REIGN OF NAPOLEON III. (CONTINUED).
1854 AND 1855.
Crinoline inaugurates the second era of Imperial fashions—The
reign of crinoline—Starched petticoats—Whaleboned
petticoats—Steel hoops—Two camps are formed, one in favour
of, and one inimical to crinoline—Large collars—Marie
Antoinette fichus and mantles—Exhibition of 1855—Cashmere
shawls—Pure cashmeres—Indian cashmere shawls—Indian woollen
shawls—“Mouzaia” shawls—Algerian burnouses—Pompadour
parasols—Straight parasols—School for fans—The fan drill—The
Queen of Oude’s fans—The Charlotte Corday fichu.
Crinoline made its appearance, and revived the era of hoops. It was an
ungraceful invention; the crinoline swayed about under the skirt in large
graduated tubes made of horsehair.
“Crinoline is only fit,” said a clever woman, “for making grape-bags or
soldiers’ stocks.”
This fashion was vigorously and constantly attacked. A lady, for
instance, taking her seat in a railway carriage, was compelled to hold
her flounces together within the space allotted to her; but a great wave
of crinoline overshadowed her neighbour during the whole journey. The
next neighbour grumbled naturally, but in suppressed tones, for fear of
giving offence. When the journey was over, very uncomplimentary remarks
were passed on the obnoxious garment.
There were several other modes of sustaining the flounces of a gown. Why
not adopt starched petticoats, or flounced or three-skirted petticoats in
coarse calico?
Horsehair was surely not the only resource for swelling out one’s clothes.
In spite of its opponents, or perhaps because of them, crinoline soon
ruled with an absolute sway.
Numbers of women, after holding forth against “those horrid crinolines,”
were ready to wear starched and flounced petticoats, less ungraceful
indeed than horsehair, but extremely inconvenient. The essential point
was to increase the size of the figure, to conceal thinness, and, above
all, to go with the stream.
Some very fashionable women invented a whaleboned skirt, not unlike a
bee-hive. The largest circumference was round the hips, whence the rest
of the dress fell in perpendicular lines. Others preferred hoops arranged
like those on a barrel. The most unassuming had their flounces lined with
stiff muslin, and the edges of their gowns with horsehair, and loaded
themselves with four or five starched or “caned” petticoats. What a
weight of clothes!
As for the steel hoops that were soon universally worn, not only were
they extremely ugly, but they swayed from side to side, and sometimes,
if not made sufficiently long, the lower part of the skirt would fall
inwards. Men smiled involuntarily at such exhibitions as they passed them
in the streets, but the fair wearers were not one whit disturbed.
The gravest political question of the day was not more exciting to
Frenchmen than that of crinoline to Frenchwomen. Two camps were formed,
in one of which the adversaries of crinoline declaimed against it, while
in the other its defenders took their stand on Fashion, whose decrees
they contended must be blindly obeyed. Moreover, crinoline had now
become generally worn, and its enemies were acquiring a reputation for
ill-nature, prejudice, and obstinate grumbling.
But though swelling skirts retained their pre-eminence in fashion, cages
and hoops were gradually succeeded by numerous starched petticoats, and
this was a slight improvement.
Crinoline therefore became less ridiculous, but not without a struggle;
and it took years to bring about a change that the simplest good taste
should have effected after the appearance of horsehair, whalebone, and
steels.
During the prevalence of skirts resembling balloons, ladies wore
very large collars, to which they gave historic names of the time of
Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., evoking reminiscences of Anne of Austria,
Cinq-Mars, Mdlle. de Mancini, and the Musketeers.
An immense crinoline and an enormous collar constituted the principal
part of a costume. The rest was merely accessory, and was unnoticed on
the moving mass for which the pavement of the capital was far too narrow,
and which offered a large surface to splashes of mud.
At the same period, Marie Antoinette fichus, either black or white,
and trimmed with two rows of lace, were very fashionable; they were
crossed over the chest, and tied behind the waist. Black lace bodices
were equally popular. Both looked very well over a low dress. Beautiful
lace, long hidden in old cupboards, was now brought out and turned
to account. Several articles of dress were revived in remembrance
of Marie-Antoinette. Besides the fichu, our great ladies wore Marie
Antoinette canezous and mantillas. The ends of the canezou finished at
the waist, while those of the mantilla were crossed under the arms.
Nothing could be lighter or more graceful. Both fichu and canezou found
fanatical admirers.
The Empress demi-veils were also a lasting success. Some were made of
tulle “point d’esprit,” and edged with a deep blond lace, frilled on;
others were of open network, and hardly concealed the face at all.
The year following the Paris International Exhibition of 1855, cashmere
shawls generally formed a portion of handsome winter costumes. Shawls,
even in Ternaux’ time, had not been so universally worn.
In addition to those of India, shawls of excellent quality were
manufactured in Paris, Lyons, and Nîmes, and in textures not inferior to
those of the East.
The pure cashmere shawls were entirely composed of cashmere wool; the
“Hindoo” cashmere shawls were the same as the pure cashmere, with the
exception of the warp, which was in fancy silk twisted at the ends;
“Hindoo” woollen shawls had the same warp as the Indian cashmere, but the
woof was of wool, more or less fine in quality.
Towards the end of the summer, as the evenings became cooler, mantillas
and basquines were succeeded by “Mouzaia” or “Tunisian” shawls,
manufactured from silk refuse, and generally striped in two colours. Some
blue and white ones were very pretty, resembling African shawls.
Algerian burnouses with Thibet tassels were greatly used for wraps at
theatres, concerts, and balls. French ladies, seen from a distance,
looked much like Arabs; but at least their shoulders were protected from
the cold, and that was the essential point.
Burnouses with slightly pointed capes, called “Empress mantles,” were
made in plush, Siberian fur, and plaid velvet. These mantles were
universally popular; they were worn in France, and throughout Europe,
being most comfortable as well as elegant, when gracefully put on.
In the same year straight parasols were succeeded by those with folding
handles, made principally of bordered moire antique, and trimmed either
with frills of the same, or with fringe.
These “Pompadour” parasols became more and more splendid; they were
covered in Chantilly, Alençon, point lace, or blond, and some were
embroidered in silk and gold.
They were mostly made of moire antique, and always with a double frill,
the edges of which were pinked. Generally speaking, the handles were of
ivory and coral. The lace coverings fell gradually into disuse, owing to
their liability to be torn.
The handles of parasols for morning wear were generally of cane or
bamboo; more expensive ones had handles of rhinoceros horn, green
ivory, or tortoise-shell, with coral, cornelian, or agate knobs. The
“bourgeoises” were quite satisfied to use such as these when out on
household business or paying unceremonious visits.
Parasols with folding handles were soon laid aside, and straight handled
ones, worthy rivals of the “marquises” or “duchesses,” resumed their
old place. Women of fashion possessed exquisite white or coloured moire
parasols, lined with blue, pink, or white, with handles of foreign woods,
tortoise-shell inlaid with gold, or rhinoceros horn. For country wear
they were made in écru batiste, lined with coloured sarsnet.
Parasols were now quite indispensable, for in the wide, open spaces of
Paris there was no protection from the sun, the trees affording only a
delusive shade.
At the same time, fans were in such universal request, especially
with young ladies, that it was proposed in jest to found a school of
instruction in the art of managing them.
According to the programme proposed for the imaginary pupils, the word of
command would be, “Prepare fans,” on which they were to be taken in the
hand, and held in readiness. At the word “Unfurl fans,” they were to be
gradually opened, then closed, then opened again.
Frenchwomen used their fans as skilfully as Spanish women manœuvred
theirs. A fashionable Frenchwoman knew how to manage very gracefully
all the accessories of her visiting or walking costumes, viz. her fan,
parasol, handkerchief, smelling-bottle, card-case, and purse.
In 1859 the public was much interested in the fan bequeathed to the
Princess Clotilde by the Queen of Oude; it was of white silk, richly
embroidered with emeralds and pearls; the handle of ivory and gold was
set with rubies and with seventeen diamonds of the finest water.
But, without being equally splendid, many fans of the period were worthy
of being classed among works of art. They were exquisitely painted copies
of the works of Watteau, Lancret, and Boucher. Since then young girls
have learned to paint fans in our art-schools.
One more variation must be noted in the fashions of 1859.
The Marie Antoinette fichu was succeeded by the Charlotte Corday, which
formed a sort of drapery, raised upon the shoulders, and loosely tied
in front. It was principally worn by the “bourgeoises.” In the “great
world,” to use an old but conventional expression, ladies preferred the
Marie Antoinette; the Empress Eugénie wearing it frequently, as did the
most fashionable women of the Second Empire, at varying intervals.
[Illustration]