THE FRENCH REPUBLIC.
1789 TO 1804.
The year 1789—Masculine style of dress—The double dress
vanishes—Caps “à la grande prêtresse,” “à la pierrot,”
and “à la laitière”—The “pouf” bonnet—Paint and powder
disappear—Prediction by the _Cabinet des Modes_—Anonymous
caps—Cap “à la Charlotte Corday”—Trinkets “à la Bastille”—Mme.
de Genlis’ locket—Cap “à la Bastille”—Federal uniforms—Claims
to equality in dress—Reaction under the Directory—“Incroyables”
and “merveilleuses”—Coiffures “à la victime” and “à la
Titus”—Blond wigs and black wigs—The Hôtel Thélusson—_Which is
the most ridiculous?_—Mme. Tallien’s costume—Epigram on bonnets
“à la folle”—Reticules—Transparent dresses—Lines by Despréaux.
Time has passed, and we have reached the year 1789. For a while, at
least, we must bid farewell to the reign of Fancy. Farewell, Arcadia!
Farewell, ye shepherdesses! Fashion is about to become simpler, as the
horizon darkens.
At the period we have now reached, the tastes of women were serious, just
as those of their husbands were political. They repaired to the Champs
Elysées in the dress of Amazons, wearing great coats and black hats,
carrying a cane or a whip, wearing a watch on each side, and a bunch
of rattling “breloques,” seals, and other appendages. Their hats were
helmet-shaped.
Such was the costume of the more audacious among them. Others, who shrank
from adopting masculine attire, assumed a matronly appearance by wearing
long trailing gowns of sober tint, either in silk or some fancy material.
All wore very short-waisted bodices, displaying a good deal of the bosom,
unless it were hidden by a gauze kerchief, or long scarf, which was
either printed in colours, braided, or brocaded.
The fashion of two dresses, one worn over the other, that had been so
general in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and the first half
of the eighteenth, had completely disappeared in favour of one gown
only. The arms were either altogether bare, with a sort of padded strap
at the shoulder, or were covered from shoulder to wrist by plain tight
sleeves.
Caps were occasionally worn, with velvet or silk crown, lace frillings,
and a graceful bow of ribbon above the forehead. These caps were tied
under the chin by a ribbon of the same colour, and fastened at the back
by a similar rosette.
The caps of former times were little worn. Some, however, still remained
in fashion; for instance, caps “à la grande prêtresse” (high priestess);
these were made of white gauze, and encircled by a broad ribbon. Old
ladies still wore caps “à la pierrot,” trimmed with quantities of lace.
Nor were caps “à la laitière” (milkmaid) quite given up; they were worn
at the back of the head. In 1789, the national cockade was worn.
Generally speaking, ladies preferred bonnets, and straw bonnets
in particular, trimmed with flame-coloured ribbon, and displaying
waving locks under the brim. Others wore “pouf” bonnets, with the
most extraordinary arrangements, on the outside, of military or naval
trophies; these were very popular for several years.
Everybody carried a fan, or an embroidered handkerchief, in the left hand.
But the women would no longer use either paint or powder—a miracle due to
the Revolution. Powder they considered unnecessary, paint ridiculous, and
both savoured of aristocracy.
What a change had taken place between 1789 and 1795, in the aspect of the
fair sex. At the time of the Convocation of the Notables, caps were made
“à la notable,” trimmed with beads, artificial flowers, and feathers;
next came caps “à la Turque,” “à la Béarnaise,” and lastly “à l’anonyme,”
for new names could no longer be found for all the vagaries of fashion.
The “Cabinet des Modes” of Nov. 5, 1790, observes: “Our way of living
is becoming purified; extravagance and luxury are diminishing.” The
anticipation was correct, but it applied to a very brief period.
Women either wore caps “à la Charlotte Corday,” a shape that is well
known at the present day, or went bare-headed, or wore at most a Greek
fillet, or a “baigneuse” trimmed with a large tricoloured cockade, and
showing the hair turned up in a chignon. Expensive costumes were very
rarely seen. “Déshabillés” in coloured Jouy cambrics, Madras kerchiefs,
or small red ones, took the place of brocades and silks and velvet
caracos.
Yet Fashion contrived to respond to all the events of the time. The
smallest trifle that attracted the attention of the masses was instantly
turned to account in some adjunct of dress. Was a rhinoceros or an
elephant exhibited at the Jardin des Plantes. Instantly caps were
manufactured “à l’éléphant,” or “au rhinocéros.”
A swallow pursued by a sparrow-hawk having fallen to the ground on the
Pont Neuf, a head-dress “à l’hirondelle” was forthwith invented. It
consisted of two little gauze wings stretched on steel springs, which
fluttered at each side of the head with the lightest breeze. A Chinaman
came to Paris, and immediately there was a rage for hair dressed “à la
Chinoise,” and for pointed shoes. Crescents were worn in the hair, in
honour of the Turkish ambassador’s arrival in the capital.
With regard to jewellery, the case was the same. On the taking of the
Bastille, small fragments of its stones were set in gold or silver,
and worn as necklaces, bracelets, and rings. The well-known Mdlle. de
Genlis wore a locket made from a stone of the Bastille, cut and polished,
and bearing the word “Liberté” in brilliants; above this a diamond
represented the planet that shone on July 14, and round the locket was a
laurel-wreath in emeralds, fastened by the national cockade in precious
stones—blue, red, and white.
The fashions “à la Bastille” lasted for some time. The cap “à la
Bastille” represented a doubly castellated tower in black lace.
A favourite head-dress was a hat, with a spade, a sword, and a cross
embroidered in green silk, surrounded by olive branches; symbolic of the
three estates—the nobility, the clergy, and the “third” (tiers)—as they
met in the Constituent Assembly.
Fashionable Frenchwomen adorned themselves with jewels “à la
Constitution,” also known under the name of “Rocamboles.” Their
so-called “Constitutional” earrings were of white glass, in imitation of
rock-crystal, and bore the word “Patrie.” A very large bouquet, “à la
nation,” was worn high up on the left side, composed of flowers of the
three colours, mingled with a profusion of myrtle.
A costume “à la Constitution” comprised a helmet-shaped cap of black
gauze, a cambric neckerchief, a vermillion sash, and a very fine cambric
gown covered with little bouquets of white, blue, and red flowers.
In the course of the following year, 1790, the Federation at the Champs
de Mars was commemorated by the creation of the Federal uniform for
ladies by a dressmaker of the Palais Royal. Fans “à la fédération”
were on sale, and women, joining in the movement, wore hats in honour
of “the nation and the charms of liberty,” with flowers, feathers, and
tricoloured ribbons.
I might give many more examples, for each event of the Revolution was
marked by a corresponding innovation in dress, but let it suffice to
state that at the period of which I am speaking, the whole theory of
fashion was based on the assumption of equality in dress. This may be
proved by referring to an engraving of the time, that I have published in
my “Histoire-Musée de la République.”
All classes were commingled, willingly or unwillingly, through love or
through fear; and many wealthy persons rigidly adopted simple attire.
It is easy to understand the effect of this state of things on Fashion.
The Revolution had proscribed gowns of silk or white muslin, as recalling
too vividly the attire of the Ancien Régime. The Republican style of
garment entirely enveloped the wearer, and gracefully defined the figure.
It was fastened with buttons, and a sash “à la Romaine” was knotted on
one side. The effect, taken as a whole, was charming. Jouy cambric was
the material usually adopted; the “déshabillé à la démocrate,” however,
allowed of a “pierrot” in brownish-green satin.
The reign of Rose Bertin had ceased with that of Marie Antoinette.
But although the queen of France found no one to take her place, that of
the queen of Fashion was aspired to by a Mme. Rispal, who, advertising in
the “Journal de Paris,” “offered a choice of dresses ‘pékin velouté et
lacté’ (velvety and milk-like), in African silk and in Chinese satin.”
She undertook, moreover, to make up caracos “à la Nina,” “à la Sultane,”
and “à la cavalière;” short skirts “à la Junon” and “à la Renommée;” and
gowns “à la Psyché,” “à la ménagère,” “à la Turque,” and “au lever de
Vénus.”
The above were republican garments, of which the cost bore no comparison
with that of dress in the eighteenth century.
But the reaction of Thermidor was followed by a reaction in dress; and
under the Directory, when the Terror was over, women went from one
extreme to the other, and spent ruinous sums in flowers, jewellery, and
diamonds.
In this respect the year 1795 is a remarkable one. Were the fashions of
Louis XV.’s time about to return? Were red heels, paniers, powder, and
patches “coming in” again? Well, not absolutely; but the return to things
of the past was manifested in many ways, and the more so because the
number of parties, balls, and concerts was simply incalculable.
The imitation of the classical dress worn by the Greeks and Romans
produced the “incroyables” and the “merveilleuses,” the mere pictures of
whom seem to us at the present day like caricatures, and afford us some
idea of the extraordinary freaks of Fashion.
Carle Vernet has given us admirable types of the “merveilleuses,” who
were the feminine exaggerations of the time of the Directory; of the
“incroyables” it is not within our province to speak. However, amid
all their exaggeration, the chief types of fashion under Barras and La
Réveillère-Lepeaux are plainly discernible.
Anglomania was the rage. “Everything that is untouched by Anglomania,”
says “Le Messager des Dames” in 1797, “is declared, by our merveilleuses,
to be ‘bourgeois’ to a frightful degree; to be in hideously bad taste.”
This somewhat singular predilection, at a time when we were at war with
the English, is explained by the fact that Mdlle. Rose Bertin’s workwomen
had left France in order to take up their residence in London.
The Anglomania of the “merveilleuses,” however, soon faded before a
more serious passion—“anticomania.” Every woman wished to dress in the
antique style, and painters provided models for ladies “de grand genre.”
Head-dresses were various. The hair was sometimes cut short and curled,
and sometimes powdered and drawn back from the face, after a fashion that
recalls to some extent the reign of Louis XVI.
Gowns were short waisted, with long tight sleeves or short ones, the arms
bare, or covered with long kid gloves; the skirt rather trailing, and
trimmed with gimp, put on in Greek patterns. The foot and white stocking
of the “merveilleuse” was scarcely visible beneath her dress “à la
Flore” or “à la Diane.” She also affected tunics “à la Cérès” and “à la
Minerve,” and coats “à la Galatée.”
A simple kerchief, or a small shawl of plain cashmere, was worn on the
neck. Felt hats, not unlike those worn by men, were occasionally trimmed
with flame-coloured ribbons. But the more fashionable “merveilleuses”
preferred a toque trimmed with ribbon in like manner, and very
effectively ornamented with a couple of white aigrettes.
“What confusion, and what fickleness!” observe the brothers De Goncourt.
“Caps à la paysanne, à la Despaze, and Pierrot caps! Caps à la folle, à
la Minette, à la Délie, à la frivole, à l’Esclavonne, à la Nelson! There
a simple bit of muslin, and an unpretending gauze lappet; here a turban
turned up with five blue feathers! A turban, made by La Despaux, ‘that
Michael Angelo of milliners,’ will be formed of a pink handkerchief;
another will be of lilac crape, two rows of beads, and above them a rose
and a heartsease! And as for hats! hats ‘à la Primrose,’ negligently
covered with a half handkerchief; turban hats, round hats ‘à l’Anglaise,’
gleaner’s hats, Spencer hats, and beaver hats, owe their names to
Saulgeot! Does Mme. Saint-Aubin take the part of _Lisbeth_? Mdlle.
Bertrand flings a large bunch of roses on straw, and it becomes a hat
‘à la Lisbeth.’ The assembly of the Norman electors is nicknamed ‘the
chess-board of Normandy,’ and a ‘chess-board hat’ immediately makes its
appearance.”
We must also mention wigs “à l’Aspasie,” “à la Vénus,” “à la Turque,”
Greek and Roman wigs, art head-dresses in the style of Sappho; “Doisy”
nets, linked tiaras formed of the glittering links of a threefold chain
of gold; and “les cheveux baignés,” that is, the real hair, worn with a
diamond crescent.
By way of ornament, dressmakers frequently made use of small pieces of
gold, silver, copper, or steel, very thin, and with a hole in the middle;
they were generally of circular shape, were sewed on to the material, and
called spangles.
Thence the popular song:—
“Paillette aux bonnets,
Aux toquets,
Aux petits corsets!
Paillette
Aux fins bandeaux,
Aux grands chapeaux!
Paillette
Aux noirs colliers,
Aux blancs souliers!
Paillette,
Paillette aux rubans,
Aux turbans.
On ne voit rien sans
Paillette!”[50]
All the adjuncts of dress remind us of antique times; we may note the
shape of shoes in particular—when, indeed, women were not satisfied with
wearing gold rings on their feet. It is curious to remark how greatly
shoes resembled sandals, only partially covering the upper part of the
foot. They consisted of a light sole, fastened to the leg by ribbons.
Coppe was the principal “cothurnus” maker, and was said to lend to that
class of foot-covering “inconceivable colouring, freshness, eloquence,
and poetry!”
Dresses called “Athenian” were made of diaphanous material. They were
open at the sides, from the waist to the lower edge of the tunic. Gowns
made with trains were worn for walking.
The celebrated Eulalie was particularly clever at drawing the long trains
of gowns “à l’Omphale” through the sash. If any one presumed to assert
that from their feet to their heads women were too little clothed, they
would reply,—
“Le diamant seul doit parer
Des attraits que blesse la laine.”[51]
Their light attire exposed them to diseases of the chest, nay, to death
itself, but they braved all dangers for the sake of Fashion. The gold
rings shining on their feet could not protect them from the cold of
winter, and yet they remained faithful to gauze-veiled nudity. A fashion
of wearing no chemise lasted only one week.
In consequence of the depreciation of the paper currency, sixty-four
francs in assignats was charged for the making of two caps; gauze for
three caps cost 100 francs; two dozen cambric-muslin pocket-handkerchiefs
cost 2400 francs; a brown silk gown, 1040 francs; and a batiste gown
edged with silk, 2500 francs.
This was in 1795. A year later an embroidered tarlatan mantle cost 7000
francs; the making of a cap cost 300 francs; a gown and a fan, 20,000
francs; and the silk for a mantle, 3000 francs.
These extraordinary prices rose higher still as the value of the paper
currency diminished.
The best dressmakers were Nancy for Greek, and Mme. Raimbaut for Roman
costumes. A Parisian lady required 365 head-dresses, the same number of
pairs of shoes, 600 gowns, and twelve chemises.
Among the ephemeral fashions of the Directory one was to dress the hair
“à la victime.” This entailed the loss of the victim’s tresses, which
were cut off quite close to the head. Ladies who adopted the coiffure
“à la Titus” were absolutely compelled to wear a red shawl and a red
necklace, that the whole costume might be in harmony.
Many ladies always dressed their hair “à la sacrifiée.” They were also
partial to wigs, blond at first, and afterwards black, though this
“anti-revolutionary” style met with great opposition both on the stage
and in print. Twelve blond wigs were included in Mdlle. Lepelletier de
St. Fargeau’s wedding trousseau. Mme. Tallien possessed thirty; each cost
five and twenty louis.
At a party at the Hôtel Thélusson, great admiration was excited by a lady
whose hair was dressed in the Greek style,—a band of cameos representing
Roman emperors encircled her head. Her gown was of crape, embroidered in
steel.
Between 1799 and 1801, the fashions, it must be conceded, were not
particularly graceful. A caricature that has almost become an historical
document, appeared under the Consulate. It represents a gentleman and
lady both dressed in the extreme of fashion, in 1789, 1796, and 1801.
Beneath the picture the author asks the question, “Which is the most
ridiculous?”
But women cared little for what might be said of them; they laughed at
comments, epigrams, and caricatures alike.
Not only did Mme. Tallien create a furore of admiration at the Frascati
balls, in an Athenian gown, wearing two circlets of gold as garters, and
with rings on her bare and sandalled feet, but there were other heroines
of fashion, if I may so express myself, who dressed “à la sauvage,” or
threw over their shoulders a blood-red shawl (sang de bœuf), squeezed
their waist into stays “à l’humanité,” and wore on their heads either a
hat “à la justice” or a cap “à la folle.”
The following epigram was composed on the caps “à la folle:”—
“De ces vilains bonnets, maman, quel est le prix?
—Dix francs.—Le nom?—Des bonnets à la folle.
Ah! c’est bien singulier, interrompit Nicolle:
Toutes nos dames en ont pris.”[52]
Fine ladies carried an embroidered bag or reticule, vulgarly called
“ridicule.”[53]
In 1803 a certain great lady wore a tunic of netted beads, with pearls
in her hair, which was dressed diadem fashion. At the King of Etruria’s
fête, her hair was arranged like the quills of a porcupine; a long gold
chain and enormous locket hung round her neck. Another lady adopted a cap
exactly like her grandfather’s night-cap, a veil falling below her waist,
and a tunic with which her puce silk spencer made a startling contrast.
Others, again, adhered to the transparent costume, with shoes sandalled
high up on the leg.
It was difficult to tell from the appearance of these ladies whether they
were Greek, Turkish, or French women. The over-transparency of their
attire gave rise to the following song, by Despréaux, in eight verses, of
which I transcribe the first only:—
“Grâce à la mode
On n’a plus d’cheveux (_bis_);
Ah! qu’c’est commode!
On n’a plus d’cheveux
On dit qu’c’est mieux!”[54]
The fashions of the Directory, especially the transparent dresses,
remained in favour during the early part of the Consulate. We may mention
the following novelties: Jewish tunics in organdy muslin or silk, light
or dark blue, buff or striped; drawn bonnets in organdy, and straw
bonnets with “chicorée” trimming.
Long hair was a thing of the past; every woman wore her hair “à la
Titus,” and covered the cropped skull with false hair, “cache-folies,” or
“tortillons.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Empire 1804
Directory 1795]