skirt of a garment, whether at top or bottom; also a kind of stiff
collar, made in fashion of a band, that went about the neck and round
about the shoulders: hence the term 'wooden picadilloes' (meaning the
pillory) in Hudibras. At the time that ruffs and picadils were much
in fashion, there was a celebrated ordinary near St. James's, called
Piccadilly, because, as some say, it was the outmost or skirt house,
situate at the end of the town; but it more probably took its name from
one Higgins, a tailor, who made a fortune by picadils, and built this
with a few adjoining houses. The name has by a few been derived from a
much frequented house for the sale of these articles; but this probably
took its rise from the circumstance of Higgins having built houses
there, which, however, were not for selling ruffs."
Picardil is the diminutive of "picca," a pike or spear head, and was
given to this article of attire from the resemblance of its stiffened
edges to the points of spears. Philips ("World of Words," 1693) defines
pickardil as the "hem about the skirt of a garment--the extremity or
utmost end of everything." Whether the collar gave the name to the
district or the district to the collar is a matter of some uncertainty;
probably, however, the former. The thoroughfare which we now know as
Piccadilly certainly did not exist at the time the picadil was first
worn, and the district was then "the utmost end of everything"--that
is, beyond the confines of the town.
Piccadilly as a place, or thoroughfare, is mentioned in "The
Rehearsal," by George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, produced in
the winter of 1671:--
"His servants he into the country sent,
And he himself to Piccadillé went."
A pickadil is mentioned in the old comedy of "Northward Ho" as part of
a woman's dress.
On the visit of James I. to Cambridge in 1615, the Vice-Chancellor of
the University thought fit to issue an order prohibiting "the fearful
enormity and excess of apparel seen in all degrees, as, namely,
_strange piccadilloes_, vast bands, huge cuffs, shoe-roses, tufts,
locks and tops of hair, unbeseeming that modesty and carriage of
students in so renowned a university."
The Church was still more fierce in its denunciation of these articles
of attire. Hall, Bishop of Exeter, in a sermon, after having severely
censured ruffs, farthingales, feathers, and paint, concludes with these
words, which more than equal anything in Stubbes: "Hear this, ye
popinjays of our time: hear this, ye plaster-faced Jezabels: God will
one day wash them with fire and with brimstone."
[Illustration: SON OF THE PAINTER DIRCK DE VRIES.
_Engraved by Goltzius._]
There appears to be considerable contradiction of terms, as applied
to the different collars, both with the writers of the time and with
subsequent writers. Barnabe Rich, in his "Honesty of the Age," says:
"The body is still pampered up in the very dropsy of excess.... He
that some forty years sithence should have asked after a pickadilly,
I wonder who should have understood him or could have told what a
pickadilly had been, either fish or flesh."
There was, however, the small ruff, such as is seen in the portraits of
Sir Thomas Gresham and Philip II. of Spain (pp. 121-123). There was the
large formal ruff which appears in the portrait of Lord Burleigh (p.
93), and the still larger ruff of the Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia
(p. 187). There was the less formal ruff which fell upon the shoulders,
which is seen in many portraits by Franz Hals. There was the high
standing pointed collar, such as appears in William Rogers's print of
Queen Elizabeth. There was a plain high-standing collar without lace,
which went round the back of the head. There was the plain collar of
the Cromwellians, which covered the shoulders, and there was also the
rich lace collar of the latter part of the reign of Charles I. The
plaits of the ruff were occasionally pinned, the rows being sometimes
two and three deep. In the "Antiquary," a comedy by Shakerley Marmion,
1641, quoted by Strutt, a lover says to his mistress: "Do you not
remember what taskes you were wont to put upon me when I bestowed
you gowns and petticoats: and you in return gave me bracelets and
shoe-ties? How you fool'd me, and set me sometimes to pin pleats in
your ruff two hours together?"
[Illustration: CHARLES I. (IN THREE VIEWS).
_After Vandyck. Engraved by W. Sharp._]
In an old play called "Lingua; or, the Combat of the Tongue and the
Five Senses for Superiority," 1607, one of the characters remarks:--
"It is five hours ago since I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like a
nice gentlewoman; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses;
pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings and conformings;
painting of blue veins, and rosy cheeks; such a stir with combs,
cascanets, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodices, scarfs, necklaces,
carkonels, rabatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, ruffs,
cuffs, muffs, pustles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, fillets,
corslets, pendulets, amulets, annulets, bracelets, and so many lets
that the poor lady of the toilet is scarce dressed to the girdle.
And now there is such calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk-points,
shoe-ties and the like, that seven pedlars' shops, nay, all Stourbridge
fair, will scarcely furnish. A ship is sooner rigged by far than a nice
gentlewoman made ready."
Towards the latter part of the reign of Charles I. both ruff and whisk
give place to the falling band, which was worn both plain and laced. It
had, indeed, appeared earlier, even in the latter years of Elizabeth,
but was not in general use until the time of Charles. The trouble
occasioned by the ruff and whisk appears to have been a factor of their
downfall. A character in the "Malecontent," 1604, exclaims: "There is
such a deal of pinning these ruffles when a fine cleane _fall_ is worth
all."
The cravat, or neckcloth, which succeeded the ruff and band, did not
come into general use until the latter part of the reign of the Merry
Monarch; indeed, some similar form of neck covering became a necessity,
on account of the monstrous size of the periwigs. It formed a large
bow at the chin, with the ends richly laced. There was a variety of
the neckcloth which was twisted like a corkscrew, the ends being drawn
through a ring. This was called a "Steinkirk," from the circumstance
of the French officers at the battle of that name in 1692, who could
not find time to arrange their cravats, and adopted the readier means
of twisting them in a knot. The laced ends of the cravat afterwards
increased in size, and were drawn through the button-hole of the
waistcoat.
"One of the knots of his tye hanging down his left shoulder, and his
fringed cravat nicely twisted down his breast, and thrust through his
gold button-hole, which looked exactly like my little Barbet's head in
his gold collar" (David Garrick, "Bon Ton; or, High Life Below Stairs,"
1775).
From a singular little pocket-manual upon the art of tying the cravat,
by H. Le Blanc, Esq., published in 1828, it would appear that there
are no less than two-and-thirty different styles of tying the cravat.
These are demonstrated in sixteen lessons, with illustrations, together
with portrait of the author, figured, as a matter of course, in an
irreproachable cravat.
"When a man of rank makes his _entrée_ into a circle distinguished
for taste and elegance, and the usual compliments have passed on both
sides, he will discover that his coat will attract only a slight degree
of attention, but that the most critical and scrutinising examination
will be made on the _set_ of his Cravat. Should this unfortunately not
be correctly and elegantly put on--no further notice will be taken
of him; whether his coat be of the reigning fashion or not will be
unnoticed by the assembly--all eyes will be occupied in examining the
folds of the fatal Cravat.
"His reception will in the future be cold, and no one will move
on his entrance; but if his Cravat is _savamment_ and elegantly
formed--although his coat may not be of the last _cut_--every one will
rise to receive him with the most distinguished marks of respect,
will cheerfully resign their seats to him, and the delighted eyes
of all will be fixed on that part of his person which separates the
shoulders from the chin--let him speak down-right nonsense he will be
applauded to the skies; it will be said--'This man has critically and
deeply studied the thirty-two lessons on the Art of Tying the Cravat.'
But again reverse the picture--it will be found that the unfortunate
individual who is not aware of the existence of this justly celebrated
work--however well informed he may be on other subjects--will be
considered as an ignorant pretender, and will be compelled to suffer
the impertinence of the fop, who will treat him with disdain, merely
because his Cravat is not correctly disposed--he will moreover be
obliged to hear in silence, and to approve (under pain of being
considered unacquainted with the common rules of politeness) all the
remarks which he will thus subject himself to--occasionally relieved by
hearing a whisper of, 'He cannot even put on a Cravat properly.'"
The reader will not expect, possibly will experience little desire, to
be taken through the whole of the two-and-thirty lessons in the art of
tying the cravat; a single illustration will probably suffice. It shall
be, however, "the sovereign of cravat ties, the 'Nœud Gordien,' the
origin of which is lost in the obscurity of antiquity."
The discovery of the name of the brilliant genius to whom the honour
of this invention is due has, apparently, defied the most laborious
researches on the part of the author. He can only tell us (what he
believes is generally known) that Alexander the Great, although he
could conquer a whole world, and, like a youthful character in the
works of the immortal Dickens, _sigh for more_ (soup, however, in the
case of the juvenile), was still unable to comprehend the theory of its
construction, and adopted the shorter and easier method of cutting it
with his sword.
"Attention!"
Cravats when sent from the laundress should undergo a careful
examination as to the washing, ironing, and folding, as the set of the
cravat and neatness of the tie _entirely depends upon this_. Whether
it be plain or coloured is apparently of little moment, and does not
in the least affect its formation, but a stout one is recommended as
offering more facilities to the daring fingers of the tyro who would
accomplish this _chef-d'œuvre_.
It now becomes necessary to meditate deeply and seriously upon the five
following directions:--
1. Having carefully chosen the cravat, it must be placed on the neck,
the ends left hanging (first time).
2. Take point K, pass it on the inside of point Z, and raise it (second
time).
3. Lower point K on the tie, now half formed O (third time).
4. Then, without leaving point K, bend it inside and draw it between
the point Z, which you repass to the left Y; in the tie now formed, Y
O, thus accomplishing the formation of the knot.
5. "And last." Having accomplished the knot, flattened it with thumb
and fore-finger, or with the iron (a small iron is recommended, with a
handle, made expressly for the purpose, and moderately warm), you lower
the points K Z, cross them, place a pin at the point of junction H,
at once solving the problem which defied the greatest of the world's
conquerors.
"_The slightest error in the first fold of this tie will render all
succeeding efforts, with the same handkerchief, entirely useless--we
have said it._"[19]
Although, as previously intimated, it is not proposed to wander
through the labyrinth of the whole of the two-and-thirty lessons, two
others may with advantage be referred to. Our author, though somewhat
facetious, is distinctly entertaining.
[Illustration: DIAGRAMS ILLUSTRATING THE TYING OF THE "NŒUD GORDIEN."
A. The Cravat folded. B. The Cravat à la Byron. S. The Cravat
Sentimentale.]
"The Cravat Sentimentale."
This, as its name implies, should only be adopted by those whose
physiognomy inspires the tender passion. It may be worn from the age of
"seventeen to twenty-seven; after that age it cannot, with propriety,
be patronised even by the most agreeable."
"You, then, whom Nature has not gifted with eyes of fire--with
complexions rivalling the rose and lily; you, to whom she has denied
pearly teeth and coral lips--a gift which, in our opinion, would
be somewhat inconvenient; you, in fact, whose faces do not possess
that sympathetic charm which, in a moment--at a glance--spreads
confusion o'er the senses," &c., pause before adopting the cravat
sentimentale--avoid it, in fact; leave it to more highly favoured
mortals.
"The Cravat à la Byron."
This must be worn by none but those who would mount the topmost slopes
of Parnassus, and drink deeply of the Castalian spring.[20] Our author
does not, indeed, say so, but the fact is sufficiently evident.
It is universally allowed that the least constraint on the body has
a corresponding effect on the mind; a tight cravat, therefore, will
"cramp the imagination and, as it were, suffocate the thoughts." This
is the reason why Lord Byron submitted to the inconveniences of a
cravat, only "when accommodating himself to the _bienséances_ of
society," and explains the fact that "whenever he is painted in the
ardour of composition his neck is always free from the trammels of the
neckcloth."
Black silk cravats, at the time of our author's writing (1828),
were generally worn, and coloured silk handkerchiefs occasionally
patronised. It appears that Napoleon invariably wore a black silk
cravat, but at Waterloo it was observed that, contrary to his usual
custom, he wore a white neckerchief with a flowing bow, although the
day previous he appeared in his black cravat. The superstitiously
inclined will note this fact; it is, however, extremely unlikely that
the change influenced in the slightest degree the result of the battle.
In the late thirties and early forties Dame Fashion turned her
attention in the direction of embroidered muslin. Delicate floral
patterns, often displaying considerable taste in design and a high
degree of technical skill, were wrought upon collarettes, cuffs,
chemisettes, &c.; it was chiefly produced in the north of Ireland, and
an extensive trade arose, finding employment for large numbers of women
and girls in the counties of Donegal, Tyrone, and Down. The delicacy
of the material and the absence of colour, lent itself insensibly to a
naturalistic treatment.
As is usual with the caprices of fashion, the art only lasted for a
comparatively brief period. It still survives, however, in the form of
embroidered handkerchiefs, for which there is even now a demand.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Stow.
[18] This lady, in 1601, registered a vow not to change her linen until
the town of Ostend was taken. The siege lasted three years and three
months, by which time her under-clothing had attained a colour which is
perhaps easier to imagine than to describe. It provided a name for a
stuff, "Couleur Isabella," which was fashionable in France for over a
century.
[19] "What I have said, I have said" (the Right Hon. Joseph
Chamberlain).
[20] The Castalian spring is at the _foot_ of the mountain, but it
should have been at the top, where the tired and thirsty traveller
would be most likely to need it. Besides, it is not to be expected that
we could reverse the order of the paragraph--"_we have said it_."
VIII
HATS,
CAPS,
AND
BONNETS
"'In _that_ direction,' the Cat said, waving his right paw round,
'lives a Hatter; and in _that_ direction,' waving the other paw,
'lives a March Hare. Visit either you like; they're both mad.'"
_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._
[Illustration: FOOLS IN A MORRIS DANCE.
_Bodleian MS. (free rendering)._]
VIII
HATS, CAPS, AND BONNETS
Mad as a hatter? How comes an honest craft to be thus maligned? Hatters
were never mad--that is, not more so than the rest of us--until they
adopted the pot of the chimney as a model.[21]
Nature has provided in the hair a natural covering for the head. Hats
are not really a necessity.
Dr. Jaeger ("Health Culture") discusses the probable reasons for the
greater prevalence of baldness among men than among women. While
rejecting the theory that the competition of the beard is precarious to
the hair of the head, abstracting from the latter its due nourishment,
and pointing out that the long beards and luxuriant heads of hair of
our ancestors refute this theory that the more strenuous head-work
which falls to the share of the male sex is responsible for the loss
of hair; that the unnatural custom of cutting men's hair, first adopted
when nature was abandoned in favour of the fashions of civilisation,
is to blame for it; that drink, dissolute habits, or heredity is the
cause--he finds that a far more probable cause is the difference
between the male and female head-covering, "which latter is, as a rule,
lighter, more airy, and more porous than the usually almost waterproof
and exceedingly absurd male head-coverings, such as the stiff felt
hats, and high hats, with the strip of leather which encircles the
forehead and effectually retains the perspiration."
"The best head-covering would certainly be--none at all. But usage,
and in many cases weather conditions, render this impracticable."...
"Not only are the hard hats, now in such general use, injurious on
account of the pores of the material being closed, impeding the passage
of the exhalation from the head; but the shellac used in stiffening
them has an injurious effect, from which the cherry gum used in the
case of the soft hats is comparatively free." He adds: "Of course,
soft hats cannot be worn in all cases--on ceremonial occasions the
hard hat may be chosen; but ordinarily the hygienically superior soft
hat should be worn." Why, however, on occasions of ceremony? Was
ceremonial non-existent before the advent of the nineteenth century?
It would rather appear that if the nineteenth century is conspicuous
for anything it is for its _absence_ of ceremonial. There is absolutely
no reason why a hat of a particular density, or even of a particular
shape, should be necessary to occasions of high ceremonial. Moreover,
in this connection it may be very pertinently asked, Is artistic
invention so utterly dead that it cannot devise a head-gear which
shall fit in with its surroundings on such occasions as call for more
dignity and impressiveness in the matter of costume? It is, however, an
incontrovertible fact, as a well-known present-day writer has pointed
out, that "revolutions are practicable in everything--in manners,
morals, government, even religion--sooner than in clothes; and that
sumptuary laws are the only laws that have always failed of being
obeyed." It is universally admitted that modern dress is intolerably
ugly; that it fails, not only upon its artistic side, but also upon the
score of utility; yet every suggestion for its improvement is always
met by a flat _non possumus_.
[Illustration: MRS. ANNE WARREN.
_After Romney._]
Some form of hood was, doubtless, the earliest covering for the
head, either as a separately made-up article, or, as in the case of
the Greeks and Romans, formed by the drawing of the pallium or toga
over the head to serve as protection during inclement weather. The
Romans had a hooded cloak (cucullus) which was worn by the commoner
people, and which, in some form or another, has been in use during
all subsequent periods. It is, in fact, generally worn at the present
day in most parts of the Continent of Europe, and forms an extremely
reasonable and convenient article of attire.
The hood formed the principal covering for the head of both sexes
during the twelfth, thirteenth, and part of the fourteenth centuries.
The hood (chaperon) was a separate article of dress as distinct
from the cowl (capuchon), which was attached to and formed part
of the cloak or other article of dress, although the two terms are
indiscriminately used by the earlier writers.
The hood assumed, in the first instance, more or less the form of
the Phrygian cap. The tippet, or tail, was afterwards developed to a
considerable length, in the thirteenth century reaching almost to the
ground. Dante is usually represented in such a hood, with long tippet,
and in the portrait of Cimabue by Simon Memmi, _c._ 1300, the painter
appears wearing a hood with a tippet reaching a little below the middle.
The cap or hood worn by "fools" was simply the hood of the fashion of
the particular period, with the addition of the cock's comb, the pair
of ass's ears and the bells, occasionally worn all together, and often
parti-coloured.
In the wardrobe accounts of Henry VIII. occurs--"Item, for making a
doublet of worsted, lined with canvass and cotton, for William Som'ar,
our fool; item, for making of a coat and cap of green cloth fringed
with red crule and lined with frize for our said fool."
The men's turbaned head-dress of the reign of Richard II. and later is
sufficiently remarkable to warrant a description. It was a long cloth,
wound round and round the head--the edges cut, clipped and jagged in
various ways--one end of which either stood up on the top of the head
or was allowed to fall over the side of the turban, the other end
hanging down in front of the body, longer or shorter according to the
fancy or caprice of the wearer, the whole presenting a very fantastic
appearance, occasionally, however, not ungraceful.
[Illustration: HUNTING HAT.
_Orcagna, Campo Santa, Pisa._]
The beginning of this head-dress was simply a different way of wearing
the hood, as Mr. Planché has shown by means of two diagrams in his
"Encylopedia of Costume." It occurred to some ingenious soul to insert
his head in the oval opening in the hood made for the face, to gather
up in the form of a fan the portion which covered the shoulders, and
to bind it in position by winding the long tippet round the head and
tucking in the end of it. Later, no doubt, the head-dress was formally
made up by the hatter or tailor, as the case may be, and assumed a more
complex character.
[Illustration: HUNTING HAT.
_Orcagna, Campo Santa, Pisa._]
The Greeks, when travelling, protected their heads from the heat or
the wet by means of a flat broad-brimmed hat, tied underneath the chin,
and allowed to hang on the back when not required on the head. This
fashion or device was continued during the Middle Ages, and the hat
was often worn over the hood (although this would seem a superfluity),
the strings were secured at the breast by means of a moveable ring,
which, by being moved up underneath the chin, kept the hat in its place
on the head. Such a hat was figured on the wall of the old Palace at
Westminster, and has been published in the "Vetusta Monumenta" of the
Society of Antiquaries.
During the greater part of the Norman and Plantagenet period the
_wimple_ or neck-cloth was common. It was a development of the
Anglo-Saxon veil or head-cloth (couvre-chef), and an echo of the mailed
coif of the period. It is thus referred to by John de Meun: "Par Dieu!
I have often thought in my heart, when I have seen a lady so closely
tied up, that her neck-cloth was nailed to her chin, or that she had
the pins hooked into her flesh."
Such a wimple is figured from Orcagna (Campo Santo, Pisa) on the
opposite page.
The golden net-caul (crestine, creton, crespine, crespinette) appeared
during the reigns of Henry III. and Edward I., worn either with or
without the wimple and veil, and lasted, in its varying forms, well
into the sixteenth century. It either enclosed the hair as within a
bag or pouch, or assumed the form of a netted cap, as in the so-called
"Beatrice d'Este," attributed to Leonardo da Vinci in the Brera at
Milan; or the net-bag above alluded to was elongated so as to form a
long pigtail, tied at intervals, often extending almost to the feet, as
in the marriage scene in the fresco by Pinturicchio in the Piccolomini
Library at Siena. It was often richly ornamented with jewels--