REIGN OF FRANCIS II.
1559 TO 1560.
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.
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]