was easily
discernible behind them; there were belts of exorbitant price, to which
were suspended needle-cases, gold-handled scissors, and gold-braided
velvet purses.

By degrees, through the fatal effect of bad example, the passion for
low-cut bodices assumed a boundless sway.

Innocent XI., who was at enmity with France, rebuked this craze from the
chair of St. Peter, and showed no greater favour to the weaker sex than
to the politicians of France. He issued a bull by which he “enjoined
on all women, married and single, to cover their bosoms, shoulders,
and arms down to the wrist, with non-transparent materials, on pain of
excommunication.”

But the thunderbolts of the Church were hurled in vain, and light,
transparent, and low-cut gowns enjoyed a long career. The Vatican and the
French Parliament might speak if they chose, but they could not prevail
against the customs of the day.

Dating from the year 1587, one of the last years of the troubled reign
of Henri III., women had taken a violent fancy to wearing hair only as
a head-dress, surmounted by a feather. They wore false hair or wigs
powdered with violet powder for brunettes, and with iris for fair women.
A sort of gum or mucilage kept the hair in its place; their heads seemed
to be pasted. The women of the people made use of the dust of rotten oak,
and the peasants of flour for the same purpose.

There were four different styles of head-dresses of the period:—First,
the “coiffure à boucles frisées,” or curled ringlets, the style of which
is sufficiently indicated by its name; secondly, that “à passe filions;”
thirdly, that “à oreillettes,” a hat with a high crown, the material of
which being crumpled of itself (naturellement chiffonnée) fell into a
quantity of little folds; and, fourthly, the “coiffure à l’espagnole,” or
Spanish head-dress.

The latter deserves some notice on account of its elegance and
singularity. My readers can imagine the effect of a handsome Spanish
toque, embroidered or braided in gold, and artistically placed at
the back of the head, with the hair in curls all round the front. In
addition, there were several plaits intermingled with ribbons and jewels,
which fell lightly on the neck and floated in the wind. This head-dress
met with little or no opposition.

Transparent dresses “à l’ange,” or “à la vierge,” skirts of yellow satin,
like those of Francion’s wife, and light head-dresses, were worn with
very delicate and fanciful shoes. Venetian slippers were much prized,
also coloured shoes with high heels.

During the reign of Henri IV., Venetian and Florentine lace became so
fashionable in France, that, in justice to native manufacturers, their
importation was forbidden. But a system of fraudulent traffic was set up,
and French vanity almost got the better of the law. The king chose to
banter his minister on the extravagance of women, and Sully immediately
took certain steps which succeeded in temporarily stopping the excess of
expenditure on dress.

Louis XIII., the son of Henri III., endeavoured to walk in the path
traced out by Sully, and in 1633 and 1634 issued two fresh edicts
lecturing Frenchwomen on their caprices. All the women instantly cried
“Shame!” and numberless caricatures were published in defence of their
cause.

One artist depicted a steady tradesman of Flanders, reduced to a state of
despair, tearing his hair, and wildly cursing things in general, while he
tramples his embroideries under foot and exclaims:—

“Que fait-on publier? que venons-nous d’entendre?
Mettons bas la boutique, et de nos passements
Faisons des cordes pour nous pendre!”[25]

Another print bore the following title: “Pompe funèbre de la Mode, avec
les larmes de Démocrite et les ris d’Héraclite.” Four women are leading
Fashion along, followed by a crowd of workwomen, barbers, embroiderers,
and tailors, who are endeavouring to make the best of their evil fortune,
and brandishing, after the fashion of banners, wands laden with lace and
finery. In the background is a sarcophagus bearing the following epitaph:—

“Ci-gist sous ce tableau, pour l’avoir mérité,
La Mode, qui causait tant de folie en France.
La mort a fait mourir la superfluité,
Et va faire bientôt revivre l’abondance.”[26]

Here lieth Fashion! The ladies of the day must have laughed heartily
in their sleeve at the notion of the death of Fashion; for how should
they admit that it _deserved_ to die? In spite of caricatures it did, in
fact, survive, and in face of all the edicts took refuge at court, as its
privileged sanctuary, and the natural home of ermine, gold-laced coats,
lace, and jewels.

Vaugelas, the grammarian, paid tribute to the power of Fashion, when
he said: “Words are like fashions. The wise, who know that they must
speak and dress like every one else, do not immediately adopt the newest
inventions of folly, but only those in general use, and it is equally
unreasonable to endeavour to make words or to make fashions, or to refuse
to abide by them after they have been publicly recognized.” In other
words, custom overrides everything as regards both language and dress,
and no one can decree innovations either in speech or in costume, with a
chance of being obeyed.

Nor did the Jansenists meet with better success when they attempted to
deprive a certain lady of Easter Communion because she had trimmed her
pocket-handkerchief with lace. Was it not the fashion?

Meanwhile the mere bourgeoises, who dared not openly defy the sumptuary
laws, wore, in place of the lace forbidden them, a quantity of ribbon
under the generic name of “galants.”

Knots of ribbon appeared on the dresses of all the bourgeoises, and
even on those of the maid-servants of Molière’s and Corneille’s time.
There were tufts of ribbon on the skirts, bodices, sleeves, and hair.
Bourgeoises felt the necessity of wearing ribbons at a time when
cavaliers were profusely adorned with them. The whole French people were
ribbon mad.

The “chaperon” or hood was still worn by bourgeoises. This was a small
coif pointed on the forehead, and with an appendage behind that hung over
the shoulders. The point was fastened down by pins. If we may believe the
author of “La Chasse au Vieil Grognard,” “nobody was so well dressed, so
clean, and so respectable” as the bourgeoises. “So well mannered, and so
agreeable in their speech and conversation, that for the most part they
with their daughters would be taken for noble ladies rather than for
bourgeoises and shopkeepers.”

Great ladies also condescended to wear hoods, but only in winter.

According to Ménage, Anne of Austria introduced the fashion of
“garcettes,” which took the place of the padded wigs. The hair was
frequently dressed “en tire-bouchons,” or corkscrew-fashion, and in
loops, with a “culbute” or ribbon-bow fixed in the chignon.

Widows were never seen without a little coif on their heads. After two
years’ deep mourning in “guimpe” and mantle, says a modern writer, widows
were restricted for the rest of their lives, unless they married again,
to black and white made in the simplest manner. Mme. d’Aiguillon, the
niece of Cardinal Richelieu, was the first who ventured to wear colours
after her husband’s death. Yet she did not throw aside the hood, which
remained in existence under different names—sometimes “languette,”
sometimes “bandeau”—until the close of the seventeenth century.

According to St. Simon, Mme. de Navailles, who died in 1700, was the last
widow who wore a “bandeau.”

For undress, great ladies wore small coifs or round caps, fitting close
to the head. Servants and women of the people added a kind of flag, which
hung down between the shoulders, and was called a “bavolette,” and was
probably the forerunner of the “bavolet,” or bonnet-curtain of our own
times. Countrywomen wore instead of a coif a thick stitched “béguin,”
which is still in use in certain country places. In Picardy it is called
a “cale” or “calipète.”

Women of the people wore no gowns, only two petticoats and a bodice; the
latter was sometimes laid aside for a “hongreline,” or loose bodice with
deep basques, and in all cases an apron. They almost all possessed gold
ornaments.

The girdle consisted of a “demi-ceint” of silver, and a broad band of
silk ornamented with chased or enamelled gold-work. The “demi-ceint” was
sometimes worth forty crowns; knives keys, scissors, &c., were suspended
to it by a chain. Taken altogether, the dress of a maid-servant was
rather complicated.

Feminine attire altered very little under Louis XIII. We may note,
however, the muff and the little “muff-dog,” seldom separated from his
mistress.

Essences were still used, also white lead and vermilion. Every article
of dress was scented, including shoes, and especially gloves. There were
gloves “à l’occasion,” “à la nécessité,” “à la cadenet,” “à la Phyllis,”
“à la Frangipani” made out of highly perfumed skins, and gloves “à la
Néroli,” so called from a princess of that name who had, it seems,
invented an exquisite scent.

In the “Discours de la Mode” (1615) we read:—

“Une dame ne peut jamais estre prisée
Si sa perruque n’est mignonnement frisée,
Si elle n’a son chef de poudre parfumé
Et un millier de nœuds, qui çà qui là semé,
Par quatre, cinq ou six rangs, ou bien davantage,
Comme sa chevelure, a plus ou moins d’étage.”[27]

For the benefit of their complexions, women applied lard to their faces
at night.

The “précieuses,” whom Molière thought ridiculous, and who refined our
language until they got out of their depth, used to call fans “zephyrs.”
This is rather an appropriate expression, and at any rate it is less
affected than the euphemism of “baptized mules,” by which they designated
the porters of their sedan chairs.

Bright coloured silk stockings were still in fashion, and red satin
shoes, or little slippers of various hues.

We must call attention to one novelty, the appearance of patches, which
are first mentioned in print in 1655, and continued to be in fashion
until the time of the Regency, when seven principal patches were
recognized.

A patch was simply a small bit of black silk sticking-plaister, placed
on the face, which looked all the fairer for the contrast. Each lady
placed the patch to suit the expression of her countenance. In the midst
of a promenade or street a great lady might be seen suddenly to stop, to
open the patch-box she carried everywhere with her, to survey herself
in the mirror which lined its lid, and quickly to replace a patch that
had fallen off. The fashion of patches was not, as might be imagined, a
production of the seventeenth century. It was a reminiscence of early
Roman times, during which even orators wore patches when speaking from
the Tribune. We may truly say that there is nothing new under the sun.

It is said that certain plaisters ordered as a remedy for headache had
originally suggested these black spots, and what had been at first
prescribed for health’s sake, was retained as an aid and accessory to the
beauty of ladies who wished for artificial attractions.

After endeavouring to animate and improve the countenance by patches,
the next step was to conceal those faces to which nature had been unkind
behind a mask; or else to envelope beauty in mystery, by making its
presence doubtful, and exciting the curiosity of the incredulous.

Masks originated in the reign of Henri II. They reappeared in tenfold
force under Louis XIII. Ladies avoided recognition by wearing black
velvet masks, lined with white satin, that folded in two like a
pocket-book. There were no strings with which to fix them on, but a
slender silver bar ending in a button was fastened on the inside, and
putting this between her teeth, the wearer could hold her mask in its
place. Moreover, the tone of the voice was so altered by a mask, that
many persons, anxious to avoid satirical remark, kept on their masks in
public promenades, at balls, and even in church.

The poet Scarron describes the prettiest kind of mask in his “Épître
Burlesque” to Mme. de Hautefort:—

“Parlerai-je de ces fantasques
Qui portent dentelle à leurs masques,
En chamarrant les trous des yeux,
Croyant que le masque est au mieux?
Dirai-je qu’en la canicule,
Qu’à la cave même l’on brûle,
Elles portent panne et velours?
Mais ce n’est pas à tous les jours;
Qu’au lieu de mouches les coquettes
Couvrent leur museau de paillettes,
Ont en bouche cannelle et clous,
Afin d’avoir le flaire doux,
Ou du fenouil que je ne mente,
Ou herbe forte comme mente.”[28]

Masks called “loups” were supposed to protect the complexion from
sunburn, but this was a mere pretext; the real object was to conceal the
face of the wearer. Some ladies thus concealed their plainness, and the
loup was also called “cache-laid,” or hide-ugly.

After the death of Louis XIII., when the minority of Louis XIV. afforded
an excuse for the troubles of the Fronde, when the great ladies meddled
with politics, directed insurrectionary movements, and acquired the name
of “belles frondeuses,” masks played a most important part.

Conspiracies that had been hatched in boudoirs broke out in the streets,
and women took up arms and placed themselves at the head of seditious
parties. Cardinal Mazarin used to say: “There are three women in France
capable of governing or of upsetting three kingdoms: the Duchesse de
Longueville, the Princesse Palatine, and the Duchesse de Chevreuse.”

These ladies used to go, masked, to the councils of Beaufort or of
Condé, so as to escape the observation of the enemies of their cause.

There are portraits in existence of that arch-Frondeuse the Duchesse de
Longueville. She is represented with helmet and cuirass; her air and
attitude are those of a heroine. Several princesses took her for their
model; and the period is one of note as regards fashion, especially for
great diversity in dress.

No commands were laid on great lords and ladies in those times of anarchy
among the nobles. There was ample liberty, not to say licence, in dress.

“The women,” says a contemporary writer, “shone in jewels at a ball given
by Anne of Austria, and as much as they could in beauty also; and others
in embroidery, feathers, ribbons, and good looks, each according to her
means and the gifts of nature.” But for them liberty in dress was not
destined to be of long duration.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV.

REIGN OF LOUIS XIV.

1643 TO 1705.

A king who knows how to command now appears upon the scene. In his youth
Louis XIV. ruled over pleasure, in his old age over conscience.

But whether in youth, middle age, or at the close of life, Louis XIV.
could not dispense with a numerous company of courtiers of both sexes,
whom he attracted by means of fêtes and fashion, by continual amusements,
and by pleasures of every kind.

In 1650, Mme. Belot, the wife of a “Maître des requêtes,” first wore and
set the fashion of the “justaucorps,” which was like the “hongreline” of
former years, but shaped in some respects like a man’s pourpoint. As a
riding or hunting costume it was also adopted by the bourgeoises.

Scarfs came again into fashion in 1656. But some disbanded soldiers
amused themselves by wandering through the streets of Paris and snatching
those light garments from the shoulders of ladies passing by, on the
pretext that Louis XIV. had forbidden the wearing of them. A few of these
scoundrels were hanged, without ceremony, by the police.

During the Carnival of 1659, “the court,” says Mdlle. de Montpensier,
“only arrived at the beginning of February.... We often masqueraded in
most delightful fashion. On one occasion, Monsieur, Mdlle. de Villeroy,
Mdlle. de Gourdon, and I, wore cloth of silver with rose-coloured braid,
black velvet aprons, and stomachers trimmed with gold and silver lace.
Our dresses were cut like those of the Bresse peasants, with collars and
cuffs of yellow cloth in the same style, but of somewhat finer quality
than is used by them, and edged with Venetian lace. We had black velvet
hats entirely covered with flame-coloured, pink, and white feathers.
My bodice was laced up with pearls and fastened with diamonds, and
had diamonds all about it. Monsieur and Mdlle. de Villeroy also wore
diamonds, and Mdlle. de Gourdon emeralds. Our black hair was dressed in
the Bresse peasant style, and we carried flame-coloured crooks ornamented
with silver. For shepherds we had the Duc de Roquelaure, the Comte de
Guiche, Péquilain, and the Marquis de Villeroy, &c.”

In 1662, “pleasure and plenty were reigning at court; the courtiers lived
high and played high. Money was abundant, every purse open, and young men
got as much cash as they chose from the notaries. There was a constant
succession of feasts, dances, and entertainments.”

In 1664, Louis XIV. distributed presents of dress-stuffs to all his
courtiers, who were positively no longer free to dress as they liked.
After he had built the pavilion at Marly, every court lady found a
complete costume, and a quantity of the most exquisite lace, in her
wardrobe. And when by special favour the royal princes were allowed to
obtain embroidery in blue silk, it was officially reckoned among the
“benefits” received from the king.

Materials were magnificent! Gros de Naples was brocaded with gold leaves
and red, violet, or gold and silver flowers.

The “Mercure Galant” of the same year contained the following letter on
the fashions, addressed to a countess in the country:—

“As I am aware, madame, that your country neighbours are much interested
in the new fashions, I paid a visit lately to one of those ladies who can
only talk of skirts and finery....

“Dresses painted with figures and flowers are still worn, but there is
more green in the bouquets of flowers. They are beginning to paint the
finest linen, and this is quite a novelty, for all those we have seen
hitherto were only printed.

“Jet and enamel buttons are mentioned, watered ribbons, and square
watches with looking-glass at the back; but this last fashion does not
meet with approval, as it is thought the corners of the watch might be
dangerous.

“Net-work coifs were at first dotted, and afterwards open worked; this
last is quite a novelty, as are also the skirts of ‘point d’Angleterre,’
printed on linen and mounted on silk with raised ornaments; every woman
has bought some.”

Jewellery had a large sale: some in coloured glass, manufactured by a
clever artisan in the Temple, was called “Temple jewellery.”

Fashion now became a question of etiquette, and Louis XIV. was lawgiver.
The court obeyed every fancy of the sovereign, and the town followed
suit, as far as was possible, and more than was reasonable. Debts were
incurred for dress. A tailor made a claim of 300,000 francs on the great
Condé!

Men and women alike endeavoured to shine in dress. “At the royal
residences,” says Voltaire, “every lady found a complete suit of clothes
in readiness for her. A princess had but to appear in some striking
costume, and every lady of rank immediately endeavoured to imitate, even
to outshine her. The most extravagant sums were paid for dresses that
were continually renewed.” “Scarcely had one fashion usurped the place of
another,” says La Bruyère, “when it was succeeded by a third, which in
its turn was replaced by some still newer fashion, not by any means the
last.” Never had the refinements of Fashion been pushed so far.

The poverty of a great part of the population in the time of the Fronde
has been admitted. But Dubosc-Montandré, the author of a pamphlet called
“Le Tombeau du Sens Commun,” is of a different opinion, and exclaims in
1650: “If the people were poor, should we see neckerchiefs worth twenty
or thirty crowns on the wives of cooks? or liveried lacqueys carrying
a cushion behind their mistress, a mere shopkeeper’s wife? Should we
see milliners and butchers’ daughters wearing dresses worth 300 or 400
francs? or gold trimmings brought down so low as to adorn laundresses
withal? And is it not true that clothes ought to be infallible tokens by
which to distinguish rank and conditions in life, and that in the gardens
of the Luxembourg or the Tuileries we ought to have no difficulty in
distinguishing a duchess from a bookseller’s spouse, a marchioness from a
grocer’s wife, or a countess from a cook?”

Our author forgets that extravagance does not always indicate general
wealth, though it frequently casts suspicion on the moral tone of society.

On the one hand, the king signed edicts against extravagance, while on
the other he encouraged it by his splendid fêtes. The bourgeois alone
approved of edicts forbidding gold or silver-laced liveries, and fixing
a limit to the price of the handsomest materials. The edict of 1700
was followed by the publication of a print, underneath which was the
following distich:—

“A femme désolée mari joyeux ...
Trêve à la bourse du mari jusqu’à nouvelle mode.”[29]

A decree of the council, dated August 21, 1665, set forth that no woman,
single or married, should be admitted “marchande lingère,” unless she
professed the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman faith.

Fifteen years later, a poet wrote the following lines:—

“On ne distingue plus nos dames
D’avecque le commun des femmes:
Dès qu’une personne d’honneur
Prend quelque juppe de couleur,
Ou dès qu’elle change de mode,
Enfin, dès qu’elle s’accommode
Dedans un estat éclatant,
Une bourgeoise en fait autant;
Elle s’ornera de panaches,
Et s’appliquera des moustaches,
Des postiches, des faux cheveux,
Des tours, des tresses et des nœuds,
Des coëffes demi-blanche ou jaune,
Où les toiles entrent par aune;
De ces beaux taffetas rayez,
Qui parfois ne sont pas payez,
Car souvent tant de braverie (coquetterie)
Cache beaucoup de gueuserie.”[30]

The above satirical and descriptive tirade may, perhaps, have annoyed the
belles of the day, but it did not reform them.

Law and criticism were alike in vain, and the history of dress, both
masculine and feminine, from the minority of Louis XIV. to the year 1715,
presents a variety of phases that reflect the successive changes at his
court.

When Marie Thérèse arrived in Paris in August, 1660, she was attired in
“a gown enriched with gold, pearls, and precious stones, and was adorned
with the most splendid of the crown jewels.”

A year afterwards, at a fête at Vaux, Mdlle. de la Vallière wore a white
gown, “with gold stars and leaves in Persian stitch, and a pale blue sash
tied in a large knot below the bosom. In her fair waving hair, falling
in profusion about her neck and shoulders, she wore flowers and pearls
mingled together. Two large emeralds shone in her ears.” Her arms were
bare, and encircled above the elbow by a gold open-work bracelet set with
opals. She wore gloves of cream-coloured Brussels lace.

“Langlée, director of the royal sports,” says Mme. de Sévigné, “gave to
Mme. de Montespan a gown of gold upon gold, embroidered in gold, bordered
with gold, above which was a band (frise) of gold, worked in gold mixed
with a particular kind of gold; and forming the most divine material that
can be conceived....”

All women, including the queen-mother, had made use of masks until the
year 1663.

This fashion passed away as political adventures gradually ceased. But
in 1695 it still prevailed. “With regard to ladies,” says the “Traité de
la Civilité,” published in Paris, “it is well to know that in addition
to the curtsey, they have other means, such as the mask, the coif, and
the gown, with which they can express respect; for it is reckoned uncivil
for a lady to enter the room of a person deserving of consideration
with dress tucked up, face masked, and coif on head, unless the coif
be transparent. It is an incivility also to keep on her mask in any
place where a person of eminent rank is present, by whom she might be
perceived, except when in a coach with such person. It is uncivil to keep
on the mask when curtseying to any one, unless from afar off; and even
then it must be removed for a royal personage.”

The above rules show how greatly the mask had been in use.

In 1668, women of rank always wore an under-skirt of watered or glacé
satin, with an over-skirt trailing behind, and carried over the left
arm. Sleeves were puffed, and trimmed with lace and ribbon, and scarcely
covered half the arm. They were not slashed. The bodice reaching to the
hips, and fitting tightly to the waist, ended in a point. The under-skirt
had a double border of gold and silk embroidery, while the upper one had
but a single border, like the Greek and Roman tunics.

Here and there on the bodice were trimmings of gimp and ribbon, and a
lace collerette covered the shoulders and chest.

Women generally wore pearl necklaces. Cuffs held an important place in a
carefully arranged toilet. “I have been told,” writes Furetière, “that
the wife of President Tambonneau takes a whole hour to put on her cuffs.”

Knots of ribbon were placed everywhere among lace edgings. When arranged
in tiers each side of the busk in front, they were called “échelles,” or
ladders.

On one occasion Mme. de la Reynie’s “ladders” were being spoken of with
admiration before Mme. Cornuel, who replied somewhat maliciously: “I
wonder she does not wear a gibbet as well.” M. de la Reynie was Chief of
the Police.

Ornaments of ribbon and chenille succeeded to “ladders.” Buttons were
fixed on braid or chenille, and corresponded with “freluches” or
“fanfreluches,” that is, with tufts of silk.

“Transparents” came into fashion in 1676. “Have you heard of
‘transparents’?” writes Mme. de Sévigné. “They are complete dresses
of the very finest gold or azure brocade, and over them is worn a
transparent black gown, or a gown of beautiful English lace, or of
chenille velvet, like that winter lace that you saw. These form a
‘transparent,’ which is a black dress and a gold, silver, or coloured
dress, just as one likes, and this is the fashion.”

The black lace worn on skirts was called “quilles d’Angleterre.”

Colbert encouraged the manufacture of lace. By an edict of August 5,
1665, “a manufactory of French lace” was established on a liberal basis
at the Hôtel de Beaufort, in Paris. The towns designated as the cradles
of this valuable art were Arras, Quesnoy, Sedan, Château-Thierry, Loudun,
Aurillac, and above all, Alençon. The commoner kinds of lace hitherto
manufactured in Paris, Lyons, Normandy, and Auvergne, no longer sufficed
for the popular taste.

The finer sorts were also made subsequently at Valenciennes, Lille,
Dieppe, Hâvre, Honfleur, Pont-l’Evêque, Caen, Gisors, Fécamp, Le Puy, and
the Bois de Boulogne.

French lace vied with that of foreign manufacture, including Brussels and
Mechlin.

Colbert eagerly secured the services of a lady at Alençon, named Gilbert,
who knew the Venetian lace-stitch, and directed her to set up a factory
at Alençon.

Lace called “gueuse” and “neigeuse” was bought by persons of small
means,—other kinds, of marvellous beauty, could only be compassed by
women of fortune.

The fine ladies of the seventeenth century, like those of the sixteenth,
had their gowns made by men, viz. a certain Renaud, living opposite
the Hôtel d’Aligre; a Sieur Villeneuve, near the Place des Victoires;
Lallemand, Rue St. Martin; Le Brun, Le Maire and Bonjuste, all of the Rue
de Grenelle; and lastly, Chalandat, Rue de l’Arbre-Sec.

As real pearls were very costly, a Frenchman, named Jacquin, invented
a substitute for them in the century of which we are treating. He had
observed that the water in which small fish called “ablettes” (whitebait)
were washed, contained a quantity of bright and silvery particles, and
by filling hollow blown glass beads with this sediment, he succeeded in
producing an admirable imitation. But about twenty thousand whitebait
were required to supply one pound of essence of pearls!

Silks of every kind were manufactured at Lyons, and a workman employed
there succeeded in producing them with a bright lustrous finish; the
process is called “donner eau.”

The silkworm whose silk is a perfect white was now about to be introduced
into France.

The first period of feminine dress under Louis XIV. was chiefly
remarkable for its monumental head-dresses.

The Sieur Champagne, by reason of his skill, and also of the value he
contrived to confer on himself, was in great demand by all the fine
ladies of the time.

“Their foolish behaviour made him quite insupportable, and he made the
most impertinent remarks to them; some ladies he would leave with their
hair half dressed.” Maître Adam petulantly exclaims:—

“J’enrage quand je vois Champagne
Porter la main à vos cheveux.”[31]

It was on this account, perhaps, that many of the most refined women
of fashion preferred female hair-dressers, some of whom were widely
celebrated, viz. “Mesdemoiselles Canillat, Place du Palais Royal;
D’Angerville, in the same neighbourhood; De Gomberville, Rue des
Bons-Enfants; Le Brun, at the Palais; and Poitier, near the Hospice des
Quinze-Vingts.” They were all wives of wig-makers.

The hair was dressed “à la Ninon,” carefully parted in front and flowing
in loose ringlets, and partly concealed at the back by a white gauze veil.

An “appretador,” consisting of a row of diamonds or string of pearls, was
sometimes mixed with the hair; or twists of hair of various colours, and
“postiches” or false hair.

At the time of the marriage of the Duke of Orleans with the Princesse
Palatine (1671), the fashionable style of hair was called “hurlupée”
or “hurluberlu.” Mme. de Sévigné thought it most extraordinary.
“I was greatly amused at the head-dresses,” she says, “and felt
inclined to give a slap to some of them.” The word “hurluberlu” meant
inconsiderate, brusque, thoughtless. Certain ladies were blamed for being
“hurluberlu.”[32]

Mme. de Sévigné afterwards changed her mind.

A female hair-dresser named Martin, who succeeded to the favour accorded
to Champagne, introduced a fashion that was very becoming to some faces.
The hair on each side was cut in graduated lengths, and hung in thick
curls, the longest not falling much lower than the ear. Ribbons were
fixed into it in the usual way, and a large curl drooped on the neck.

The “hurluberlu” developed into many varieties, among others into
“paresseuses,” the false wigs or long ringlets that fine ladies put on in
their dressing-rooms on rising.

When Mme. de Montespan was at the height of favour, “she wore point
de France, and her hair in numberless curls, one on each side of the
temples, falling low on her cheeks. Black ribbons in her hair, pearls
which had belonged to the Maréchale de l’Hôpital, and buckles and
ear-drops of magnificent diamonds. Three or four hair-bodkins; no
coif....”

On the whole the seventeenth century was prolific in pretty head-dresses.
When the head was dressed “à la garçon,” a parting was made horizontally
along the forehead, a few little curls waving loose, while all the rest
of the hair was drawn up, and cut short on the neck. Mme. de Sévigné
advised Mme. de Grignan to adopt the above style, somewhat modified: “the
hair knotted low at the back of the head, so as not to conceal either its
purity of outline or its harmonious proportions; the short undergrowth of
hair in light curls on the forehead gives piquancy to the physiognomy,
while showers of filmy ringlets on the temples add softness to the
expression.”

For two years “le faire brelander” was in fashion, that is, the hair was
cut short and curled. On the other hand, Nanteuil, the famous engraver,
has bequeathed to us portraits of women with most luxuriant hair; long
ringlets mixed with pearls rise from the crown of the head, and fall down
on either side.

The “capeline” of the seventeenth century was a hat worn by ladies when
hunting, or at a ball or masquerade. It was generally made of straw, with
a deep brim lined with silk or satin, and was covered with feathers.
Sometimes it was merely a velvet cap, trimmed with feathers of no great
value.

Long ringlets were called “moustaches.” “Women wore curled moustaches
hanging down over the cheeks, and reaching to the bosom. Servants and
bourgeoises met with great disfavour when they wore moustaches like young
ladies.”

From the time of the Fronde, many Frenchwomen had continued very partial
to patches. A poet, writing under the name of “La Bonne Faiseuse,” says:—

“Tel galant qui vous fait la nique,
S’il n’est pris aujourd’hui, s’y trouve pris demain;
Qu’il soit indifférent ou qu’il fasse le vain,
A la fin la _mouche_ le pique.”[33]

In the “Adresses de Paris” (1691), De Pradel informs us that “The best
patch-maker lives in the Rue St. Denis, at the sign of ‘La Perle des
Mouches.’”

La Fontaine tells us in verse the use of patches. He puts the following
lines into the mouth of an ant:—

“Je rehausse d’un teint la blancheur naturelle,
Et la dernière main que met à sa beauté
Une femme allant en conquête,
C’est un ajustement des _mouches_ emprunté.”[34]

As a little fanciful adjunct, ladies wore “palatines” of white gauze, or
of English point or French lace in summer, and miniver in winter. They
were so called after Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, daughter of the
Elector Palatine, and second wife of Monsieur, who was the first to make
use of them, in order, it is said, to avoid the immodesty of exposing her
shoulders and bosom.

She was called by the courtiers “toute d’une pièce,” on account of
her frankness and worth, but the “palatine” was her only success at
Versailles.

Until the reign of Louis XIV., leather gloves had been worn by men only,
and resembled the war-gauntlets of the ancient monarchy; but during his
reign women displayed the beauty of their hands by wearing either kid
gloves reaching to the upper arm, or long mittens in netted silk; while
charming pink or blue satin slippers, with rosettes on the instep, clad
their feet. “This reminds me,” says Tallemant, “of some of the queen’s
ladies, who, that they might wear pretty shoes, tightly bound their feet
with bands of their hair, and fainted from pain in the queen’s room.”

High heels soon made their appearance, and continued increasing in height
until heels of eight centimètres were considered quite an ordinary size.

François Colletet exclaims in “Les Tracas de Paris:”—

“Mais considère leur patin
Qui d’un demi-pied les élève.”[35]

And Regnard:—

“Lise veut être grande en dépit de nature.”[36]

While Voltaire adds, more recently:—

“Vous aurez maussades actrices,
Moitié femme et moitié patin.”[37]

Among the best shoemakers for ladies were Raveneau, Rue des Cordeliers;
Vernon, Couteaux, Gaborry, Rue des Fossés-St.-Germain; Bisbot, Rue
Dauphine; Sulphour, Rue St. Sévérin. The shoemaker Des Noyers, Rue St.
Anne, only made “very neat shoes,” and charged a gold louis for them,
from which we may conclude that those of a more elegant sort were
excessively dear.

The tight stays, so injurious to health, were adopted by the ladies of
the seventeenth century, and to conceal the discomfort occasioned by
them, fans were in constant use; these were beautifully painted and
mounted in wood, mother-of-pearl, ivory, steel, or gold.

In 1656, Christina of Sweden, while journeying through France, astonished
everybody by her eccentricities and the strangeness of her dress. Some
French ladies asked her opinion as to whether they should use fans in
summer as well as in winter.

The Queen of Sweden replied, somewhat coarsely,—

“I think not; you are windy enough as you are.”

But they used their fans in summer, Christina’s advice notwithstanding.

They also carried a sweet lemon in the left hand, and occasionally set
their teeth in it, so as to redden their lips.

From 1660 to 1680 there was little material alteration in feminine
attire. There were, however, a few changes in minor details. The long
pointed bodices, the short sleeves, and the full skirts tucked up over
narrower petticoats, remained in fashion. Scarfs reappeared frequently.
Masks had not been given up; and muffs, that were very generally worn,
often served to carry about little dogs. “Dog-muffs” were sold in the
shops.

An unexpected variation took place in head-dresses. The Duchesse de
Fontanges was present at one of the royal hunting parties, when a gust
of wind blew her head-dress aside; she tied it in its place with her
ribbon-garters, the ends falling over her forehead. Louis XIV. was
delighted with this curious, improvised, and, so to speak, historical
invention, which was due to a mere chance. It was consequently adopted
by the ladies of the court, in the first instance, and afterwards by the
Parisian bourgeoises, under the name of “coiffure à la Fontanges.”

Imagine a framework of cap-wire, at least half a yard in height, divided
into several tiers, and covered with bands of muslin, ribbons, chenille,
pearls, flowers, aigrettes, &c.

Each separate part of the wondrous structure had its own appellation,
viz. the solitary one, the duke, the duchess, the Capuchin, the cabbage,
the asparagus, the cat, the organ-pipe, the first or second sky, and the
mouse. The last named was a little bow of nonpareil, fixed in the mass of
frizzed hair that was arranged below the curled “fontange.”

“Une palissade de fer
Soutient la superbe structure
Des hauts rayons d’une coiffure;
Tel, au temps de calme sur mer,
Un vaisseau porte sa mâture.”[38]

“If a woman only moves, the edifice trembles and seems about to fall.”
But neither the difficulty of their construction, nor the care required
for their preservation, prevented women from wearing these things.

Yet the king disapproved, and for a few months after the death of Mme.
de Fontanges the ladies of the court submitted to his taste, after that
interval they followed their own.

For thirty years those gigantic “heads” held their place at Versailles,
under the eyes of the old monarch who “protested in vain against towering
head-dresses.”

There were “tignons,” or “torsades,” in many plaits, to annoy his
majesty; there was the “passagère,” a bunch of curls on the temples;
the “favorite,” a cluster falling on the cheek; “cruches,” little curls
on the fore part of the head; “confidants,” still smaller ones near the
ears; and “crève-cœurs,” two curls on the nape of the neck.

Each day brought forth some new complication. When was a limit to be
reached?

Two English ladies, with their hair worn low, having been presented
at the Versailles court in 1714, Louis XIV. said to the wives of his
courtiers,—

“If Frenchwomen were reasonable beings, they would at once give up their
ridiculous head-dresses, and wear their hair in the English fashion.”

Notwithstanding their spirit of insubordination, how could the court
ladies bear to be called “ridiculous,” especially by their king?

They went from one extreme to the other; and the desire to imitate the
English ladies induced them to do that which the king’s authority had
failed to obtain from them. They very soon made their appearance in the
king’s “circle” with their hair dressed low. The poet Chaulieu mentions
the fact:—

“Paris cède à la mode et change ses parures;
Ce peuple imitateur et singe de la cour
A commencé depuis un jour
D’humilier enfin l’orgueil de ses coiffures.”[39]

Besides the stars of Versailles, Mdlle. de la Vallière, Mme. de
Fontanges, and Mme. de Maintenon, there shone also, and not always with
the approbation of the sovereign, the stars of the Paris stage. The
influence of actresses was increasing. “All the mantles now made for
women,” says “Le Mercure Galant” in 1673, “are no longer plaited, but
quite plain, so that the figure is better shown off. They are called
mantles “à la Sylvie,” although invented by Mdlle. de Molière, but they
are named after a book called ‘La Sylvie de Molière.’ Those, however, who
have read the book, know well enough that it was not his story.” Mdlle.
de Molière composed most splendid costumes for herself.

After the representation of _Esther_ in 1689, the fashions suddenly
changed. The Ninon and Montespan styles had lasted until the year of
the famous jubilee of 1676. “In the early and doubtful dawn of Mme. de
Maintenon’s career,” says J. Michelet, “and especially in those equivocal
years preceding her marriage, she had adopted a head-dress which was
at once coquettish and devout, which in part concealed, and in part
displayed, the scarf she had bestowed on the ladies of St. Cyr, and which
had been imitated by all. After _Esther_, the scarf was put aside, and
the face boldly exposed. The head-dress was raised higher and higher in
various ways, and resembled a mitre or a Persian tiara. Gigantic combs
were worn, or towers or spires of lace, and, later, a scaffolding of
hair; or the diadem-cap adopted by Mme. de Maintenon, the helmet cap,
or dragoon’s crest, with which the more audacious beauties (like Mme.
la Duchesse) adorned their bolder charms. Her portraits, and those of
De Caylus, are the prettiest of the time, and seem to be the types of
Fashion.”

The battle of Steinkirk, in which the Prince of Orange was defeated, was
commemorated in women’s dress. They wore “Steinkirk” ties, or kerchiefs,
twisted round the throat with studied and graceful negligence. This was
in honour of the French officers, who, taken by surprise, had only time
to throw their cravats about their necks, rush out on the English, and
defeat them. Mdlle. Marthe le Rochois, a singer of the day, had set
the fashion by loosely tying on a cravat over her stage dress in the
opera of _Thétis et Pelée_. This was a delicate compliment, and it was
appreciated and copied.

All novelties in jewellery were “à la Steinkirk.” The fashion of the
cravats did not last long, but was revived later in the shape of
“fichus,” or three-cornered silk neckerchiefs, trimmed with lace, gold
fringe, or gold and silver thread.

Another fashion was derived from war. “Crémonas,” or light trimmings
either puffed or plaited, and sewn to both edges of a ribbon, made their
appearance in 1702. They were intended to commemorate Prince Eugène’s
entry into Cremona, where the Maréchal de Villeroi was made prisoner.

In 1684, women still wore under-skirts trimmed with “falbalas” or bands
of plaitings, or puffs either placed high up or low down on the skirt—and
upper gowns with long trains, like those of 1668; but the bodice of the
same colour as the train, was made with a small basque cut away in front.
It was half open, and disclosed a braided stomacher, above which was a
chemisette of fine muslin or lace, or a “follette,” a very light kind of
fichu.

Sleeves were no longer puffed, but were worn close fitting, with a lace
frill.

Rosettes in satin ribbon were out of fashion. “Amadis” sleeves were seen
for the first time in the stage dresses of _Amadis des Gaules_, an opera,
of which the music was by Lulli, and the words were by Quinault. They had
been designed by the Chevalier Bernin for Mdlle. le Rochois, in order to
conceal the ugliness of her arms.

Half dress, or “négligé,” consisted of a black gown, black adjuncts, and
a white apron. Widows dressed in white.

Another kind of sleeve, covering the arm, was called the “Jansenist,”
in allusion to the severe morals of the Port Royalists, who were always
warring against insufficient or light clothing.

The hair was dressed in artistically arranged curls, beneath a coif of
moderate height, not unlike a hollow toque, generally speaking goffered,
and made either of starched muslin or magnificent lace.

There were many sorts of caps, with hanging lappets, or one lappet or
“jardinière.” Wasps or butterflies made of brilliants, says Boursault,—

“Paraissaient voltiger dans les cheveux des dames.”[40]

There was also a fashionable head-dress, placed at the back of the head,
and showing the ear; this was called the “effrontée,” or “barefaced.”

The costume was completed by a necklace, the inevitable fan, and the
high-heeled shoes that are characteristic of a whole epoch in dress.

On the occasion of the betrothal of the daughter of Monsieur with the Duc
de Lorraine, the Duchesse de Bourgogne wore on the first day a gown of
silver tissue, with gold flowers, touched with a little flame-colour and
green, and in her hair the finest of the crown diamonds. The next day her
gown was of grey damask, with silver flowers, and she wore diamonds and
emeralds. Mademoiselle wore a coat of gros de Tours richly embroidered in
gold; her skirt, of silver tissue, was embroidered in gold touched with
flame-colour. She wore a splendid set of diamonds, and a mantle of gold
point d’Espagne, six yards and a half long, and her train was carried by
the Grand Duchess. Another time her coat and skirt were both of cloth of
silver, all laced with silver. Her jewels were diamonds and rubies.

“Towards 1700,” says Michelet, “the women of the time no longer show the
classic features of a Ninon, or a Montespan, nor the rich development
that they so freely displayed. But the devil was no loser. If backs and
shoulders are concealed from our gaze, the small portion that we are
permitted to admire, and that is, as it were, offered to our inspection,
is but the more attractive. There is a sort of audacity about the
uncovered brow, the hair drawn back so as to show its every root, the
high comb, or diadem-cap, that seems little in harmony with the soft and
childish features of the day. This childishness, so devoid of innocence,
combined with the masculine Steinkirk, gives them the appearance of pets
of the seraglio, or of impudent pages who have stolen women’s garments.”

For a long time the artist Mignard enjoyed the pleasant monopoly of
painting portraits of the court ladies, and these Madonnas of his
were so completely the rage, that the Versailles ladies wished to be
distinguished by their “mignarde” faces; they endeavoured to obtain
“mignardise” of expression, they smiled “mignardement,” and put on little
“mignard” affectations. The word became part of our language, and was
used with great frequency in the complimentary talk addressed to women.

Mignard was succeeded by a painter called Largillière; and “mignardise”
began to give way to a colder and simpler style, though still somewhat
tinged with affectation. Mme. de Maintenon on one occasion wore a gown
of dead-leaf damask, quite plain, a head-dress “en battant l’œil,” and a
cross composed of four diamonds on her neck—a cross à la Maintenon. The
_quasi_-queen having thus set the fashion of veils and grim coifs, all
her faithful followers looked like heaps of black and sombre materials.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Louis XIV 1668 to 1694

Louis XV 1720 to 1760]

CHAPTER XVI.

REIGN OF LOUIS XIV. (CONTINUED).

1705 TO 1715.

“The women of this district (Versailles),” writes La Bruyère, “hasten
the decline of their beauty by the use of artifices which they imagine
will increase their charms; they paint their lips, cheeks, eyebrows,
and shoulders, and liberally display them as well as their bosom, arms,
and ears.... If by the fault of nature women became such as they make
themselves by art, that is to say, if their complexion suddenly lost all
its freshness, and looked as fiery and leaden as they make it by the use
of rouge and paint, they would be inconsolable.” And he adds: “If their
wish is to be pleasing to men, if it is for the men’s sake that they lay
on their white and red paint, I have inquired into the matter, and I can
tell them that in the opinion of men, or at least of the great majority,
the use of white paint and rouge makes them hideous and disgusting; and
that rouge, by itself, both ages and disguises them.”

This reminds us of the reply of a Turkish ambassador who, on being
questioned as to the beauty of Frenchwomen, said, “I am no judge of
painting.”

La Bruyère criticized sharply; while Fénelon, with characteristic
gentleness, pointed out that the elegant simplicity of the antique races
was far more favourable to beauty than the fashions of the day, which
were tending more and more to affectation and over-ornament.

While moralists were thus testifying against their interpretation of the
art of pleasing, women continued perseveringly to “improve upon Nature,”
and load themselves with pretentious finery. They sneered, like the men,
at the Abbé de Vassetz’s “Traité contre le Luxe des Coiffures,” and at
the satirical prints on extravagant dress.

Exaggeration robbed the tight-fitting bodices of all grace; and
“pretintailles,” enormous cut-out patterns laid on to skirts of a
different colour, made the dress unbearably heavy. There was an
extraordinary variety of nomenclature in the fashions of the reign of
Louis XIV. The author of _Attendez-moi sous l’Orme_, a comedietta in one
act, performed in May 1694, puts the following remark into the mouth of
one of his characters, Agatha, a farmer’s daughter:—

“How clever the Paris ladies must be to invent such pretty names!”

To which Pasquin, the valet, replies,—

“Malapeste! Their imagination is lively enough! Every fashion they
invent is to conceal some defect. Falbala high up for those who have no
hips; lower down for those who have too much. Long necks and flat chests
brought in the Steinkirk; and so it is with everything.”

The critics were in the right, but let us admit that women were not in
the wrong.

On what grounds did the former attempt to limit feminine caprice?
Criticism is easy; the art of pleasing is much more difficult.

Large cut-out patterns laid on a dress were called “pertintailles” or
“pretintailles.” Lesage mentions them as a new thing in _Turcaret_:—

“I am always eager after new fashions,” says Mme. Turcaret. “I have them
all sent to me (in the country) immediately after they come out, and I
flatter myself that I was the first to wear pretintailles in the town of
Valognes.”

Now we must remember that the comedy of “Turcaret” was first performed in
February, 1709.

Falbalas and pretintailles were much alike. The falbala itself was known
in ancient times, but the name was invented by M. de Langlée.

A caricature was published on the _Poule d’Inde en Falbala_. Beneath the
engraving were the following lines:—

“Femme, en pretintaille et fontange,
Croit être belle comme un ange;
Mais ce vain falbala, par son ample contour,
La rend grosse comme une tour,
Et tout cet attirail si fort l’enfle et la guindé,
Qu’elle ressemble un poulet d’Inde.”[41]

Our ancestors used to hum a song on the pretintaille to the tune of “La
Cheminée du haut en bas:”—

“Lorsqu’une chose est nouvelle,
C’est assez pour estre belle;
Des autres on fait peu de cas,
La, la, la,
La pretintaille en falbala!

“Il n’importe qui l’invente,
Quoyqu’ell’ soit extravagante,
De bon goût lui cédera,
La, la, la,
La pretintaille en falbala!

“Mais on la voit disparaître
Au moment qu’on la voit naître,
Car tout change et changera,
La, la, la,
La pretintaille en falbala!”[42]

The “pretintaille” continued to encroach.

A “devanteau,” or apron, was sometimes “pretintaillé” to such an extent,
that the biggest piece was no larger than the palm of the hand. Falbalas
were “pretintaillés,” for instance, by putting on first a red, then
a green, then a yellow one, and then alternating the above colours.
Flounces were “pretintaillés” in four or five colours: first, a green
one, then yellow, red, blue, and white successively.

When the fashion of “pretintailles” first came in, Mme. Bonnet’s
dressmaker brought an action against her for the sum of 800 livres, the
cost of making a “pretintaille” skirt, and gained her cause. Mme. Bonnet
was condemned in costs. The bargain had been made at one denier for every
yard of sewing.

After the rage for “pretintailles” had passed away, materials with
large brocaded patterns in gold or colours came into fashion, and gowns
resembled window-curtains. Knots of ribbon were fixed on the tucked-up
skirts; but these again were succeeded by “andriennes,” or long, loose,
open dresses, like those worn by the actress Marie Carton Dancourt in
Terence’s “Andrienne.”

For a long time past women who wished to show off a slender waist had
been wearing “criardes,” or dress-improvers of stiffened linen. In 1711
the vertugadins came again into fashion under the name of “hoops” and
“paniers.”

Certain authors contend that hoops first made their appearance in
Germany, whence they found their way to England, and then returned to
the Continent by way of France. Paniers were but revived vertugadins, of
exaggerated size.

The noise made by the stiffened linen, when pressed against ever so
lightly, obtained for them the expressive name of “criardes.” “Paniers”
were so called because they resembled cages, or poultry-baskets. Their
framework was open, and the hoops of straw, cord, cane, or whalebone were
fastened together by tapes.

Small women, with these paniers on them, were as broad as they were long,
and looked at a distance like moving balls. At the concert in the grand
reception-room, Mdlle. du Maine, who was wearing enormous paniers, placed
herself too near the queen, and incommoded her so much that her majesty
could not bear it in silence. In order to prevent the recurrence of such
inconvenience, it was ordered that thenceforth the princesses should
not draw their seats so near the queen, nor on the same line with her
armchair.

Coopers and basket-makers undertook the manufacture of dress-improvers.
In vain were these articles railed against; they prevailed over satire of
every kind. Paniers were the ruin of homes, the dread of husbands, and
the misery of passers-by.

Paniers for morning wear were called “considérations.”

If we may believe M. Emile de la Bédollière, a writer on fashions in
France, one Panier, a “maître des requêtes,” was drowned on the passage
from Martinique to Hâvre. His name became a catch-word; and ladies amused
themselves by asking each other as they displayed their dress,—

“How do you like my ‘maître des requêtes’?”

The jest produced laughter, but the wit is open to criticism.

Paniers, however, remained in fashion, and even increased in size. In
vain did men protest against them. There is a story told of a sailor,
who, meeting two ladies in the city of Paris whose paniers took up the
whole width of the street, found it was impossible to get past them.
Pride forbade him to turn back, and in a moment he had taken a flying
leap over paniers and ladies, to the admiration and applause of the
spectators of both sexes.

An actress, who was making her first appearance in the character of a
princess betrothed to a king of Sparta, appeared on the stage in a panier
five yards and a half in circumference, under a skirt of silver gauze.
This was trimmed with puffs of gold gauze and pink crape, edged with blue
jet, and with bouquets of roses scattered here and there. The under-skirt
was of pink silk. Trailing garlands of roses were fastened on by sashes
of fringed-out cloth of silver. The train dragged six yards on the floor.
Handsome silver embroidery, mingled with white roses, bordered the gown;
the sleeves were half-long, draped like the skirt, and caught up with
diamond buttons, over pink silk like that of the slip. Her bracelets were
of rubies and diamonds, and above the panier was a belt of “strass,” or
imitation diamonds and rubies.

Her hair was dressed in what the celebrated hair-dresser Herain was
pleased to call the Greek style. A quantity of hair, frizzed into the
shape of a pyramid upside down, was framed in roses, gems, and silver
gauze. A regal crown surmounted the whole, and a long veil hung down to
the edge of the gown. The veil was “à vapeur d’argent,” that is, of very
light gauze covered with gold spangles; on the left side was an enormous
cluster of pink and white feathers, topped by a gigantic heron.

This extraordinary attire was completed by gloves from Martials; white
silk stockings with pink and silver clocks, and shoes to match, with
heels at least three inches in height.

Louis XIV. presented Mdlle. de Brie and Mme. de Molière with the mantles
worn by them in the comedy of the “Sicilien.” This was an additional
reason for actresses to be included among the queens of fashion. Did they
not receive presents from the king?

It is hard to believe, but members of the sterner sex also yielded to
the fascination of hoops. They, too, had their paniers, consisting of
whalebones fitted into the wide basques of their coats.

M. de Létorières had “a straw-coloured watered silk coat, faced with
a dark green material shot with gold; a green and gold shoulder knot
(aiguillette), and a set of large and small crystal opal buttons set in
brilliants, as also was the handle of his sword; his hair was arranged in
two waving locks powdered with tan-coloured powder, and fell lightly and
gracefully on his neck.”

In those days, Fashion ruled very despotically, and took no heed of the
severity of the winter.

One very cold day, D’Hèle made his appearance at the Café Procope dressed
in nankeen.

“How do you manage to dress like that?” exclaimed his friends.

“How do I manage? Why, don’t you see gentlemen, I freeze!”

Whether for paying visits, or for walks, camlet rain-cloaks or
waterproofs were worn in wet weather, and in cold weather “balandrans”
were worn, that is, cloaks with armholes.

In the seventeenth century, precious stones took the principal place as
ornaments; and gold, however beautifully chased in garlands, flowers, or
designs of all sorts, was only used to set and show them off. The provost
of trade at Lyons issued an edict forbidding the goldsmiths to sell
stuffs woven with silver at more than seventy francs a yard.

But we know the uselessness of sumptuary laws. Numerous and costly
articles for the toilet, real specimens of industrial art, were produced
in accordance with the prevailing fashions. There is a tobacco-grater in
the Louvre collection which evidently belonged to some lady or gentleman
of the time of Louis XIV. It is rather well carved in ivory.

Large fans with handles were in fashion towards the year 1700. It was
considered a mark of high breeding for men to chastise their wives and
daughters with them. This was putting fans to a singular use, which
probably did not last long.

The trade in fans increased to such an extent in France, and particularly
in Paris, that the workers formed themselves into a guild, like the
guilds of other trades. They petitioned for statutes and privileges,
which were willingly granted to them by Louis XIV. In the eighteenth
century there were more than five hundred manufactories of fans in Paris.

From this we may judge how widespread was their use.

“Let us picture to ourselves,” wrote Mme. de Staël to a friend, at
a later period, “let us picture to ourselves a most charming woman,
splendidly dressed, graceful and gracious in the highest degree: yet if
with all those advantages she manages her fan in a ‘bourgeoise’ way,
she may at any moment become a laughing-stock. There are so many ways
of playing with that precious appendage, that by a mere movement of
the fan one can tell a princess from a countess, a marchioness from a
plebeian. And then it imparts such gracefulness to those who know how to
manage it! Twirling, closing, spreading, rising or falling, according to
circumstance!”

Mme. de Staël carefully abstains from describing fans as adopted for the
“chastisement of wives and daughters.” A monstrous innovation, probably,
in her opinion.

There is a scarcely perceptible transition between the reign of Louis
XIV. and that of Louis XV.

Mme. de Maintenon’s influence, which had caused a momentary eclipse in
the brilliant costumes of Versailles, soon passed away, and the passion
for the most eccentric novelties became stronger than ever, at court, in
the palaces of princes, and in the salons of the _bourgeoisie_.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVII.

REIGN OF LOUIS XV.

1715 TO 1774.

It is impossible to draw any line with regard to fashion between the
Regency of the Duke of Orleans and the reign of Louis XV. Both the regent
and the king appear to have acted on the same motto: “All for pleasure.”
Both yielded the empire of fashion into the hands of women, without
attempting to exercise the almost absolute sway of Louis XIV. over dress,
even when not of an official character, and women ruled with a high hand,
and for no small space of time. The poet Destouches puts the following
lines into the mouth of one of the characters in “L’Homme Singulier:”—

“Je fais mon plus grand soin du soin de me parer,
Rien ne me flatte plus qu’une mode nouvelle.”[43]

Both sexes proved him to have been in the right, by indulging all their
personal fancies and predilections.

During the Regency of the Duke of Orleans, dress was essentially light in
material; gowns were made with basque bodies, pagoda sleeves, and trimmed
with knots of ribbon, or “chicorées,” or even with artificial flowers.
The hair is dressed either “à la culbute” or “à la doguine.”

Enormous paniers were worn in the reign of Louis XV.; they came into
fashion in 1718, and were very cleverly constructed. Few ladies were
found to object to them, although in walking they occupied a space, from
left to right, of quite six feet, their circumference being at least
eighteen.

War was, however, declared against paniers, just as in former times
against vertugadins; the clergy especially attacked them violently.

An Oratorian named Duguet published a “Traité de l’Indécence des
Paniers.” After many phrases wide of the mark, we come to the following,
which seems to be the best argument of all against paniers: “This
fashion is owned, even by those who are most devoted to it, to be very
inconvenient. Paniers are most uncomfortable, both for the wearer and for
every one else.” But ladies heard the Oratorian and heeded not, any more
than they had heeded an edict which, during the madness induced by Law’s
speculations, had forbidden them to wear jewels or diamonds, for fear
they might be exchanged for shares or notes of the Mississippi Bank.

The “Journal de Verdun,” October, 1724, writes in the same spirit as Père
Duguet: “In former times mothers used to take exceeding pains that their
daughters should have slender and supple waists; but at the present day
the vertugadins of Spain and Italy have been introduced into France under
the name of paniers; this is a fashion conducive to false modesty.” But
the ladies in this instance, also, heard and heeded not, and the “Journal
de Verdun” after a time discontinued its attacks.

Many cases of conscience were argued out between Jesuits and Jansenists
on the subject of paniers. One member of the Society of Jesus wrote a
little work called “L’Entretien d’une Femme de Qualité avec son Directeur
sur les Paniers.” It was published in 1737, and is a very scarce and
curious little book.

An anonymous pamphlet had been published in 1727, entitled, “Satire sur
les Cerceaux, Paniers, Criardes, et Manteaux Volants des Femmes, et sur
leurs autres ajustements.” The author expatiates on his hatred of cages,
and of showy dress.

A pamphlet published in Paris in 1735, and entitled, “Indignité et
Extravagance des Paniers pour des Femmes Sensées et Chrétiennes,”
contains the following lines:—

“But I wish to know, ladies, by what evil genius you are possessed,
and what can be your opinion of us, that you endeavour, when in such
deplorable case, to pass yourselves off to us and to the eyes of the
Christian world as spiritual and devout persons, while you are laden
with an immense and superb panier that takes up the room of at least six
persons, and is the miserable cause of the inconvenience you experience
in passing along, having to hold your panier in both hands, and
displaying wooden hoops under an arrogant and splendid skirt....

“Is it not the said panier also that makes your carriages groan, and that
bulges through them like the sails of a ship, while you are holding your
noble wooden hoop in both hands, and displaying it beneath a costume that
is a scandal to the Church, and a laughing-stock to the whole world, and
that insults the magnificence of our altars by its audacious splendour?”

Ridicule, argument, and religion were all in vain; neither the women of
Paris, nor those of the provinces, changed their mode of dress in the
slightest degree. They even laughed at Voltaire and his lines:—

“Après dîner, l’indolente Glycère
Sort pour sortir, sans avoir rien à faire.
On a conduit son insipidité
Au fond d’un char où, montant de côté,
Son corps pressé gémit sous les barrières
D’un lourd panier qui flotte aux deux portières.”[44]

History has probably forgotten a considerable number of the appellations
bestowed on paniers; but some have been retained, such as “paniers à
guéridon,” or “extinguisher shape”; and “à coudes,” or “elbow paniers,”
on which the elbows might be supported.

The fashion prevailed so generally, that our trade with Holland
was materially augmented. In June, 1722, the States-General of the
Netherlands authorized a loan of 600,000 florins in support of a “company
established in East Friesland for the whale fishery, the trade in which
increased daily by reason of the demand for whalebone used in the
construction of hoops for women.”

We see here that the result of the polemical discussions described above
was twofold. Paniers became a question of interest to Europe, and a
source of profit to Holland.

The “Journal de Barbier” observes: “It will scarcely be believed that
the Cardinal de Noailles has been much exercised with regard to the
paniers worn by women under their skirts in order to make them stand out.
They are so large, that when the wearer sits down, the whalebones being
pushed fly up in an extraordinary manner, and armchairs have had to be
constructed expressly for them. The largest boxes at the theatre will now
hold only three women. The fashion has been carried to an extreme, and is
consequently quite extravagant; so much so, that when the princesses take
their seats beside the queen, their skirts rise up, and quite conceal
those of her majesty. This appeared like an impertinence, but it was
difficult to find a remedy. At last, by dint of reflection, the cardinal
invented an expedient—there should always be one armchair left empty on
each side of the queen, who would thus be spared any inconvenience.”

Mdlle. Jaucourt played the part of Galatea in “Pygmalion” in 1775, and
wore a polonaise with paniers, satin slippers, and a colossal “pouf”
ornamented with green leaves, and surmounted by three ostrich feathers.
MM. de Beauvau, De Guéménée, De Pompadour, and others, had supplied her
wardrobe. A great number of the court ladies sent her beautiful dresses,
made by themselves, and worn at the Dauphin’s marriage, that she might
appear in them on the stage. Louis XV. presented her with a theatrical
costume.

In November, 1721, he had given Mme. de Seine, an actress of the Comédie
Française, a coat worth 8000 francs. Nine hundred ounces of silver were
woven into the material.

At about the same time the Comte de Charolais presented Mdlle. Delisle
with a costume of pure silver, worth 2000 crowns, in which she danced a
“pas” in the ballet of Pirithoüs.

Mdlles. Clairon and Hus, of the Comédie Française, gave up wearing on
the stage “the awkward machine called a _panier_,” and a little book was
published shortly afterwards, called “Les Paniers supprimés au Théâtre.”
Some ladies of high rank followed the example of the two celebrated
actresses.

Mdlles. Clairon and Hus had exercised more influence than preachers,
pamphleteers, or journalists!

Actuated by a hatred of paniers, a poetaster wrote in praise of corsets,
and women discarded one folly for another.

“Est-il rien plus beau qu’un corset,
Qui naturellement figure,
Et qui montre comme on est fait
Dans le moule de la nature?”[45]

Thereupon women wore the bodice of their gowns tightly drawn in at the
waist, and with busks that bruised the chest of the wearer.

Then again, as in 1694, sleeves were made flat, and trimmed with frills.
A new material was used for gowns, little bouquets printed or brocaded on
a ground of silk, marcelline, or satin. The arms were protected from the
cold by a miniature muff and warm furs.

“Robes volantes,” or loose gowns without a belt, came into general use
about 1730. For the most part they were made of white or rose-coloured
silk, especially for young girls, who also often wore gauze or
embroidered muslin frocks over a coloured silk slip.

A few years later, Christophe Philippe Oberkampf introduced “indiennes,”
or coloured prints, into France. On their first appearance, such
jealousy was excited in the various guilds, that not only were those who
manufactured them sent to the galleys, but women who ventured to wear
these prints were liable to a fine on a mere accusation. The examiners
at the custom stations were directed to remove by force the gown of
any delinquent, or even to tear it in pieces while on her back. It is
difficult in our day to understand such severe treatment.

Before Oberkampf’s time, coloured cambrics from India, called “Perses”
or “Persiennes,” because they came by way of Persia, were much worn.
A beautiful persienne was of more value than a silk gown. The most
brilliant woman, perhaps, of the period entreated the French ambassador
in Russia to procure her a set of furs and some “perse.” Yet a while, and
the purchase of a gown would have become an affair of state; or the king
might have declared war in order to obtain a costume desired by the queen.

The hair was dressed “en dorlotte” (or pamper-fashion), “en papillon”
(or butterfly-like), “en vergette” (or whisk-fashion), and “en
désespoir” (despair), “équivoque” (suspicious-wise), and “en tête de
mouton” (sheep’s head). A kind of curtainless hood was worn, called a
“bagnolette.”

In summer, women wore the mantilla, a variety of the scarf, and in
winter, furred pelisses, buttoned from top to bottom. They wore
embroidered stockings and white shoes with high heels, as previously.
The ambition of all was to have the smallest possible shoes; and women
contrived, as it were, to manufacture feet for their shoes, in imitation
of Camargo, the dancer, whose shoemaker amassed a large fortune.
Parasols, or sunshades, were not made to close; umbrellas, on the
contrary, were made to fold and shut.

Among the accessories of dress were necklaces, bags or reticules,
persistently called “ridicules,” “poupottes,” or horsehair pockets which
the “bourgeoises” wore fastened to their gowns, eyeglasses mounted in
gold and enamel, gold needle-cases, tablets set in chased gold, and
crosses of gold filagree. To these we must add powder scattered on the
hair, which was drawn up in a tuft, and kept in its place by a silk
chin-band, patches of black silk sticking-plaister, and the white and red
paint, which many women laid on so thickly that their faces were quite
incrusted with it. A woman of rank would have lost all consideration had
she appeared at the promenades without her patches and her rouge.

Both paint and patches were used in the very last toilet of
princesses—that of the tomb.

Every woman of fashion possessed a patch-box, whose lid was lined with
looking-glass. A very pretty one in pink mother-of-pearl, inlaid with
silver and designs of figures, was to be seen at the Exhibition in 1878.

The “impassioned” patch was fixed at the corner of the eye; the “gallant”
in the middle of the cheek; the “recéleuse” (or receiver of stolen goods)
on a spot or pimple; the “effrontée,” or bold-faced, on the nose; and the
“coquette” on the lips. A round patch was called “the assassin.”

The widespread fashion of patches afforded further opportunities for
criticism. Massillon preached a sermon in which he anathematized patches.
The effect produced by his discourse was rather unexpected; patches
were worn in greater numbers than ever, and were known as “mouches de
Massillon.” Fashion was incapable of reverence, and triumphed over every
kind of opposition.

It was generally held that patches conferred an appearance of youth.
Mme. de Genlis said on one occasion to an author, whom she honoured by
allowing him to see her place two or three patches on her cheek and chin,—

“Well! what do you think of that? Would you not take me for a girl of
twenty?”

Powder, i.e. starch powdered and scented, was in common use under Louis
XV.; and in the reign of Henri IV., as Estoile observed in 1593, nuns had
even been seen walking in Paris, with their hair curled and powdered,
but this, it must be admitted, was an exception. No lady appeared at the
promenades, the theatre, or the court of Versailles, without what was
called an “œil,” or slight sprinkling of powder.

The “filles de mode,” as fashionable milliners were called in the
eighteenth century, had no light duties to perform. It was a serious task
to dress a lady of quality from head to foot. They had to carry out the
ideas that originated with the queens of society. According to Mme. de
Lespinasse, the prim Mme. du Deffant “was the best milliner of her day,”
that is, her taste in composing an irreproachable costume was superior to
all others, and the greatest coquettes copied the fashions seen in her
drawing-room.

In “La Mode,” a comedy in three acts by Mme. de Staal, a marquis is made
to say,—

“You need only hear an account of our day! In the morning, discussions
with workpeople and tradespeople over the choice of our dress! And what
trouble do we not take to secure the last novelty, to choose all that is
in the best taste, and to avoid any prejudice concerning a particular
fashion!... Next comes the excessive labour of making our toilet, with
all the attention necessary to ensure being well dressed....”

The Comtesse de Mailly retired to rest every night with her hair dressed,
and wearing all her diamonds. She used to call her tradespeople “her
little cats.”

High head-dresses came into fashion again for a short time, during the
reign of gigantic paniers, and were worn with powder. It took a whole
day to complete one of those monuments of the capillary art, which were
of such enormous size, that according to “Le Mercure de France” of 1730,
ladies could not sit in their coaches, but were obliged to kneel.

“Their woolly white hair,” says Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who visited
Paris at the time, “and fiery faces, make them look more like skinned
sheep than human beings.”

Mme. de Graffigny, the author of “Lettres Péruviennes,” protested against
the high head-dress. She wore her hair powdered, but close to her head
and covered with a little cap. This “little cap” was adopted by many
women of rank, and for several years was worn by all Frenchwomen. Women
of the people still wear round caps with two plaited wings coming
forward on the temples, and called “le bat en l’œil.” “The bourgeoises
have retained,” says “Le Livre de la Coiffure,” “the full-crowned cap,
surrounded with ribbon twists or bows, with two lappets falling over the
chignon, and frills of lace curving round the temples.”

Some ephemeral fashions were introduced into France by the Polish
princess Maria Leczinska, the wife of Louis XV.

“Hongrelines” were worn, and polonaises, or “hongroises,” trimmed with
“brandebourgs;” and, in 1729, embroidered mantillas of velvet and satin
lined with ermine or other fur, the two ends finished with handsome
tassels, that were tied behind the waist.

The “palatine” was thus no longer a solitary German fashion on the banks
of the Seine.

Powder remained in vogue for more than half a century. No doubt the
softness it conferred on the features, and the brilliancy it lent to the
eyes, made it pleasing to everybody. It was still worn in 1760, and again
in 1780, and after the Revolution it reappeared under the Directory in
1795.

There is no occasion, therefore, to speak of powder more particularly. In
1760, a lady wore powder, but her hair was drawn back “à la Chinoise,”
and on the summit was a small knot of coloured silk. She wore stays,
despite all that might be said against them by the doctors and the
critics; and a fichu or kerchief straight across the shoulders, and
called a “monte-au-ciel.” She had a “casaquin” or a “caraco.” She wore as
her only garment a “peignoir,” a loose robe not confined at the waist,
and fastened down the front with bows of ribbon. Round the throat was
a ruche of the same material as the dress; the sleeves extended to the
wrist, where they became considerably wider, and could either be hooked
up like those of French advocates at the present day, or were finished
off with turned-back cuffs.

The first Indian shawl, or “cachemire,” seen in our country was imported
towards the end of the reign of Louis XV. It was long the talk of both
court and town, but no attempt was made to manufacture similar shawls in
France.

At the period we have now reached, the simplicity of women’s attire
contrasts with previous styles; and is in harmony with the serious tone
of society under Louis XVI.

A transformation in dress is at hand. We are about to see extraordinary
and brilliant fashions adopted by ladies of rank, and by those of
the “haute bourgeoisie,” but not followed by the middle classes, on
account of their great cost. The guests at Versailles and Trianon could
afford to dress “à la mode,” because their wealth was immense and their
extravagance boundless.

The reign of lace ended with the eighteenth century, for Louis XVI. cared
little for embroidery and finery.

The drive to Longchamps in Holy Week afforded to the rich an opportunity
of displaying the splendour both of their equipages and their dress, and
it has continued to exist to the present day.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVIII.

REIGN OF LOUIS XVI.

1774 TO 1780.

We have now reached the reign of Louis XVI., when Marie Antoinette was
holding her court. She had already begun to set the fashion when only
Dauphiness.

One day, in 1775, the new queen took up from her dressing-table two
peacock feathers, and placed them with several little ostrich plumes in
her hair. Louis XVI. came in, and greatly admired his wife, saying he
had never seen her look so well. Almost immediately feathers came into
fashion, not in France only, but throughout Europe. But when, shortly
afterwards, Marie Antoinette sent a portrait of herself, wearing large
feathers as a head-dress, to her mother, the Empress Maria Theresa
returned it. “There has been, no doubt, some mistake,” wrote Maria
Theresa; “I received the portrait of an actress, not that of a queen; I
am expecting the right one.”

This severe rebuke had no effect. Before 1778 the hair had been so
arranged as to form a point in front, called a “physionomie,” accompanied
by “attentions,” or thick, separate curls. But in 1778 the queen invented
the “hérisson,” or hedge-hog style of head-dress. Imagine a porcupine
lying on the top of the head, that is to say, a bush of hair frizzed from
the points to the roots, very high and without powder, and encircled
by a ribbon that kept this horrible tangle in its place. This style of
head-dress, somewhat modified, and reduced to a “demi-hérisson,” or half
hedge-hog, was in fashion for several years.

Marie Antoinette continued to invent new styles, such as “jardin à
l’anglaise,” “parterre,” “forest,” “enamelled meadows,” “foaming
torrents,” &c. How many ridiculous names were given to the inventions
of ladies endeavouring to imitate and surpass their queen! The hair
was dressed “butterfly” fashion, or “spaniels’ ears,” or “milksop,” or
“guéridon,” or “commode,” or “cabriolet,” or “mad dog,” or “sportsman in
a bush,” by turns.

At the clubs or in the public gardens, every one talked in raptures of
the achievements of Léonard, “Academician in coiffures and fashions,”
and those of Mdlle. Bertin, a milliner who at a later period delivered
herself as follows:—

“The last time I worked with the queen, we decided that the new caps
should not come out for another week.”

A didactic mode of expression! Turgot or Necker could not have spoken
more solemnly. It is true that Mdlle. Bertin’s fame had spread throughout
Europe.

In the “coiffure à la Dauphine” the hair was curled, and then drawn
up from the forehead, falling at the back of the head; that called
“monte-au-ciel” was of enormous size.

In 1765, caps were worn “à la Gertrude,” so called from the opera-comique
_Isabelle et Gertrude_, by Favart and Blaise; and in 1768, caps “à la
moissonneuse” (the reaper) and “à la glaneuse” (the gleaner) came into
fashion, copied from those worn in the opera of the _Moissonneurs_, by
Favart and Duni. Head-dresses named “d’apparat” (or state head-dresses)
or “loges d’opéra” (opera-box head-dresses) were seventy-two inches in
height; they came in in 1772. Gluck’s _Iphigénie en Aulide_ was performed
in 1774. The singer who took the part of Iphigenia wore, when about to be
sacrificed, a wreath of black flowers, surmounted by a silver crescent,
and a long white veil flowing behind. Every lady immediately adopted the
lugubrious coiffure “à l’Iphigénie.”

Now that we are on the subject of theatricals, I may mention that in
1778, Devismes, the director of the opera, made it a rule that only
head-dresses of moderate height might be worn in the amphitheatre.

The comet of 1773 gave its name to certain head-dresses, in which
flame-coloured ribbons played a striking part; in 1774 a “quésaco”
head-dress was invented,[46] consisting in part of a large bunch of
plumes behind the head. At court the “pouf au sentiment” was much in
favour; it was composed of various ornaments fastened in the hair,
viz. birds, butterflies, cardboard Cupids, branches of trees, and even
vegetables. Louis Philippe’s mother wore a “pouf” in which every one
might admire the Duc de Beaujolais, her eldest son, in the arms of his
nurse, a parrot pecking at a cherry, a little negro, and various designs
worked with the hair of the Dukes of Orléans, Chartres, and Penthièvre.

The “coiffure à la Belle Poule” consisted of a ship in full sail,
reposing on a sea of thick curls. In the “Jeu des Costumes et des
Coiffures des Dames,” an imitation of the “Royal Game of Goose,” the
winning number, sixty-three, was assigned to the “Belle Poule.”

The scaffolding of gauze, flowers, and feathers was raised to such a
height that no carriages could be found lofty enough for ladies’ use. The
occupants were obliged either to put their heads out of the windows, or
to kneel on the carriage floor, so as to protect the fragile structures.
This seems like a return to the reign of Louis XV.

In a letter addressed to the actors of the Italian Theatre, in January
1784, by Lenoir, the lieutenant of police, we read as follows: “There
are constant complaints of the size of head-dresses and hats, which,
being loaded with plumes, ribbons, and flowers, intercept the view of
spectators in the pit....”

A number of caricatures, of which some—to the horror of all
monarchists—actually reproduced the features of Marie Antoinette, were
brought out in ridicule of the fashionable head-dresses.

Hair-dressing was a difficult art, requiring time and labour. Country
ladies employed a resident female hair-dresser in their house, by the
year, and on the occurrence of any family festival she would be kept at
work nearly the whole day.

In order to show the importance of this subject, we quote from
the “Journal de Paris” of February 10, 1777, to which was added a
supplementary engraving with the following explanation:—

“We add to our issue of this day an engraving representing two different
dressings of the hair, back and side views; they are drawn from nature by
a clever artist who has been kind enough to give us his assistance. The
figures 1 and 2 refer to one of these methods, the figures 3 and 4 to the
other.

“If by this attempt we succeed in giving pleasure to those ladies who are
included among our subscribers, we shall be happy to renew an expenditure
that proves our zeal in their service.”

No satire was intended by the above publication. The “Journal de Paris”
was a grave production, and the prints it published were of “moderate”
head-dresses, if I may so express myself, of no excessive height,
powdered, and such as might be worn by bourgeoises without appearing
extraordinary.

Besides the fashions we have described, there were others from 1774 to
1789, viz. “Grecques à boucles badines” (or Greek with playful ringlets),
“à l’ingénue,” “à la conseillière,” “l’oiseau royal,” “chien couchant,”
“les parterres galants,” “les calèches retroussées,” and many others, the
description of which would fill volumes.[47]

Marie Antoinette continued to rule the fashionable world; nor can we be
surprised that the flattery of courtiership “took up the tale.” In honour
of Louis XVI.’s accession, hats were invented under the name of “delights
of the Augustan age,” and a colour called “queen’s hair,” of a pretty
blonde tint.

For many years a great rivalry had subsisted between the male and
female hair-dressers, and towards 1775 an amusing law-suit was commenced
between the former and the wig-making barbers. “We are,” contended the
hair-dressers, “essentially ladies’ hair-dressers.... What are the duties
of barbers? To shave heads, and purchase the severed hair; to give the
needful plait by means of fire and iron to locks that are no longer
living; to fix them in tresses with the help of a hammer; to arrange the
hair of a Savoyard on the head of a marquis; to remove the attribute of
their sex from masculine chins with a sharp blade; all these are purely
mechanical functions that have no connexion with our art....”

They went on to say that the art of dressing women’s hair was nearly
allied to genius; and that in order to exercise it nobly, one should be
at once a poet, a painter, and a sculptor. “It is necessary to understand
shades of colour, chiaro oscuro, and the proper distribution of shadows,
so as to confer animation on the complexion, and make other charms more
expressive. The art of dressing a prude, and of letting pretensions be
apparent, yet without thrusting them forward; that of pointing out a
coquette, and of making a mother look like her child’s elder sister, of
adapting the style of dress to the disposition of the individual, which
must sometimes be guessed at, or to the evident desire of pleasing ... in
fine, the art of assisting caprices, and occasionally controlling them,
requires a more than common share of intellect, and a tact with which one
must be born.”

I am not drawing on my imagination. The memorial of the ladies’
hair-dressers is still in existence, and bears the names of the procureur
and advocate-general of the time. The artists in hair exclaim in poetical
accents, “If the locks of Berenice have been placed among the stars,
who shall say that she reached that height of glory unaided by us!”
They vaunt their honesty: “The treasures of Golconda are continually
passing through our hands; it is we who decide how to arrange diamonds,
crescents, sultanas (a particular form of necklace), aigrettes.” They
compare themselves to heroes: “A general knows how to take advantage of
a demi-lune in front of his position—in the van, he has his engineers;
we, too, are engineers so far; a crescent advantageously placed by us is
hard to contend against, and it seldom happens that the enemy does not
surrender at discretion!... A lady’s hair-dresser is, as it were, the
first officer of the toilet ... and under his artistic hands, amid his
artistic influences, does the rose expand and acquire her most brilliant
beauty.”

The conclusion to be drawn is that wig-makers and their assistants are
evidently unfit to dress the hair of women.

The law proceedings, however, did not prevent the competition of
wig-makers and female hair-dressers, even at the period when all trade
guilds were suppressed.

“The toilet of the queen of France was a masterpiece of etiquette,
according to Mme. Campan; everything was done by rule: the lady of honour
and the lady of the bedchamber were both present, assisted by the first
dresser, and two others who did the principal part of the service; but
there were distinctions to be observed. The lady of the bedchamber (dame
d’atours) put on the queen’s petticoat and handed her gown, the lady
of honour poured out water for washing the royal hands, and put on the
queen’s chemise.”

Marie Antoinette carried the fashion of “panaches” or plumes to an
extreme. If we may believe Soulavie’s memoirs of the period, “when Marie
Antoinette passed through the gallery at Versailles, one could see
nothing but a forest of waving plumes a foot and a half higher than the
ladies’ heads.” The king’s aunts, who could not make up their minds to
follow such extraordinary fashions, nor to copy the queen’s dress day by
day, used to call her feathers “ornaments for the hair.”

The majority of the court ladies, however, imitated the queen.

Hats and caps were so overladen with feathers, that not only were coaches
too small to contain the plumed dames of the period, but ladies were
fain to bend their heads in the “entresols” of certain suites of rooms,
because of the lowness of the ceilings.

“Nevertheless,” says a lady of the court, “it was a fine sight to see
that forest of plumes in the Versailles Gallery, waving with the least
breath of air. It looked liked a moving garden of bright-coloured
flowers, gently caressed by the zephyrs.”

There was, however, a party in opposition. According to Mme. Campan,
“mothers and husbands grumbled, and there was a general feeling that the
queen would ruin all the French ladies.” But discontent and criticism
were vain; Fashion as usual had her way, and feathers sometimes fetched
as much as fifty louis (1250 francs) apiece.

Generally speaking, the smallest caprices of Marie Antoinette were
received as law by the ladies of the court. When, on the occasion of the
birth of one of her children, her beautiful fair hair was cut off, and
she consequently adopted a “coiffure basse,” the “coiffure à l’enfant,”
or baby’s head-dressing, immediately became the rage. No one could be
found to say a word against it, nor to hesitate at sacrificing her
hair to the prevailing fashion. There were, nevertheless, many styles
of dressing the hair: “au plaisir des dames” (the ladies’ pleasure),
“à l’urgence” (the urgent), and “à la paresseuse” (the idle). At the
same time various hats came into fashion, viz. the “artiste” (the
artist), the “grandes prétentions,” (great pretensions), the “bandeau
d’amour” (the bandeau of love), the “Carmelite,” the “lever de la reine”
(Queen’s lever), the “novice de Cythère” (the Cytherean novice), and the
“prêtresse de Vénus” (the priestess of Venus). The hat “à la révolte” was
so called in allusion to the Flour warfare, or Grain disturbances, under
Turgot.

When Marie Antoinette took a fancy for playing at shepherdesses and a
so-called rural life at Trianon, the great ladies of Versailles dressed
their hair “à la laitière” (milkmaid) and “à la paysanne de la cour”
(court peasant). The Parisians, on the contrary, wore successively
hats “à la Suzanne” (from _Le Mariage de Figaro_), “à la Randon” (from
_Bayard_, a play by Monvel), and “à la diadème,” or turban-shaped.

In the early summer of 1775, the queen made her appearance in a gown of a
kind of chestnut-brown, and the king said laughingly,—

“That puce (flea) colour becomes you admirably.”

The next day every lady at the court wore a puce-coloured gown, old
puce, young puce “ventre de puce” (flea’s belly), “dos de puce” (flea’s
back), &c.

As the new colour did not soil easily, and was therefore less expensive
than lighter tints, the fashion of puce gowns was adopted by the
bourgeoisie, and the dyers were unable to meet the pressing requirements
of their customers.

During the reign of Louis XVI., many new colours were worn, either in
combination or successively, such as “puce,” “rash tears,” “Paris mud,”
Carmelite, “entraves de procureurs” (procureurs tricks), &c. These were
all quiet colours, and were used for simple costumes.

In 1763, the Opera House was burnt down; and the fine ladies would wear
nothing but “couleur tison d’opéra,” or “brand from the opera;” in 1781,
they held to “opéra brûlé,” or burnt opera-house. I should find it
difficult to describe these two shades otherwise than as flame-coloured.

After the performance of _Athalie_ at the Court Theatre, in 1780, women
of fashion wore the Jewish Levitical tunic; and shortly after the
opera of _Atys_ (by Quinault and Lulli) had resumed its place on the
stage, they dressed their hair “à la doux sommeil” (gentle slumber).
Mme. Dugazon, in _Blaise et Babet_, an opera by Desède (1783), wore a
blue silk skirt shot with pink, and shot silks became all the fashion.
In 1786 the same actress set the fashion of caps “à la Nina,” from
Dalayrac’s opera of that name. “Coiffures à la créole” were worn next,
made of Madras handkerchiefs, like those in Kreutzer’s opera of _Paul
et Virginie_; and lastly, hats “à la Primerose,” from another play of
Dalayrac’s.

During many years of the reign of Louis XVI., the court of Versailles
was ignorant of the very name of Oberkampf, a manufacturer who had at
last (1759) obtained permission to establish a factory of coloured prints
(indiennes) near Versailles.

A mere accident made him suddenly famous. A certain great lady, whose
Persian cambric was the envy of all the princesses, had the misfortune
to tear it. She hastened to the factory at Jouy, and claimed the help of
Oberkampf, who succeeded in his efforts to produce a similar gown, and
whose name was immediately in every one’s mouth. The ladies at Versailles
would wear nothing but Jouy cambrics; and from that time prints have been
constantly worn by the women of the people, but they are seldom seen at
the present day.

Gowns trimmed with one material only were much in favour; straw-coloured
satin was very much used. These dresses were trimmed in various ways,
either with gauze, lace, or fur. There were innumerable varieties of
trimming, besides brocaded or painted satin, and each had its own special
name.

The most fashionable tint for satin was either “soupir étouffe” (stifled
sigh), or apple-green with white stripes, called “vive bergère” (the
lively shepherdess).

Some of the names given to trimmings are curious, and remind us of
the “précieuses” of the Hôtel de Rambouillet. Such are: “indiscreet
complaints,” “great reputation,” “the unfeeling,” “an unfulfilled wish,”
“preference,” “the vapours,” “the sweet smile,” “agitation,” “regrets,”
and many others.

Paniers were generally small, but padded at the top. Shoes, either puce
colour or “queen’s hair,” were embroidered in diamonds, and women’s feet
might be compared to jewel-cases. Long narrow shoes, with the seam at the
heel studded with emeralds, were called in the trade “venez-y-voir,” or
“come-and-see.”

Women wore over their shoulders an arrangement of lace, gauze, or blond,
closely gathered, and called “Archiduchesse,” or “Médicis,” or “collet
monté.” Tulle was in great request, and was manufactured everywhere.

As for ribbons, the most fashionable were called “attention,” “a sign
of hope,” “a sunken eye,” “the sigh of Venus,” “an instant,” and “a
conviction.” Sashes were worn “à la Praxitèle,” an opera by Devismes.
Once more we are reminded of Molière’s “Précieuses.”

A great sensation was caused at the opera one night by the arrival of
a lady dressed as follows. Her gown was “a stifled sigh” trimmed with
“superfluous regrets,” with a bow at the waist of “perfect innocence,”
ribbons of “marked attention,” and shoes of “the queen’s hair”
embroidered in diamonds, with the “venez-y-voir” in emeralds. Her hair
was curled in “sustained sentiments,” a cap of “assured conquest” trimmed
with waving feathers and ribbons of “sunken eye,” a “cat” or palatine of
swans’-down on her shoulders of a colour called “newly-arrived people”
(parvenus), a “Médicis” arranged “as befitting,” a “despair” in opals,
and a muff of “momentary agitation.”

Since that evening how many extraordinary costumes have been displayed at
the opera, and have attracted the attention of the fair spectators!

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Louis XVI 1789

Louis XVI 1780]

CHAPTER XIX.

REIGN OF LOUIS XVI. (CONTINUED).

1780 to 1789.

In 1780 the ideal of Fashion was the peasant costume. Duchesses playing
at milkmaids in the park at Trianon adored everything rural, and did
their best to resemble shepherdesses. They longed to play the parts of
Mathurine and Nicolette, only their diamonds must still be allowed them.
The Chevalier de Florian was beginning to acquire a reputation as a
writer of pastoral romances, very much to the taste of the ladies of his
time. His novel of “Estelle and Némorin” inculcated bucolic manners and
graces.

But the humblest fashions may be splendidly travestied! Cap-bonnets
were adopted by all the court ladies, but in combination with flowers,
ribbons, and feathers, composing a charming spring-like head-dress.

The smallest caprice of Marie Antoinette was still sedulously copied.
One day she began singing the air of “Marlbrouck,” and all French ladies
immediately dressed “à la Marlborough,” and sung their queen’s favourite
air from morning to night. Mme. Rose Bertin forwarded costumes “à la
Marlborough” to England.

In the previous century, Bachaumont had written as follows:—“Ever since
the song came out, Marlborough has become the hero of every fashion;
everything nowadays is ‘à la Marlborough,’ and all the ladies walk about
the streets, or go to the play, wearing the grotesque hat in which they
are pleased to bury their charms, so great is the empire of novelty.”

Marie Antoinette partially revived the rage for fashions “à la
Marlborough.”

Four years later, Frenchwomen gave up the caps I have mentioned for straw
bonnets from Italy, which were immediately preferred above all others,
and which remained in fashion for above a century. One milliner would
choose a shape with perpendicular crown, hidden under a mass of ribbon;
another would adopt an enormous funnel-shaped brim, loaded with feathers
or flowers.

It has been calculated that in the course of two years, from 1784 to
1786, the shapes of hats were changed seventeen times. There were some
called hat-caps, “chapeau-bonnets,” because their balloon shape resembled
a cap. There were small close shapes in silk, trimmed with feathers and
flowers, worn on one side of the head; and soon afterwards there were
very large bonnets “à l’amiral.” We read in the “Journal des Modes de
Paris,” 1785: “There is a hat on view at Mdlle. Fredin’s, milliner, at
the sign of the ‘Echarpe d’Or’ (Golden Scarf), Rue de la Ferronnerie,
on which is represented a ship, with all her rigging complete, and her
battery of guns.... At Mdlle. Quentin’s, in the Cité, there are ‘pouf’
hats composed of military trophies, the flags and drums arranged on
the brim have a charming effect.” Some hats were so enormously large
that they overshadowed the whole face like a parasol. And some aimed at
satire; they were of black gauze, and called “à la Caisse d’Escompte,”
because they were without crowns (sans fond). This referred to the
wretched state of the public treasury; the Caisse d’Escompte having just
suspended payment.

Gowns, whether of silk or of plain material, continued to be made open
down the front, over an under-skirt of another colour; but for a simple
style of dress, both skirts might be alike.

Gimp trimmings had been succeeded by ruches of muslin or lace, sewn to
the edge of the dress, and arranged like flounces. Sleeves were always
tight and short; fans and bracelets, pearl necklaces, and sometimes a
watch, fastened at the side, were worn also, and immense earrings “à la
créole,” that had been first seen in _Mirza_, a ballet by Gardel. Gowns
were worn rather long, scarcely revealing the satin shoes with buckles,
and the smooth-drawn white stockings.

We may here recall the “calembourg” made by the Marquis de Brévre to
Marie Antoinette: “Madame,” said he, “‘l’univert’ (the universe) is at
your feet.”

By way of compensation for the length of the skirts, bodices were cut so
low that the shoulders were visible.

Paniers were out of date, but “postiches” had taken their place. These
postiches soon became so enormous, that even young and slender women
looked like towers of silk, lace, ribbon, and flowers. Fashionable
marquises wore satin pelisses, white, pink, or sky blue, trimmed with
ermine or miniver, and a muff in winter.

Occasionally, in a fit of simplicity, they contented themselves with a
silk hat, and an elegant caraco, or a satin mantle trimmed with broad
lace.

Sometimes, also, they expressed their literary or political proclivities
by their dress.

The “Philadelphia” cap was intended to commemorate the independence of
the United States, about the time of Franklin’s visit to Paris.

The immense success of _Le Mariage de Figaro_ effected a change in
the fashions, and the costume in which Mdlle. Emilie Contat had been
applauded to the echo in the part of Suzanne became the order of the day.
All that year, the ladies adopted “le déshabillé à la Suzanne,” dressed
their hair “à la Cherubino,” wore their gowns “à la Comtesse,” and their
bonnets and caps “à la Figaro.”

After the performance of _La Brouette du Vinaigrier_, by Mercier, caps “à
la brouette” (wheelbarrow) came into fashion. _La Caravane_, by Grétry,
brought out caps “à la caravane.” _La Veuve du Malabar_, a five-act
tragedy by Lemierre, was so popular, that extraordinary caps were
devised, “à la veuve de Malabar.”

Louis XVI. thought proper, on a certain occasion, to forbid the court
in general to enter the royal carriages in order to follow the hunt. To
ensure greater freedom, he desired the company of real sportsmen only.
The nobles immediately protested, and the Princesse de Monaco expressed
her disapproval of the new regulation through the medium of her “pouf”
hat, on which was displayed the king’s coach in miniature, padlocked, and
two gentlemen in gaiters following the hunt on foot.

On the left side of the “pouf de circonstance,” worn at the accession of
Louis XVI., was a tall cypress, wreathed with purple pansies, a twist of
crape at the foot represented its roots; on the right was a wheatsheaf
lying on a cornucopia, from whence tumbled a profusion of figs, grapes,
and melons, made of feathers.

In honour of the discovery of inoculation for small-pox, Mdlle. Bertin
invented the “pouf à l’inoculation,” viz. a rising sun, and an olive-tree
in full fruit; round this was entwined a serpent bearing a club wreathed
with flowers. The serpent and the club represented medicine, and the art
by which the variolous monster had been vanquished; the rising sun was
emblematic of the young king, in whom were centred all the hopes of the
monarchists; and the olive-tree symbolized the peace and tranquillity
resulting from the operation to which the royal princes had submitted.

The “innocence made manifest” caraco was invented in 1786, in honour
of Marie Françoise Victor Salmon, who had been tried on a charge of
poisoning, and acquitted in the June of that year. The counsel for
the defence was one Cauchois. The same caracos were also called “à la
Cauchois.” They were of lilac pekin, with collars and facings (parements)
of apple-green. They were fastened on one side of the front by four large
mother-of-pearl buttons, and similar buttons were placed on the lapels.

In the catalogue of extraordinary costumes worn in 1783 and 1784 we must
include the “harpy” costume, which owed its existence to the published
account of the discovery in Chili of a two-horned monster, with bat’s
wings, and human face and hair, which was said to devour daily one ox,
or four pigs. A song-writer composed the following lines against the new
fashion:—

“A la harpie on va tout faire,
Rubans, lévites et bonnets;
Mesdames, votre goût s’éclaire:
Vous quittez les colifichets
Pour des habits de caractère.”[48]

An anonymous writer gallantly replied:—

“La harpie est un mauvais choix;
Passons sur ce léger caprice;
Mais dans les modes quelquefois
Le sexe se rend mieux justice,
En suivant de plus dignes lois.
Mesdames, j’ai vu sur vos têtes
Les attributs de nos guerriers;
On peut bien porter des lauriers,
Quand on fait comme eux des conquêtes.”[49]

The epigram did not modify the “instructed” taste of women, who continued
to dress themselves “à la harpie” until the occurrence of some new whim.
Our Frenchwomen, for instance, copied the English, who had introduced
masculine fashions into their dress.

In all our public resorts, ladies were to be seen in coats, with braid
and lapels, double capes, and metal buttons. The most elegant women
were muffled up in cravats, shirt frills, and waistcoats, and wore two
watches with chains, “breloques,” and seals. Some even wore men’s hats,
and carried canes.

The same ideas from across the Channel induced women to wear sailor
jackets and “pierrots.” This latter appellation was given to a
tight-fitting garment, cut low in the neck, and fastening in front,
very open at the bottom; the sleeves were tight, with turned over cuffs
(parements), and the long basques were trimmed with buttons.

A still more eccentric style of dress was that of gowns “à la
Circassienne,” with a fichu or “canezou,” and an undress gown “en
caraco,” so cut as to expose the pit of the stomach, notwithstanding the
immense cambric kerchief that stood out preposterously in front, and was
called by the malicious a “fichu menteur” (a deceitful or lying fichu).

Gowns “à l’Anglaise” and “à la Circassienne” were for occasions of
ceremony; coats, pierrots, and caracos for morning dress.

We may also mention among the whimsicalities of fashion, garments “à
la Montgolfier,” after the invention of balloons, sheath-dresses “à
l’Agnès,” and chemises “à la Jésus.”

The difference between full dress and half dress continued to be strictly
observed; and before proceeding further we may point out that from the
reign of Louis XIV. to the French Revolution the dress of men and women
alike was entirely regulated by etiquette, by which we mean not the code
of courtiers only, but the sanction of recognized custom.

Materials were classified according to the seasons. In winter, dress
was restricted to velvet, satin, ratteen, and cloth. After the fêtes of
Longchamp, which may be considered as the assizes of fashion, the lace
called “point d’Angleterre” made its appearance. Mechlin lace was worn in
summer. In the intermediary seasons of spring and autumn, light cloth,
camlets, light velvets, and silks were habitually worn.

Immediately after the Feast of All Saints, November 1st, all furs were
taken from their cardboard receptacles, and at Easter-tide most ladies
put away their muffs.

Full dress was obligatory for promenades in the Tuileries Gardens.

At court, when a lady had attained her eighth lustre, or, to speak more
prosaically, when she reached the age of forty, she wore a coif of
black lace underneath her cap, and tied it below her chin. The editor
of the “Memoirs of Mme. de Lamballe” tells us that after “the queen’s
card-table” (jeu de la reine) most of the ladies retired to change their
gowns, because the front had been soiled by the gold they had received.
Possibly they did not wish Louis XVI., who disapproved of the “queen’s
card-table,” to perceive that their taste did not correspond with his.

At the close of the eighteenth century, Paris contained 38 master
makers of needles and pins, 542 knitted cap and cuff-makers, 82 female
bouquet-sellers and florists, 262 embroiderers, 1824 shoemakers, 1702
dressmakers, 128 fan-makers, 318 workers in gold and silver stuffs,
&c., 250 glove-makers and perfumers, 73 diamond-cutters, 659 lingères,
143 dancing-masters, 2184 mercers, 700 barbers and male and female
wig-makers, 24 feather-dressers and plume-mounters, 735 ribbon-sellers,
and 1884 cutters-out of coats and gowns.

In 1776 the feather-dressers combined their business with that of
fashionable dressmakers. Mercers sold lace, silks brocaded in gold and
silver, gold braid, gold and silver network, and woollen materials of
various kinds.

Turgot suppressed the guild of female bouquet-vendors, and ruled that
women should pass “masters” in any profession suitable to their sex,
not only as embroiderers and milliners, but also as hair-dressers.
Increased grace and delicacy in feminine attire was the result of this
innovation. Large numbers of skilled mechanics obtained a respectable
livelihood by goldsmiths’ and jewellery work, by skin-dressing, or
working in silk, wool, cloth, and cashmere. Coloured cottons were sold
in great quantities; women were employed in their manufacture, to colour
the material. They were called “pinceauteuses.” Very superior muslin was
produced in France, and the art of dyeing made continual progress, owing
to the efforts of the greatest chemists of the age.

From the princess to the working woman, the fair sex neglected nothing
that might increase their attractions. A moralist has justly observed:
“I have heard of women wanting bread, but never of one who went without
pins.”

We shall meet with some exceptions to this rule during the Revolution;
but they only help to prove it, and were of brief duration.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Republic from 1790 to 1792

Republic 1793 and 1794]

CHAPTER XX.

THE FRENCH REPUBLIC.

1789 TO 1804.

Time has passed, and we have reached the year 1789. For a while, at
least, we must bid farewell to the reign of Fancy. Farewell, Arcadia!
Farewell, ye shepherdesses! Fashion is about to become simpler, as the
horizon darkens.

At the period we have now reached, the tastes of women were serious, just
as those of their husbands were political. They repaired to the Champs
Elysées in the dress of Amazons, wearing great coats and black hats,
carrying a cane or a whip, wearing a watch on each side, and a bunch
of rattling “breloques,” seals, and other appendages. Their hats were
helmet-shaped.

Such was the costume of the more audacious among them. Others, who shrank
from adopting masculine attire, assumed a matronly appearance by wearing
long trailing gowns of sober tint, either in silk or some fancy material.

All wore very short-waisted bodices, displaying a good deal of the bosom,
unless it were hidden by a gauze kerchief, or long scarf, which was
either printed in colours, braided, or brocaded.

The fashion of two dresses, one worn over the other, that had been so
general in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and the first half
of the eighteenth, had completely disappeared in favour of one gown
only. The arms were either altogether bare, with a sort of padded strap
at the shoulder, or were covered from shoulder to wrist by plain tight
sleeves.

Caps were occasionally worn, with velvet or silk crown, lace frillings,
and a graceful bow of ribbon above the forehead. These caps were tied
under the chin by a ribbon of the same colour, and fastened at the back
by a similar rosette.

The caps of former times were little worn. Some, however, still remained
in fashion; for instance, caps “à la grande prêtresse” (high priestess);
these were made of white gauze, and encircled by a broad ribbon. Old
ladies still wore caps “à la pierrot,” trimmed with quantities of lace.
Nor were caps “à la laitière” (milkmaid) quite given up; they were worn
at the back of the head. In 1789, the national cockade was worn.

Generally speaking, ladies preferred bonnets, and straw bonnets
in particular, trimmed with flame-coloured ribbon, and displaying
waving locks under the brim. Others wore “pouf” bonnets, with the
most extraordinary arrangements, on the outside, of military or naval
trophies; these were very popular for several years.

Everybody carried a fan, or an embroidered handkerchief, in the left hand.

But the women would no longer use either paint or powder—a miracle due to
the Revolution. Powder they considered unnecessary, paint ridiculous, and
both savoured of aristocracy.

What a change had taken place between 1789 and 1795, in the aspect of the
fair sex. At the time of the Convocation of the Notables, caps were made
“à la notable,” trimmed with beads, artificial flowers, and feathers;
next came caps “à la Turque,” “à la Béarnaise,” and lastly “à l’anonyme,”
for new names could no longer be found for all the vagaries of fashion.

The “Cabinet des Modes” of Nov. 5, 1790, observes: “Our way of living
is becoming purified; extravagance and luxury are diminishing.” The
anticipation was correct, but it applied to a very brief period.

Women either wore caps “à la Charlotte Corday,” a shape that is well
known at the present day, or went bare-headed, or wore at most a Greek
fillet, or a “baigneuse” trimmed with a large tricoloured cockade, and
showing the hair turned up in a chignon. Expensive costumes were very
rarely seen. “Déshabillés” in coloured Jouy cambrics, Madras kerchiefs,
or small red ones, took the place of brocades and silks and velvet
caracos.

Yet Fashion contrived to respond to all the events of the time. The
smallest trifle that attracted the attention of the masses was instantly
turned to account in some adjunct of dress. Was a rhinoceros or an
elephant exhibited at the Jardin des Plantes. Instantly caps were
manufactured “à l’éléphant,” or “au rhinocéros.”

A swallow pursued by a sparrow-hawk having fallen to the ground on the
Pont Neuf, a head-dress “à l’hirondelle” was forthwith invented. It
consisted of two little gauze wings stretched on steel springs, which
fluttered at each side of the head with the lightest breeze. A Chinaman
came to Paris, and immediately there was a rage for hair dressed “à la
Chinoise,” and for pointed shoes. Crescents were worn in the hair, in
honour of the Turkish ambassador’s arrival in the capital.

With regard to jewellery, the case was the same. On the taking of the
Bastille, small fragments of its stones were set in gold or silver,
and worn as necklaces, bracelets, and rings. The well-known Mdlle. de
Genlis wore a locket made from a stone of the Bastille, cut and polished,
and bearing the word “Liberté” in brilliants; above this a diamond
represented the planet that shone on July 14, and round the locket was a
laurel-wreath in emeralds, fastened by the national cockade in precious
stones—blue, red, and white.

The fashions “à la Bastille” lasted for some time. The cap “à la
Bastille” represented a doubly castellated tower in black lace.

A favourite head-dress was a hat, with a spade, a sword, and a cross
embroidered in green silk, surrounded by olive branches; symbolic of the
three estates—the nobility, the clergy, and the “third” (tiers)—as they
met in the Constituent Assembly.

Fashionable Frenchwomen adorned themselves with jewels “à la
Constitution,” also known under the name of “Rocamboles.” Their
so-called “Constitutional” earrings were of white glass, in imitation of
rock-crystal, and bore the word “Patrie.” A very large bouquet, “à la
nation,” was worn high up on the left side, composed of flowers of the
three colours, mingled with a profusion of myrtle.

A costume “à la Constitution” comprised a helmet-shaped cap of black
gauze, a cambric neckerchief, a vermillion sash, and a very fine cambric
gown covered with little bouquets of white, blue, and red flowers.

In the course of the following year, 1790, the Federation at the Champs
de Mars was commemorated by the creation of the Federal uniform for
ladies by a dressmaker of the Palais Royal. Fans “à la fédération”
were on sale, and women, joining in the movement, wore hats in honour
of “the nation and the charms of liberty,” with flowers, feathers, and
tricoloured ribbons.

I might give many more examples, for each event of the Revolution was
marked by a corresponding innovation in dress, but let it suffice to
state that at the period of which I am speaking, the whole theory of
fashion was based on the assumption of equality in dress. This may be
proved by referring to an engraving of the time, that I have published in
my “Histoire-Musée de la République.”

All classes were commingled, willingly or unwillingly, through love or
through fear; and many wealthy persons rigidly adopted simple attire.

It is easy to understand the effect of this state of things on Fashion.
The Revolution had proscribed gowns of silk or white muslin, as recalling
too vividly the attire of the Ancien Régime. The Republican style of
garment entirely enveloped the wearer, and gracefully defined the figure.
It was fastened with buttons, and a sash “à la Romaine” was knotted on
one side. The effect, taken as a whole, was charming. Jouy cambric was
the material usually adopted; the “déshabillé à la démocrate,” however,
allowed of a “pierrot” in brownish-green satin.

The reign of Rose Bertin had ceased with that of Marie Antoinette.

But although the queen of France found no one to take her place, that of
the queen of Fashion was aspired to by a Mme. Rispal, who, advertising in
the “Journal de Paris,” “offered a choice of dresses ‘pékin velouté et
lacté’ (velvety and milk-like), in African silk and in Chinese satin.”
She undertook, moreover, to make up caracos “à la Nina,” “à la Sultane,”
and “à la cavalière;” short skirts “à la Junon” and “à la Renommée;” and
gowns “à la Psyché,” “à la ménagère,” “à la Turque,” and “au lever de
Vénus.”

The above were republican garments, of which the cost bore no comparison
with that of dress in the eighteenth century.

But the reaction of Thermidor was followed by a reaction in dress; and
under the Directory, when the Terror was over, women went from one
extreme to the other, and spent ruinous sums in flowers, jewellery, and
diamonds.

In this respect the year 1795 is a remarkable one. Were the fashions of
Louis XV.’s time about to return? Were red heels, paniers, powder, and
patches “coming in” again? Well, not absolutely; but the return to things
of the past was manifested in many ways, and the more so because the
number of parties, balls, and concerts was simply incalculable.

The imitation of the classical dress worn by the Greeks and Romans
produced the “incroyables” and the “merveilleuses,” the mere pictures of
whom seem to us at the present day like caricatures, and afford us some
idea of the extraordinary freaks of Fashion.

Carle Vernet has given us admirable types of the “merveilleuses,” who
were the feminine exaggerations of the time of the Directory; of the
“incroyables” it is not within our province to speak. However, amid
all their exaggeration, the chief types of fashion under Barras and La
Réveillère-Lepeaux are plainly discernible.

Anglomania was the rage. “Everything that is untouched by Anglomania,”
says “Le Messager des Dames” in 1797, “is declared, by our merveilleuses,
to be ‘bourgeois’ to a frightful degree; to be in hideously bad taste.”
This somewhat singular predilection, at a time when we were at war with
the English, is explained by the fact that Mdlle. Rose Bertin’s workwomen
had left France in order to take up their residence in London.

The Anglomania of the “merveilleuses,” however, soon faded before a
more serious passion—“anticomania.” Every woman wished to dress in the
antique style, and painters provided models for ladies “de grand genre.”
Head-dresses were various. The hair was sometimes cut short and curled,
and sometimes powdered and drawn back from the face, after a fashion that
recalls to some extent the reign of Louis XVI.

Gowns were short waisted, with long tight sleeves or short ones, the arms
bare, or covered with long kid gloves; the skirt rather trailing, and
trimmed with gimp, put on in Greek patterns. The foot and white stocking
of the “merveilleuse” was scarcely visible beneath her dress “à la
Flore” or “à la Diane.” She also affected tunics “à la Cérès” and “à la
Minerve,” and coats “à la Galatée.”

A simple kerchief, or a small shawl of plain cashmere, was worn on the
neck. Felt hats, not unlike those worn by men, were occasionally trimmed
with flame-coloured ribbons. But the more fashionable “merveilleuses”
preferred a toque trimmed with ribbon in like manner, and very
effectively ornamented with a couple of white aigrettes.

“What confusion, and what fickleness!” observe the brothers De Goncourt.
“Caps à la paysanne, à la Despaze, and Pierrot caps! Caps à la folle, à
la Minette, à la Délie, à la frivole, à l’Esclavonne, à la Nelson! There
a simple bit of muslin, and an unpretending gauze lappet; here a turban
turned up with five blue feathers! A turban, made by La Despaux, ‘that
Michael Angelo of milliners,’ will be formed of a pink handkerchief;
another will be of lilac crape, two rows of beads, and above them a rose
and a heartsease! And as for hats! hats ‘à la Primrose,’ negligently
covered with a half handkerchief; turban hats, round hats ‘à l’Anglaise,’
gleaner’s hats, Spencer hats, and beaver hats, owe their names to
Saulgeot! Does Mme. Saint-Aubin take the part of _Lisbeth_? Mdlle.
Bertrand flings a large bunch of roses on straw, and it becomes a hat
‘à la Lisbeth.’ The assembly of the Norman electors is nicknamed ‘the
chess-board of Normandy,’ and a ‘chess-board hat’ immediately makes its
appearance.”

We must also mention wigs “à l’Aspasie,” “à la Vénus,” “à la Turque,”
Greek and Roman wigs, art head-dresses in the style of Sappho; “Doisy”
nets, linked tiaras formed of the glittering links of a threefold chain
of gold; and “les cheveux baignés,” that is, the real hair, worn with a
diamond crescent.

By way of ornament, dressmakers frequently made use of small pieces of
gold, silver, copper, or steel, very thin, and with a hole in the middle;
they were generally of circular shape, were sewed on to the material, and
called spangles.

Thence the popular song:—

“Paillette aux bonnets,
Aux toquets,
Aux petits corsets!
Paillette
Aux fins bandeaux,
Aux grands chapeaux!
Paillette
Aux noirs colliers,
Aux blancs souliers!
Paillette,
Paillette aux rubans,
Aux turbans.
On ne voit rien sans
Paillette!”[50]

All the adjuncts of dress remind us of antique times; we may note the
shape of shoes in particular—when, indeed, women were not satisfied with
wearing gold rings on their feet. It is curious to remark how greatly
shoes resembled sandals, only partially covering the upper part of the
foot. They consisted of a light sole, fastened to the leg by ribbons.
Coppe was the principal “cothurnus” maker, and was said to lend to that
class of foot-covering “inconceivable colouring, freshness, eloquence,
and poetry!”

Dresses called “Athenian” were made of diaphanous material. They were
open at the sides, from the waist to the lower edge of the tunic. Gowns
made with trains were worn for walking.

The celebrated Eulalie was particularly clever at drawing the long trains
of gowns “à l’Omphale” through the sash. If any one presumed to assert
that from their feet to their heads women were too little clothed, they
would reply,—

“Le diamant seul doit parer
Des attraits que blesse la laine.”[51]

Their light attire exposed them to diseases of the chest, nay, to death
itself, but they braved all dangers for the sake of Fashion. The gold
rings shining on their feet could not protect them from the cold of
winter, and yet they remained faithful to gauze-veiled nudity. A fashion
of wearing no chemise lasted only one week.

In consequence of the depreciation of the paper currency, sixty-four
francs in assignats was charged for the making of two caps; gauze for
three caps cost 100 francs; two dozen cambric-muslin pocket-handkerchiefs
cost 2400 francs; a brown silk gown, 1040 francs; and a batiste gown
edged with silk, 2500 francs.

This was in 1795. A year later an embroidered tarlatan mantle cost 7000
francs; the making of a cap cost 300 francs; a gown and a fan, 20,000
francs; and the silk for a mantle, 3000 francs.

These extraordinary prices rose higher still as the value of the paper
currency diminished.

The best dressmakers were Nancy for Greek, and Mme. Raimbaut for Roman
costumes. A Parisian lady required 365 head-dresses, the same number of
pairs of shoes, 600 gowns, and twelve chemises.

Among the ephemeral fashions of the Directory one was to dress the hair
“à la victime.” This entailed the loss of the victim’s tresses, which
were cut off quite close to the head. Ladies who adopted the coiffure
“à la Titus” were absolutely compelled to wear a red shawl and a red
necklace, that the whole costume might be in harmony.

Many ladies always dressed their hair “à la sacrifiée.” They were also
partial to wigs, blond at first, and afterwards black, though this
“anti-revolutionary” style met with great opposition both on the stage
and in print. Twelve blond wigs were included in Mdlle. Lepelletier de
St. Fargeau’s wedding trousseau. Mme. Tallien possessed thirty; each cost
five and twenty louis.

At a party at the Hôtel Thélusson, great admiration was excited by a lady
whose hair was dressed in the Greek style,—a band of cameos representing
Roman emperors encircled her head. Her gown was of crape, embroidered in
steel.

Between 1799 and 1801, the fashions, it must be conceded, were not
particularly graceful. A caricature that has almost become an historical
document, appeared under the Consulate. It represents a gentleman and
lady both dressed in the extreme of fashion, in 1789, 1796, and 1801.

Beneath the picture the author asks the question, “Which is the most
ridiculous?”

But women cared little for what might be said of them; they laughed at
comments, epigrams, and caricatures alike.

Not only did Mme. Tallien create a furore of admiration at the Frascati
balls, in an Athenian gown, wearing two circlets of gold as garters, and
with rings on her bare and sandalled feet, but there were other heroines
of fashion, if I may so express myself, who dressed “à la sauvage,” or
threw over their shoulders a blood-red shawl (sang de bœuf), squeezed
their waist into stays “à l’humanité,” and wore on their heads either a
hat “à la justice” or a cap “à la folle.”

The following epigram was composed on the caps “à la folle:”—

“De ces vilains bonnets, maman, quel est le prix?
—Dix francs.—Le nom?—Des bonnets à la folle.
Ah! c’est bien singulier, interrompit Nicolle:
Toutes nos dames en ont pris.”[52]

Fine ladies carried an embroidered bag or reticule, vulgarly called
“ridicule.”[53]

In 1803 a certain great lady wore a tunic of netted beads, with pearls
in her hair, which was dressed diadem fashion. At the King of Etruria’s
fête, her hair was arranged like the quills of a porcupine; a long gold
chain and enormous locket hung round her neck. Another lady adopted a cap
exactly like her grandfather’s night-cap, a veil falling below her waist,
and a tunic with which her puce silk spencer made a startling contrast.
Others, again, adhered to the transparent costume, with shoes sandalled
high up on the leg.

It was difficult to tell from the appearance of these ladies whether they
were Greek, Turkish, or French women. The over-transparency of their
attire gave rise to the following song, by Despréaux, in eight verses, of
which I transcribe the first only:—

“Grâce à la mode
On n’a plus d’cheveux (_bis_);
Ah! qu’c’est commode!
On n’a plus d’cheveux
On dit qu’c’est mieux!”[54]

The fashions of the Directory, especially the transparent dresses,
remained in favour during the early part of the Consulate. We may mention
the following novelties: Jewish tunics in organdy muslin or silk, light
or dark blue, buff or striped; drawn bonnets in organdy, and straw
bonnets with “chicorée” trimming.

Long hair was a thing of the past; every woman wore her hair “à la
Titus,” and covered the cropped skull with false hair, “cache-folies,” or
“tortillons.”

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Empire 1804

Directory 1795]

CHAPTER XXI.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON I.

1804 TO 1814.

Under the Empire, which was proclaimed in 1804, the fashion of short
waists continued in favour, and even developed into extraordinary
results. The fair sex adopted “sack” dresses, with the waist close
under the arms, and the bosom pushed up to the chin. This was far from
graceful, and a woman needed to be perfectly beautiful to look well in
such a costume.

Gold, precious stones, and diamonds were lavishly used. Numerous balls
were given, and official receptions held, and the dress of the women was
handsome, nay, even magnificent. Unfortunately, it was chiefly remarkable
for its bad taste. A Frenchwoman seemed to have attained the height of
glory when it could be said of her: “Voilà une personne cossue!”[55]

Napoleon wished his court to be splendid, and was accustomed to rebuke
ladies who committed the sin of economy.

“Madame la Maréchale,” said he one day to a lady, “your cloak is superb;
I have seen it a good many times.”

She took the hint. Extravagance prevailed in every class of society, we
might almost say “By order.”

Towards the same period, Gérard’s picture of Love and Psyche brought
pallor into fashion. Rouge was altogether abolished, white pearl-powder
was universally used, and women tried to be interesting by making up
their faces “à la Psyché.”

This departure from the ways of the eighteenth century did not prevent
Frenchwomen from continuing to borrow some few fashions from foreign
countries and other times, viz. Palatines from the north, Falbalas from
the reign of Louis XV., and some minor accessories from Spain, Italy,
Turkey, and England.

For the most part women wore fronts instead of their own hair, and
diamonds in place of flowers. They were above all anxious to show off
their wealth. Many of them were parvenues who sought to do honour to
their husbands’ position.

Yet the white gowns with spiral trimming of pink satin, and a wreath
of brightly coloured flowers round the bottom of the skirt, must have
been pretty. The bodice was fastened on the shoulders by many-coloured
ribbons, and trimmed at the neck with Valenciennes lace of great cost.
The bare arms were covered with long white gloves; round the throat was
a necklace of real pearls, and on the hair, worn in curls, a wreath of
roses.

Such a dress as the above was for ball-room wear; the skirt was short,
revealing the ankle and foot in a white satin shoe.

Walking costumes were much the same as to shape, with the exception of
the skirt, which was very long. They were much heavier by reason of the
kerchief round the neck, and the shawl covering the shoulders. Dresses
were worn “à la Jean de Paris,” an opera by Boïeldieu; the hair was
dressed “à la Chinoise,” with gold pins, from which hung little gold
balls.

With the same style of hair, the “cap-bonnet,” trimmed with feathers,
was fastened under the chin with silk strings. There were toquets of
embroidered tulle, and hats “à la Polonaise,” of a somewhat ungraceful
square shape; turbans also in clear muslin spotted with gold, and
turban-caps, both souvenirs of the Napoleonic victories in Egypt. How
many fine ladies resembled Mamelukes!

Some women wore cloth, merino, or velvet coats; and almost all
excessively short waists. Their gowns were indecently low. High gowns
made without fulness were frequently trimmed with many rows of flounces
or falbalas.

From the beginning of the century, the manufacture of muslin, which is
said to be so named from the town of Mossoul, had been greatly developed
at Tarare and St. Quentin.

In addition to this, the principal innovation of the period was the
definitive introduction of artificial flowers, which, until then, had
only been occasionally employed in feminine attire.

The Italians had long possessed the art of producing artificial flowers,
and had practised it with great success; but in France this branch of
industry had only been introduced in the year 1738. A man named Séguin,
a native of Mende, and a very clever chemist and botanist, succeeded in
manufacturing artificial flowers quite equal to those of Italy. He also
made them after the Chinese method, from the pith of the elder-tree; and
he was the first to invent a sort of flower made of silver-leaf, which
has been much used to ornament feminine attire.

Wenzel, a maker of artificial flowers in various materials, who received
an award at the Industrial Exhibition in 1802, sold very admirable
specimens of his art, and greatly contributed to the success of
artificial flowers when employed for the dress or hair. Flowers were worn
mingled with braids of false hair.

Philippe de la Renaudière dubbed these “the offspring of imposture.”
Campenon, in his “Maison des Champs,” exclaimed,—

“Oui, loin des champs, il est une autre Flore,
Que l’art fait naître et que Paris adore ...
Sur ces bouquets méconnus des zephirs,
Un pinceau sûr adroitemont dépose
L’or du genêt, le carmin de la rose,
Ou de l’iris nuance les saphirs;
Puis on les voit dans nos folles orgies,
Au sein des bals, loin des feux du soleil,
S’épanouir aux rayons des bougies.
L’art applaudit à leur éclat vermeil;
Mais sur ces fleurs, enfants d’une autre Flore,
Je cherche en vain les pleurs d’une autre Aurore.”[56]

The art of flower-making has made some progress since 1738 and 1802, and
it may be said that artificial flowers are indispensable to an elegant
costume.

The Empire was the period of “toquets” in embroidered tulle.

Horace Vernet, the great painter, although very young in 1813, has
portrayed “Les Dames de Paris” in the reign of the first Napoleon.
Nothing seems to us more hideous than their hats and feathers, their
sleeves tight to the wrist, and the embroidery on their gowns.

Mme. de Staël’s “Corinne” turned the heads of the fair sex in 1807 and
1808. They assumed an inspired expression, fancied themselves on Italian
shores, played on the harp, and wore scarfs that floated with every
breeze.

The fashions of the Empire have been much, yet on one important point,
perhaps, not sufficiently criticized. We allude to the use of stays,
which came in with the winter of 1809, and have held their place ever
since, in spite of all the sarcasm that has been lavished on those
mechanical aids to dress. By way of compensation, the Empire gave us
Cashmere shawls, first brought into France at the time of our Egyptian
expedition (1798-1802). Previously to that, Tippoo-Saïb had included
shawls among the gifts he had sent to Louis XVI.; but they were not
generally worn until later. Piis wrote the following lines on the
subject:—

“D’ailleurs, ces schalls si solides,
Que vous portez à l’envi,
A des Arabes perfides
De ceintures ont servi.
Ah! de ces tissus profanes
Comme à mon tour je rirai,
Si le goût des caravanes
Par eux vous est inspiré.”[57]

Cashmere shawls are so called from the capital of a province in Asia,
within the territories of the Great Mogul. About 100,000 shawls were made
yearly in Kashmir.

Guillaume Louis Ternaux was the first to imitate the famous Indian
shawls, and then conceived the idea of naturalizing in France the
Thibet goats, whose hair had hitherto been exclusively employed in
their manufacture. For this purpose, and at great cost, he despatched
M. Joubert, of the National Library, who was well acquainted with the
Oriental tongues, to Thibet. M. Joubert gathered together a flock of 1500
goats, only 256 of which reached France, and were distributed over the
southern provinces. Thanks to Ternaux, Cashmere shawls have become one of
the most splendid adornments of feminine dress. On their first appearance
they delighted both Paris and the provinces. Their marvellous texture,
consisting principally of the soft hair of acclimatized Thibet goats,
elicited universal admiration.

At first no French manufacturer ventured to imitate so delicate a tissue,
such extraordinary lightness, such curious patterns; but after a time
an attempt was made to reproduce Thibet cashmeres by means of cotton,
silk, and wool, which, however, were found to be wanting in softness. At
a later period the hair of Kirghis goats from Russia was successfully
employed, and thus a sufficient softness was obtained for the “French
cashmeres.”

The sway of cashmeres has its vicissitudes and lapses. For awhile they
vanish from the scene, and then, after an interval, they regain their
well-deserved place in the public esteem. When an occasion arises on
which very grand and imposing attire is required a woman of fashion buys
one of those splendid products of the Indies.

At solemn family gatherings, a cashmere is indispensable; it proclaims
the wealth of the wearer.

The cotton manufactures of France were of little importance until 1787,
in which year the Government set up spinning machinery at Rouen; but
the manufacture began to flourish only under the First Empire, when
the energy of Richard Lenoir contributed greatly to its success. From
the time that machinery was substituted for the old spinning-wheel, an
amount of labour which formerly employed a thousand spinners could be
accomplished by a mere child.

For more than sixty years the coloured cottons manufactured at Rouen, and
called in consequence “Rouenneries,” have served to clothe the majority
of Frenchwomen.

During the Hundred Days, succeeding the return of Napoleon from Elba,
violets became the fashion. They were regarded as a political emblem.
From May 20, 1815, no Imperialist lady appeared in public without a large
bunch of violets on her breast. Some morning caps were trimmed with
violets and immortelles side by side, and several jewellers manufactured
ornaments of the same design. On the other hand, the Royalist ladies
wore jaconet gowns with eighteen tucks in the skirt, in honour of Louis
XVIII., and bonnets of white silk striped with plaited straw, a small
square cashmere shawl with a vermilion border, and dark blue prunella
boots.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Restoration 1815

Restoration 1830]

CHAPTER XXII.

REIGNS OF LOUIS XVIII. AND CHARLES X.

1815 TO 1830.

The lamentable presence of the allied armies in our capital induced us to
adopt some fashions from abroad. Our countrywomen copied certain details
of dress from the Germans, the Poles, the Russians, and the English. They
professed to “find good in everything,” quite forgetting the claims of
patriotism.

The noble ladies who returned from emigration in 1815 could not reconcile
themselves to the fashions of new France, and the shape of gowns and hats
became almost an affair of state. The Legitimists, when once they had
recrossed the frontier, endeavoured to repudiate whatever could remind
them, nearly or remotely, of the Republic and the Empire.

The fashions of 1815 were, generally speaking, influenced by the changes
effected by the Restoration in France. The white flag floated from the
dome of the Tuileries, and there was a passion for white gowns; while
feathers of the same hue waved on the heads of women, in honour, no
doubt, of the heroic white plumes that Henri IV. “bore along the path of
honour.” More than one great lady at the court of Louis XVIII. trimmed
the edge of her skirt with a wreath of lilies, while she altered but
little the shape of her gown, which remained as short waisted as under
Napoleon I. In the early part of January, 1816, a wealthy foreigner
appeared at the opera wearing a Russian toque. She created quite a
sensation; and the next day a first-rate milliner of the Rue Vivienne had
reproduced the head-dress, which soon afterwards was universally worn.

There was a general craving for splendid dress. Enthusiastic Royalists
gathered round Louis XVIII. and the Comte d’Artois, and thronged the
apartments of the Tuileries. Nothing was thought of in the Faubourg St.
Germain but balls, concerts, and entertainments. A great revival took
place in trade, and served as the general excuse for extravagance.

In a very short time Paris possessed four renowned ladies’ tailors,
thirteen milliners in large practice, seven noted florists, three
favourite stay-makers, eight famous dressmakers, and eight excellent
ladies’ shoemakers.

White gowns, trimmed at the bottom with flowers, were generally worn both
at official and private balls. Flowers, roses for the most part, were
worn in the hair. Plaid dresses were in fashion, dresses “à l’indolente,”
and dresses trimmed with chinchilla.

Dresses were made in various styles. Sometimes sleeves were short and
puffed, and trimmed with several rows of ruching; and sometimes they were
funnel-shaped, that is, there was a certain amount of fulness at the
shoulder which gradually diminished as they reached the wrist, where they
were hermetically closed by a ribbon over a coloured kid glove.

Dresses were cut “low,” and necklaces of pearls or garnets were worn.
When the sleeves were short, long gloves concealed the arm, and the
effect was very pretty. Embroidered “toques” were also in fashion,
ornamented with pearls and a wreath of marabout feathers.

Long gloves were expensive; but no well-dressed woman hesitated to put
on a new pair every day, a soiled glove not being admissible. Tan was a
favourite colour.

Valuable jewels, wide bright-coloured sashes, delicate fans, and
embroidered or braided reticules completed the attire, and gave it
character as well as intrinsic worth. Married women wore little
half-handkerchiefs tied round the throat, and young girls wore
apron-dresses (tablier-robes) entirely in white.

The hair was arranged in little curls close round the forehead and
temples, and in small rolls at the back of the head. Artificial flowers
were used, but sparingly.

Bonnets were made without curtains, and were worn rather tilted forward
over the face, so as to display the chignon and neck; they were trimmed
with artificial flowers. Large chip hats and white feathers were
purchased at Herbault’s, who also sold small white satin ones, the brims
of which were cut into points or squares, and surmounted with marabouts.
Other milliners manufactured “cornettes” in black velvet, edged with
white tulle; they even placed black hats on white “cornettes.”

Many dresses were made of fine white merino, with wide stripes of dead
silver, called “chefs.” White merino boots, laced at the side, completed
the costume.

During the first few years of the Restoration our fair countrywomen
indulged in various successive caprices. The “Journal des Modes” from
1814 to 1815 holds up the most extraordinary fashions to our admiration.
Women, moreover, were seized with Anglomania. A caricature of the time
represents “Mme. Grognard” trying to force her daughter to dress herself
“à l’Anglaise.”

The young girl replies,—

“Gracious! how frightful! What dreadful taste! To think of wearing
English fashions!”

But, criticism notwithstanding, ladies adopted the English custom of
straw bonnets and green gauze veils. They wore spencers, a garment
resembling a jacket with the skirts cut off a little below the waist.
These were generally made of velvet, reps, or satin, and in every colour.
They wrapped themselves in green kerseymere cloaks with double collars,
in merino coats, and in silk “douillettes,” or wadded gowns.

But imperceptibly, and because good taste never altogether cedes its
rights, puffings and heavy trimmings were discarded, and the “canezou,” a
sort of sleeveless bodice, superseded the spencer. Muslin canezous were
becoming to most women, setting off the figure of both young and old.

Unfortunately Frenchwomen soon returned to the ungraceful leg-of-mutton
sleeves, and sleeves “à berêt,” “à la folle,” “à l’imbécile,” and “à
l’éléphant.” Every day brought forth some new thing, of more or less
wonderful shape.

Cambric chemises were beautifully embroidered and trimmed with narrow
Valenciennes round the neck and sleeves. An embroidered jaconet gown cost
as much as 900 francs. And this did not discourage, but, indeed, promoted
prodigality in the purchase of stockings and pocket-handkerchiefs.

For full-dress mourning, black “toques” were worn, embroidered in bronzed
steel with a plume of black feathers, and black gowns were similarly
embroidered.

Stays were costly, and remained in fashion. Those of Lacroix, a very good
maker, cost one hundred francs; they were made in two pieces, and a small
cushion covered with white silk was fastened on behind to give elegance
to the shape.[58]

Jean Jacques Rousseau was laughed at for writing, that “The limbs should
be free beneath the garments covering them; nothing should interfere with
their action, nothing should fit too closely to the body; there should be
no ligatures.” Far from following his advice, women generally wore steel
busks in their stays. And yet the celebrated Dr. Pelletan, after making
many experiments in the interests of hygiene and dress, had proved that
the use of busks was highly dangerous. They attracted electricity to the
chest, and might occasion internal irritation in that region.

Charles X. placed himself among the opponents of stays. “Formerly,” said
he, “it was not uncommon to see Dianas, Venuses, or Niobes in France; but
now we see nothing but wasps.”

In 1824, the Duchesse de Duras brought out her romance, “Ourika,” which
was already known and admired at court, at the Royal Printing House, as
if it were a scientific work. It was received with rapture by the general
public, and was spoken of as the “Atala of the Salons.” There were
“Ourika” bonnets, caps, and gowns, Ourika shawls, and a colour called
Ourika.

This sort of passing enthusiasm recurred very frequently; and no sooner
had a book or a circumstance obtained the notice of the public, than it
received consecration, as it were, from the fashionable world. From 1822
to 1830 the following colours were in fashion: “Ipsiboé,” “Trocadéro,”
“bronze,” “smoke,” “Nile-water,” “solitary,” “reed,” “mignonette-seed,”
“amorous toad,” “frightened mouse,” “spider meditating crime,” &c.

The eighteenth century seemed to have come back, in the matter of
designations at any rate.

A paroxysm of splendid extravagance was occasioned by the coronation of
Charles X.

Hair-dressers travelled post to Rheims for the ceremony, and were
besieged by their fair clients. During the night preceding the
coronation, one of them dressed the hair of more than five and twenty
ladies, at a charge of forty francs apiece.

We must not content ourselves with a mere mention of leg-of-mutton
sleeves, they deserve a longer notice, by reason of their own long and
absolute reign.

Leg-of-mutton sleeves first appeared in 1820, and attained by degrees to
such enormous size, that a woman of fashion could not pass through a door
of ordinary dimensions. They were kept in shape by whalebones, or by a
sort of balloon stuffed with down.

Such a sleeve exactly resembled the joint of meat from which it took its
name. An extraordinary fashion, indeed! It is hard to understand the
“good taste” that presided at its invention.

And yet the whole dress of woman soon became centred, as it were, in the
leg-of-mutton sleeve. There could be nothing to harmonize in the rest of
a costume, with sleeves that preponderated as much as the paniers of old,
and the steel crinolines of twenty-five years ago. We can but laugh when
we examine some portraits of the period.

There were some slight changes in the fashions in the reign of Charles
X., from 1824 to 1830, attributable generally to incidents of the
day, or to popular plays or novels. Colours, crape, head-dresses,
and turbans were named after “Ipsiboé,” a romance of passion by the
Vicomte d’Arlincourt; there were Trocadéro ribbons, in honour of the
Duc d’Angoulême’s campaign in Spain; “Elodie” blue, and Scotch plaids
“à la Dame Blanche,” after Boïeldieu’s fine opera; and extraordinary
whimsicalities, “à la wonderful lamp,” “à l’Emma,” “à la Marie Stuart,”
and “à la Clochette.” Bonnets with large hollow brims, feathers and
ribbons, Sultana turbans, “berêts,” and caps of Chantilly blond, were
still worn.

Numbers of fashionable women wore a “sentiment” round their throats, or
a “carcan necklace” of velvet, or bows either of fur or curled feathers.
Gowns barely reached to the ankles; they were trimmed with gauze, blond,
bows of ribbon, bands of velvet, twists of satin; feather-fringe and
ornaments were sewn on to the material.

The short skirts of 1828 caused the boots we had copied from the English
to be appreciated; they were both comfortable and sightly.

Velvet “toques” were in favour; likewise velvet “witchouras,”
chinchilla muffs, bodices draped “à la Sévigné;” satin bonnets trimmed
with marabouts, satin pelisses lined with swans’-down; satin gowns
covered with crape, trimmed with puffings of the same, roses and pearl
wheat-ears, invented by Mme. Hippolyte; merino gowns trimmed with satin,
Moabitish turbans in crape lisse with gold stripes and a plume of
feathers, and, lastly, scarfs in barège-cashmere.

The hair was arranged in plaits, or high, stiff curls, on the top of the
head, mixed with ribbons and flowers, or with curled feathers “invented
by M. Plaisir,” or a steel comb.

To these we may add sashes of China crape and gauze, belts of hair,
morocco leather baskets, diamond waist-buckles, morocco bags shaped like
pocket-books or shells, stamped leather bags, lace mantillas, plaid and
damask satin parasols, and terry velvet over-shoes lined with fur.

In 1827, France possessed for the first time a living giraffe. The animal
had been sent to Charles X. by the Pacha of Egypt, and was placed in the
Jardin des Plantes.

The giraffe became extraordinarily popular. Never before had the Jardin
des Plantes attracted so many visitors; crowds of sight-seers rushed to
see it eat or walk about, and for several months it engrossed the whole
attention of the public. Dramatic authors constantly alluded to the
giraffe in their pieces, and the street organs continually repeated the
tunes that had been composed in its honour.

Then Fashion took it up, and created gowns “à la giraffe,” sashes “à la
giraffe,” bonnets “à la giraffe,” &c.; and dress was so contrived as to
immortalize the gift of the Pacha of Egypt.

On the arrival of a chimpanzee in Paris the same results occurred; and
when poor Jocko had expired, the ladies honoured his memory by wearing
materials named “Jocko’s last sigh.”

Our task would be a long and tedious one were we to attempt to describe
the costume of the lemonade-seller during the Restoration, that of the
jeweller’s or goldsmith’s assistant, of the “lingère,” the florist, the
confectioner, &c., in a word, of all the “bourgeoises” whose station was
behind a counter or at the book-keeper’s desk.

Each of these adopted a costume appropriate to her business. The
wonderful costume of the lemonade-seller of the Palais Royal excited the
admiring envy of the ladies of the court, and as for the “cafetière” of
the “Mille-Colonnes,” a fashionable hair-dresser expended all his art in
her service, just as if he had been devoting his “genius” to the head of
an illustrious princess.

The Duchesse de Berry would fain have been a leader of fashion during the
Restoration, but she never succeeded in the attempt.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Louis-Philippe 1832 to 1837

Louis-Philippe 1842 to 1846]

CHAPTER XXIII.

REIGN OF LOUIS PHILIPPE.

1830 TO 1848.

The Revolution of July 1830 did not produce nearly so much effect on
dress as that of 1789.

In the reign of Louis Philippe, as in that of Charles X., feminine
costume changed but little. Fanciful adjuncts of dress succeeded one
another without interruption, but the basis of dress in general remained
the same. Microscopical “bibis” took the place of the enormous bonnets
that under the name of “cabriolets” had been the delight of Parisian
ladies in 1835; and dress-caps were manufactured in a variety of shapes,
and under a variety of names, viz. the Charlotte Corday, the peasant,
the nun, the Elizabeth, the châtelaine, the Marie Antoinette, the polka,
&c. But the only striking novelties were the nets “à la Napolitaine,”
the “steeple-chase” rosettes placed below the ears, the Armenian toques
“à pentes” (or sloping), the Catalan half-caps, the fringed Algerian
head-dresses, and the white and gold Jewish turbans with strings “à la
Rachel.” These turbans were taken from Mdlle. Falcon’s stage dress in
Halévy’s opera of “La Juive.”

The greatest novelty consisted in the colours chosen for dress. The
“Snow” head-dress was named after Auber’s work; gowns “à la Dame
Blanche,” after that of Boïeldieu; and caps “à la Fiancée,” also after
Auber. To these succeeded various colours, called “Solitaire,” from
Carafa, or the “Petites Danaïdes,” and “Robin des Bois.” Dark and sober
tints were worn in preference to brighter hues, for no other reason than
the romantic ideas of a period in which both men and women delighted in
appearing melancholy, Byronic, and sickly.

The effect of the Romantic School on Fashion may be easily imagined.
The early works of Victor Hugo and Lamartine had kindled the popular
imagination, while Scott’s novels and Byron’s poems had everywhere
fostered ideal sentiments.

Reveries, suffering, sacrifice, and boundless self-devotion were the
themes of the day, and fair ladies voluntarily shed tears, because to
weep was fashionable.

I, the writer of these lines, have known many young girls quite
distressed by their healthy appearance, their rosy cheeks, and fresh
complexions. “It looked so common,” they said. As if the brilliant
colouring of nature were not the incomparable source of all beauty. More
than one young girl who longed to look consumptive, ended by becoming so
in reality, by dint of depriving herself of proper nourishment, which she
feared might make her grow stout and “material.”

The return to the Middle Ages was likewise manifested by numerous
costumes taken from the periods of which we treated at the beginning of
this history.

Who is that lady? Is she the Châtelaine of Coucy? She wears a long train,
an enormous pearl necklace, and hanging sleeves like those of Marguerite
of Burgundy; the alms-bag suspended from her waist, and her carved
jewellery, make her resemble a woman of the fourteenth century. Not so,
however. She is the wife of a rich shopkeeper, and has been present at
the performances of plays by Victor Hugo and Alexandre Dumas.

Does not that other fair lady belong to the court of Charles VI.? No; you
make a mistake. She has only insisted on her milliner dressing her like
Mdlle. Georges in her stage dress of Isabeau de Bavière, the principal
character in the play of “Perrinet Leclerc.”

Not only the public resorts of Longchamps and the Tuilleries, but the
French and Italian Opera Houses, the Opera Comique, the Théâtre-Français,
and the large theatres of the Boulevards exercise the greatest influence
at the present day over the caprices of Fashion. An extraordinary
discrepancy exists between the character of women and the garments they
choose to wear. A sweet and gentle girl has her hair dressed like that
of the infanticide Norma, and the best of mothers seeks to imitate the
costume of that arch-poisoner, the Marquise de Brinvilliers.

Masked and fancy-dress balls were crowded with historical characters,
from Frédégonde to Mary Stuart, and from Catherine de Médicis to
Charlotte Corday. The Greek and Roman styles were replaced by those of
the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.

We find the following paragraph in a Review of 1834: “Fashions, like
Empires, have their Revolutions, which in former times were slow and
gradual; but at the present day they follow the spirit of the age, and
share in its instability. Each century was formerly stamped in the same
image, and the dress of our forefathers might have served, in a certain
sense, to mark the dates of our history. But at the present day, Fashion,
greedily seeking after novelty, appeals to every era and every period,
borrowing from each, and only takes possession of one costume in order to
throw it aside for another, in a few months, or weeks, or even days.”

Meanwhile the great actress, Rachel, revived the ancient tragedies. She
played successively Emilia, Hermione, Eriphyla, Monima, Electra, Roxana,
Paulina, Agrippina, and Phædra, and by her genius gave new life to
masterpieces that had been almost forgotten, if not despised, since Talma
ceased to interpret them.

Thereupon the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain and those of the
Chaussée d’Antin became fired with enthusiasm; not only did they invite
Rachel to their salons, where she recited the imprecation of Camilla
or the dream of Athalia, but they copied the dress of the illustrious
tragedian. If Rachel wore a bracelet of artistic design, other ladies
immediately tried to procure similar ornaments; or if on another occasion
she displayed a set of magnificent cameos, they too must possess cameos
of the same kind. They copied the great actress in the minutest detail of
her costume, and even in her most characteristic head-dress.

The Romantic School was succeeded by that of “good sense,” according to
the admirers of Ponsard; and Emile Augier’s “Ciguë” produced a temporary
revival of the taste for Greek and Roman fashions.

But the reaction against the Middle Ages did not reach the “bourgeois”
classes, who, when their “romanticist” costumes were worn out, replaced
them with others of a less striking style, and better adapted to modern
life.

With regard to the colours most generally worn during the reign of
Louis Philippe, we may mention Russian green, wine-lees, Marengo black,
and pure Ethiopian, as succeeding to the delightful hues of lilac,
pigeon-breast, and “early dawn.”

And by how many extraordinary designations were the new materials known!
How charming was that of _pou de soie_, or _pou de la reine_![59]

Never had there been such a variety of nomenclature! The most wonderful
appellations were bestowed either by the manufacturers or the vendors
of the new materials, and the public seriously accepted and made use of
the pretentious newly-invented words, at which sensible people could but
smile.

To “diamantines” were added “constellées,” and to “Venus’s hair”
succeeded “butterflies’ wings.” How poetical! what romantic garments!

We are omitting to mention the tricolour materials, that made a momentary
appearance from time to time, when patriotism happened to be awakened by
some victory over the tribes of Algeria.

Besides poetical names, there were others less agreeable, but accepted
universally nevertheless. It sounded odd to compliment a lady on her
Bedouin sleeves, or her busked or loosely-laced bodice!

Head coverings underwent singular changes. The “bibi” was suddenly
transformed into the “cabas,” with a deep crown concealing the neck; and
the next season brought in Pamela bonnets, with rounded brims, that very
prettily revealed the outlines of the cheeks. The hair was, generally
speaking, arranged in curls on each side, and in large rolls held by a
comb at the back of the head.

Almost all family portraits of that date represent the hair arranged
thus, and adorned either with feathers or more frequently with artificial
flowers, such as are still worn. Great perfection had been attained in
the manufacture of roses, geraniums, nympheas, chrysanthemums, camelias,
and many other lovely flowers, to enliven the attire of women.

The most fashionable style of dress in 1830 was as follows:—Gowns either
high or low, with or without capes; long sleeves with wristbands, or
short sleeves and long gloves; bodice with or without a waist-band, and
generally worn with an embroidered collar; scarf and parasol of some
dark tint; black prunella or Turkish satin shoes; no trimmings to the
gown, but red or flame-coloured ribbon bows scattered here and there; and
necklaces composed of two rows of pearls.

But we must not imagine that this was all, and that capriciousness and
the love of change can ever abdicate their throne. The “leg-of-mutton,”
the “berêt,” the “imbecile,” and the “elephant” sleeves were succeeded by
others not quite so eccentric, but still, for the most part, sufficiently
extraordinary.

Such were the “Venetian,” the “Louis XIII.,” the “nun’s,” the “Turkish,”
the “Bedouin,” the “Persian,” the “gardener’s,” the “Sévigné,” the
“Dubarry” sleeves, &c. I omit some of the strangest. Henry the Second’s
narrow-brimmed hats with curled feathers came again into fashion, and the
ladies adopted enthusiastically collars and “guimpes” à la Médicis, and
mandes “à la vieille”[60] or “à la paysanne.”[61]

It would be an endless task to enumerate the slight but very various
developments of fashion. Yet I must mention the “Taglioni gowns,”
consisting of four skirts; nor can I omit speaking of “berthes” of
blond, “Célimènes,” Pompadour bodices, Niobe lacings, plaitings “à la
Vierge,” Grecian and pointed bodices, &c.

Numberless new materials were produced; among them were “droguet
catalan,” “lampas burgrave,” “Polar star,” “blossoming chameleon,”
“casimirienne,” “palmyrienne”—a blue ground brocaded with gold,
“Benvenuto Cellini” blue velvet, “Medici” and “Louis XV.” satins, “tulle
illusion,” “Rachel” crape, “cameline” silk, a tissue called “fil de la
Vierge,” “polka” gauze, and, lastly, “Duchess” and “Fleur de Marie”
pocket-handkerchiefs.

In 1839 a manufacturer invented “sylvestrine,” a material composed of the
thinnest possible layers of wood; these formed the surface of a light and
flexible sheet of pasteboard. Another invented a material of spun glass.

Great ladies delighted in lace. The wedding gown of the Princess Hélène,
Duchesse d’Orléans, was of Alençon point, and cost thirty thousand francs.

How many different names have since then appeared in the Calendar of
Fashion! Each recurring season has witnessed the birth and death of
something new in head-dresses or dress materials, or some fanciful
caprice or new shape in garments.

The beautiful Mme. de Sampajo, the attached friend of Louis Philippe
and his family, was enumerating, on one occasion, all the costumes she
provided herself with at the beginning of each year.

“I was forgetting,” she said, “to mention my dress for the days on which
the king or his family are fired at....”

It is a fact that regicides abounded under the Monarchy of July; and
as often as Louis Philippe escaped unhurt from some attempt on his
life, ladies would hastily dress themselves in some simply shaped,
dark-coloured costume, and present themselves at the Tuileries, to offer
him their congratulations.

Such costumes were always kept in readiness in a wardrobe, and were known
as “costumes for days on which the king’s life is attempted.”

In the annals of fashion, the reign of Louis Philippe is remarkable
only for “romantic costume” at first, and afterwards for the “classical
costume” inspired by Rachel. It must not be inferred, however, that the
reign of Fancy had ceased to exist. Many trifles, light and fragile as
roses, exist like roses, for one day only. And every woman is the willing
slave of Fashion, however extraordinary it may be, so that by dressing
like others, she may avoid the appearance of singularity.

A sort of rivalry existed in 1834, concerning bouquets for balls. Five
or six camelias, mixed with green leaves, were placed in the centre of
a pyramidal nosegay consisting of violets, ferns, and small hot-house
flowers. These bouquets were placed in a gilt or jewelled holder, to
which was attached a ring and chain; the bouquet, therefore, might be
allowed to fall, and would yet remain suspended to the finger.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SECOND REPUBLIC.

1848 TO 1851.

The Revolution of 1848 lasted too short a time to effect a change in
dress. There is little to remark in that transient period, beyond the
adoption of tricoloured materials in remembrance of 1830. Tricoloured
ribbons were worn on caps, and on a few bonnets. For some months Girondin
cloaks, with three rows of shaded lace, were in fashion; the cloaks were
of muslin, and trimmed with frills worked in button-hole stitch. Bronze
was the favourite colour for mantles.

The year 1848 was like its forerunner. The same materials, the same
bodices, and the same sleeves continued to be worn. Small mantles called
“grandmother,” and others, shawl-shaped, with little sleeves and three
flounces, and others again, rounded behind, and trimmed with fringe or
deep lace, were fashionable.

Gowns were made open in front, with low square-cut Raphael bodices, the
front and back gathered; and Marie Stuart head-dresses were worn. As the
light material of summer costumes was found trying to delicate persons,
kasawecks or casaques, imported from Russia, were worn over them in the
evening.

The kasaweck was a sort of jacket coming below the waist, with a
tight-fitting back, and wide, braided sleeves. The fronts were made
loose, or to fit tight, according to taste. The Russian kasawecks were
lined with fur, but ours were simply wadded. They were sometimes made of
velvet and satin, but more frequently of cashmere or merino, and were
occasionally worn under a shawl or mantle. They were known under several
names, viz. “coin-du-feu,” “casaque,” “pardessus,” &c.; and there was
quite a series of kasawecks, i. e. home kasawecks, garden kasawecks,
girls’ kasawecks, grandmamma’s kasawecks, &c. Women of fashion, however,
never wore them out of their own house in the daytime.

For several years wide-brimmed beaver bonnets were generally worn. They
were given up because they were very expensive, unsuitable for full
dress, and soon lost their colour. Velvet bonnets succeeded them, trimmed
with black lace or feathers, and drawn bonnets of satin or silk, or crape
bonnets, on which were velvet heartsease, auriculas, or primroses.

Gowns, which remained about the same in shape, were cut more or less
low, according as they were intended for morning or evening wear. Some
were shorter than others; but fashion no longer allowed the ankle to be
displayed as in 1829.

As regards material, the favourite woollens were cashmere, flannel,
Glasgow cloth, and Amazon sateen; and in silks, plain or glacé, “satin à
la reine,” “pekin,” “gros d’Afrique,” &c.

An enumeration of all the cloaks, mantles, and pardessus would be
tedious. But I must not omit to mention the bell-shaped, or Greek cloak,
also called the “Cornelia,” because its fulness and simplicity somewhat
resembled the form of the Roman cloak. It had no sleeves and no seam on
the shoulder, and could be gathered up over the arms like a shawl, at the
pleasure of the wearer.

Another cloak, called the Moldavian, fell below the knee, the sleeves
hung down wide at the back, and formed a square cape in front. We may
also mention the double-cape beige cashmere mantle, edged with braid;
the Josephine mantle, with one cape, and without shoulder-seam; and the
shawl-mantle, the elegance of which depended chiefly on the trimming.

Black lace mantles were embellished by little ruchings of narrow lace, or
by “frisettes,” a sort of braid which formed a frill on each side of a
silk thread running through its entire length.

Among the favourite colours of the period was Isly green, so named in
honour of the great victory obtained by Marshal Bugeaud, in 1844, over
the armies of the Emperor of Morocco. Women wore a great deal of Algerian
finery, or at any rate, their dressmakers got ideas from the events
taking place in the colony, and made use of them in their work.

“Sorties de bal,” or opera cloaks, were much worn at the same period.
There was no dearth of dancing parties in the winter of 1849-50, and the
number of entertainments in Paris astonishes the historian who remembers
the political events of that same year.

The Marie Stuart and the Valois head-dresses were both in fashion;
the latter being adopted by young and pretty women who wished to be
conspicuous. The hair when dressed in this style was drawn back from
the brow, and rolled over a pad right round the forehead. The “Druid”
head-dress was composed of oak leaves; the “Nereid,” of all the flowers
beloved by Naiads; the “Leda” consisted of little feathers of Barbary
birds; the “Proserpine” of wild flowers, for this was Proserpine’s mode
before she was abducted by Pluto. Lastly, the “Ceres,” consisting of the
attributes of the genial goddess.

Long chains of large beads without clasps were worn round the neck, and
reached to the waist; bracelets were of marcasite, enamel, diamonds, and
cameos; velvet bands an inch or two in width were fastened closely round
the throat.

On the first appearance of sunshine, ladies provided themselves, when
about to take a walk or pay a visit, with small parasols, white, pink, or
green. These were called “marquises,” and were trimmed with broad lace.

Parasols were sometimes fashioned like small umbrellas, and were useful
in case of a sudden shower. Soon afterwards they were bordered with a
wreath of embroidered flowers, or with a satin stripe either of the same
colour as the parasol, or blue or green on écru, or violet on white or
buff.

Bouquets of jewellery for the breast were worn by only a few, on account
of their cost. One was exhibited at the Industrial Exhibition of 1849,
which, although of only ordinary size, and containing neither diamonds,
nor other precious stones, was valued at seven thousand francs. We must
add that this ornament could be altered at pleasure so as to form a
tiara, a bracelet, or a necklace.

In order to defy the Paris mud, ladies wore high-heeled kid boots, and
gaiters of lamb-skin, buttoning on the outer side.

Shoes were hardly seen except at balls, and were worn with beautiful
hand-embroidered stockings, either of silk or Scotch thread.

Very pretty trinkets were manufactured in green enamel, or enamel, gold,
and pearls, or blue oxydized silver. Cap pins and brooches were made
with pendants, either of pearls or diamonds. Arabesques were greatly
appreciated by women of artistic taste.

How numerous were the toilets of one single day! First a dressing-gown,
then a costume for mass, another for walking, another for the evening,
others for the theatre or a ball! And all these without counting
wedding-gowns, or mourning attire, or the dress of young girls or
children.

The great and typical novelty of 1850 was the introduction, first, of
straw bonnets, and then of drawn bonnets. An endless variety were seen
in places of fashionable resort. We need but enumerate the names of some
of these: “paillassons,” “sewn straws,” “Belgian straws” with scalloped
edges; and fancy straws in shell patterns, lozenges, &c.

This revived fashion of Italian straw bonnets lasted for several years.
Women who could afford it, purchased expensive straws called “pailles de
Florence” (Leghorns); the middle classes contented themselves, generally
speaking, with sewn straws.

All these more or less expensive bonnets were trimmed with white ribbon,
wheat-ears, cornflowers, and bows of ribbon or straw.

Drawn bonnets were especially becoming to young girls; they were made of
crêpe lisse or tulle, and trimmed with bands of Italian straw. Many were
made of Mechlin net, of horsehair, and of rice straw or chip. Black lace
drawn bonnets were worn in general by women of a certain age.

We see that straw was approved of by every class, and in every station of
life.

A woollen material, still in use at the present day, was first
manufactured in 1850. It was called “Orleans,” or “Orleance;” it
was mixed and lustrous, was sometimes made in grey and black for
half-mourning, and was principally used for gowns. “Armure,” an autumn
stuff, was a woollen mixture, grey, violet, or green, with satin stripes.

The bodices of walking-dresses were still made to open in a V shape,
with wide frilled sleeves and tight under-sleeves, showing black velvet
bracelets cleverly embroidered to represent coral.

Some magnificent dresses were made of “satin à la reine,” brocaded with
little “chiné” bouquets, and trimmed with flounces either of equal depth
or graduated.

In 1850, also, a little hand-bag or workbox was invented, of real
utility, containing various little articles on the inside of the lid,
viz. a needle-case, an instrument for the nails, a bodkin, scissors, a
button-hook, and crochet-hooks. The box itself held a thimble, a little
pocket-book, a pencil, a looking-glass, and a pincushion. It would easily
hold in addition, a purse, a handkerchief, a strip of embroidery or any
other small piece of needlework, and reels of cotton. It was made in
brown, black, or green leather, or in Russian leather lined with silk.
Two leather straps made it very convenient to carry: it has been improved
every succeeding year, and at the present day is in constant request.[62]
“Bourgeoises” and working women have adopted it; and it is of great
service to all housewives. This was the origin of our present admirably
convenient travelling-bags.

The following was a pretty costume of the period. A green or blue silk
gown shot with black, with two or three graduated flounces, each flounce
braided in the Greek key pattern, with narrow black velvet ribbon. The
basque bodice (for all kinds of basques were worn) was trimmed with
velvet. A fine white petticoat embroidered in open work was visible, if
the dress were ever so little held up.

Silk was in such universal demand that fabulous prices were asked for it;
and velvet was less esteemed than moire antique, or brocades, or gros de
Tours, or satin-striped chinés, or reps with velvet bands, or watered
poplins, or Irish plaid poplins.

Nevertheless, shop-girls and workwomen made every possible sacrifice in
order to procure a silk gown, in place of the Rouen cottons formerly worn.

A decided improvement in colours came into fashion. Ladies perceived,
or were beginning to perceive, that each should wear those shades most
becoming to her, and that, while following the popular fashions of
Longchamps, she should adapt her dress to her own face and figure.

The various styles of gowns, mantles, and bonnets continued to increase
in number.

Chinés were very numerous; there were “pastel chinés,” bouquet of roses
chinés, chinés with patterns arranged apron-fashion, chinés with wreaths
round the skirt, obelisk chinés, &c. Tall and slight persons wore as many
as five flounces, the upper one being gathered in with the skirt at the
waist.

Pagoda sleeves brought back velvet and ribbon bracelets; they might
almost have been called armlets, for the wrist was entirely hidden by
bows and ends. This was very becoming to thin persons: those with round,
plump arms wore a plain piece of velvet and a buckle.

Handkerchiefs were bordered in button-hole stitch, and for full
dress were embroidered and trimmed with lace, or were made of “carré
d’Angleterre.”

Gloves of kid and lamb-skin were so greatly in request, that the
manufacturers raised the price on the pretext that “the massacre of the
poor little animals did not supply the demand.”

A few dressmakers revived the shaped sleeves terminated by a narrow
wristband, and the “mousquetaire” or cavalier collars.

Waistcoats came into fashion in 1851, and were greatly worn under basque
bodices; thus the ladies once more gave their sanction to the garment
worn by Gilles, a buffoon of the eighteenth century.

For morning wear, waistcoats were of black velvet, buttoning high to
the throat; for afternoon, they were of embroidered silk, and had gilt
buttons. For full dress, the buttons were of plain or chased gold, coral,
turquoise, or garnet.

Canezous were very useful to wear with skirts that still retained their
freshness. They were either bordered with button-hole stitch or with
narrow lace. They were worn in summer. On the first sign of cold weather,
muslin and gauze canezous gave way to jackets of thicker material.

Canezous were frequently worn by good managers, in order to utilize
skirts whose bodices were partially worn out, and they were very
economical.

We need not go further afield to account for the long duration of this
fashion, both in town and country.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Second Republic—Napoleon III 1848 to 1860

Napoleon III 1860 to 1864]

CHAPTER XXV.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III.

1851 TO 1854.

Ready-made mantles—Talmas, mousquetaires, and rotondes—The
Second Empire; reminiscences of the reign of Napoleon
I.—Marriage of Napoleon III.; dress of the new empress; her
hair dressed by Félix Escalier; court mantle and train—Four
kinds of dress—Opera dress in 1853-4—Bodices “à la Vierge,”
Pompadour bodices, and Watteau bodices—Skirt trimmings—A
new colour, “Théba”—Light tints—Social and theatrical
celebrities—The Eugénie head-dress and Mainnier bands—End of
the first period of Imperial fashions.

Dressmakers, like tailors, had begun to deal in ready-made garments;
and found purchasers for their cloaks, mantles, and trimmed shawls.
Special shops were established all over Paris, where customers might make
selections from immense assortments of goods. Some of these houses have
developed since then into monster bazaars.

A “Talma” was a cloth mantle, with or without a hood, and trimmed in
various ways, and was a special favourite with ladies. Some other shapes
were extremely simple. Talmas were also called “Cervantes,” or “Charles
X.,” or “Valois,” or “Charles IX.”

The Talma clearly derived its origin from Spain. A cloak called
“Andromache” was also worn; it recalled the fashions of Greece, and still
more the stage triumphs of Rachel. So ineffaceable is the influence of
genius!

Next came “Romeos,” “mousquetaires,” “Charles the Fifth’s,” and
“rotondes.”

Mousquetaires were trimmed with velvet “chevrons,” and were fastened by
tabs and large buttons. The others were all shaped like the talma, with a
few unimportant variations.

On the establishment of the Second Empire, the fashions of the First were
not immediately adopted, notwithstanding the prognostications of certain
enthusiasts. We must note, however, that waists became shorter, and that
reminiscences of the time of the Great Napoleon were perceptible in some
of the accessories of dress, although they took no real root among us.
Frenchwomen showed a reluctance to wear costumes that had been severely
criticized in their hearing.

Many years were destined to pass by before any attempt should be made to
revive the shapes of the First Empire.

The marriage of Napoleon III., however, gave a new impetus to feminine
fashion, and every woman set herself to imitate as far as possible the
style of dress worn by the Empress, now suddenly become the arbiter of
attire.

The dress worn by the Emperor’s bride at the marriage in the Cathedral
of Notre Dame, was of white terry velvet, with a long train. The basque
bodice was high, and profusely adorned with diamonds, sapphires, and
orange-blossoms. The skirt was covered with “point d’Angleterre.” This
kind of lace had been selected on account of the veil, which it had been
impossible to procure in “point d’Alençon.” Félix Escalier dressed the
new Empress’s hair. There were two bandeaus in front; one was raised and
peaked in the Marie Stuart shape, the other was rolled from the top of
the head to the neck, where it fell in curls that, according to a poet,
looked like “nests for Cupids.”

This costume was long the subject of conversation in both aristocratic
and bourgeois salons, especially among the adherents of the Imperial
Régime.

We must say a few words concerning the court mantle, and the court train,
which soon took its place in official attire.

The true court mantle falling from the shoulders was reserved, it is
said, for the Empress, the princesses, and some few highly honoured
ladies exclusively; for the Imperial Court wished to imitate exactly the
magnificence displayed by Louis XIV., and the first ranks of Society
became luxurious in the extreme.

A court train consisted of a skirt opening in front, but falling low at
the sides, and ending in a long train. The train was attached to the
waist. Ladies found it necessary to consult a dancing-master in order to
learn, not how to advance with a train, which was easy enough, but how to
turn round, and especially how to retreat, which was extremely difficult.

Lappets were necessary for court dress; they fell to the waist, and were
generally made of lace, and occasionally embroidered in gold or silver.

At full-dress assemblies, elegance and splendour of attire increased day
by day; the most brilliant inventions in millinery succeeded each other
uninterruptedly.

The first dressmakers in Paris were employed in making for the new
Empress four series of gowns, if we may so describe them, viz. evening
gowns, ball-dresses, visiting dresses, and morning-gowns. Among those
for “full dress” was one of pink moire antique; it had a basque bodice
trimmed with fringe, lace, and white feathers; another was of green silk,
the flounces trimmed with curled feathers; and a third of mauve silk,
the flounces bordered with Brussels lace. All were made with basques,
long-waisted, and either with trains or demi-trains rounded off. The
bodices for the most part were draped.

However great the desire of many persons to see the fashions of the First
Empire revived, those I have just described were certainly far from
resembling them. Although waists were slightly shortened, the general
aspect of dress retained the youthful, elegant, and slim effect which has
always been, and will always remain, so creditable to the French taste.

The majority of ladies felt no temptation to recall the times of that
Maréchale Lefebvre, who was as famous for her finery and feathers as for
her singular choice of language and her extraordinary remarks. Nothing of
the past can be enduring, except that which has succeeded.

During the winter of 1853-4, dresses were worn at the opera, of which I
will describe one as a typical example.

The gown was of grey “poult de soie,” the high bodice was fastened by
ruby buttons, and the basques, open on the hips, were trimmed with a knot
of cherry-coloured ribbon. The five flounces of the skirt were trimmed
with ribbon of the same hue, laid on flat, and terminating in bows with
long ends. This was very unlike the dresses of 1810.

Bodices “à la Vierge,” Pompadour and Watteau bodices with trimmings
of lace, velvet, flowers, and ruched, quilled, or plain ribbon, were
extremely fashionable. There was a certain grace about them.

On the whole, women greatly preferred the stomachers of the eighteenth
century to the short waists of the first years of the nineteenth. They
modelled themselves rather on the ancient order of things, than on the
commencement of the new order, because above all they sought for pure and
delicate outline.

The fashions of the reign of Louis the Eighteenth were resorted to for
trimming the skirts of ball-dresses. Large puffings of muslin or lace
came almost up to the knees. Here and there little butterfly bows of
ribbon nestled in the interstices of the puffs, and produced a charming
effect.

The number of new colours was considerable. “Théba” was a brownish-yellow
tint, much favoured, it is said, by the Empress, and consequently a good
deal used by authorities on dress. But it did not remain in fashion
longer than was considered desirable by persons always in quest of fresh
novelties.

Light colours were generally preferred, and every imaginable tint was
tried in turn with inconceivable rapidity.

A glimpse of the Empress Eugénie as she drove through the Bois de
Boulogne sufficed to set the fair observers to work upon a faithful
reproduction of her costume. The toilette at a ball at the Tuileries
afforded food for thought during many days to those who had been present.

A few of the court ladies seemed to legislate for Fashion, and sometimes
they even competed with their sovereign. Scores of newspapers described
the shape and colour of their dresses, their jewels, and the flowers or
feathers in their hair, and gave minute details of the fêtes which they
adorned as much by their attire as by their beauty, when they were not
tempted into eccentricity.

Only a few actresses of celebrity rivalled the influence of the Empress
and her court, especially in the matter of hair-dressing. The modes
adopted by Princess Mathilde, Mme. Espinasse, Mme. de Mouchy, Princess
Murat, and the Duchess de Morny, were admired, it is true, but so also
were those called Marco-Spada, Favart, Miolan-Carvalho, Doche, Traviata,
Biche-au-Bois, Pierson, Cabel, Ophelia, Marie Rose, and Adelina Patti.

One “coiffure Eugénie” was effected by raising and drawing back the
hair from the forehead, and arranging it with the aid of the “Mainnier
bandeau,” a simple and easily used contrivance. It was only necessary to
divide the bandeau into two equal parts, reserving in the middle a small
lock that was tightly plaited. This plait was fixed by a comb, and it
supported the foundation on which the “coiffure” was arranged; the firm,
puffed-out bands then only required smoothing. With this very few curls
were worn. With the help of the Mainnier bands, the Eugénie coiffure
formed a roll that increased in size from above the forehead until it
reached the ear, where one or two curls falling on the neck completed the
arrangement.

Such were the fashions of the first Imperial period, which inaugurated an
era of luxury in every rank of society, but did not as yet produce those
successive inventions in dress that we shall afterwards have to note, and
which are continuously developed in the present generation.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVI.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

1854 AND 1855.

Crinoline made its appearance, and revived the era of hoops. It was an
ungraceful invention; the crinoline swayed about under the skirt in large
graduated tubes made of horsehair.

“Crinoline is only fit,” said a clever woman, “for making grape-bags or
soldiers’ stocks.”

This fashion was vigorously and constantly attacked. A lady, for
instance, taking her seat in a railway carriage, was compelled to hold
her flounces together within the space allotted to her; but a great wave
of crinoline overshadowed her neighbour during the whole journey. The
next neighbour grumbled naturally, but in suppressed tones, for fear of
giving offence. When the journey was over, very uncomplimentary remarks
were passed on the obnoxious garment.

There were several other modes of sustaining the flounces of a gown. Why
not adopt starched petticoats, or flounced or three-skirted petticoats in
coarse calico?

Horsehair was surely not the only resource for swelling out one’s clothes.

In spite of its opponents, or perhaps because of them, crinoline soon
ruled with an absolute sway.

Numbers of women, after holding forth against “those horrid crinolines,”
were ready to wear starched and flounced petticoats, less ungraceful
indeed than horsehair, but extremely inconvenient. The essential point
was to increase the size of the figure, to conceal thinness, and, above
all, to go with the stream.

Some very fashionable women invented a whaleboned skirt, not unlike a
bee-hive. The largest circumference was round the hips, whence the rest
of the dress fell in perpendicular lines. Others preferred hoops arranged
like those on a barrel. The most unassuming had their flounces lined with
stiff muslin, and the edges of their gowns with horsehair, and loaded
themselves with four or five starched or “caned” petticoats. What a
weight of clothes!

As for the steel hoops that were soon universally worn, not only were
they extremely ugly, but they swayed from side to side, and sometimes,
if not made sufficiently long, the lower part of the skirt would fall
inwards. Men smiled involuntarily at such exhibitions as they passed them
in the streets, but the fair wearers were not one whit disturbed.

The gravest political question of the day was not more exciting to
Frenchmen than that of crinoline to Frenchwomen. Two camps were formed,
in one of which the adversaries of crinoline declaimed against it, while
in the other its defenders took their stand on Fashion, whose decrees
they contended must be blindly obeyed. Moreover, crinoline had now
become generally worn, and its enemies were acquiring a reputation for
ill-nature, prejudice, and obstinate grumbling.

But though swelling skirts retained their pre-eminence in fashion, cages
and hoops were gradually succeeded by numerous starched petticoats, and
this was a slight improvement.

Crinoline therefore became less ridiculous, but not without a struggle;
and it took years to bring about a change that the simplest good taste
should have effected after the appearance of horsehair, whalebone, and
steels.

During the prevalence of skirts resembling balloons, ladies wore
very large collars, to which they gave historic names of the time of
Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., evoking reminiscences of Anne of Austria,
Cinq-Mars, Mdlle. de Mancini, and the Musketeers.

An immense crinoline and an enormous collar constituted the principal
part of a costume. The rest was merely accessory, and was unnoticed on
the moving mass for which the pavement of the capital was far too narrow,
and which offered a large surface to splashes of mud.

At the same period, Marie Antoinette fichus, either black or white,
and trimmed with two rows of lace, were very fashionable; they were
crossed over the chest, and tied behind the waist. Black lace bodices
were equally popular. Both looked very well over a low dress. Beautiful
lace, long hidden in old cupboards, was now brought out and turned
to account. Several articles of dress were revived in remembrance
of Marie-Antoinette. Besides the fichu, our great ladies wore Marie
Antoinette canezous and mantillas. The ends of the canezou finished at
the waist, while those of the mantilla were crossed under the arms.
Nothing could be lighter or more graceful. Both fichu and canezou found
fanatical admirers.

The Empress demi-veils were also a lasting success. Some were made of
tulle “point d’esprit,” and edged with a deep blond lace, frilled on;
others were of open network, and hardly concealed the face at all.

The year following the Paris International Exhibition of 1855, cashmere
shawls generally formed a portion of handsome winter costumes. Shawls,
even in Ternaux’ time, had not been so universally worn.

In addition to those of India, shawls of excellent quality were
manufactured in Paris, Lyons, and Nîmes, and in textures not inferior to
those of the East.

The pure cashmere shawls were entirely composed of cashmere wool; the
“Hindoo” cashmere shawls were the same as the pure cashmere, with the
exception of the warp, which was in fancy silk twisted at the ends;
“Hindoo” woollen shawls had the same warp as the Indian cashmere, but the
woof was of wool, more or less fine in quality.

Towards the end of the summer, as the evenings became cooler, mantillas
and basquines were succeeded by “Mouzaia” or “Tunisian” shawls,
manufactured from silk refuse, and generally striped in two colours. Some
blue and white ones were very pretty, resembling African shawls.

Algerian burnouses with Thibet tassels were greatly used for wraps at
theatres, concerts, and balls. French ladies, seen from a distance,
looked much like Arabs; but at least their shoulders were protected from
the cold, and that was the essential point.

Burnouses with slightly pointed capes, called “Empress mantles,” were
made in plush, Siberian fur, and plaid velvet. These mantles were
universally popular; they were worn in France, and throughout Europe,
being most comfortable as well as elegant, when gracefully put on.

In the same year straight parasols were succeeded by those with folding
handles, made principally of bordered moire antique, and trimmed either
with frills of the same, or with fringe.

These “Pompadour” parasols became more and more splendid; they were
covered in Chantilly, Alençon, point lace, or blond, and some were
embroidered in silk and gold.

They were mostly made of moire antique, and always with a double frill,
the edges of which were pinked. Generally speaking, the handles were of
ivory and coral. The lace coverings fell gradually into disuse, owing to
their liability to be torn.

The handles of parasols for morning wear were generally of cane or
bamboo; more expensive ones had handles of rhinoceros horn, green
ivory, or tortoise-shell, with coral, cornelian, or agate knobs. The
“bourgeoises” were quite satisfied to use such as these when out on
household business or paying unceremonious visits.

Parasols with folding handles were soon laid aside, and straight handled
ones, worthy rivals of the “marquises” or “duchesses,” resumed their
old place. Women of fashion possessed exquisite white or coloured moire
parasols, lined with blue, pink, or white, with handles of foreign woods,
tortoise-shell inlaid with gold, or rhinoceros horn. For country wear
they were made in écru batiste, lined with coloured sarsnet.

Parasols were now quite indispensable, for in the wide, open spaces of
Paris there was no protection from the sun, the trees affording only a
delusive shade.

At the same time, fans were in such universal request, especially
with young ladies, that it was proposed in jest to found a school of
instruction in the art of managing them.

According to the programme proposed for the imaginary pupils, the word of
command would be, “Prepare fans,” on which they were to be taken in the
hand, and held in readiness. At the word “Unfurl fans,” they were to be
gradually opened, then closed, then opened again.

Frenchwomen used their fans as skilfully as Spanish women manœuvred
theirs. A fashionable Frenchwoman knew how to manage very gracefully
all the accessories of her visiting or walking costumes, viz. her fan,
parasol, handkerchief, smelling-bottle, card-case, and purse.

In 1859 the public was much interested in the fan bequeathed to the
Princess Clotilde by the Queen of Oude; it was of white silk, richly
embroidered with emeralds and pearls; the handle of ivory and gold was
set with rubies and with seventeen diamonds of the finest water.

But, without being equally splendid, many fans of the period were worthy
of being classed among works of art. They were exquisitely painted copies
of the works of Watteau, Lancret, and Boucher. Since then young girls
have learned to paint fans in our art-schools.

One more variation must be noted in the fashions of 1859.

The Marie Antoinette fichu was succeeded by the Charlotte Corday, which
formed a sort of drapery, raised upon the shoulders, and loosely tied
in front. It was principally worn by the “bourgeoises.” In the “great
world,” to use an old but conventional expression, ladies preferred the
Marie Antoinette; the Empress Eugénie wearing it frequently, as did the
most fashionable women of the Second Empire, at varying intervals.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVII.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

1855 TO 1860.

Fashion does not assert itself only in the ordinary round of life. It
frequently enlarges its domain in consequence of some new custom, or, at
least, the development of some old one; and an exceptional occurrence
will produce variations in it.

For many years French people had been in the habit of frequenting
watering-places, and during the Second Empire the “villeggiatura” assumed
extraordinary proportions.

Fashionable crowds hastened to Dieppe, Trouville, Pornic, Biarritz, &c.,
or to Vichy, Plombières, Bagnères, and other thermal places, on the
pretext of health.

But these temporary absences did not emancipate them from the yoke of
Fashion. The most fantastic and even eccentric costumes were invented for
ladies, young girls, and children, and certain costumes that had been
popular at the seaside were worn during the ensuing winter season in
Paris.

Casaques, hoods, and capelines found their way from the sea-beach into
the towns, where, if not worn by great ladies, they were adopted by the
“bourgeoises” and working-women.

Travelling-bags, for instance, came into general use in France, and were
sometimes transformed into dressing-cases.

Extravagance in dress was the rule at watering-places. Ladies walked
by the sea splendidly attired in silk gowns, brocaded, or shot with
gold or silver. One would have imagined one’s self present at a ball at
the Tuileries, or some ministerial reception, rather than at a seaside
place of resort. On fine days ladies wore satin spring-side boots,
with or without patent leather tips, but invariably black; blue and
chestnut-brown boots being no longer in fashion. In the heat of summer,
however, grey boots were admissible. High heels were worn, and have since
that time become higher still, until one wonders how women will at last
contrive to keep their balance.

Generally speaking, boots were made entirely of kid, but sometimes they
were of patent leather. The most stylish were partly kid and partly
patent leather, ornamentally stitched, and laced on the instep.

To these we must add slippers, shoes with large bows or buckles, and even
modern sandals, which, although very elegantly arranged, were only worn
by a small minority.

At the time of which we speak, a singular novelty was produced, called
the “several,” from the English word meaning _many_.

A “several” contained within itself seven different garments, and
could be worn either as a burnous, a shawl, a shawl-mantle, a scarf, a
“Ristori,” or a half-length basquine. Although patented and of moderate
price, “severals” did not long remain in fashion. “Ristoris,” in
particular, ceased to be worn so soon as the celebrated Italian tragedian
whose name they bore, and who had been thoroughly appreciated in France,
had left our country.

Pocket-handkerchiefs were round, printed in colours, or with chess-board
borders, or hem-stitched, or trimmed with Valenciennes insertion and
stitched bias bands. The fashion of expensive handkerchiefs was by no
means new, yet never before had they been made with such exceeding care,
trimmed with such valuable lace, or so delicately embroidered. It was
usual for ladies to embroider their own handkerchiefs, a task on which
they bestowed extreme pains, achieving perfect marvels of patience and
art.

In 1859, waists were almost on a sudden perceptibly shortened, and a
considerable number of women seemed to fear that fashion was returning
to the ungraceful waists of the First Empire—a period which they looked
upon as the Iron Age of dress. The style of costume most generally worn
that year consisted of a dark green gown with pagoda sleeves, very full,
much trimmed, and a wide ribbon sash tied in front. The bonnet would be
white and green, with white curtain and strings edged with green, and
pretty artificial flowers—particularly daisies, that look like pearls,
notwithstanding their golden centres.

The apprehension of a return to short waists was not realized. Good taste
triumphed over the incomprehensible whim of wishing to resume former
fashions, which had given rise to the adverse and well-founded criticism
under which they had previously succumbed.

During 1859 and the following years there was a rage for Zouave, Turkish,
and Greek jackets, for “Figaros” and “Ristoris.” Ladies considered them,
and still consider them, very comfortable and becoming. They were made
in muslin for summer wear, and for the autumn in cashmere or cloth. Some
were black, and braided in various colours in the Algerian style, others
of different bright shades were braided in black, and some in gold. These
jackets were very much worn in the country.

Now it is next to impossible that a jacket should go well with a very
short waist, and as jackets were particularly graceful, they certainly
helped to maintain the reign of long waists still in fashion at the
present day.

Among adjuncts of dress we may mention bonnet-caps, consisting of
ruchings or twists, as being very much worn. Nets, also, were extremely
fashionable, as they well deserved to be; some were finished with bias
bands of velvet, and others with gilt buttons and buckles.

Shortly afterwards, gold began to be used in every possible way;
even bonnets were spotted with gold or trimmed with gold buckles.
Walking-dresses had gold pipings, bouquets of auriculas were worn, gilt
pins with little chains, and frequently large gold buckles.

White Arabian burnouses, shot with gold and silver, were used as opera
and ball wraps.

Tarlatans were made with diamond-shaped spots of black velvet, having a
gold pip in the centre, and tulles with gold stars; tarlatans, also, with
gold spots or stripes.

The extremely transparent muslin texture known as tarlatan is of unknown
origin—it had an immense success for balls and parties, and is still
much patronized by the most elegant women; at the present time it is
constantly seen in our salons.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

1860 TO 1862.

Now that our task is nearly completed, we might, if necessary, appeal to
the recollections of our readers, for we have reached the contemporary
era, and we approach the present time.

In 1860, as in 1840, necklaces, lockets, and gold or diamond crosses,
suspended by a velvet ribbon or a gold chain, were worn round the neck.

The wealthy wore necklaces composed of separate stars formed of precious
stones, or of large gold beads arranged three by three, pear-shaped, and
terminating in a gold point.

Some little variations apart, ornaments of this kind have always been
conspicuous in feminine dress. The utmost inventiveness of jewellers has
only modified the shapes of necklaces, lockets, and crosses.

The same may be said of buckles, watches, watch-chains, buttons, and
bracelets; in a word, of all the trinkets successively sanctioned by
Fashion.

In the year of which we are now writing, the best dressed women, adopted
for watering-place wear the Russian hat proper, if I may so style it.
This hat was of Belgian straw, high crowned, the brims turned up and
covered with velvet, of perfectly round shape, like a plate, and trimmed
with a large rosette in front, and an aigrette higher than the crown of
the hat.

With that exception, there was nothing new or original in dress.

Milliners and dressmakers made certain improvements in small matters,
and, as is always the case, in default of new inventions, they
endeavoured to revive, if only for a very brief period, some of the
fashions of the past.

There was a great variety of girdles and belts in 1860, viz.: long and
wide ones matching the gown trimmings; long, plain sashes, the ends
trimmed with bands of velvet, and fringe; also waist-bands in Russian or
German leather, hand embroidered, or braided in gold and beads.

In 1861, wide velvet belts called “Medici” were worn, and since that time
sashes have become an important article of attire, on account of their
forming part of the national dress of Alsace and Lorraine.

Bands and belts of all sorts seemed to indicate, even at that period, the
metal belts that were afterwards fashionable in 1875.

In 1861, bands of gold, either straight or diadem shaped, were worn on
the head, and were extremely becoming to dark-haired women. Large gold
combs, with a heavy ring to hold the hair, velvet coronets with gold
beads or buttons, velvet twists and aigrettes, feather head-dresses,
bunches of flowers, velvet bows, and “Ceres” wreaths were very
fashionable.

The favourite style of dressing the hair was in very large rolls, with
a bunch of berries and ash privet on the top of the head; or a wreath
of hops and foliage; or one of oak leaves with gold acorns, and a gold
aigrette in the centre. Wreaths of cornflower, with wheat-ears meeting
over the forehead, were “Ceres” wreaths. These seem to us to have been
among the last styles arranged with order, and in which the talent of the
hair-dresser might manifest itself or produce any artistic result.

The fashion of wearing false and dyed hair was about to reappear, and
French ladies were to put in practice the axiom, that “beautiful disorder
is an effect of art.”

A curious fact attracted the attention of Parisian society in 1861; and
the ladies promptly discarded all green materials. In a professional
journal, the _Union Médicale_, the following paragraph appeared:—

“A young married lady who had gone to a party, wearing a pale green
satin gown, was attacked, after dancing several quadrilles, with
sensations of numbness and want of power in the lower limbs, tightness
in the chest, vertigo, and headache, and was obliged to return home. The
symptoms gradually abated, but the feeling of weakness in the abdominal
region lasted until the third day. No special cause, such as tight
lacing, &c., could be discovered, and suspicion having been directed
to the colour of the lady’s gown, a chemical analysis was made, and
the presence of a quantity of arsenite of copper detected. It is the
opinion of Professor Blasius, that the movement produced by dancing
might, especially with dresses of the ample width required by the present
fashion, suffice to detach a quantity of the arsenical dye, which on
being absorbed by the lungs would give rise to symptoms of arsenical
poisoning.”

The _Journal de la Nièvre_ wrote as follows:—

“Some dressmakers living at Nevers had received an order to make a green
tarlatan gown. Several strips of the material had been torn off for
ruchings, thereby producing a fine dust, which, settling on the face
and penetrating the body through the respiratory and nasal organs, had
occasioned colic in some cases, and in others an eruption on the face....”

Green wall-papers and green dress materials were declared to be equally
pernicious to health.

An interdict was accordingly laid on green, until some chemical process
had been discovered to obviate the dangers described by the _Union
Médicale_ and the _Journal de la Nièvre_.

Women were quite ready to suffer for the sake of their beauty, to tighten
their waists, to imprison their feet in shoes too narrow for them, to
run the risk of inflammation of the chest by wearing low-cut gowns; but
they were not willing to be poisoned by green dyes, especially as green
is not a very becoming colour to most women, and by no means sets off the
complexion.

In order to withstand the cold of winter, our Parisian ladies made up
their minds to wear mantles of soft cloth, or heavy “gros-grain” silk,
although the weight of such garments fatigued them.

These mantles were generally trimmed with broad braid; but some of them
were literally covered with embroidery, and were consequently very
expensive. Real or imitation Astrakan was used for every kind of paletot;
the curly coats of the still-born lambs being greatly admired.

Braiding and Astrakan had a long reign; both were constantly used to
trim various new shapes in mantles or coats, which they greatly improve
without adding to the cost. The town of Astrakan, in Russia, benefited
largely by the French fashions in that particular instance.

The following are types of the most fashionable bonnets, with which
feathers, or velvet flowers, and rosettes, tufts (called chous), or bows
of black lace and white blond, were worn: (1) a bonnet in royal blue
velvet, with a scarf of white tulle laid on the brim; (2) a black velvet
bonnet, with white tulle scarf put round the crown, and falling over the
curtain; (3) a red satin (groseille des Alpes) drawn bonnet, covered with
tulle, and with bows at the side; (4) an orange velvet bonnet, with soft
crown and white tulle brim, a wreath of flowers on the edge.

For morning dress, horsehair, Belgian straw, and chip bonnets were worn.

Very little change was observable in boots, which were generally made of
leather or Turkish satin (satin turc); shoes, either trimmed or plain,
and pumps were no longer in fashion.

Ball-dresses in 1861-2 were generally rose-coloured, with an over-skirt
of lace, and adorned with flowers. On the head was worn a brilliant bunch
of roses, giving a charming finish to the whole costume.

The manufacture of artificial flowers received a great impetus at the
Exhibition of 1855; and it is no exaggeration to say that flowers which
rivalled Nature itself were produced.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIX.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).

1862 TO 1867.

Sunshades, en-tout-cas, _métis_, in 1862—Sailors’ jackets,
jerseys, and pilot-jackets—Princess or demi-princess gowns;
Swiss bodices; corset or postillion belts—Lydia and Lalla Rookh
jackets; Vespertina opera cloaks—“Longchamps is no more”—Bois
de Boulogne—Russian or Garibaldi bodices—Paletot vest—Empress
belt—1885 patents for inventions regarding dress are
taken out in 1864—Victoria skeleton skirts; Indian stays;
train-supporters—“Titian”-coloured hair—The Peplum in
1866—Épicycloïde steels; aquarium earrings—Description of a
court ball-dress—The fashions of Louis XV., Louis XVI., and the
Empire are revived—Sedan chairs—Handkerchiefs at all prices.

In our beautiful France, where the fault of the climate is its too
frequent showers, it often happened that ladies set out to walk, parasol
in hand, with the sun shining brightly overhead, but during their walk a
downpour of rain would overtake them, ruin their dress in one moment, and
reduce them to utter despair.

How were such heavy misfortunes to be avoided? How were mortals to
contend against the uncertainty of climate?

A remedy was sought and found. Parasol-makers invented the “en-tout-cas,”
equally useful in sunshine and in rain; and in 1862 they went a step
farther, and manufactured parasols that might have been called “métis,”
or half-breeds—that is to say, half en-tout-cas and half sunshade.
These were equally useful as a protection against heavy rain or burning
sunshine.

And now began the reign of the comfortable; every day the dress and
bearing of women became more unrestrained, and less formal.

In 1862, sailors’ jackets, jerseys, and pilot-jackets were not only worn
while travelling, or in the country, but also in towns. They were made
of light cloth, in English textures, in silk poplin, alpaca, and black
silk with much gimp trimming—for gimp is never out of fashion; it is too
valuable to the dressmakers, as a means of increasing the amount of their
bills.

Simultaneously with the introduction of the fancy garments I have just
mentioned, gowns were very prettily made, with bodices either slightly
pointed, or with waist-bands or long sashes, or else princess shape
or demi-princess. Swiss bodices were also worn, and “corslet” and
“postillion” belts.

The above designations need no commentary; the elegant appearance of such
costumes can be easily imagined; they were “characteristic,” and not
always of French origin. On that very account, perhaps, they were the
more successful.

Very many fashions are the result of caprice; but they are also modes of
commemorating some great literary, musical, or dramatic success, or of
celebrating some important event.

In 1863, the Fashion journals were loud in praise of the “Lydia” paletot,
the “Lalla Rookh” jacket, and the “Vespertina” opera cloak. “Senorita”
jackets, in velvet, silk, light shades of cashmere, and cloth, were in
great favour.

The ready reception nowadays given to new fashions without waiting,
as formerly, for certain seasons is easily explained. In 1863 a cry
was heard, “Longchamps is no more!” and it is true that Longchamps
has ceased to exist. The traditional drive has lost its importance.
Only a few tailors and dressmakers, seated in hired carriages, parade
their new designs in the broad avenue of the Champs Elysées; poor lay
figures, wanting in any kind of ease or elegance. The days are gone
when fashionable Paris used to display the newly invented modes on the
road leading from the Abbey of Longchamps to the Tuileries; when the
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday in Holy Week were red-letter days in
the annals of extravagance and splendour. At the present time, the Bois
de Boulogne is a constant scene of fashionable rivalry, and is equally
crowded in winter and summer, spring and autumn.

Daily drives have thus taken the place of the annual solemnities of
Longchamps. The garments that are most noticeable set the fashion, which
is greatly determined by the rank of the wearer. True, Longchamps is
dead; but it has been resuscitated in a brilliant and permanent form
among the leafy avenues of the Bois de Boulogne.

For visiting dress, in 1863, Frenchwomen gave the preference to white
bodices of some thin material; a pink skirt, striped with a darker shade
of the same colour; a straw bonnet, trimmed with black ribbon and a few
wild flowers; a knot of lace at the throat, and some black lace round the
wrists.

The most striking of the slight innovations of 1864 were the Russian
or “Garibaldi” bodices of foulard, or of white, red, blue, or Havana
silk, either braided or embroidered in Russian stitch; and the Louis XV.
coats and waistcoats, of an English cloth of black and grey mixture.
The waistcoats, when not of the same material, were of velvet, smooth
cloth, or “gros-grain” silk. The Russian bodices, however, and the
coat-waistcoats, were considered too much in “undress” style, and were
soon succeeded by further novelties.

Ladies who still wore them, provided themselves with silken “aumonières,”
or bags embroidered in jet and suspended by bows of ribbon and lace;
and with the Empress or hygienic belt, a small corset made of elastic
material, which, when warm, adapted itself to every movement of the body.
It was, in fact, the “stays” perfected.

The quantity of toilet articles manufactured in a single year is really
remarkable.

In 1864, the _Bulletin des Lois_ published an edict, by which eighteen
hundred and eighty-five inventions patented in that one year were
registered. On every page is something concerning dress, viz.: an
instrument for waving the hair; steel skeleton skirts, called “Victoria
cages,” “corset à jour,” or Indian stays; petticoats for supporting
trains, called “porte-trains;” bonnets with faded American creeper,
feather parasols, a “transformable and multiple system of clothing,” iron
shoes, wicker head-dresses, petticoats with movable flounces, “bijou”
garters, &c.

We must not forget that the year 1864 was famous for the adoption of the
“Titian” tresses. Red hair or yellow hair was an ideal eagerly sought
after by many ladies, who either concealed their own beautiful dark
hair, or dyed it to the desired shade. In a certain section of society
there was quite a rage for Titian-coloured hair.

There were some quite impossible hues, intended to harmonize with the
thickly laid-on paint of the face,—for faces were painted,—just as in the
eighteenth century.

Laughter frequently greeted the appearance of these painted idols in
places of public resort, but it was quite ineffectual.

An elegant costume, worn in 1865, consisted of a pearl grey dress, with
braidings of the same colour, a black belt and silver buckle, and a black
bonnet with red ribbons.

The “peplum” of 1866 was formed of a small “corslet,” to which a basque
was attached, square in front and at the back, and very long at the
sides. This was called the Empress peplum. With this new garment,
crinoline was decidedly an anomaly, and its fall commenced. The “peplum,”
regarded from that point of view, marks an epoch in history, and deserves
our gratitude.

Unfortunately all gowns of heavy material were shaped “à l’Empire.”
The skirts were cut straight at the back, and worn with melon-shaped
dress-improvers in horsehair. Stiff muslin or a small down cushion was
sometimes used instead of horsehair.

One manufacturer invented a petticoat with springs, of which part
could be detached at pleasure; another, a transparent parasol; a third
advertised his system of aëration for the hair; and a fourth sold notched
steels for petticoats, called “épicycloïdes.” There were “aquarium”
earrings, consisting of small globes in rock crystal suspended to little
branches of water-grasses in enamel; the globes contained fishes. Chains
called “Benoîton,” after Sardou’s famous play, were worn below the chin
and underneath the bonnet strings, like a curb chain.

The principal Paris newspapers described the dress of Mme. R. K—— at a
court ball as follows: “A white gown with alternate bands of tulle and
satin; above this a skirt of silver tulle, with wreaths of roses, and
spangled with little stars or dots of black velvet; a very long black
velvet train edged with satin; a belt of emeralds and diamonds; hair
dressed ‘à l’Empire,’ and powdered with gold; a knot of black velvet and
a diamond aigrette in the hair; _no crinoline_.”

Yet a few years, and crinoline will be no more. From 1865 to 1867
costumes were worn short, and no longer swept the streets. But shortly
afterwards skirts were lengthened again, almost as much as in 1860.

The Louis XV. and the Louis XVI. styles were equal favourites for
ball dresses, and they soon became fashionable for walking. Ruchings,
kiltings, and plaitings “à la vieille” were much used. The Watteau
mantle, with two large box plaits hanging at the back, and the
“Bachelick,” with a pointed hood, were both equally popular. The
fashionable bonnets were the “Trianon,” “Watteau,” “Lamballe,” and “Marie
Antoinette.”

Under the influence of these eighteenth-century costumes, sedan chairs
for going to church, or for early morning visits, seemed bound to
reappear. Mmes. de la Rochefoucauld, De la Trémouille, De Faucènes, and
De Metternich used them; but this was a mere caprice of wealth, and it
did not last.

Muffs were small in 1866: the handsomest were of sable tails, and were
very valuable. A very small one cost 350 francs. Women who were not rich,
or who were of an economical turn, contented themselves with imitation
fur, or with Australian marten, Astrakan being now out of fashion. A
good many muffs were made of velvet, trimmed with fur or feathers, and
as they were essentially useful appendages, they were no longer confined
to elegant costumes as formerly; the “bourgeoises” and even the Paris
working-women used those of inferior quality, and have continued to do so.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXX.

REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (END).

1867 TO 1870.

At this time women indulged more than ever in extravagance in dress,
and in the strangest whims of fashion. The minor newspapers published
paragraphs describing the costumes of this or that great lady,
designating each by her name, by no means to the displeasure of the fair
ones thus distinguished. Tailors and dressmakers grew rich.

A very favourite costume consisted of a pink gown, a straw bonnet and
white feather, yellow gloves, and pale grey boots.

In 1868-9 the following styles of dressing the hair were fashionable:—

1. The hair drawn up from the forehead in a small “catogan” or club, and
a large “coque” or bow of hair above; short curls over the “catogan,” and
the same on each side.

2. The hair drawn up from the forehead without a parting; a large “coque”
in the middle, surrounded by six smaller ones; six long ringlets falling
from the back of the head, a little higher than the “coque,” low on the
shoulders.

3. The hair fixed on the forehead, three immense “coques” on the top of
the head, and ringlets forming a chignon behind.

4. The hair drawn straight up from the roots, and forming three rolls
falling backwards; a “catogan” and three “coques” underneath; one long
“repentir” or ringlet, waved, but not curled.

5. Three triple bandeaus in front; a small “catogan” surrounded by three
rows of plaits; three large curls behind.

The hair was generally worn high, and dressed in a complicated style, but
it was, above all, dishevelled. It was frequently worn quite loose and in
disorder; less so, however, than in 1875.

The ornamental portions of dress were extremely handsome and expensive.
A great deal of jewellery was worn. In 1869, at the Beauvais ball, the
Duchess de Mouchy wore diamonds to the value of 1,500,000 francs. Her
dress consisted of a gown and train of white gauze spotted with silver;
a rather short over-skirt of red currant-coloured silk, forming a ruched
“tablier;” a low, square-cut bodice, and shoulder-straps of precious
stones; a sort of scarf of flowers, with silver foliage, fell from one
shoulder slanting across the skirt.

At Compiègne, Biarritz, and the Tuileries, by turns, brilliant costumes
such as these were seen and admired, and the day after a fête the
fashionable newspapers gave minute descriptions of the most elegant
dresses, and a guess at their approximate cost.

For many years, and although there was little novelty in the fashions,
they never ceased to be the order of the day. More than ever did women
make them their occupation, and men also were deeply interested in the
subject.

There was, so to speak, a tournament of coquetry in Europe, in which the
French ladies always bore away the palm.

New periodicals specially devoted to Fashion were published in France and
abroad, and supplied a real want in circles where many articles of dress
were made at home.

A taste for handsome dress pervaded every class of society, a “good cut”
became every day of more importance, and the smallest variations were
adopted, since radical changes were not taking place.

During the Second Empire new colours called “Magenta,” “Solferino,”
“Shanghai,” and “Pekin” were produced in much the same chronological
succession as the military expeditions to which they owed their names,
and which had been successful, indeed, but at a great cost in blood.

Our victories in Italy being thus commemorated by Frenchwomen, they
condescended to recall in like manner the capture of Pekin and the famous
treaty of Shanghai. The extreme East was to them no longer an unknown
land.

A decided change soon took place in the cut of dresses. As had frequently
happened before, Fashion went from one extreme to the other; balloons
were succeeded by sacks, and tubs by laths.

In 1869, when the question of giving up crinoline was mooted, the leaders
of fashion consulted together. One party declared that the reign of
crinoline must come to an end on account of its abuses; the other pointed
out that “as women now walk so badly on their high heels, crinolines are
necessary, and must be retained, because they sustain the weight of the
skirts.”

The latter party gained the day at first, and crinolines were merely
modified. They were made in white horsehair, with rolls round the bottom
and up the back only.

But, after all, crinoline was destined to extinction, were it only
because it had already lasted a long time. At various intervals its
adversaries had dealt it vigorous blows, and its partisans now began to
perceive that it was both inconvenient and ridiculous.

Crinoline could resist no further, and it fell. Dare we say for ever?

Crinoline was succeeded by Chinese skirts, extremely narrow over the
hips, and precisely like those worn by the inhabitants of Pekin or Canton.

The transition was abrupt and sudden. It seemed, however, the most
natural thing in the world.

Together with tight skirts, several other accessories of dress were made
as much like Chinese fashions as possible. Up to a certain point French
ladies approved of the new style, which has since that time undergone
several transformations, the first being the introduction of the poufs
and “tournures” that were still worn as recently as four years ago.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Napoleon III 1865 to 1870

Present Fashions 1870 to 1875]

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE THIRD REPUBLIC.

1870 TO 1874.

The fatal year of 1870 will be long and sorrowfully remembered. Our
hearts are still bleeding for the misfortunes of our beloved France,
suddenly called upon to undertake a frightful war, and to accept a peace
purchased only at the cost of terrible sacrifices.

During the siege of Paris by the German troops, when all communication
with the departments was cut off, the part played by Fashion was
interrupted, and the source of caprice in dress completely dried up. How
could Frenchwomen indulge in the luxuries of dress while their native
soil was red with the blood of their fathers, husbands, brothers, or
sons? How could they occupy their minds with superfluities, when millions
were in want of the necessaries of life, when the inhabitants of the
capital lacked food, and when France, from one end to the other, was in
the agony of a great despair?

For many months the pleasant things of home were laid aside, and Fashion
veiled her face. Women passed their days in encouraging the soldiers, in
making lint, in nursing the wounded, and in all sorts of contrivances
for alleviating the privations of innumerable households. There was no
room for other pursuits.

Paris was encompassed by her enemies, and became like an extinct sun to
the rest of France. The journals of Fashion that had formerly taught the
whole world the latest Parisian inventions in attire or hair-dressing
were now silent! The love of dress, of jewels, of brilliant finery, had
vanished!

Charitable collections were set on foot, to which the wealthy contributed
some of their diamonds and lace.

How great was the change in a few months! From riches to poverty, from
thoughtless gaiety to universal mourning! The few heartless women who
ventured to parade the streets in gay attire were scathed by the contempt
of those who passed them by, and pitied by all generous minds.

Such theatres as remained open, gave performances only on behalf of the
wounded soldiers, all fêtes were for charitable purposes, and Fashion,
entering into the spirit of the times, ruled with both simplicity and
economy. The audiences on these occasions had no desire to shock public
opinion by brightly coloured dresses, by exaggerated “poufs,” or by the
display of valuable jewels. They bore in mind that boundless luxury had
contributed to the downfall of France, and they set the example of reform
both in dress and manners. They selected appropriate costumes, ladylike
and graceful it is true, but free from affectation, and with due regard
to the melancholy circumstances of that terrible time.

At the Trouville Races, in 1871, there was nothing new in the costumes
worn, in the true signification of the word, but they were neither like
those of the preceding year, nor, as regards brilliancy, like those of
the latter years of the Second Empire, and on that account alone they
deserve mention. Gowns, without crinolines or trains, no longer swept the
beach as formerly, nor did they display the wealth of their wearers; the
visitors to the seaside were simply and modestly attired, and resorted
thither for bathing merely.

“Parisian velvet” was the new winter material. This was a sort of black
satin, with velvet lozenges or diamonds. Another kind of velvet-satin,
called Pekin, was very fashionable. Different varieties of these two
materials made them suitable to every figure. The costume was completed
by a black velvet bonnet with curled black feathers falling over the
crown, and velvet strings.

Satin was mixed with “Irish” cashmere for gowns, and trimmed with
fringe, gimp, and lace. The above styles were, I repeat, dignified,
and appropriate to the then position of France. There were some rare
exceptions that contrasted with the general rule.

At a private concert for the benefit of the sufferers by the war, the
principal singer—an amateur—wore a gown of white double crape, with
demi-train and puffings at the bottom; three large “pattes” of black
velvet fell over the skirt, and on each of these was an anchor in Rhine
crystal; the bodice was low, and trimmed with two ruchings of black
velvet, divided by one of white crape. The head-dress was black velvet
and pale Bengal roses.

Under the melancholy circumstances, black was universally worn, but it
was not like ordinary mourning, being richly trimmed; and by degrees, as
months passed on, and the remembrance of recent disasters became fainter,
lighter shades were permitted to modify the exclusively black garments.
The so-called “cloth costume” was also much worn; this consisted of
a tunic, jacket, and skirt. The tunic was polonaise shape, plain in
front, and with two Watteau plaits behind; the skirt was of silk, either
flounced or kilted, or else in orleans or cashmere, for morning wear. A
wide-sleeved jacket, cut out all round in “battlements,” was worn over
this costume.

Alsatian bows for the hair, in remembrance of our beloved and lost
Alsace, were much worn by young girls. Marie Antoinette fichus and
Charlotte Corday caps were still in fashion, and becomingly adorned with
Alsatian bows.

During the Carnival of 1872—hardly a brilliant one, as may be
imagined—the Alsatian costume was quite a success. The same may be
said of the costume of Lorraine. But, to our mind, there was something
childish in thus exhibiting our regret at having ceded two of our finest
provinces to Germany; it was no affair of fashion. Visiting costumes
were trimmed with ribbon rosettes at the side, in imitation of the
Alsatian custom, and this style remained in fashion for more than a year.

When summer came, alpaca, mohair, and grey “poil-de-chèvre” or
goats’-hair dresses were seen at all the public promenades. Black and
dark shades were worn less and less every day. It was evident to all that
the worldly spirit was reviving to a certain extent. Moreover, trade and
manufacture required support; manufacturers, traders, and workmen had all
of them suffered, and custom was needed to repair their losses.

Towards autumn the managers of theatres began to bring out new pieces;
and shortly afterwards, receptions at the Presidency gave some impetus to
the manufacture of dress-stuffs, which had been seriously affected by the
siege of Paris.

Among other dresses, I recollect having seen one made with a demi-train,
a deep kilting “à la vieille” round the bottom of the skirt, at the
head of the kilting five rows of thick cording, and two bias flounces
gathered together. The bodice was in one piece, and cut like a long
square waistcoat. The basques and sleeves were in woollen material, and
the waistcoat in silk. With this was worn a Marie Stuart bonnet in China
crape and “faille” silk, edged with jet beads, and trimmed with a tuft
of black feathers with one long hanging plume. The “Michael Angelo”
bonnet, lined with some light colour, and the “sailor” hat, in felt or
dark velvet, were also favourites. Sets of collars and cuffs were made
in linen, trimmed with Valenciennes or guipure; and dresses were trimmed
with China crape, cashmere, and black or white lace.

We may mention, as novelties, doeskin, kid, and cashmere gloves, with as
many as five, six, and even ten buttons; and clocked stockings in all
colours, called hunting stockings, and very much liked by the public.

Ladies’ costumes were completed by small muffs, braided and fur-trimmed
dolmans, circular lined cloaks of silk or cachemire; the comfortable
“Duchess mantles,” that might well have been called Oriental; satin-lined
hoods; and “Rabagas” bonnets, which were made of the same velvet or
satin as the dress, and with a long feather curled round the crown.

The “Rabagas” hat was brought into fashion by a play of Victorien
Sardou’s, that attracted much attention by its political and reactionary
character.

An absurdity of the winter of 1872 deserves notice. Ladies carried
enormous fans, almost as big as parasols, with a painted bouquet of
flowers in the left-hand corner. This unfortunate invention was intended
to serve both as fan and screen, but its reign was of short duration. The
“fan-parasol” was, in fact, a failure.

The “Leopold Robert” bonnet, on the contrary, had a great success,
owing to its artistic shape. It consisted of a wreath of flowers or
foliage placed on a band of plain or puckered velvet; ribbon or lace at
the back fell over the chignon; there were no strings. A veil called
a “provisoire” was wound round the head; it covered the face, Jewish
fashion; and the long ends crossed behind, then brought forward and tied
under the chin, took the place of bonnet strings.

The “Leopold Robert” bonnet lent a charm to ugliness itself. Was it on
that account that pretty women gave it up? Were they afraid of being lost
in the crowd, and of receiving only a divided homage?

In 1873, feminine dress became extremely complicated. All kinds of
ornamentation were used with more or less happy effect. It seemed as if
feminine vanity were endeavouring to make up for the lost years 1871 and
1872. Simplicity was succeeded by finery of all sorts, and the trimmings
of dresses cost ruinous prices. Fifteen or twenty flounces would be put
on one skirt. Costumes were trimmed with chased, bronzed, or oxydized
buttons.

After an interregnum of many years, steel ornaments were again worn in
the hair, and young girls wore a locket on velvet round their throat.
“Regent” belts and “sovereign” dress-improvers were much worn, and were
very becoming.

Although there were no essential changes in the fashions, they became
every year more difficult to define, because women were beginning to
dress independently, each one according to her own taste, and with
reference to age, position, and means, without servile imitation of any
particular fashion. The ground-work of dress varied little, but the
details were almost infinite in number, and were, in fact, characteristic
of each individual wearer. This was regarded as anarchical by persons
accustomed to the strict discipline of Fashion.

In a space of less than two months appeared the “Montenegrin,” a sort
of dolman which defined the figure becomingly, and was covered with
braid and silk embroidery; jet ornaments in great profusion (aigrettes,
buckles, sprigs, and wheat-ears); “Michael Angelo” bonnets, trimmed with
moss-roses and lilies of the valley; Tussore gowns (an Indian silk),
trimmed with black velvet; “Abbé” collars of the Louis XV. fashion, in
plaited muslin, with embroidered bands in front; and deep cuffs worn over
tight sleeves.

A great variety of materials was used, but plain or figured silks in
medium qualities were always more popular than fancy stuffs. Frills, and
ruchings of net or “crêpe lisse,” were worn round the throat.

Lockets and “saint esprits” in brilliants, strass, or Alençon diamonds,
and Normandy crosses delicately carved in light foliated patterns, were
favourite ornaments at this period.

Many Parisian ladies wore tight-fitting tunics or polonaises in the
street. Some very fashionable bonnets were made without crowns; these
were merely a thick wreath of vine leaves or flowers, rising rather high
in front. Clusters of curls fell over the back of the neck, displaying
the colour and beauty of the hair in a most charming way.

Costumes were of two kinds, the “extraordinary” and the “moderate”—the
latter were rather less worn than the former. Waistcoats and corslets
remained in favour during the summer; also long sleeveless cashmere and
velvet jackets, and Louis XV. “casaques” in winter.

On Tuesday evening, October 28, 1873, an unforeseen calamity befell the
world of fashion. The Paris Opera House, in which so many masterpieces
had been performed, and which was so admirably adapted for music, was
burned to the ground.

One of the temples of Fashion had perished in a night; and for a time the
splendid attire that had been wont to display itself at the Opera, had
also to vanish and be seen no more. No more was the dazzling light of the
great chandelier to be shed upon the “poufs” in English point, blond,
jet, or tulle; the tiaras and “rivières” of diamonds, the state costumes,
the magnificent Circassian belts!

The destruction of the Opera House dealt a terrible blow to aristocratic
finery, and forced it to take refuge in balls and promenades.

The “toilette d’Opera,” which was to rival that “des Italiens,” had to
wait until its temple should be rebuilt. The probation, however, was
short.

We are bound to admit that things were not so bad as might have been
expected. At that very moment luxury and fashion were assuming gigantic
proportions, and under the Third Republic women continued to wear clothes
of excessive costliness. It was fortunate that persons of slender means
were permitted to copy in simple materials the shape and trimming of
high-priced costumes. The “cut” became the principal point in dress,
other things being left to the choice and discretion of the wearer.

On the occasion of a charity sale on behalf of the orphans of the war,
at the new Opera House, Parisians perceived that the love of striking
costumes had not passed away. The lady stall-holders—Mme. Thiers, Mdlle.
Dosne, the Maréchale de MacMahon, and the Princesses Troubetskoï and
De Beauvau—vied with each other in elegance of attire, and the lady
purchasers were not left behind; their dresses were of various colours,
more or less harmonious, and composed of mazes of material and floods of
ribbon, heaps of lace, kiltings, flounces, and bows; in a word, all that
can be conceived of richness and elegance.

Under the peristyle of the Opera Garnier, parasols in “écru” silk spotted
with blue or pink, trimmed with bows and two rows of lace; and also
“cane” parasols with large handles, were seen. According to the strict
laws of costume, the parasol should be suited to the costume, and even
the fan should match.

A ball was given afterwards at the same theatre for the benefit of the
Lyons weavers, and the dresses were more magnificent than ever. But
no one found fault. Mme. Musard made a great sensation in a dress of
lime-tree colour, richly brocaded with bouquets of roses. The material
had been manufactured at Lyons at a cost of 100 francs per yard. White
predominated in the dresses of the queens of the ball—Mmes. de Mouchy,
Aymery de la Rochefoucauld, De Béhague, De Pène, De Beaufort, Alphonse
and Gustave de Rothschild. The latter wore a wonderful “apron” of pearls
worth several fortunes.

A lady not quite in the first circle, would practise economy by wearing
a cashmere tunic. This was simply her venerable burnous, that had been
lying for years in her wardrobe, re-made and trimmed with lace and jet
braid. Or she would resort to the art of the dyer, and her old green gown
would emerge from his hands a new handsome black one, with a few yards of
velvet added. The art of dyeing performs miracles, and at small cost.

A strange rumour was current in the highest circles in 1873.

What was that?

Nothing less than the abolition of gloves! This was assuredly no question
of economy, for their place was to be taken by a fashion worthy of the
days of the Directory. Women of fashion proposed to wear clusters of
rings between every finger joint; each hand to bear a fortune.

This was the fantastic dream of some “blasée” fine lady, longing for
novelty at any price. It was not realized, as may be imagined; and gloves
kept their place—an important one—among articles of feminine attire.

A desirable change in taste was manifested in the almost total
suppression of the trimmings with which gowns had been overloaded.
Dress remained as pretty as before, and cost much less. A Frenchwoman
can easily attain the beautiful, without over-stepping the bounds of
moderation. Much of the grace and becomingness of a costume depends on
the under-skirts, and, simple as they seem, they will long retain their
importance.

Waistcoats, “French Guard” coats, and “Leaguer” hats seemed like
encroachments on masculine dress, but the waistcoat was partially
disguised by a good deal of ornamentation.

Charles IX. house-shoes were much worn; they were of fine kid, rounded
at the tips, with high pointed heels and low vamps trimmed with bows; a
kid strap across the instep, with a large square buckle in steel or Rhine
crystal.

Felt slippers were worn of every shade of colour, braided in wool. Cloth
boots, with kid under-leathers, were made to match the costume with
admirable skill.

The year 1874 effected no change in the fashions of 1873 as we have
described them. But some of the minor accessories were varied, and thus
an air of novelty was given to the beginning of each season.

Flounces of English, Alençon, and Mechlin lace were mixed with quantities
of raised embroidery, beautifully executed.

A new shape for bonnets was favourably received in the highest circles
of fashion. It was of black velvet, with low round crown, and wide brim
slightly curled, something like a miller’s hat. The edge and crown were
bordered with jet beads. Some ladies wore this shape in felt, with a long
natural ostrich feather. Young girls preferred the “Page” hat, with soft
crown and drawn brim, and the “toquet Margot,” the brim of which was
plaited, and widened at the back into something like a bonnet curtain.

Black continued in fashion during the winter, and was made brilliantly
effective by the addition of lace trimmings and quantities of jet. Very
pretty fichus made of white or black tulle, sprinkled with jet beads, and
a high collar with frills on the inner side, were sometimes worn over
black costumes.

Ball dresses were characterized by deep “Henri II.” ruffs, and “Louis
XV.” sleeves trimmed with steel, silver, or gold beads, embroidered,
and even gold lace. Muslin and tarlatan resumed their former place in
female attire. Past periods were called upon for their fashions, either
successively or together. Costumes of a composite order, if I may borrow
an architectural term, were introduced.

The hair continued to be dressed high, and frizzed or waved over the
forehead. Ringlets at the back of the head went out of fashion; only a
couple of curls were allowed to stray on the neck. We may mention the
“Swiss” style of head-dress as something new. It consisted of two long
plaits hanging behind, and ending in a curl, above which was tied a
narrow ribbon.

False hair was worn more generally than ever. We learn from some
interesting and curious statistics that 51,816 kilogrammes of false hair
were sold in France in 1871; 85,959 in 1872; and 102,900 in 1873. These
figures were probably surpassed in 1874 and the succeeding years.

The hair is chiefly procured from Normandy, Auvergne, and Brittany.
Haircutters whose special business is the collecting of it, procure it in
April and May. They give in exchange coloured prints, muslin, and calico,
or they pay for it in money at five francs the kilogramme.

Who could have thought, at an earlier period, that the trade in hair
could have become so greatly developed in France?

During the winter, ladies principally aimed at warmth, and replaced
the classic waterproof by a circular cloak of silk, lined with flannel
or with fur, and slightly wadded. The furs most commonly used, besides
squirrel and Russian wild cat, were otter and Russian fox.

The Chamber of Commerce in Paris gave a ball in honour of Marshal
MacMahon, the second President of the Republic, at which thousands of
fairy-like costumes were all the more admired because they had been so
long unseen at official receptions. Few dresses came unhurt out of the
palace on that occasion; the dust was stifling, the crowd overwhelming,
and the pushing most unpleasant.

In the spring of 1874, tunics were succeeded by a sort of peplum, cut in
one piece with the bodice, and forming basques at the back.

Ladies wore “merveilleuse” hats in jet lace, one side turned up, with a
bunch of flowers.

Green was the favourite colour for gowns—verdegris, mignonette,
frog-green, bottle-green, canary-green, sage-green, &c., &c.

This reminds us of an historical incident in the reign of Henri III., on
the occasion of a banquet given by that king to some gentlemen who had
accompanied him to the siege of La Charité. “The ladies,” says Pierre
l’Estoile, “were all dressed in green; and all the guests were likewise
in green, for which cause, 60,000 francs worth of green silk had been
obtained from Paris.”

But to return to 1874. Green did not in that year create any great
excitement in trade; but jet was so extensively used, that the effect
was similar to that produced by the rage for green silk under Henri III.
In the course of a few months, several bead manufacturers at Venice made
immense sums of money. The foreign manufacturers who supplied our French
ladies with jet beads are at the present day millionnaires.

Together with the “merveilleuse” hat, the “incroyable” bodice came into
fashion. The latter opened over a waistcoat fastened by handsome fancy
buttons. The top was trimmed with a ruching lined with lilac; the sleeves
were in three pieces, with embroidered bands between.

Generally speaking, costumes were made in shades of one colour, rather
than in contrasting colours.

Pelted boots for ladies were introduced. This fashion probably originated
on the turf, but the boots were practically useless, except for
travelling.

Foulard was the favourite material for gowns, and the delightful
Hungarian or Croatian paletot was universally adopted. This was trimmed
with glass beads and frogs, and the shape was exquisitely becoming to the
figure, while the long flowing sleeves lent grace to the least graceful.

Some women of the highest rank favoured an extraordinary costume called
the “sheath” or “cloche.” They enveloped themselves in a garment which
fitted closely to the whole body. This whim was adopted only by a few,
because it was not becoming.

A great deal of trimming was worn on beige, mohair, tussore, alpaca, and
écru foulard gowns.

False hair went out of fashion, and was succeeded by the “knocker” or
“Catogan” style. Instead of being frizzed and twisted in every direction,
the hair was gathered together at the back of the head in a loose wide
plait, and looped on the nape of the neck with a ribbon bow.

Several new bonnet shapes were introduced during the summer, viz. the
“Trianon,” the “Elizabeth,” the “Charlotte Corday,” the “sailor hat,” the
“shepherdess,” the “Bersaglière,” the “Bandoulier,” the “Fra Diavolo,”
the “Orpheus,” and others. At the seaside the “Mercury” hat was popular;
it was a sort of “toquet,” with two wings in the front, springing from an
Alsatian bow, and the crown turned up at the back under a Catogan bow,
in which was fastened a poppy, or a large “Reine Marguerite” or ox-eyed
daisy.

In the autumn, the polonaise was succeeded by the tunic. Beaded, shining
trimmings became more fashionable than ever. Open or flat collars took
the place of frills. A small gold pencil-case was worn hanging from the
watch chain.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Present Fashions 1875 and 1876

Present Fashions 1877 and 1878]

CHAPTER XXXII.

FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

1875 TO 1878.

Dinner, casino, and ball dresses in 1875—Importation
of false hair—Manufacture in France—Modification of
waterproofs—“Estelle” bonnets—Tunic aprons—Cuirass
bodices—“Montespan” sleeves—“Saut-du-lit”—Shoes of past
times—“Bonnes-femmes” pockets—Henri III. plumes—“Inez”
veils—Ribbons and flowers—Heavy style of dress—“Pouf”
petticoats—Composite fashions of 1876—Armenian toques—“Ophelia”
bonnets; “Danichef” bonnets—Mdlle. Bettina Rothschild’s wedding
trousseau—A splendid parasol—Gondolier hair-nets—“Baby” sashes
and “baby” bonnets—“Fontanges” fichus—“Platitudes”—Red, as a
colour—Pockets of various kinds—Majestic appendages—Princess
dresses—Bouquets on the bodices—Hair dressed in the Greek
style—A thousand curls—Breton style—Organ-pipe
frills—Coat-bodices—Trinkets in black and silver.

We have now reached the fashions of the present day, that is, the
fashions that have prevailed from 1875 to 1881.

It will be well to divide this period into two parts, the first extending
from 1875 to 1878, the second from 1878 to 1881.

What were the costumes worn at a dinner, casino, or ball in 1875?

We will describe a lady’s gown made of sky blue Italian silk. The front
of the skirt was trimmed with five flounces of antique lace, above which
were full ruchings in two shades of blue, one shade being the same as
that of the skirt, and the other rather darker. The upper skirt, widely
open in front in order to display the splendid petticoat, formed an
ample train at the back. A lace scarf fell gracefully over the folds
of the costume. The edge of the tunic was trimmed with antique lace
and ruchings. The bodice was cut low and square; the sleeves consisted
entirely of ruchings and narrow lace, and reached to the elbow, where
they were trimmed with two deep falls of lace—a most becoming finish.
The hair was dressed high with a Spanish comb, ribbons, and flowers.

We may mention here a curious fact that appears in the published accounts
of the trade of Marseilles during the year 1875. 75,000 kilogrammes of
hair, from the several countries of Asia Minor, Egypt, Hindostan, China,
Italy, and Spain, entered France through that port. Formerly, as we have
already stated, Brittany and Normandy supplied us with this article of
commerce.

The manufacture of false hair in France amounted in 1875 to 130,000
kilogrammes, and was insufficient to supply the demands of fashion. The
street-sweepings of hair, collected by the scavengers, were used for
making luxuriant tresses of all lengths and all shades—blond, red, black,
or brown.

Beaded and shining trimmings were very handsome, and much admired. Some
were of totally new design, and were even preferred to lace.

In woollen fabrics, and with the exception of serge and limousine, women
preferred “chiné” fancy mixtures, or striped materials of two shades.

Steel was again fashionable. Stomachers, berthes, and “Louis XV.
casaques” were much worn; and the waterproof, so long the very tomb of
elegance and grace, but the most convenient of garments, underwent such
improved “treatment,” that no woman, old or young, need any longer object
to shelter herself beneath it.

White bonnets, that had been absolutely proscribed for many years, came
into fashion again for visiting dress. The “Estelle” bonnet was in cream
felt, or in stiff white tulle, edged with white jet.

An expensive checked material, which cost fifteen to eighteen francs the
yard, was used for gowns; and with these were worn apron tunics in Scotch
plaid, and small “Louis XIII.” waistcoats with pockets. “Flora” bonnets
in beige chip of two shades; “Chevalier” bonnets made of jet; “Trianon”
bonnets in black chip, with a double bordering of Italian straw; and,
lastly, maroon straw bonnets trimmed with showy “François I.” ribbon,
were among the favourite shapes. Some of these bonnets looked like real
flower-beds, with their harmoniously blended heath, clematis, poppies,
and daisies.

Cuirass bodices did not long remain in favour; they were succeeded by
bodices with straight waist-bands, and armour bodices cut low and square,
and laced at the back. These bodices were embroidered, and edged with
Mechlin lace.

“Montespan” sleeves were worn as a reminiscence of the seventeenth
century; the material of which they were made was embroidered, and they
ended at the elbow in two deep falls of Mechlin lace, with frills of
crape lisse on the inside.

At home, ladies wore muslin “peignoirs” of a shape called “mobile;” or
“saut-du-lit” (jump out of bed), an equally becoming garment, in fine
nansook.

For morning dress they selected “Samoyède,” or polar cloth; “Livonienne,”
or snow-flaked or gravelled cloth. Costumes made of these were trimmed
with a wide braid to match, or with a band of velvet, and the skirts were
trimmed apron-fashion in front. This was a step towards the revival of
plain dresses.

Among other evolutions of fashion in 1875, the change in shoes was
noticeable. Those shoes “à la poulaine,” which I described when treating
of the Middle Ages, were partially imitated by the new mode. Up to this
time shoes had been made square at the toes; they were now made pointed;
and some boots were made with the points curling upwards, in the same
ridiculous fashion as under the Valois.

This retrospective caprice did not, fortunately, last long.

Gowns continued to be made with trains, with tight-fitting basques, and
with large pockets called “ridicules,” “aumônières,” and “bonnes-femmes.”
A muslin flounce was placed inside the bottom of the skirt, coming a
little below it; and the “balayeuse,” as it was called, frequently
excited the mirth of the passers-by in the streets.

Polonaises came in once more. They were made of dolgai, a warm, soft,
thick, woollen material of a dull shade. Linen collars and cuffs,
hem-stitched; kid boots, and beaver gloves were fashionable. Velvet-cloth
mantles trimmed with monkey skin, and black velvet semi-tight paletôts
edged with skunk, were much worn.

A small bunch of yellow and white carnations, or of real rose-buds, was
attached on one side of the bodice. Our French ladies wore necklaces of
pearls and sapphires, and six-buttoned gloves.

A long, black, Henri III. plume was sometimes seen on bonnets; and
bodices were made more and more in the style of the Middle Ages, until
they strongly resembled the “corps piqués” of the time of Charles IX.
“Inez” veils of Spanish blond, or of tulle trimmed with lace, and worn
mantilla-fashion, afforded protection against the variations of climate.
Some of the bonnets, made in the style of the Directory, were charming
in shape; others were trimmed with figured silk of two shades, or of two
colours mixed.

Fashions were borrowed from every period of French history. There were
few original inventions, but many “reproductions,” to borrow a theatrical
term.

Ribbon was profusely used to ornament dresses; “Renaissance” ribbons,
“armuré” ribbons, “surah” ribbons and braid, &c. Some of these were both
plain and brocaded in jewel designs, and were so beautiful, that for
a time they held supreme sway. The flowers, also, with which bonnets
were loaded, were perfect imitations of nature; so much so, that the
bonnets of 1875 may be regarded as masterpieces of art, and not only as
reminiscences of the past.

Full-dress gowns had trains made with “Bulgarian” plaits, and bodices
laced or buttoned at the back, so as to display the shape of the bust
as defined by the cuirass. These dresses were trimmed with open-work
embroidery, white guipure lace, and Russian lace. “Mikado,” a very soft
pale grey woollen mixture, slightly touched with black, obtained an
extraordinary success.

Small Louis XIV. shoes, with two rosettes or puffs of ribbon, matched the
costume. They reminded us of Mme. de Sévigné’s letter to her daughter on
sending her a pair of shoes of this kind. “I must inform you,” she wrote,
“that you are not to walk in your new shoes.” What an illustration of
the saying: “Il faut souffrir pour être belle.”

Gold and silver braid was extensively manufactured. Mantles were trimmed
with several rows of narrow silver braid; the buttons were very large,
and of the same material as the garment; in the centre of each was a
little design in filagree representing a lily or a small bell-flower.
Buckles were also used in all full-dress costumes.

A heavy, rich, and handsome style of dress in damask, brocaded silk, or
stamped velvet, was adopted in Paris and other great centres; yet more
moderate costumes in neutral tints kept their place, the most fashionable
of all dark materials being a reddish violet, bistre, mixed with black,
and, above all, dark blue.

“Pouf” petticoats, or narrow dress-improvers, were made long enough to
support the heavy folds of the gown.

In conclusion, it may be said that the long trains, the ornamented
sleeves, and the tight bodices that combined reminiscences of the Middle
Ages with the requirements of modern fashion, were principally remarkable
for their details of all sorts—twists, fanciful arrangements, knots,
bows, fringes, gold and silver braid, artistically carved buttons, and
beautiful fur.

From the commencement of the year 1876, fashion became more and more
of the composite order. Styles of every period were successfully
blended. That of the reign of Henri II. was resorted to first. Gowns
were made of sumptuous materials trimmed with Venice point, and with
long trains. Figured silks, satin brocades in Arabesque designs, or
flowers and foliage, were used for feminine attire, and looked to the
full as splendid as the dresses of former times. Among head-dresses, the
“Armenian toque” was very fashionable; then came the “Ophelia” bonnet in
black lace, with two wreaths of rose-buds; and the “Danichef,” in beaded
black net, taken from the bonnet worn by one of the actresses in a play
of that name, which was performed at the Odéon for more than a hundred
successive nights.

The fashionable world was at that time greatly interested in the splendid
wedding of Mdlle. Bettina Rothschild, which was described at length in
all the newspapers. The trousseau included under-garments worth 200,000
francs. The pocket-handkerchiefs were perfect marvels of needlework
and Alençon and Mechlin lace. There were several magnificent cashmere
shawls. Among the dozen and a half parasols, there was one deserving
of particular mention. It was made of rose-coloured silk, shaded
with white gauze, and again covered with point lace; the point was a
cluster of emeralds and brilliants, and the handle was of jade, thickly
encrusted with similar precious stones. A gold ring set with emeralds and
brilliants was used to close this truly Oriental toy. The numerous fans
comprised in the trousseau had been painted by our best artists.

I should need several pages for the bare enumeration of the contents
of this young lady’s jewel-case. I shall therefore content myself
with naming a microscopic watch set in a solid piece of coral, with a
châtelaine hook, and a triple gold chain, the hook bearing a baron’s
coronet, marvellously carved, surmounting the combined initials of the
wealth-laden young couple.

I have digressed, I admit; but the digression is not out of place in
a History of Fashion, for it proves that magnificent dress is as much
appreciated under a Republic as under a Monarchy.

Moreover, at the period of Mdlle. Bettina Rothschild’s marriage, luxury
had reached the highest possible development. Never had more splendid
textures been seen, and never had dressmaking been more ruinously
expensive. A few young matrons belonging to the aristocracy announced
their intention of opposing such excess in dress, but their project of
returning to simpler fashions failed of realization, and they soon found
themselves obliged, willingly or unwillingly, to float with the stream
that was bearing them away.

At the Grand Prix de Paris, the leaders of fashion carried large
carob-coloured sunshades, either plain or trimmed with cream lace, and
shortly afterwards “caroubier” was quite the favourite colour. This deep
red was worn in neckties, bonnets, and costumes, and combined with black,
white, grey, or blue. But this fancy, like so many others, soon passed
away.

Even in summer ladies wore large quantities of hair, stuffed into a
wide-meshed net called a “Gondolier,” which hung over their neck and
shoulders. This net was made of silk braid, and ornamented with two
“Catogan” bows, one in front and one behind.

A novelty of this period deserves special notice. It consisted of long
gloves of open-work China silk in all colours, of extraordinary fineness
and elasticity, fitting to perfection. Another novelty, the “Baby” sash,
worn round the waist and tied behind, was a fashion borrowed from little
girls, whose “Baby” drawn bonnets and low shoes had already been copied
by their elders.

The hair was dressed “à la Récamier,” that is, curled all round; or in
small rough curls like a poodle dog’s; or hanging over the forehead in a
fringe as far as the eyes, with a large chignon behind, and heavy Catogan
bows.

Veils, whose real use is to protect the complexion from the sun, were
worn tightly clinging to the face. They were stretched in folds over the
forehead; this was to use the veil Egyptian-fashion.

Fans, which were in greater demand than ever, were suspended to one end
of a silk girdle that was fastened with a slip knot round the waist, at
the other end was a large silk tassel.

“Fontanges” fichus in chenille fringe were an improvement on the small
knitted shawls that had been loosely thrown over the shoulders.

No change of any importance took place in costume. Gowns were still
made to fit closely over the front and sides of the figure, and to drag
at the knees, and even lower down. They resembled sheaths of the exact
shape of the body. Flat braid trimmings were still much used, and were
wittily called “platitudes.” Skirts were trimmed with wreaths of leaves
and flowers, many bodices were made of brocade, and many sleeves in the
“Louis XV.” style, with under-sleeves of crape lisse.

Among accessories I must not forget “dog-collars” in ribbon or quilled
velvet, the edges bordered with narrow tulle illusion or blond.

Bonnets were very various in shape and trimming. Some very elegant women
wore “jugulars” in feathers or fur, instead of bonnet strings. A few
bonnets were not unlike the leaning tower of Pisa.

Cashmere shawls regained their place. They were draped in the old classic
way; the bust being enveloped in soft folds, while the amplitude of the
rest of the figure was, as is always the case, increased.

It is my duty as a scrupulous historian to note the predominance of
“cardinal” or “carob” red in the costumes of 1876. Red sunshades, red
feathers, and red frocks abounded everywhere. This caprice could not be
enduring, and we must acknowledge that it soon passed away, to the great
advantage of real elegance in dress. Light shades took the place of
red, and also of dark blue. The most fashionable summer materials were
jaconets with pink, pale blue, grey, and lime-tree coloured stripes,
trimmed with Irish lace, thread fringe matching the gown, or kiltings and
bias pieces of the stuff itself.

Walking dresses were made with simplicity and good taste. Mantles were
large and long, and on the approach of autumn were made with wide
“Mandarin” sleeves. Polonaises in light woollen materials, with velvet
sleeves, were also fashionable; and all woollen textures were in high
favour. There was incredible variety in the shape of pockets; besides
those of which I have already spoken, there were “cornets,” “hottes,”
and “corniers,” all elegant articles of attire, beautifully made and
embroidered, and fixed in various ways on the skirt.

Faille and brocades of different shades were used for full dress.
Gowns were so tight, and so much “tied back,” that they almost impeded
movement; the knees were encircled with garlands of flowers or buds.
These flowers were succeeded by foliage, and there were more “Velledas”
than “Floras” among our women of fashion, as was remarked by a clever
journalist of the day. Metal buttons, at first enormously large, and
afterwards reduced in size, and sometimes shaped like grélots (sledge
bells), were used to ornament the costume. Skunk and Siberian fox took
the place of Swedish and Canadian furs, temporarily out of fashion, while
costly sable was worn by ladies of extreme elegance. A pelisse lined
with sable is like a costly piece of furniture, or a precious jewel; its
value is not affected by any caprice of the day.

Breton lace was used in morning dress, and this charming novelty looked
extremely well with the cascades of coloured ribbon that were so
generally worn.

To bring this short review of the year 1876 to a conclusion, I must state
that the type of costume was little altered; the only change was in
trimmings, or in the greater or less length of trains. Costumes consisted
principally of a scaffolding of flounces, fringes, and kiltings, without
the great trailing mass that had long been a result of wide skirts.
Trains became positive tails; but they no longer interfered with the free
action of the limbs, and developed into what might be termed a majestic
appendage.

Morning caps were made of white or coloured foulard handkerchiefs
twisted like a Mamamouchi turban, and ornamented with a little bunch of
mignonette, with a pale rose in the centre. There was something both
sentimental and artistic about these caps.

But even when the same style of dress lasts from one year to another, or
for several years, there is an absolute necessity for many variations
of type; otherwise we should cease to be ruled by caprice, which, as we
know, will never abdicate its power.

In January, 1877, princess gowns were still in fashion, the princess
shape being preferred to all others, both for morning and evening wear.
In the latter case, they were made high behind, and either cut low and
square, or in a V shape in front, and with sleeves to the elbow only.
The bodice and skirt of princess gowns were cut from one piece, but the
skirt was ornamented with fringes, sashes, and bows, or it was worn over
another and longer skirt.

Many mantles were made of the same material as the dress, and many were
black.

Bouquets of small delicate roses were worn on the bodice, one at the
breast, and the other just below the shoulder. Bonnets were chosen, as
far as possible, to match the rest of the dress. Some women wore their
hair in the Greek fashion, bound with three blue fillets, and a little
fringe of loose curls on the forehead.

Towards March a decided change took place in the shape of costumes,
and women looked like walking statues, clad in drapery that adhered as
closely to the front and sides of the figure as a wet bathing-gown,
while it was gathered into a bunch at the back. The portion of the skirt
that formed the apron hung flat, but the rest was gathered in soft folds
towards the back of the train. The bodice, whether cuirassed or not,
assumed reasonable proportions.

The ungraceful costumes copied from those of the First Empire were at
length about to disappear!

Muslin kiltings were once more restored to favour. The hair was dressed
in the “thousand curls” of which Mme. de Sévigné speaks, giving the head
a round shape, which admitted of no ornament save a flower on one side.
This was a becoming style in many instances.

For ordinary wear, costumes in the Breton style were largely adopted;
and also a costume in fawn-coloured Scotch cashmere, with a plain, short
skirt, a tunic flat in front, but not drawn tight; the plastron, or
stomacher, consisted of a wide embroidered band. With this costume two
square pockets, one on either side, trimmed at two-thirds of their depth
with three rows of narrow braid, were worn. The attire was completed by
embroidered or open-worked linen collars and cuffs, and a cravat-bow of
foulard, embroidered muslin, or plush ribbon, placed at the opening of
the collar.

Some of our “élégantes” seemed determined to rival Henri Regnault’s
“Salome,” on the pretext that yellow was a fashionable colour.

Large turn-down collars were revived; some were plainly stitched, and
were wide and rounded in the back; others, for instance, the “Artagnan”
and “Richelieu,” were made of antique guipure; and others, again, of
Renaissance lace—but all of them were very wide in the back.

Cuffs were worn on the sleeve itself, instead of on the arm.

The “blouse” gown, with full bodice and belt and buckle, was revived,
with the addition of a second skirt. This costume was made in Oxford
cloth, or light woollen textures, in foulard, or in Irish cambric.
Tussore also became fashionable again on account of the delicacy of its
folds.

A new way of wearing a watch, fastened on the breast like a decoration,
was adopted by ladies of fashion. This only applied, of course, to the
smallest watches, those of the diameter of a twenty-franc piece, and
which were usually emblazoned with the coat of arms.

Sunshades in plaid silk succeeded to red or yellow ones. Coloured glass
beads were manufactured for trimming costumes; “Périchole” and “Fleur de
Thé” bonnets were much worn; also Japanese hats lined with red silk, and
trimmed with flowers or fruit on the brim. Dust-coloured fans were used.
China crape was no longer despised, and Indian shawls remained in favour;
lace was worn in profusion on every article of attire.

“Louis XIII.,” “Louis XIV.,” and “Louis XV.” costumes, “Charles
IX.” collars, “Henri IV.” ruffs, Marie-Antoinette, and “Directory”
fichus, “Adelaide” collars of worked organdy muslin, trimmed with
valenciennes,—all these things were adopted by Fashion, which, while it
progressed with the times, made use of every style of dress belonging to
the past.

I must not omit to mention tulle-ruchings called “organ-pipes,” placed
on the front of the skirt; white satin shoes with “Louis XV.” heels;
“Rubens” hats copied from those which we see in the portraits of that
great master of the Flemish school, and some few hats in Russia leather;
“Gabrielle” cuffs, and “Mousquetaire” collars, large cloaks lined and
edged with fur; and lastly the “Pierrot” collars and cuffs, in plaited
muslin, trimmed with Valenciennes, and fastened with bows of ribbon alike
on both sides.

Gold and silver braid were quite out of fashion, and had been succeeded
by trimmings of chenille or of stamped and cut-out velvet, sometimes
placed on the edge of the garment and sometimes diagonally. Egyptian
veils were very popular, and were, in Eastern fashion, crossed at the
back, and tied in front. Sometimes they were tied in a large bow, framing
the face very becomingly. It was considered good style to arrange the
hair at the back, “knocker-wise,” or in graduated waves; the hat was
placed on the top, and this fashion was both coquettish and extremely
convenient.

The bonnet-strings, or “jugulars,” in fur, chenille, or plaited ribbon,
that had been so fashionable in the winter of 1876-7, were succeeded by
strings of flowers.

On the whole, women’s garments were less narrow; and the excessively
clinging “sheath” dresses disappeared. This was a great gain to freedom
of movement and grace, for feminine attire should not sharply reveal
the female form, but only indicate it. The charm of mystery ought to be
retained, and the too much or too little of substance should be carefully
concealed.

There was an obvious tendency towards greater simplicity in dressing the
hair, enormous quantities of false hair being no longer worn, as they
would have been out of harmony with the rest of the dress. The hair was
sometimes divided in a slanting direction; or on the forehead with a
second parting from ear to ear; or it was drawn back, Chinese fashion,
and then divided into two loose twists crossed one over the other, and
arranged something like a helmet above the forehead; or in rings on the
forehead. Every style was admissible—plaits, curls, and straight or waved
bandeaux.

In like manner, bonnets were worn of very different shapes—in coloured
straw, or chip, and trimmed with roses, azaleas, eglantine, and
rose-buds. The “plate”-bonnet was rather popular, as were also small
bonnets in Belgian straw. I am now speaking of summer bonnets.

Feather aigrettes came once more into fashion.

The favourite textures were “Milan moss” and “swan’s down.” The favourite
ribbon was that in the new colour called “pink-coral.” Light-coloured
belts, with gilt and inlaid buckles, and harmonizing with the colour of
the dress, were very much worn. Jewellery was restricted to a simple
bracelet, a “porte-bonheur,” a locket, studs in the ears, and a white fan
suspended to the wrist by a pink ribbon. A few ladies took to wearing
Japanese trinkets. Long Swedish gloves with at least four or six buttons,
and “Charles IX.,” “Molière,” “Victoria,” and “Richelieu” shoes were
adopted.

At the approach of winter, gowns and mantles were trimmed with fur: blue
fox, marten, and sable were preferred; chinchilla and Astrakan came
next in order. “Coat-bodices” partially revived the fashions of Louis
XIII. and Louis XIV.; they were worn with long waistcoats, embroidery,
cascades of lace, and gold braid. Plaited chemisettes fastening behind,
were generally worn with square-cut bodices; also pocket-handkerchiefs in
clear cambric and “Fritz” fichus.

The “La Vallière” cravat was succeeded by a longer one with square ends,
and by the “Malesherbe” in silk guipure, or in guipure and grenadine.
Nickel and strass buckles were extremely fashionable, and looked
remarkably well with corded silk belts.

Dress stuffs had curious designations in the year 1877. For instance,
“ventre-saint-gris,” a woollen texture with long rough hairy surface, in
two shades of grey and green; “mousse-des-bois,” (wood moss); “frisé”
(curled) “Malabar;” “frimas,” a speckled material; “chenillé velvet,” and
“myosotis,” a mixture of wool and silk, speckled in two shades of blue,
and in gold-colour. English velveteen now seemed to have reached its
zenith of fashion.

I must note the very handsome muffs that made their appearance about the
end of November. They were of small size, and made of cloth, velvet, or
satin, lined and bordered with fur, and ornamented with a large ribbon
bow. They were transformed into scent-sachets, perfumed with essences of
heliotrope, rose, and gardenia.

A manufacturer of fans invented a fan composed of real flowers and
leaves; but it was not a success, on account of the extreme fragility of
such an article. Fans were then made of artificial flowers; but these
too were a failure, for they sinned against good taste. And both were
far inferior to mother-of-pearl, tortoise-shell, and ivory fans, either
beautifully painted or trimmed with lace.

Costumes, bonnets, and mantles, were designated by Russian names,
doubtless on account of the war that had just broken out between Russia
and Turkey. Otter-skin, fur, and plush hats were much worn. Flowers were
“out,” but feathers were “in,” and the plumage of the “impeyan,” the owl,
the golden ouzel, and the gorgeous breast of the pheasant, were profusely
employed. Jewelled ornaments were worn on bonnets, and double-headed
pins in jet, gold, or pearl. “Sita” veils, and veils of mohair lace,
with white and black shawls, mantles, “Marie-Antoinettes,” and elegantly
contrived headkerchiefs, served to shield the fair wearers from the cold
winds of winter.

In December, a novelty made its appearance in the shape of ornaments,
in _black silver_. These did not detract, however, from the value of
coral, which became more and more fashionable every day, from that of old
silver, filagree, or, especially, the old jewels, whether simple or rich,
of past eras.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Present Fashions 1879

Present Fashions 1880]

CHAPTER XXXIII.

FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY (CONTINUED).

1878 TO 1881.

The International Exhibition of 1878—Foreign countries—Japanese
fans—The little lace-makers of Peniche—Retrospective Exhibition
of costume in France—“Considérations sur le vêtement des
femmes,” by M. Charles Blanc—Historical Exhibition at
the Trocadéro—Comprehensive glance at the curiosities of
that Exhibition—“The movement” in 1879—“Merveilleuse,”
“Niniche,” and other bonnets—Plush—Gown-stuff at a
hundred francs the yard—Scarfs, casaques, and various
bodices—Madras costumes—Under-clothing; chemise-corsets,
morning-gowns—“Housewife” fans; fan-holders—Trinkets—New
materials—Visites; jackets; bows; neckties—The year
1880—“Cabriolet” bonnets; “passe-montagnes”—The pilgrim
costume—Satins—Favourite colours—Vests—Art buttons—Bulgarian
costumes—Jerseys—Scented gloves—Flowers in profusion; a bridal
bouquet—Midshipman bonnets—Nordenskiold—Dust-cloaks—Revolution
in bonnets—Art and fashion—“Porte-veines.”

We cannot doubt that the year 1878 will be famous in the long annals of
Fashion, on account of the International and special Exhibitions that
filled Paris with visitors from all parts of the world. In like manner,
every civilized country deluged us with fanciful inventions, and with
extraordinary ideas, that have for the most part vanished.

The galleries devoted to clothing were not less remarkable than those
set aside for other industrial products, and yet the public soon wearied
of them. They were so spacious, not to say encumbered; and then the
attractions of the shop windows were as great as those of the galleries.

Some few however were popular. The cases of Lyons silks, St. Etienne
ribbons, Tarara muslins, stuffs of Roubaix, Rouen, and Paris manufacture;
and the charming Swiss pavilion, with its exquisitely arranged curtains,
lace, tulle, embroidery, and trimmings, are not yet forgotten. The
national costumes brought to Paris from the uttermost ends of the
earth—from Lapland to the Cape of Good Hope, from Oceania to the western
extremity of Europe—excited a good deal of interest.

Every accessory of dress was at hand for the purposes of comparison by
lady connoisseurs. The East set before us its perfumes, coffers, shawls,
tissues, and knick-knacks of all sorts, including the hinged fans, a
Japanese invention, said to have been suggested by the wings of the
bat. America displayed her products, remarkable rather for comfort than
elegance; Africa, her garments dating from the most distant ages, and
Europe showed us her undeniable superiority, her marvellous progress,
and her new inventions, which, whether practical or not, are generally
at least ingenious. I must except, as regards clothes, both Italy and
Holland, while Russia was hardly remarkable except for her furs.

The manufacturers of lace in Portugal are treading in the steps of the
English past-masters in that line, and are attaining the highest degree
of excellence. The lace-workers lead a curious life. At Peniche, in
Estramadura, there are eight schools of lace work. Little girls sometimes
begin to learn at the age of four, and soon acquire such skill that they
can handle fifty dozen spindles at a time, and yet pay attention to
things quite apart from their habitual work.

Spanish gloves are even superior to those of Paris; but Spanish fans,
although articles of such constant use on the far side of the Pyrenees,
fail both in design and execution.

We must do justice to Greece, which now possesses numerous factories. The
Greek hand-made coloured Oriental lace, is very pretty, and the national
costumes charmed the eyes of all visitors to the Palace in the Champs de
Mars. Unfortunately those splendid gold-embroidered garments are fast
disappearing. Neither the king nor queen of Greece wear them at the
present day. European fashions have usurped their place.

The subject of the International Exhibition of 1878, has already been
exhausted; I could only add a few insignificant pages to the voluminous
writings of other authors, who have described it; and I should besides
be exceeding the limits of my subject. Hardly had the portals of
the building in the Champs de Mars been closed, when manufacturers
were already inventing fresh novelties, which will be offered for our
inspection at the next Great Exhibition.

The Exhibition of 1878 is now of historical value only. It was a great
advance on preceding Exhibitions, and, according to the laws of human
progress, will be surpassed by those of the future.

Before 1878 however, and while I was occupied in writing the present
work, some artists and other intelligent men had organized a
Retrospective Exhibition of costumes in France, in the building of the
Champs Elysées.

This was far from being an exhaustive exhibition, for it did not include
the earlier ages of our history, nevertheless, curiosities that had
hitherto been hidden away in private collections became known to the
public, and were of special interest because they afforded specimens of
several branches of the ancient manufactures of France.

That exhibition was a fragment of the history of Fashion in concrete
form, if I may so express myself, and many of those who inspected it were
of opinion that it was a tempting subject for a writer.

On the other hand, M. Charles Blanc included in his important work on
Decorative Art, published by the “Gazette des Beaux-Arts,” some very
valuable remarks on feminine clothing, under the title of “Considérations
sur le vêtement des femmes;” for these maintained that the three
invariable conditions of beauty are order, proportion, and harmony,
whatever may be the variety of costume.

The learned academician raised coquetry to the height of a true art; he
treated of the æsthetics of Fashion, and pointed out its constituent laws.

The public, whose attention was thus directed to the subject of the
present work, was more alive than formerly to its importance, and seemed
favourably disposed towards our undertaking.

In 1878, there was an Historical Exhibition at the Trocadéro. Antique
garments of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, and of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, were exhibited, not as curiosities only, but as
subjects for study.

The show-cases of MM. Tassinari and Chatel, of Lyons, contained fine
tapestries, chasubles, copes, women’s hoods, and a large assortment of
Eastern fabrics. Five or six amateurs exhibited collections of dress
ornaments,—bracelets, rings, pins, broaches, earrings, &c. There was
a prettily-dressed doll, in the complete costume of a young girl in
the time of the Medicis; several antique bag and purse clasps; carved,
gilded, and chased betrothal rings and perfume boxes; marriage caskets;
women’s hawking-gauntlets in chased steel; exquisite fans; diamonds in
settings of old silver; curious Norman trinkets; patch-boxes ornamented
with miniatures; bon-bon boxes; and needle-cases.

Several pieces of stuffs from Equatorial Egypt, and quantities of ancient
Egyptian jewellery, with a few valuable ornaments dating from the time of
the Caliphs, were worthy of careful examination, and might have roused
the emulation of our modern workmen.

The Scandinavian Ethnological Museum of Stockholm, forwarded a series of
costumes remarkable for accuracy; almost all of these had been composed
in the year 1820, or thereabouts: these curious specimens obtained a
great and deserved success.

When the time arrived for closing all these exhibitions, and the French
and foreign exhibitors had removed their goods, there remained an
enduring recollection of the marvels of the Trocadéro and the Champs de
Mars.

After that time, exclusively national Fashion resumed its customary
course. A great incentive had been given by the numerous and
distinguished awards conferred on our manufacturers. Novelties of all
sorts were produced, and spread throughout Paris, France, Europe, and
beyond the seas. Our milliners sent their goods to the International
Exhibitions at Sydney and Melbourne. Their superiority and originality
were admitted on all hands.

Meanwhile, savings had been almost or entirely expended, and in 1879 a
diminution of outlay on dress resulted from the extra expenditure of the
preceding year.

“Merveilleuse” bonnets, which, being indicated by their name need no
description from me; “Madrilène” bonnets, made of otter, or plush,
trimmed with jet; and Swedish bonnets in black kid, with an amber-headed
pin, partly concealed in a tuft of feathers, or stuck through a velvet
bow, were equally fashionable.

Many bonnets were entirely composed of leaves, flowers, or fruits. There
were infinite varieties of bonnets and hats, some close, others with wide
brims, some very small, and some very large. “Frondeuse” hats, were of
black straw, with long black and ruby plumes, the brim turned up, and
lined with puckered ruby satin, trimmed with gold lace. “Niniche” and
“Directory” bonnets were lasting favourites, and more generally popular
than their merits would appear to warrant.

During the summer, round bell-shaped hats were at first preferred. Then
close bonnets without strings, cottage bonnets in smooth straw, coming
down very much on the forehead; “Nérine” hats of coarse white straw, and
with wide brims lined with red satin; and many others, differing little
from those I have just named.

Plush was worn as trimming on gowns and mantles. Short dresses were much
worn; they were invariably trimmed with cascades of lace. Silk stockings
were indispensable. Bows and cravats of muslin, or Breton lace, or
valenciennes, or point, were greatly used. Gloves with four buttons,
and “dowager” sunshades—so called because they were rather large and
made with long sticks—were quite a rage for several months. “Bonhomme,”
“Jardinier Galant,” “Louis XIV.,” and “Louis XV.” vests, formed a part of
nearly every costume. “Charles IX.,” “Marion Delorme,” and “Richelieu”
shoes were made with high heels like boots.

In order to give some idea of the cost of certain materials, it will
suffice to state that an actress at the Vaudeville theatre wore a gown at
a hundred francs the yard, and the rest in proportion. Gowns were made of
gold tissue and trimmed with lace, embroidered in colours.

Scarfs or drapery were fashionable for trimming dresses, and skirts were
plaited “à la réligieuse.” The scarfs were sometimes crossed so as to
form a tunic. Many “casaques” were made with waistcoats. Bodices were
made full, something like the old-fashioned bodices “à la Vierge.” There
was quite a rage for knotted fringes with beads, and natural flowers
for ball-dresses; but double tunics were gradually abandoned, though
square-cut bodices and “Louis XV.” sleeves were still worn.

Handkerchief-dresses, consisting entirely of Madras handkerchiefs, were
very artistically composed. I saw one in which seventy-two handkerchiefs
had been employed; another, in a simpler style, consisted of forty-eight
only. The plainest gown required four dozen. This was a whimsical
fashion, and was followed only by the most elegant women of society.

Frills and plaitings of lawn or muslin were much worn. Luxury was
carried to a great height in “lingerie” (underclothing). The “Mireille”
was a high chemisette of muslin and Valenciennes, with a double frill;
the “Yvonne” was of crape and Breton lace; the “Médicis,” a still more
elegant chemisette; the “Lamballe,” a fichu of surah trimmed with
plaits of black or white Breton lace, and the “Marie Thérèse” of “point
d’esprit” tulle with frills of Breton lace.

Corset-chemises made with gussets were most favourably received, and
were included in every wedding trousseau, as were also white muslin
morning-gowns, which were found very convenient for home wear.

The “housewife’s” fan, which came out in 1879, held thread, scissors, and
needles. Fan-holders were made of silver or of nickel silver, with a long
or short chain, according to the taste of the wearer.

Those fashionable trinkets, the lizard, the fly, and the bee, were laid
aside, and were succeeded by an owl. This was used as a brooch to fasten
the bonnet strings. Tags, girdles, “Diane de Poitiers” necklaces of very
small pearls, jet in every shape, crosses of the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance, and lockets of antique design, were very fashionable; as
were also Brittany, Normandy, and Vendée crosses, with religious emblems
of the Sacred Heart or St. Michael.

The nomenclature of the new stuffs is bewildering. There was “Osaka”
crape, and “Æolian,” a mixture of wool and silk; there was honey-combed
beige of two shades; “annamite” crape; “grene” and “Pompadour sateens”
for “Louis XV.” costumes; jaconets with satin stripes and Indian prints;
Watteau material; pekins in two shades, and “Pompadour” foulards; striped
grenadines and Italian silk; Turkish, Egyptian, Indian, Japanese, and
Persian stuffs, embroidered in silk, gold beads, and even in precious
stones and glistening colours; and lastly, materials with the grotesque
names of “Tchilka,” “Ladakh” cloth, “Sutlej,” “Lahore,” “crépon,” and
“Tchinab.”

Paniers, quite unlike those of the eighteenth century, were composed
of the material of the gown, arranged in draped folds on the hips,
and hidden at the back by the folds of the skirt. They were trimmed
with kiltings and lace, for evening wear, and sometimes even with
flowers. Stamped velvet casaques, or shawl-pattern casaques, were
frequently worn with dresses of plain material. We must also note “Marie
Christine visites,” “Catherine de Russie houppelandes,” jackets, coats,
paletot-jackets, and “Montespan” bodices. For walking in the country, the
alpaca braid usually put at the edge of the skirt was sometimes replaced
by a deep band of black leather, from which a damp sponge and a dry cloth
effectually removed all trace of mud.

What a number of charming bows! “Butterfly,” “Figaro,” and “Colbert”
bows; “Marion” shirt-frill bows, and “Yolande” bows, in “merveilleux”
satin, and cockades of lace. The “new” bow, consisting of surah very
delicately gathered, was prettily trimmed with lace. And what a number of
exquisite cravats! viz., the “Louis XIII.,” the “Royal,” the “Girondist,”
the “Diana,” the “Soubise,” and the “Haydée.”

The year 1880 opened inauspiciously in the midst of the terrible
winter that had begun in December 1879. The fashions of January were
consequently all for warm and thick materials, for furs, warmly lined
shoes, india-rubber overalls, lined with stout flannel, that were drawn
over the foot and boot, and enabled the wearer to brave both the snow and
the subsequent thaw. The old-fashioned “cabriolet,” or drawn-hoods, were
revived; they could be worn either over a bonnet or without one. They
were generally made of otter-plush. “Mazarin” capes came into fashion at
the same time, and even “passe-montagnes” enjoyed a momentary favour.

“Pilgrim” costumes were worn: their name sufficiently describes them.

Brighter weather at last succeeded to the intense frosts and fogs, and
gracious Fashion resumed its sway, first with the “jupon intime,” a very
narrow petticoat clinging closely to the figure, and then with gowns
of velvet and otter satin. Next came ball-dresses,—late in the season
certainly, but appreciated all the more eagerly because dancing parties
had for two long months been unusually rare. The world began to take its
revenge on winter.

Black satin was extremely fashionable; and the “Danæ” costume in
white satin was simply exquisite. Costumes in light cloth or double
cashmere were very popular. The list of new materials is completed by
“Renaissance,” “sublime,” and “down-satin” (duvet), “white Astrakan
down,” “voile-de-veuve,” and “brilliantine.” Madras costumes were
universally worn in summer.

The favourite colours were, lotus-blue, Van Dyck red, the shade called
“chaudron,” otter, mandragora, a sort of undecided blue-green called
Venetian heliotrope, and others. Generally speaking, costumes were no
longer made in one material and one shade only. Plum-colour, otter,
Russian green, and moss-colour were mingled together; and gowns were made
of faille and satin, or satin and velvet, of silk and wool, and all kinds
of materials with designs. Cut and damasked materials, and, above all,
the fashion of kilting withstood various efforts to abolish them.

Jet capes were much worn; also open “Medici” collars, partly turning
over, and, generally speaking, very graceful.

Large collars—“Dauphin,” “King of Rome,” “Colette,” and “Incroyable”—were
fashionable; also cravats, consisting of cascades of lace and very wide
ribbon; and light and delicate scarfs.

“Vests” were much worn, both by married women and young ladies. The
“Oriental” vest was of red-gold or olive-coloured tissue. They were
pointed at the sides, coat-shaped at the back, trimmed all round
with a thick cord, and fastened from top to bottom by artistic or
shawl-patterned buttons; lace frills were worn at the throat and sleeves.
The “Breton” vest needs no description; this was as popular as the
“Oriental;” whereas the “Bulgarian” costume, with its closely-fitting
bodice, its skirt quite plain in front, open at the sides, and put
into very narrow plaits at the back, was considered by most women too
remarkable. The elastic, or “Jersey,” bodice must also be mentioned.

Gloves were scented with cedar of Lebanon, or Russia leather, or violets.
This was no new invention. Perfumed gloves were worn in the sixteenth
century. In the “Winter’s Tale,” Shakespeare tells us of “gloves as sweet
as damask roses.”

Fans were painted by excellent artists. Sunshades were large, and,
generally speaking, lined; with long sticks and handles of Dresden,
Sèvres, or Longwy china. They were closed by means of a ring.

Flowers were used in profusion both to decorate rooms, and for personal
wear. Every one was endeavouring to make amends for the bitter winter.
A newspaper reporter described the bride’s bouquet at a wedding, which
took place at the Trinité. It consisted entirely of rare and beautiful
flowers, and was nearly two yards in circumference. A “page of honour”
bearing this poetic burden, preceded the bride.

The following bonnets were produced in succession; bonnets with wide
strings in piece-surah; “Niniche” bonnets, already described, and
somewhat resembling a helmet in the front, “Amazon,” “Devonshire,”
“Récamier,” “Duchesse d’Angoulême,” “Olivia,” and “Princess of Wales”
hats; “Croizette” hats; and lastly the “midshipman”—a travelling-hat in
straw, the same colour as that of the costume, and simply trimmed with a
double or treble Alsatian bow.

All bonnets were profusely trimmed with feathers and flowers, with
dead-gold poppies, laburnum, tulips, gardenias, magnolias, and bachelor’s
buttons, and especially with roses of every shade.

During the summer, “sets” for the neck of surah and foulard were very
fashionable. Here I may specially mention the “Jean Bart,” consisting of
a widely-opened sailor collar, deep cuffs, and a simply-knotted neck-tie;
the “Chantilly,” in ivory surah, trimmed with Alençon point; the
“Pomponne,” in plain, spotted, or sprigged foulard; the “naval officer”
bow, in spotted foulard; and the “miller’s wife” fichu, in Indian muslin.

Nordenskiold, the Swedish Navigator, and the discoverer of the north-east
passage, came to Paris, where he was received with all the honours due to
him. Gauze travelling veils, called “Nordenskiolds,” two yards long, and
trimmed with fringe, were worn in honour of the illustrious foreigner,
and all but supplanted the “merveilleux” tulle veils spangled with gold,
and the “odalisques,” of red tulle. The latter were very striking, but
were only becoming to dark women.

For mountain-climbing expeditions, very fine, small-meshed hair-nets
called “arachnéens” or cobweb nets, which kept the hair perfectly neat,
were very useful. Dust-cloaks in grey cashmere, or alpaca, called
“capucins,” were lined with red or striped surah, and were made with
peaked hoods lined in the same way.

The Art Exhibition in 1880 led to a complete revolution in buttons; they
were manufactured according to all the antique models. Those called
“Buffon,” were remarkable for elegance. Others consisted of real flowers,
or insects enclosed in glass; and lastly the “Wedgwood” buttons offered
the most exquisite miniature paintings to our delighted gaze, i.e. copies
of paintings on china by that celebrated English artist and manufacturer
of the eighteenth century.

During 1880, Fashion frequently borrowed her inspiration from Art, and
sought to imitate the works of the old masters. Antique designs, stuffs,
and lace of every kind, were constantly reproduced. More than one
duchess was the image of some figure of the Middle Ages, more than one
“bourgeoise” dressed herself like Margaret, in _Faust_, or draped her
shoulders in the “camail Régence.” In wet weather women of all ranks put
on Ulsters, or Derbys, a cloak made of flannel, or light cloth. They
resigned themselves to wearing hoods, when at, the seaside or in the
country. “Savoyard” and “Trianon” costumes were alternately fashionable.

Feathers were much used on bonnets, and flowers on the bodices of
dresses, and even on shoes and sunshades. A wreath of flowers was
sometimes worn as a necklace by young girls. Canadian otter fur was in
such request that the supply was exhausted, and plush of the same colour
was used as a substitute.

An ugly trinket, euphemistically designated a “porte-veine”
(luck-bringer), was introduced from Austria. This represented in fact,
St. Anthony’s companion, the pig, and its rivals were the wild boar, the
hippopotamus, and the elephant. It was hung on bracelets, mounted on
pins, and worn on the watch-chain. For my own part, I should certainly
have preferred the commonest field flower to such an ornament, even if
made of diamonds. Nor am I singular in my opinion; but, as I have said
before, opposition is powerless against the stream of Fashion, when it
bears along the majority of our “élégantes,” who are resolved not to be
daunted by any absurdity. The “porte-veine” is still in existence, in
spite of the disappearance of St. Anthony’s companion.

During the winter of 1880-81, handsome, and frequently historic costumes
continued to be worn. In our engraving of one in the style of the
Directory, the skirt and bodice are of plum-coloured velvet; the second
skirt is in plaited merveilleux satin, and is crossed by a sash of ribbed
velvet, hanging down at the back. The bonnet, which is high in front, is
trimmed with feathers.

M. Worth has kindly supplied us with the design of this costume.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXIV.

CONCLUSION.

I have now reached the conclusion of my History of Fashion. The present
belongs to my readers, and to the “Magasin des Demoiselles” appertains
the task of continuing my work, by keeping its subscribers informed of
the innovations in every department of feminine attire in France.

Have I fulfilled the task which I undertook? Have I succeeded in
imparting some interest to the subject of my researches?

I venture to hope so; for I have ever borne in mind that the triviality
of my subject was no bar to serious reflections on special points, nor to
the moral value of the whole work.

The “History of Fashion” offers to view one aspect of our own
civilization, and I shall esteem myself fortunate if, without exceeding
the limits of my work, I have been able to restore the curious details,
the extraordinary garments, in a word, the varied attire of Frenchwomen
from the most distant times to the present day, from the women of Gaul to
our own contemporaries.

This being said, let me now say a few words on the general conclusions to
be drawn from the details I have given; let me glance back at the path by
which we have travelled.

It is quite certain that the mode of dress, especially from the
seventeenth century, reflects pretty accurately the ideas of the period
during which each particular style has been in favour.

During the Renaissance, we have seen Italian elegance introduced into the
court of Francis I., while that of Henri II. gave an artistic finish to
society, and removed from Frenchwomen—and consequently from Frenchmen—the
last traces of that rusticity which had prevailed throughout the Middle
Ages, and which had found its only exceptions in the noble ladies
residing in their castles, who sought by boundless luxury to mark the
difference between themselves and women of inferior degree.

Under Louis XIV., Fashion ruled as a true despot, according to the code
of etiquette. “There are no regulations in convents,” writes Mme. de
Maintenon, “so strict as those which are imposed upon the great by court
etiquette.”

The Sun-King (Louis XIV.) regulated, with few exceptions, every
variation in dress. Costumes of ceremony were made to harmonize with the
drawing-rooms of Versailles.

But when the reign of Louis XIV. was over, more freedom was allowed
to individual taste, and the grandiose gave place to a lighter style.
Nothing was worn but gauze, gold and brocade, mythological négligés,
white satin skirts, and refined ornaments.

A comparative simplicity became fashionable, and ladies laid aside their
grandest attire.

The new style of dress suited the “rouéries” of the Regent, and the
fêtes given by Mme. de Tencin and other fine ladies who threw open their
drawing-rooms to the devotees of Fashion, and it was appropriate to the
perfumed boudoirs of the time.

Towards the middle of the eighteenth century we remark the prevalence of
the loose gowns depicted by Watteau in his exquisite pictures. They are
free, flowing, and open, something like dominoes. His lovely “marquises”
wear flower-embroidered slippers without heels, and with the points
turned up. Gowns were worn so low on the shoulders, and bosom, as to be
indecent.

Next come the excesses of a “loud” style of dress, hoops that are still
more extravagant than the vertugadins of old time, and the falbala. Great
ladies must dazzle, they must show the common folk that they possess
quarterings of nobility. They must prove that they made millions in the
Rue Quincampoix.

Dust must be thrown in the eyes of the world, a kind of consideration
must be obtained by display, if not merited by worth, talent, and
ability. One sort of “dust” was hair-powder, which may serve as a type of
the pretences of its time.

Luxury attained fabulous proportions. Four thousand jays were sacrificed
for the trimming of one dress; Mme. de Mategnon settled a life-annuity of
600 francs on her dressmaker, in payment for one gown. The Duchesse de
Choiseul’s dress surpassed anything that had ever been seen. “It was of
blue satin,” says Horace Walpole, “trimmed with marten fur, covered with
gold, and sprinkled with diamonds. Each diamond shone from the centre of
a silver star, set in a gold spangle.” Many families might have lived in
comfort on the cost of that costume. But who thinks of the poor? Is there
not the “hospital” to receive them?

All this display and luxury indicated the degeneracy of the time, and
certain philosophers rebuked the fine ladies, at the risk of being set
down as ill-tempered pedants, birds of ill-omen, and prophets of evil.
But the “petits marquis,” or fine gentlemen, entered the lists in defence
of the “petites marquises,” or fine ladies, who laughed at rebukes and
philosophy alike.

A reaction, the inevitable consequence of long-continued excess, set in
at the end of the eighteenth century.

Farthingales vanished, and scarcely a trace of powder could be discerned
on the hair, which was no longer perfumed. The most elegant among
Parisian women did not hesitate to wear flat shoes, as a protest
against high heels. Both men and women clothed themselves “à la
Jean-Jacques-Rousseau.”

They openly renounced affectation, and sought from Nature her perennial
adornments, and her matchless charms.

Then the Revolution of 1789 broke out. With a crash the past fell to
the ground, and tastes, instincts, and manners were changed by an
irresistible force; no longer were the reminiscences of the old Monarchy
evoked, but those of the Greek and Roman Republics, and Frenchwomen
endeavoured to copy the customs of those two nations, and chose to dress
themselves like the women of antiquity.

Nor did they give up their ideas even under the First Empire. All the
little attractions, and graces, of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries were non-existent for our modern Cornelias, for the disciples
of Sappho, and the imitators of Lucretia.

There were no original ideas; nothing but recollections, and imitations,
and the poorest copies. When we borrow from antiquity, we seldom do so
successfully, there are generally discrepancies which destroy all the
meaning of the original.

After the fall of the First Empire at Waterloo, the fifteen years of
the Restoration and the eighteen years of the July Monarchy witnessed a
return to monarchical customs, and to ancient habits. Fashion “restored”
the Middle Ages, and the attire of the “châtelaines,” and, as we have
shown, Romanticism in Literature and Art was exemplified in dress.

At this period, the middle classes, after struggling against authority,
assumed in their turn the reins of government, and dress was greatly
influenced by “bourgeois” tastes. Romanticism gradually disappeared,
and the prevailing fashions were entirely distinct from the art and
literature of the period.

Nobody can now recall the gowns with leg-of-mutton sleeves, without
laughing, and the bonnets of the period closely resembled the hoods of
cabriolets.

The revolution of 1848, left no trace on the history of dress. But after
the establishment of the second Empire, the splendour of the new court
recalled the days of the Regency and those of the Directory combined.
A craving for display turned the heads of all, and Frenchwomen became
conspicuous in the eyes of Europe, by a succession of lavish, and
unbridled whims. In vain did certain philosophers once again protest
against such immoderate luxury.

At length, after the disasters of 1870, a more chastened spirit appeared
to prevail, and former follies to have passed away; simplicity was aimed
at, as it had been in 1780. But this calm was of short duration, and in
a very short time new fashions and passing fancies were as prevalent as
ever.

In proportion as France became once more self-reliant, her government
stable, and her finances prosperous, the love for fine clothes spread
among women of every rank, and the International Exhibition of 1878,
having produced the immense effect we have already noted, an era of
cosmopolitism was inaugurated, and certain peculiarities of fashion were
borrowed from the most distant nations.

This is the point we have reached, as I pen these lines.

As the logical sequence of the above short recapitulation, let me again
repeat that good taste must be the arbiter of dress, and that good taste
exacts harmony in every part of the costume, secondary or principal. The
original type of dress has not changed, and probably will change but
little; but its subordinate parts will undergo continual alteration, and
will afford to future historians a subject of study, if at a later period
they too desire to give Fashion its rightful place, in a picture of the
manners and customs of France.

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES

[1]

“Fashion is a tyrant, respected by mortals;
The fitting offspring of distaste and novelty.”

[2] “Fashions are certain usages, invented by caprice, and approved by
love, which fools, and sometimes the wise, observe.”

[3] “The wise man is never the first to follow, nor the last to abandon
them.”

[4]

“There is a goddess, troublesome, inconstant,
Strange in her tastes, in her adornments foolish;
She appears, she vanishes, she returns at all times and seasons;
Proteus was her sire, and ‘Fashion’ is her name.”

[5] The mercer’s list includes so many articles of which the names are
obsolete, that it is not possible to translate it.

[6] “Fair fame is better than a golden belt.”

[7] “Attire yourselves, mesdames, I pray, otherwise than in all those
falbalas,” &c.

[8]

“My book of hours, those of Notre-Dame, I must have,
And it shall be such as beseemeth noble dame of high lineage.
Of subtle workmanship, gold and azure, rich and rare;
Well ordered and well shapen;
Covered in fine cloth, or in wrought gold,
And when it is opened, to be closed again
With two golden clasps,” &c.

[9] The iron collar by which criminals were bound to the gibbet was
called a “carcan.”—_Translator’s note._

[10] “There may be seen in Paris many who possess neither money, house,
nor land, but whom you would take, at a glance, to be allied to the
greatest chiefs and warriors. They say that they come from England,
and are the issue of a count, or a baron of Anjou, and related to the
seneschals of Auxerre, or the lords of manors in Poitou. And for the
most part they come from holes and corners, out of the loft of a miller,
perhaps, or of the lineage of a cabbage, children of a gardener. The wife
of a mere clerk, or a doorkeeper, presumes nowadays as much as a duchess.
It would be well there should be an end of this! You shall see a simple
bourgeoise decked out with diamonds and jewels, and talking gravely, in
good sooth, in all the new phrases.”

[11]

“Ladies with turned-down collars,
Of whatever condition.”

[12]

“Our fair ones are so grand,
That to appear tall and fair,
They must have high slippers
Even with four-and-twenty soles.”

[13]

“To accoutre oneself like a Lucretia,
A Lombard woman, or in Grecian fashion,
It is my belief cannot be done
With honesty.

“Beware of being the inventress
Of new attire, for many a sinner
Might make thee her exemplar.
If thou would please God and the world,
Wear the dress that denotes simplicity
In honesty.”

[14] A cord twisted so as to form a figure of ∞ was called a _lac
d’amour_, or love-knot.—_Translator’s note._

[15]

“Heavens! how satisfied she was
With her good looks that day!
With all her dainty graces!
Look you, she had a bodice
Of the finest sky-blue, laced
With a lace of yellow, made for her.
And then she had sleeves of green
Of rich stuff, and a gown
Both wide and open.
...
Black hosen, little slippers,
White linen, a looped girdle,
And a fair kerchief on her head-dress.”

[16]

“For one coat that the wife of a bourgeois wears
The great lady puts on three, one over the other;
And letting them all be seen equally,
She makes herself known for more than a bourgeoise.”

[17]

“There was a time, before these customs,
When women were wise.”

[18]

“The ‘vertugal’ we will have,
Spite of them and their false envy;
And the busk at the breast we will wear;
Is it not a pretty usage?”

[19]

“The large vertugadin is common to all Frenchwomen;
The bourgeoises wear it freely now,
Just the same as the great ladies, if it be not
That the bourgeoise is content with a smaller one;
For the great ladies are not satisfied
With a vertugadin less than five yards wide.”

[20]

“Netted hair and hawk-bright eye.”

[21]

“Men and women out of pride
Starch their long ruffs until they find no equal;
But in hell the devil will blow (the bellows),
And the fire will be lighted to burn souls.”

[22]

“Velvet, grown too common in France,
Resumes, beneath your sway, its former honour;
So that your remonstrance
Has made us see the difference
Between the servant and his lord,
And the coxcomb, silk-bedecked,
Who equalled your princes,
And rich in cloth of silk went glittering
On his way, showing off the bravery of his attire.
I have more indulgence for our fair women
Who, in dresses far too precious,
Usurp the rank of the nobles.
But now, the long-despised wool
Resumes its former station.”

[23]

“That little popinjay,
Curled, ruffed, and milk-skinned,
Whose shining face
Puts even his mirror to shame,
And his delicate skin
Outdoes the tints of a picture;
That coxcomb whose mode of speech
Is mincing, soft, and lisping,
And whose foot when he walks
Would not crack an eggshell,
Took a fancy, the other day,
To marry Marie.
She was dressed almost as gaily
As her gallant.
And when they came to church,
The priest, looking at them,
Asked, jestingly:
‘Which of you two is the husband?’”

[24]

“So that at a first glance, each comer was at a loss
To know whether he beheld a king-woman or a man-queen.”

[25]

“What is it that is published? what do we hear?
Let us shut up shop, and of our goods make ropes
To hang ourselves withal.”

[26]

“Here lies under this picture, for having deserved it,
Fashion, which caused so much madness in France.
Death has put superfluity to death,
And will soon revive abundance.”

[27]

“A lady can never be admired
If her wig be not trimly curled,
If she wears not perfumed powder in her hair,
And a multitude of knots, pinned here and there
By four, five, or six, or many more,
As in her head-dress pleasantly dispersed.”

[28]

“Shall I tell of those fanciful creatures
Who wear lace on their masks,
And bedecking the eye-holes
Think the mask is perfect?
Shall I say that in the dog-days,
When one burns even in the cellar,
They wear gold cloth and velvet?
But it is not every day
That in place of patches our coquettes
Cover their chins with spangles,
And chew ginger and cloves,
That they may smell sweetly,
Or fennel—I lie not—
Or a strong herb like mint.”

[29]

“Mourning wife has joyful husband,
And the purse a truce until a new fashion arrives.”

[30]

“No longer are our ladies to be distinguished
From the women of the people;
Since a person of honour
Wears a coloured petticoat,
Or changes the fashion of her clothes,
In short, since she dresses herself
In a gaudy manner.
A bourgeoise does as much as that;
She too will put on plumes,
And stick on moustaches,
False hair and pads,
‘Tours,’ plaits, and knots;
White and yellow coifs,
With ells of lawn in them;
And those fine striped silks
Which are sometimes not paid for;
For often such bravery of dress
Hides much roguery.”

[31]

“It makes me furious to see Champagne
Lay his hands upon your hair.”

[32] Hurly-burly.

[33]

“However a gallant may slight you,
If not to-day, he will be caught to-morrow;
Whether he be indifferent or conceited,
In the end the _fly_ (_mouche_) stings him.”

[34]

“I increase the natural whiteness of complexion,
And the last touch put to her beauty
By a woman on her way to conquest,
Is an adjustment borrowed from the _flies_ (_mouches_).”

[35]

“But just think of their pattens
Which raise them half a foot.”

[36]

“Tall Lise _will_ be, despite of nature.”

[37]

“You will have clumsy actresses,
Half woman and half patten.”

[38]

“A stockade of wire
Supports the superb structure
Of the lofty head-dress;
Even as in time of calm upon the sea,
A vessel bears its masts.”

[39]

“Paris yields to fashion, and changes its adornments;
This people, given to imitation, and copyist of the court,
Has begun a day since
To pull down the pride of its head-dresses.”

[40] “Seemed to flutter in the ladies’ hair.”

[41]

“A woman in ‘pretintaille’ and ‘fontange’
Thinks herself as beautiful as an angel;
But this vain falbala, by its vast size,
Makes her as big as a tower;
And all this set-out inflates and stuffs her up,
Until she resembles a fat turkey.”

[42]

“When a thing is new,
That suffices to make it handsome,
And little is thought about other things,
La, la, la, &c.

“No matter who invents it,
So that it is extravagant,
Good taste yields to it,
La, la, la, &c.

“But it disappears
Almost as soon as it appears,
For all changes and will change,
La, la, la, &c.”

[43]

“My chiefest concern is the care of my attire;
Nothing pleases me more than a new fashion.”

[44]

“After dinner, the indolent Glycera
Goes out, just for the sake of going out, having nothing to do.
Her insipidity is deposited in a chariot,
Wherein her tightened body groans under the trammels
Of a heavy panier which protrudes from the two windows.”

[45]

“Is there anything more beautiful than a corset,
Which naturally defines the figure,
And shows how one is made
In the mould of nature?”

[46] This is a Provençal expression, meaning, “What does it mean?” or
“What is it all about?”

[47] It will not assist the reader’s imagination much to give the
translation of these extraordinary names; but here they are: “the
ingenuous maiden,” “the counsellor’s wife,” “the royal bird,” “dog lying
down,” “gallant pits,” “calèches with the hoods up.”

[48]

“Everything is to be ‘à la harpie;’
Ribbons, frock-coats, and caps;
Ladies, your taste grows instructed,
You are abandoning gewgaws
For a costume in character.”

[49]

“The ‘harpy’ is ill chosen;
Let us pardon this caprice;
But sometimes in the fashions
More justice is done to the fair sex,
And worthier laws prevail.
Ladies, upon your heads I have seen
The attributes of our warriors,
And laurels may fittingly be worn
By those who are conquerors.”

[50]

“Spangles on the caps,
On the toques,
On the little bodices!
Spangles
On the soft hair-bands,
On the large hats!
Spangles
On the black necklaces,
On the white shoes!
Spangles,
Spangles on the ribbons,
On the turbans.
Nothing is to be seen
Without spangles!”

[51]

“The diamond only ought to adorn
Charms which are hurt by wool.”

[52]

“What is the price, mamma, of those ugly caps?”
“Ten francs.” “The name?” “Madwoman’s caps.”
“Ah, that is strange,” interrupted Nicolle,
“For all our ladies wear them.”

[53] The author relates an anecdote here to which justice cannot be done
in English, as the play upon words cannot be translated. The anecdote is
as follows: “Une dame, ayant perdu son sac, voulut le faire afficher. ‘Fi
donc!’ lui dit un mauvais plaisant, ‘faire afficher un ridicule, quand on
en a tant!’”

[54]

“Thanks to the Fashion
No one has any hair (_bis_);
O! how convenient!
No more hair,
They say it is better so!”

[55] “There’s a warm, substantial person.”

[56]

“Yes, far from fields there is another Flora,
Born of art, and adored by Paris ...
Upon nosegays of which zephyrs know nothing,
A skilful brush lays cunningly
The gold of the gorse, the carmine of the rose,
Or the sapphire tints of the iris;
And then we see them, amid our orgies,
In the ball-room, far from the sun-rays,
Bloom in the glare of the wax lights.
Art applauding their brilliancy;
But on those flowers, children of another Flora,
In vain I seek the tears of another Aurora.”

[57]

“Besides, those heavy shawls
Which you delight in wearing,
Have previously served for girdles
To perfidious Arabs.
Ah! at those profane fabrics
I should laugh in my turn,
If in theirs they inspired you
With the taste of the caravans.”

[58] The familiar “bustle,” of course.

[59] Silk louse. Queen’s louse.

[60] Old woman.

[61] Peasant woman.

[62] This was the well-known “Ladies’ companion.”