REIGN OF CHARLES IX.
1560 TO 1574.
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.”
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]