DRESS, AS A FINE ART.
In a state so highly civilized as that in which we live, the art of
dress has become extremely complicated. That it is an art to set off
our persons to the greatest advantage must be generally admitted, and
we think it is one which, under certain conditions, may be studied by
the most scrupulous. An art implies skill and dexterity in setting off
or employing the gifts of nature to the greatest advantage, and we are
surely not wrong in laying it down as a general principle, that every
one may endeavor to set off or improve his or her personal appearance,
provided that, in doing so, the party is guilty of no deception. As
this proposition may be liable to some misconstruction, we will
endeavor to explain our meaning.
In the first place, the principle is acted upon by all who study
cleanliness and neatness, which are universally considered as positive
duties, that are not only conducive to our own comfort, but that
society has a right to expect from us. Again: the rules of society
require that to a certain extent we should adopt those forms of dress
which are in common use, but our own judgment should be exercised in
adapting these forms to our individual proportions, complexions, ages,
and stations in society. In accomplishing this object, the most
perfect honesty and sincerity of purpose may be observed. No deception
is to be practised, no artifice employed, beyond that which is
exercised by the painter, who arranges his subjects in the most
pleasing forms, and who selects colors which harmonize with each
other; and by the manufacturer, who studies pleasing combinations of
lines and colors. We exercise taste in the decoration and arrangement
of our apartments and in our furniture, and we are equally at liberty
to do so with regard to our dress; but we know that taste is not an
instinctive perception of the beautiful and agreeable, but is founded
upon the observance of certain laws of nature. When we conform to
these laws, the result is pleasing and satisfactory; when we offend
against them, the contrary effect takes place. Our persons change with
our years; the child passes into youth, the youth into maturity,
maturity changes into old age. Every period of life has its peculiar
external characteristics, its pleasures, its pains, and its pursuits.
The art of dress consists in properly adapting our clothing to these
changes.
We violate the laws of nature when we seek to repair the ravages of
time on our complexions by paint, when we substitute false hair for
that which age has thinned or blanched, or conceal the change by
dyeing our own gray hair; when we pad our dress to conceal that one
shoulder is larger than the other. To do either is not only bad taste,
but it is a positive breach of sincerity. It is bad taste, because the
means we have resorted to are contrary to the laws of nature. The
application of paint to the skin produces an effect so different from
the bloom of youth, that it can only deceive an unpractised eye. It
is the same with the hair: there is such a want of harmony between
false hair and the face which it surrounds, especially when that face
bears the marks of age, and the color of the hair denotes youth, that
the effect is unpleasing in the extreme. Deception of this kind,
therefore, does not answer the end which it had in view; it deceives
nobody but the unfortunate perpetrator of the would-be deceit. It is
about as senseless a proceeding as that of the goose in the story,
who, when pursued by the fox, thrust her head into a hedge, and
thought that, because she could no longer see the fox, the fox could
not see her. But in a moral point of view it is worse than silly; it
is adopted with a view to deceive; it is _acting a lie_ to all intents
and purposes, and it ought to be held in the same kind of detestation
as falsehood with the tongue. Zimmerman has an aphorism which is
applicable to this case--"Those who conceal their age do not conceal
their folly."
The weak and vain, who hope to conceal their age by paint and false
hair, are, however, morally less culpable than another class of
dissemblers, inasmuch as the deception practised by the first is so
palpable that it really deceives no one. With regard to the other
class of dissemblers, we feel some difficulty in approaching a subject
of so much delicacy. Yet, as we have stated that we are at liberty to
improve our natural appearance by well-adapted dress, we think it
our duty to speak out, lest we should be considered as in any way
countenancing deception. We allude to those physical defects
induced by disease, which are frequently united to great beauty
of countenance, and which are sometimes so carefully concealed by
the dress, that they are only discovered after marriage.
Having thus, we hope, established the innocence of our motives, we
shall proceed to mention the legitimate means by which the personal
appearance may be improved by the study of the art of dress.
Fashion in dress is usually dictated by caprice or accident, or by the
desire of novelty. It is never, we believe, based upon the study of
the figure.
It is somewhat singular that while every lady thinks herself at
liberty to wear any textile fabric or any color she pleases, she
considers herself bound to adopt the form and style of dress which the
fashion of the day has rendered popular. The despotism of fashion is
limited to _form_, but _color_ is free. We have shown, in another
essay, (see closing chapter,) what licentiousness this freedom in the
adoption and mixture of colors too frequently induces. We have also
shown that the colors worn by ladies should be those which contrast
or harmonize best with their individual complexions, and we have
endeavored to make the selection of suitable colors less difficult by
means of a few general rules founded upon the laws of harmony and
contrast of colors. In the present essay, we propose to offer some
general observations on form in dress. The subject is, however, both
difficult and complicated, and as it is easier to condemn than to
improve or perfect, we shall more frequently indicate what fashions
should not be adopted, than recommend others to the patronage of our
readers.
The immediate objects of dress are twofold--namely, decency and
warmth; but so many minor considerations are suffered to influence us
in choosing our habiliments, that these primary objects are too
frequently kept out of sight. Dress should be not only adapted to the
climate, it should also be light in weight, should yield to the
movements of the body, and should be easily put on or removed. It
should also be adapted to the station in society, and to the age, of
the individual. These are the essential conditions; yet in practice
how frequently are they overlooked; in fact, how seldom are they
observed! Next in importance are general elegance of form, harmony in
the arrangement and selection of the colors, and special adaptation in
form and color to the person of the individual. To these objects we
purpose directing the attention of the reader.
It is impossible, within the limits we have prescribed ourselves, to
enter into the subject of dress minutely; we can only deal with it
generally, and lay down certain broad principles for our guidance. If
these are observed, there is still a wide margin left for fancy and
fashion. These may find scope in trimmings and embroidery; the
application of which, however, must also be regulated by good taste
and knowledge. The physical variety in the human race is infinite; so
are the gradations and combinations of color; yet we expect a few
forms of dress to suit every age and complexion! Instead of the
beautiful, the graceful, and the becoming, what are the attractions
offered by the dress makers? What are the terms used to invite the
notice of customers? Novelty and distinction. The shops are "Magasins
de Nouveautes," the goods are "distingues," "recherches," "nouveaux,"
"the last fashion." The new fashions are exhibited on the elegant
person of one of the dress maker's assistants, who is selected for
this purpose, and are adopted by the purchaser without reflecting how
much of the attraction of the dress is to be ascribed to the fine
figure of the wearer, how much to the beauty of the dress, or whether
it will look equally well on herself. So the fashion is set, and then
it is followed by others, until at last it becomes singular not to
adopt some modification of it, although the extreme may be avoided.
The best dressers are generally those who follow the fashions at a
great distance.
Fashion is the only tyrant against whom modern civilization has not
carried on a crusade, and its power is still as unlimited and despotic
as it ever was. From its dictates there is no appeal; health and
decency are alike offered up at the shrine of this Moloch. At its
command its votaries melt under fur boas in the dog days, and freeze
with bare necks and arms, in lace dresses and satin shoes, in January.
Then, such is its caprice, that no sooner does a fashion become
general, than, let its merits or beauties be ever so great, it is
changed for one which perhaps has nothing but its novelty to recommend
it. Like the bed of Procrustes, fashions are compelled to suit every
one. The same fashion is adopted by the tall and the short, the stout
and the slender, the old and the young, with what effect we have daily
opportunities of observing.
Yet, with all its vagaries, fashion is extremely aristocratic in its
tendencies. Every change emanates from the highest circles, who reject
it when it has descended to the vulgar. No new form of dress was ever
successful which did not originate among the aristocracy. From the
ladies of the court, the fashions descend through all the ranks of
society, until they at last die a natural death among the cast-off
clothes of the housemaid. Fig. 35.
Had the Bloomer costume, which has obtained so much notoriety, been
introduced by a tall and graceful scion of the aristocracy, either of
rank or talent, instead of being at first adopted by the middle ranks,
it might have met with better success. We have seen that Jenny Lind
could introduce a new fashion of wearing the hair, and a new form of
hat or bonnet, and Mme. Sontag a cap which bears her name. But it was
against all precedent to admit and follow a fashion, let its merits be
ever so great, that emanated from the stronghold of democracy. We are
content to adopt the greatest absurdities in dress when they are
brought from Paris, or recommended by a French name; but American
fashions have no chance of success in aristocratic England. It is
beginning at the wrong end.
The eccentricities of fashion are so great that they would appear
incredible if we had not ocular evidence of their prevalence in
the portraits which still exist. At one period we read of horned
head-dresses, which were so large and high, that it is said the doors
of the palace at Vincennes were obliged to be altered to admit Isabel
of Bavaria (queen of Charles VI. of France) and the ladies of her
suite. In the reign of Edward IV., the ladies' caps were three
quarters of an ell in height, and were covered by pieces of lawn
hanging down to the ground, or stretched over a frame till they
resembled the wings of a butterfly.[1] At another time the ladies'
heads were covered with gold nets, like those worn at the present day.
Then, again, the hair, stiffened with powder and pomatum, and
surmounted by flowers, feathers, and ribbons, was raised on the top
of the head like a tower. Such head-dresses were emphatically called
"_tetes_." (See chapter on Head-Dress.) Fig. 36. But to go back
no farther than the beginning of the present century, where Mr.
Fairholt's interesting work on British Costume terminates, what
changes have we to record! The first fashion we remember was that of
scanty clothing, when slender figures were so much admired, that many,
to whom nature had denied this qualification, left off the under
garments necessary for warmth, and fell victims to the colds and
consumptions induced by their adoption of this senseless practice. To
these succeeded waists so short that the girdles were placed almost
under the arms, and as the dresses were worn at that time indecently
low in the neck, the body of the dress was almost a myth. Fig. 39.
[1] Mr. Planche has shown, in his "History of British Costume," that
these head-dresses are the prototypes of those still worn by the
women of Normandy.
About the same time, the sleeves were so short, and the skirts so
curtailed in length, that there was reason to fear that the whole
of the drapery might also become a myth. A partial reaction then
took place, and the skirts were lengthened without increasing the
width of the dresses, the consequence of which was felt in the
country, if not in the towns. Then woe to those who had to cross
a ditch or a stile! One of two things was inevitable; either the
unfortunate lady was thrown to the ground,--and in this case it
was no easy matter to rise again,--or her dress was split up. The
result depended entirely upon the strength of the materials of
which the dress was composed. The next variation, the _gigot_
sleeves, namely, were a positive deformity, inasmuch as they gave
an unnatural width to the shoulders--a defect which was further
increased by the large collars which fell over them, thus violating
one of the first principles of beauty in the female form, which
demands that this part of the body should be narrow; breadth of
shoulder being one of the distinguishing characteristics of the
stronger sex. We remember to have seen an engraving from a portrait,
by Lawrence, of the late Lady Blessington, in which the breadth of the
shoulders appeared to be at least three quarters of a yard. When a
person of low stature, wearing sleeves of this description, was
covered with one of the long cloaks, which were made wide at the
shoulders to admit the sleeves, and to which was appended a deep and
very full cape, the effect was ridiculous, and the outline of the
whole mass resembled that of a haycock with a head on the top.
Fig. 37. One absurdity generally leads to another; to balance the wide
shoulders, the bonnets and caps were made of enormous dimensions, and
were decorated with a profusion of ribbons and flowers. So absurd was
the whole combination, that, when we meet with a portrait of this
period, we can only look on it in the light of a caricature, and
wonder that such should ever have been so universal as to be adopted
at last by all who wished to avoid singularity. The transition from
the broad shoulders and gigot sleeves to the tight sleeves and
graceful black scarf was quite refreshing to a tasteful eye. These
were a few of the freaks of fashion during the last half century. Had
they been quite harmless, we might have considered them as merely
ridiculous; but some of them were positively indecent, and others
detrimental to health. We grieve especially for the former charge: it
is an anomaly for which, considering the modest habits and education
of our countrywomen, we find it difficult to account.
It is singular that the practice of wearing dresses cut low round the
bust should be limited to what is called full dress, and to the
higher, and, except in this instance, the more refined classes. Is it
to display a beautiful neck and shoulders? No; for in this case it
would be confined to those who had beautiful necks and shoulders to
display. Is it to obtain the admiration of the other sex? That cannot
be; for we believe that men look upon this exposure with unmitigated
distaste, and that they are inclined to doubt the modesty of those
young ladies who make so profuse a display of their charms. But if
objectionable in the young, whose youth and beauty might possibly be
deemed some extenuation, it is disgusting in those whose bloom is
past, whether their forms are developed with a ripe luxuriance which
makes the female figures of Rubens appear in comparison slender and
refined, or whether the yellow skin, stretched over the wiry sinews of
the neck, remind one of the old women whom some of the Italian masters
were accustomed to introduce into their pieces, to enhance, by
contrast, the beauty of the principal figures. Every period of life
has a style of dress peculiarly appropriate to it, and we maintain
that the uncovered bosom so conspicuous in the dissolute reign of
Charles II., and from which, indeed, the reign of Charles I. was not,
as we learn from the Vandyck portraits, exempt, should be limited,
even in its widest extension, to feminine youth, or rather childhood.
If the dress be cut low, the bust should be covered after the modest
and becoming fashion of the Italian women, whose highly picturesque
costume painters are so fond of representing. The white drapery has a
peculiarly good effect, placed as it is between the skin and
richly-colored bodice. As examples of this style of dress, we may
refer to Sir Charles Eastlake's "Pilgrims in Sight of Rome," "The
Grape Gatherer of Capri," by Lehmann, and "The Dancing Lesson," by
Mr. Uwins, all of which are engraved in the _Art Journal_. Another
hint may be borrowed from the Italian costume; we may just allude to
it _en passant_. If bodices fitting to the shape must be worn, they
should be laced across the front in the Italian fashion. Fig. 38. By
this contrivance the dress will suit the figure more perfectly, and as
the lace may be lengthened or shortened at pleasure, any degree of
tightness may be given, and the bodice may be accommodated to the
figure without compressing it. We find by the picture in the Louvre
called sometimes "Titian's Mistress" that this costume is at least as
old as Titian.
We have noticed the changes and transitions of fashion; we must
mention one point in which it has continued constant from the time of
William Rufus until the present day, and which, since it has entailed
years of suffering, and in many instances has caused death, demands
our most serious attention. We allude to the pernicious practice of
tight lacing, which, as appears from contemporary paintings, was as
general on the continent as in England.
The savage American Indian changes the shape of the soft and elastic
bones of the skull of his infant by compressing it between two boards;
the intelligent but prejudiced Chinese suffers the head to grow as
nature formed it, but confines the foot of the female to the size of
an infant's; while the highly-intellectual and well-informed European
lady limits the growth of her waist by the pressure of the stays. When
we consider the importance of the organs which suffer by these
customs, surely we must acknowledge that the last is the most
barbarous practice of the three.
We read in the history of France that the war-like Franks had such a
dislike to corpulency that they inflicted a fine upon all who could
not encircle their waists with a band of a certain length. How far
this extraordinary custom may have been influential in introducing the
predilection for small waists among the ladies of that country, as
well as our own through the Norman conquerors, we cannot determine.
During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the whole of the upper part of
the body, from the waist to the chin, was encased in a cuirass of
whalebone, the rigidity of which rendered easy and graceful movement
impossible. The portrait of Elizabeth by Zucchero, with its stiff
dress and enormous ruff, and which has been so frequently engraved,
must be in the memory of all our readers. Stiffness was indeed the
characteristic of ladies' dress at this period; the whalebone cuirass,
covered with the richest brocaded silks, was united at the waist with
the equally stiff vardingale or fardingale, which descended to the
feet in the form of a large bell, without a single fold.
There is a portrait in the possession of Mr. Seymour Fitzgerald of the
unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, when quite young, in a dress of this
kind; and one cannot help pitying the poor girl's rigid confinement in
her stiff and uncomfortable dress. Fig. 41 represents Jeanne d'Albret,
the mother of Henry IV., in the fardingale.
[Illustration: Pl. 3.
Figure 39. Dress, with short waist and sleeves.
41. Dress of the mother of Henry IV.
40. Dress of Henrietta Maria.
42. From the "Illustrated London News."
]
With Henrietta Maria dresses cut low in the front, (Fig. 40,) and
flowing draperies, as we find them in the Vandyck portraits, came
into fashion, but the figure still retained its stiffness around the
waist, and has continued to do so through all the gradations and
variations in shape and size of the hoop petticoat, and the scanty
draperies of a later period, until the present day.[2]
[2] The fardingale differed from the hoop in the following
particulars: The hoop petticoat was gathered round the waist, while
the fardingale was without a fold of any description. The most
extraordinary instances we remember to have seen of the fardingale,
are in two or three pictures of the Virgin in the Spanish gallery in
the Louvre, where the fardingale in which the Virgin is dressed
takes the form of an enormous mitre.
If the proportions of the figure were generally understood, we should
not hear of those deplorable, and in many cases fatal, results of
tight lacing which have unfortunately been so numerous. So general has
the pernicious practice been in this country, that a medical friend,
who is professor of anatomy in a provincial academy, informed us that
there was great difficulty in procuring a model whose waist had not
been compressed by stays. That this is true of other localities
besides that alluded to, may be inferred from a passage in Mr. Hay's
lecture to the Society of Arts "On the Geometrical Principles of
Beauty," in which he mentions having, for the purpose of verifying his
theory, employed "an artist who, having studied the human figure at
the life academies on the continent, in London, and in Edinburgh, was
well acquainted with the subject," to make a careful drawing of the
best living model which could be procured for the purpose. Mr. Hay
observes, with reference to this otherwise fine figure, that "the
waist has evidently been compressed by the use of stays." In further
confirmation of the prevalence of this bad habit, we may refer to
Etty's pictures, in which this defect is but too apparent.
We fear, from Mr. Planche's extracts, that the evil was perpetuated by
the poets and romance writers of the Norman period; and we are sure
that the novelists of our own times have much to answer for on this
score. Had they not been forever praising "taper waists," tight lacing
would have shared the fate of other fashions, and have been banished
from all civilized society. Similar blame does not attach to the
painter and sculptor. The creations of their invention are modelled
upon the true principles of proportion and beauty, and in their works
a small waist and foot are always accompanied by a slender form. In
the mind of the poet and novelist the same associations may take
place: when a writer describes the slender waist or small foot, he
probably sees _mentally_ the whole slender figure. The small waist is
a _proportionate_ part of the figure of his creation. But there is
this difference between the painter and sculptor, and the novelist.
The works of the first two address themselves to the eye, and every
part of the form is present to the spectator; consequently, as regards
form, nothing is left to the imagination. With respect to the poet and
novelist, their creations are almost entirely mental ones; their
descriptions touch upon a few striking points only, and are seldom so
full as to fill up the entire form: much is, therefore, necessarily
left to the imagination of the reader. Now, the fashion in which the
reader will supply the details left undetermined by the poet and
novelist, and fill up their scanty and shadowy outlines, depends
entirely upon his knowledge of form; consequently, if this be small,
the images which arise in the mind of the reader from the perusal of
works of genius are confused and imperfect, and the proportions of one
class of forms are assigned to, or mingled with, those of others,
without the slightest regard to truth and nature. When we say,
therefore, that writers leave much to the imagination, it may too
frequently be understood, to the _ignorance_ of the reader; for the
imaginations of those acquainted with form and proportion, who
generally constitute the minority, always create well-proportioned
ideal forms; while the ideal productions of the uneducated, whether
expressed by the pencil, the chisel, or the pen, are always ill
proportioned and defective.
The most efficient method of putting an end to the practice of
tight lacing will be, not merely to point out its unhealthiness,
and even dangerous consequences, because these, though imminent, are
uncertain,--every lady who resorts to the practice hoping that she,
individually, may escape the penalty,--but to prove that the practice,
so far from adding to the beauty of the figure, actually deteriorates
it. This is an effect, not doubtful, like the former case, but an
actual and positive fact; and, therefore, it supplies a good and
sufficient reason, and one which the most obtuse intellect can
comprehend, for avoiding the practice. Young ladies will sometimes, it
is said, run the risk of ill health for the sake of the interest that
in some cases attaches to "delicate health;" but is there any one who
would like to be told that, by tight lacing, she makes her figure not
only deformed, but positively ugly? This, however, is the plain
unvarnished truth; and, by asserting it, we are striking at the root
of the evil. The remedy is easy: give to every young lady a general
knowledge of form, and of the principles of beauty as applied to the
human frame, and when these are better understood, and acted on, tight
lacing will die a natural death.
The study of form, on scientific principles, has hitherto been limited
entirely to men; and if some women have attained this knowledge, it
has been by their own unassisted efforts; that is to say, without the
advantages which men derive from lectures and academical studies. In
this, as in other acquirements, the pursuit of knowledge, as regards
women, is always attended with difficulties. While fully concurring in
the propriety of having separate schools for male and female students,
we do think that a knowledge of form may be communicated to all
persons, and that a young woman will not make the worse wife, or
mother, for understanding the economy of the human frame, and for
having acquired the power of appreciating its beauties. We fear that
there are still some persons whose minds are so contracted as to think
that, not only studies of this nature, but even the contemplation of
undraped statuary, are derogatory to the delicacy and purity of the
female mind; but we are satisfied that the thinking part of the
community will approve the course we recommend. Dr. Southwood Smith,
who is so honorably distinguished by his endeavors to promote the
sanatory condition of the people, strenuously advocates the necessity
of giving to all women a knowledge of the structure and functions of
the body, with a view to the proper discharge of their duties as
mothers. He remarks (Preface to "Philosophy of Health") on this
subject, "I look upon that notion of delicacy which would exclude
women from knowledge calculated in an extraordinary degree to open,
exalt, and purify their minds, and to fit them for the performance of
their duties, as alike degrading to those to whom it affects to show
respect, and debasing to the mind that entertains it."
At the present time, the knowledge of what constitutes true beauty of
form is, perhaps, best acquired by the contemplation of good pictures
and sculpture. This may not be in the power of every body; casts,
however, may be frequently obtained from the best statues; and many
of the finest works of painting are rendered familiar to us by
engravings. The _Art Journal_ has done much in diffusing a taste for
art, by the engravings it contains from statues, and from the fine
works of English art in the "Vernon Gallery." Engravings, however, can
of course represent a statue in one point of view only; but casts are
now so cheap as to be within the reach of all persons. Small models of
the "Greek Slave" are not unfrequently offered by the Italian image
venders for one shilling; and although these are not sharp enough to
draw from, the form is sufficiently correct to study the general
proportions of the figure; and as this figure is more upright than
statues usually are, it may be found exceedingly useful for the above
purpose. One of these casts, or, if possible, a sharper and better
cast of a female figure, should be found on the _toilette_ of every
young lady who is desirous of obtaining a knowledge of the proportions
and beauties of the figure.
We believe it will always be found that the beauty of a figure depends
not only upon the symmetry of the parts individually, but upon the
harmony and proportion of each part to the rest. The varieties of the
human form have been classed under the general heads of the broad, the
proportionate, and the slender.
The first betokens strength; and what beauty soever, of a peculiar
kind, it may display in the figure of the Hercules, it is not adapted
to set off the charms of the female sex. If, however, each individual
part bears a proportionate relation to the whole, the figure will not
be without its attraction. It is only when the proportions of two or
three of the classes are united in one individual, that the figure
becomes ungraceful and remarkable. The athletic--if the term may be
applied to females--form of the country girl would appear ridiculous
with the small waist, and the white and taper fingers, and small feet
of the individuals who come under the denomination of slender forms.
The tall and delicate figure would lose its beauty if united to the
large and broad hands which pertain to the stronger type. A small
waist and foot are as great a blemish to an individual of the broad
variety as a large waist and foot are to the slender. "There is a
harmony," says Dr. Wampen, "between all the parts in each kind of
form, but each integral is only suited to its own kind of form. True
beauty consists not only in the harmony of the elements, but in their
being suitable to the kind of form." Were this fundamental truth but
thoroughly understood, small waists and small feet would be at a
discount. When they are recognized _as small_, they have ceased to be
beautiful, because they are disproportionate. Where every part of a
figure is perfectly proportioned to the rest, no single parts appear
either large or small.
The ill effects of the stays in a sanatory point of view have been
frequently pointed out, and we hope are now understood. It will,
therefore, be unnecessary to enlarge on this head. We have asserted
that stays are detrimental to beauty of form; we shall now endeavor to
show in what particulars.
[Illustration: Pl. 4.
Figures 43, 44. From the plates of Sommaering, shows the waist of the
Venus of antiquity.
45, 46. The waist of a modern lady, from the above.
49. From the "London News."
50. Woman of Mitylene.
53. Algerine woman.
54. The archon's wife.
]
The natural form of the part of the trunk which forms the waist is not
absolutely cylindrical, but is flattened considerably in front and
back, so that the breadth is much greater from side to side than
from front to back. This was undoubtedly contrived for wise purposes;
yet fashion, with its usual caprice, has interfered with nature, and
by promulgating the pernicious error that a rounded form of the waist
is more beautiful than the flattened form adopted by nature, has
endeavored to effect this change by means of the stays, which force
the lower ribs closer together, and so produce the desired form.
Nothing can be more ungraceful than the sudden diminution in the size
of the waist occasioned by the compression of the ribs, as compared
with the gently undulating line of nature; yet, we are sorry to say,
nothing is more common. A glance at the cuts, Figs. 43, 44, 45, 46,
from the work of Sommaering, will explain our meaning more clearly than
words. Fig. 43 represents the natural waist of the Venus of antiquity;
Fig. 45, that of a lady of the modern period. The diagrams 44 and 46
show the structure of the ribs of each.
It will be seen that, by the pressure of the stays, the arch formed by
the lower ribs is entirely closed, and the waist becomes four or five
inches smaller than it was intended by nature. Is it any wonder that
persons so deformed should have bad health, or that they should
produce unhealthy offspring? Is it any wonder that so many young
mothers should have to lament the loss of their first born? We have
frequently traced tight lacing in connection with this sad event, and
we cannot help looking upon it as cause and effect.
By way of further illustration, we refer our readers to some of the
numerous engravings from statues in the _Art Journal_, which, though
very beautiful, are not distinguished by small waists. We may mention,
as examples, Bailey's "Graces;" Marshall's "Dancing Girl Reposing;"
"The Toilet," by Wickman; "The Bavaria," by Schwanthaler; and "The
Psyche," by Theed.
There is another effect produced by tight lacing, which is too
ungraceful in its results to be overlooked, namely, that a pressure on
one part is frequently, from the elasticity of the figure, compensated
by an enlargement in another part. It has been frequently urged by
inconsiderate persons, that, where there is a tendency to corpulency,
stays are necessary to limit exuberant growth, and confine the form
within the limits of gentility. We believe that this is entirely a
mistake, and that, if the waist be compressed, greater fulness will be
perceptible both above and below, just as, when one ties a string
tight round the middle of a pillow, it is rendered fuller at each end.
With reference to the waist, as to every thing else, the _juste
milieu_ is literally the thing to be desired.
It has been already observed, that a small waist is beautiful only
when it is accompanied by a slender and small figure; but, as the part
of the trunk, immediately beneath the arms, is filled with powerful
muscles, these, when developed by exercise, impart a breadth to this
part of the figure which, by comparison, causes the waist to appear
small. A familiar example of this, in the male figure, presents itself
in the Hercules, the waist of which appears disproportionately small;
yet it is really of the normal size, its apparent smallness being
occasioned by the prodigious development of the muscles of the upper
part of the body.
The true way of diminishing the apparent size of the waist, is, as we
have remarked above, by increasing the power of the muscles of the
upper part of the frame. This can only be done by exercise; and as
the habits of society, as now constituted, preclude the employment
of young ladies in household duties, they are obliged to find a
substitute for this healthy exertion in calisthenics. There was a time
when even the queens of Spain did not disdain to employ their royal
hands in making sausages; and to such perfection was this culinary
accomplishment carried at one period, that it is upon record that the
Emperor Charles V., after his retirement from the cares and dignities
of the empire, longed for sausages "of the kind which Queen Juana, now
in glory, used to pride herself in making in the Flemish fashion."
(See Mr. Stirling's "Cloister Life of Charles V.") This is really like
going back to the old times, when--
"The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts."
In England, some fifty years ago, the young ladies of the ancient city
of Norwich were not considered to have completed their education,
until they had spent some months under the tuition of the first
confectioner in the city, in learning to make cakes and pastry--an art
which they afterwards continued when they possessed houses of their
own. This wholesome discipline of beating eggs and whipping creams,
kneading biscuits and gingerbread, was calculated to preserve their
health, and afford sufficient exercise to the muscles of the arms and
shoulders, without having recourse to artificial modes of exertion.
It does not appear that the ancients set the same value upon a small
waist as the moderns; for, in their draped female figures, the whole
circuit of the waist is seldom visible, some folds of the drapery
being suffered to fall over a part, thus leaving its exact extent to
the imagination. The same remark is applicable to the great Italian
painters, who seldom marked the whole contour of the waist, unless
when painting portraits, in which case the costume was of course
observed.
It was not so, however, with the shoulders, the true width of which
was always seen; and how voluminous soever the folds of the drapery
around the body, it was never arranged so as to add to the width of
the shoulders. Narrow shoulders and broad hips are esteemed beauties
in the female figure, while in the male figure the broad shoulders and
narrow hips are most admired.
[Illustration: Pl. 5.
Figure 47. Athenian peasant.
48. Shepherdess of Arcadia.
51. Athenian woman.
52. French costume of the tenth century.
62. Lady of the time of Henry V.
]
The costume of the modern Greeks is frequently very graceful, (Fig. 47,
peasant from the environs of Athens,) and it adapts itself well
to the figure, the movements of which it does not restrain. The
prevailing characteristics of the costume are a long robe, reaching to
the ground, with full sleeves, very wide at the bands. This dress is
frequently embroidered with a graceful pattern round the skirt and
sleeves. Over it is worn a pelisse, which reaches only to the knees,
and is open in front; either without any sleeves, or with tight ones,
finishing at the elbows; beneath which are seen the full sleeves of
the long robe. The drapery over the bust is full, and is sometimes
confined at the waist by a belt; at others it is suffered to hang
loosely until it meets the broad, sash-like girdle which encircles the
hips, and which hangs so loosely that the hands are rested in its
folds as in a pocket.
The drapery generally terminates at the throat, under a necklace of
coins or jewels. The most usual form of head-dress is a veil so
voluminous as to cover the head and shoulders; one end of the veil is
frequently thrown over the shoulder, or gathered into a knot behind.
The shoes, apparently worn only for walking, consist generally of a
very thick sole, with a cap over the toes.
One glance at the graceful figures in the plates is sufficient to
show how unnecessary stays are to the beauty of the figure. Fig. 48,
Shepherdess of Arcadia.
The modern Greek costumes which we have selected for our
illustrations, from the beautiful work of M. de Stackelberg,
("Costumes et Peuples de la Grece Moderne," published at Rome,
1825,) suggest several points for consideration, and some for our
imitation. The dress is long and flowing, and high in the neck. It
does not add to the width of the shoulders; it conceals the exact
size of the waist by the loose pelisse, which is open in front; it
falls in a graceful and flowing line from the arm-pits, narrowing
a little at the waist, and spreading gently over the hips, when
the skirt falls by its own weight into large folds, instead of
curving suddenly from an unnaturally small waist over a hideous
bustle, and increasing in size downward to the hem of the dress,
like a bell, as in the present English costume.
Figs. 42 and 49 are selected from the "Illustrated London News."
(Volume for 1851, July to December, pp. 20 and 117.) The one
represents out-door costume, the other in-door. Many such are
scattered through the pages of our amusing and valuable contemporary.
For the out-door costume we beg to refer our readers to the large
woodcut in the same volume, (pp. 424, 425.) If a traveller from a
distant country, unacquainted with the English and French fashions,
were to contemplate this cut, he would be puzzled to account for the
remarkable shape of the ladies, who all, more or less, resemble the
figure we have selected for our illustration; and, if he is any thing
of a naturalist, he will set them down in his own mind as belonging to
a new species of the genus _homo_. Looking at this and other prints of
the day, we should think that the artists intended to convey a satire
on the ladies' dress, if we did not frequently meet with such figures
in real life.
The lady in the evening dress (Fig. 49) is from a large woodcut in the
same journal representing a ball. This costume, with much pretension
to elegance, exhibits most of the faults of the modern style of dress.
It combines the indecently low dress, with the pinched waist, and the
hoop petticoat. In the figure of the woman of Mitylene, (Fig. 50,) the
true form and width of the shoulders are apparent, and the form of the
bust is indicated, but not exposed, through the loosely fitting
drapery which covers it. In the figure of the Athenian peasant,
(Fig. 47,). the loose drapery over the bust is confined at the waist
by a broad band, while the hips are encircled by the sash-like girdle
in which the figure rests her hands. The skirt of the pelisse appears
double, and the short sleeve, embroidered at the edge, shows the full
sleeve of the under drapery, also richly embroidered. In the second
figure from the environs of Athens, (Fig. 51,) we observe that the
skirt of the pelisse, instead of being set on in gathers or plaits, as
our dresses are, is "gored," or sloped away at the top, where it
unites almost imperceptibly with the body, giving rise to undulating
lines, instead of sudden transitions and curves. In the cut of the
Arcadian peasant, (Fig. 48,) the pelisse is shortened almost to a
spencer, or _cote hardie_, and it wants the graceful flow of the
longer skirt, for which the closely fitting embroidered apron is no
compensation. This figure is useful in showing that tight bodies may
be fitted to the figure without stays. The heavy rolled girdle on the
hips is no improvement. The dress of the Algerine woman, (Fig. 53,)
copied from the "Illustrated London News," bears a strong resemblance
to the Greek costume, and is very graceful. It is not deformed either
by the pinched waist or the stays. In the tenth century, the French
costume (Fig. 52) somewhat resembled that of the modern Greeks; the
former, however, had not the short pelisse, but, in its place, the
ladies wore a long veil, which covered the head, and reached nearly to
the feet.
The Greek and Oriental costume has always been a favorite with
painters: the "Vernon Gallery" furnishes us with two illustrations;
and the excellent engravings of these subjects in the _Art Journal_
enable us to compare the costumes of the two figures while at a
distance from the originals. The graceful figure of "The Greek Girl,"
(engraved in the _Art Journal_ for 1850,) painted by Sir Charles
Eastlake, is not compressed by stays, but is easy and natural. The
white under-drapery is confined at the waist, which is short, by a
broad girdle, which appears to encircle it more than once, and adds to
the apparent length of the waist; the open jacket, without a collar,
falls gracefully from the shoulders, and conceals the limits of the
waist; every thing is easy, natural, and graceful. M. De Stackelberg's
beautiful figure of the "Archon's Wife" (Fig. 54) shows the district
whence Sir C. Eastlake drew his model. There is the same flowing
hair,--from which hang carnations, as in the picture in the "Vernon
Gallery,"--the same cap, the same necklace. But in the baron's figure,
we find the waist encircled with a broad band, six or seven inches in
width, while the lady rests her hand on the sash-like girdle, which
falls round the hips.
Turn we now to Pickersgill's "Syrian Maid," (engraved in the _Art
Journal_ for 1850:) here, we see, the artist has taken a painter's
license, and represented the fair Oriental in stays, which, we
believe, are happily unknown in the East. How stiff and constrained
does this figure appear, after looking at Sir C. Eastlake's beautiful
"Greek Girl;" how unnatural the form of the chest! The limits of the
waist are not visible, it is true, in the "Syrian Maid," but the
shadow is so arranged, that the rounded form, to which we have before
alluded, and which fashion deems necessary, is plainly perceptible;
and an impression is made that the waist is small and pinched.
We could mention some cases in which the girdle is omitted altogether,
without any detriment to the gracefulness of the figure. Such dresses,
however, though illustrative of the principle, are not adapted to the
costume of real life. In sculpture, however, they frequently occur.
We may mention Gibson's statue of her majesty, the female figure
in M'Dougall's "Triumph of Love," and "Penelope," by Wyatt, which
are engraved in the _Art Journal_, (the first in the year 1846, the
others in 1849.) But the drapery of statues can, however, scarcely
be taken as a precedent for that of the living subject, and although
we mention that the girdle is sometimes dispensed with, we are far
from advocating this in practice; nay, we consider the sash or girdle
is indispensable; all that we stipulate for is, that it should not be
so tight as to compress the figure, or impede circulation.
In concluding our remarks on this subject, we would observe, that the
best means of improving the figure are to secure freedom of motion by
the use of light and roomy clothing, and to strengthen the muscles by
exercise. We may also observe, that singing is not only beneficial to
the lungs, but that it strengthens the muscles, and increases the size
of the chest, and, consequently, makes the waist appear smaller.
Singing, and other suitable exercises in which both arms are used
equally, will improve the figure more than all the backboards in the
world.