CONCLUSION.
I have now reached the conclusion of my History of Fashion. The present
belongs to my readers, and to the “Magasin des Demoiselles” appertains
the task of continuing my work, by keeping its subscribers informed of
the innovations in every department of feminine attire in France.
Have I fulfilled the task which I undertook? Have I succeeded in
imparting some interest to the subject of my researches?
I venture to hope so; for I have ever borne in mind that the triviality
of my subject was no bar to serious reflections on special points, nor to
the moral value of the whole work.
The “History of Fashion” offers to view one aspect of our own
civilization, and I shall esteem myself fortunate if, without exceeding
the limits of my work, I have been able to restore the curious details,
the extraordinary garments, in a word, the varied attire of Frenchwomen
from the most distant times to the present day, from the women of Gaul to
our own contemporaries.
This being said, let me now say a few words on the general conclusions to
be drawn from the details I have given; let me glance back at the path by
which we have travelled.
It is quite certain that the mode of dress, especially from the
seventeenth century, reflects pretty accurately the ideas of the period
during which each particular style has been in favour.
During the Renaissance, we have seen Italian elegance introduced into the
court of Francis I., while that of Henri II. gave an artistic finish to
society, and removed from Frenchwomen—and consequently from Frenchmen—the
last traces of that rusticity which had prevailed throughout the Middle
Ages, and which had found its only exceptions in the noble ladies
residing in their castles, who sought by boundless luxury to mark the
difference between themselves and women of inferior degree.
Under Louis XIV., Fashion ruled as a true despot, according to the code
of etiquette. “There are no regulations in convents,” writes Mme. de
Maintenon, “so strict as those which are imposed upon the great by court
etiquette.”
The Sun-King (Louis XIV.) regulated, with few exceptions, every
variation in dress. Costumes of ceremony were made to harmonize with the
drawing-rooms of Versailles.
But when the reign of Louis XIV. was over, more freedom was allowed
to individual taste, and the grandiose gave place to a lighter style.
Nothing was worn but gauze, gold and brocade, mythological négligés,
white satin skirts, and refined ornaments.
A comparative simplicity became fashionable, and ladies laid aside their
grandest attire.
The new style of dress suited the “rouéries” of the Regent, and the
fêtes given by Mme. de Tencin and other fine ladies who threw open their
drawing-rooms to the devotees of Fashion, and it was appropriate to the
perfumed boudoirs of the time.
Towards the middle of the eighteenth century we remark the prevalence of
the loose gowns depicted by Watteau in his exquisite pictures. They are
free, flowing, and open, something like dominoes. His lovely “marquises”
wear flower-embroidered slippers without heels, and with the points
turned up. Gowns were worn so low on the shoulders, and bosom, as to be
indecent.
Next come the excesses of a “loud” style of dress, hoops that are still
more extravagant than the vertugadins of old time, and the falbala. Great
ladies must dazzle, they must show the common folk that they possess
quarterings of nobility. They must prove that they made millions in the
Rue Quincampoix.
Dust must be thrown in the eyes of the world, a kind of consideration
must be obtained by display, if not merited by worth, talent, and
ability. One sort of “dust” was hair-powder, which may serve as a type of
the pretences of its time.
Luxury attained fabulous proportions. Four thousand jays were sacrificed
for the trimming of one dress; Mme. de Mategnon settled a life-annuity of
600 francs on her dressmaker, in payment for one gown. The Duchesse de
Choiseul’s dress surpassed anything that had ever been seen. “It was of
blue satin,” says Horace Walpole, “trimmed with marten fur, covered with
gold, and sprinkled with diamonds. Each diamond shone from the centre of
a silver star, set in a gold spangle.” Many families might have lived in
comfort on the cost of that costume. But who thinks of the poor? Is there
not the “hospital” to receive them?
All this display and luxury indicated the degeneracy of the time, and
certain philosophers rebuked the fine ladies, at the risk of being set
down as ill-tempered pedants, birds of ill-omen, and prophets of evil.
But the “petits marquis,” or fine gentlemen, entered the lists in defence
of the “petites marquises,” or fine ladies, who laughed at rebukes and
philosophy alike.
A reaction, the inevitable consequence of long-continued excess, set in
at the end of the eighteenth century.
Farthingales vanished, and scarcely a trace of powder could be discerned
on the hair, which was no longer perfumed. The most elegant among
Parisian women did not hesitate to wear flat shoes, as a protest
against high heels. Both men and women clothed themselves “à la
Jean-Jacques-Rousseau.”
They openly renounced affectation, and sought from Nature her perennial
adornments, and her matchless charms.
Then the Revolution of 1789 broke out. With a crash the past fell to
the ground, and tastes, instincts, and manners were changed by an
irresistible force; no longer were the reminiscences of the old Monarchy
evoked, but those of the Greek and Roman Republics, and Frenchwomen
endeavoured to copy the customs of those two nations, and chose to dress
themselves like the women of antiquity.
Nor did they give up their ideas even under the First Empire. All the
little attractions, and graces, of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries were non-existent for our modern Cornelias, for the disciples
of Sappho, and the imitators of Lucretia.
There were no original ideas; nothing but recollections, and imitations,
and the poorest copies. When we borrow from antiquity, we seldom do so
successfully, there are generally discrepancies which destroy all the
meaning of the original.
After the fall of the First Empire at Waterloo, the fifteen years of
the Restoration and the eighteen years of the July Monarchy witnessed a
return to monarchical customs, and to ancient habits. Fashion “restored”
the Middle Ages, and the attire of the “châtelaines,” and, as we have
shown, Romanticism in Literature and Art was exemplified in dress.
At this period, the middle classes, after struggling against authority,
assumed in their turn the reins of government, and dress was greatly
influenced by “bourgeois” tastes. Romanticism gradually disappeared,
and the prevailing fashions were entirely distinct from the art and
literature of the period.
Nobody can now recall the gowns with leg-of-mutton sleeves, without
laughing, and the bonnets of the period closely resembled the hoods of
cabriolets.
The revolution of 1848, left no trace on the history of dress. But after
the establishment of the second Empire, the splendour of the new court
recalled the days of the Regency and those of the Directory combined.
A craving for display turned the heads of all, and Frenchwomen became
conspicuous in the eyes of Europe, by a succession of lavish, and
unbridled whims. In vain did certain philosophers once again protest
against such immoderate luxury.
At length, after the disasters of 1870, a more chastened spirit appeared
to prevail, and former follies to have passed away; simplicity was aimed
at, as it had been in 1780. But this calm was of short duration, and in
a very short time new fashions and passing fancies were as prevalent as
ever.
In proportion as France became once more self-reliant, her government
stable, and her finances prosperous, the love for fine clothes spread
among women of every rank, and the International Exhibition of 1878,
having produced the immense effect we have already noted, an era of
cosmopolitism was inaugurated, and certain peculiarities of fashion were
borrowed from the most distant nations.
This is the point we have reached, as I pen these lines.
As the logical sequence of the above short recapitulation, let me again
repeat that good taste must be the arbiter of dress, and that good taste
exacts harmony in every part of the costume, secondary or principal. The
original type of dress has not changed, and probably will change but
little; but its subordinate parts will undergo continual alteration, and
will afford to future historians a subject of study, if at a later period
they too desire to give Fashion its rightful place, in a picture of the
manners and customs of France.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES
[1]
“Fashion is a tyrant, respected by mortals;
The fitting offspring of distaste and novelty.”
[2] “Fashions are certain usages, invented by caprice, and approved by
love, which fools, and sometimes the wise, observe.”
[3] “The wise man is never the first to follow, nor the last to abandon
them.”
[4]
“There is a goddess, troublesome, inconstant,
Strange in her tastes, in her adornments foolish;
She appears, she vanishes, she returns at all times and seasons;
Proteus was her sire, and ‘Fashion’ is her name.”
[5] The mercer’s list includes so many articles of which the names are
obsolete, that it is not possible to translate it.
[6] “Fair fame is better than a golden belt.”
[7] “Attire yourselves, mesdames, I pray, otherwise than in all those
falbalas,” &c.
[8]
“My book of hours, those of Notre-Dame, I must have,
And it shall be such as beseemeth noble dame of high lineage.
Of subtle workmanship, gold and azure, rich and rare;
Well ordered and well shapen;
Covered in fine cloth, or in wrought gold,
And when it is opened, to be closed again
With two golden clasps,” &c.
[9] The iron collar by which criminals were bound to the gibbet was
called a “carcan.”—_Translator’s note._
[10] “There may be seen in Paris many who possess neither money, house,
nor land, but whom you would take, at a glance, to be allied to the
greatest chiefs and warriors. They say that they come from England,
and are the issue of a count, or a baron of Anjou, and related to the
seneschals of Auxerre, or the lords of manors in Poitou. And for the
most part they come from holes and corners, out of the loft of a miller,
perhaps, or of the lineage of a cabbage, children of a gardener. The wife
of a mere clerk, or a doorkeeper, presumes nowadays as much as a duchess.
It would be well there should be an end of this! You shall see a simple
bourgeoise decked out with diamonds and jewels, and talking gravely, in
good sooth, in all the new phrases.”
[11]
“Ladies with turned-down collars,
Of whatever condition.”
[12]
“Our fair ones are so grand,
That to appear tall and fair,
They must have high slippers
Even with four-and-twenty soles.”
[13]
“To accoutre oneself like a Lucretia,
A Lombard woman, or in Grecian fashion,
It is my belief cannot be done
With honesty.
“Beware of being the inventress
Of new attire, for many a sinner
Might make thee her exemplar.
If thou would please God and the world,
Wear the dress that denotes simplicity
In honesty.”
[14] A cord twisted so as to form a figure of ∞ was called a _lac
d’amour_, or love-knot.—_Translator’s note._
[15]
“Heavens! how satisfied she was
With her good looks that day!
With all her dainty graces!
Look you, she had a bodice
Of the finest sky-blue, laced
With a lace of yellow, made for her.
And then she had sleeves of green
Of rich stuff, and a gown
Both wide and open.
...
Black hosen, little slippers,
White linen, a looped girdle,
And a fair kerchief on her head-dress.”
[16]
“For one coat that the wife of a bourgeois wears
The great lady puts on three, one over the other;
And letting them all be seen equally,
She makes herself known for more than a bourgeoise.”
[17]
“There was a time, before these customs,
When women were wise.”
[18]
“The ‘vertugal’ we will have,
Spite of them and their false envy;
And the busk at the breast we will wear;
Is it not a pretty usage?”
[19]
“The large vertugadin is common to all Frenchwomen;
The bourgeoises wear it freely now,
Just the same as the great ladies, if it be not
That the bourgeoise is content with a smaller one;
For the great ladies are not satisfied
With a vertugadin less than five yards wide.”
[20]
“Netted hair and hawk-bright eye.”
[21]
“Men and women out of pride
Starch their long ruffs until they find no equal;
But in hell the devil will blow (the bellows),
And the fire will be lighted to burn souls.”
[22]
“Velvet, grown too common in France,
Resumes, beneath your sway, its former honour;
So that your remonstrance
Has made us see the difference
Between the servant and his lord,
And the coxcomb, silk-bedecked,
Who equalled your princes,
And rich in cloth of silk went glittering
On his way, showing off the bravery of his attire.
I have more indulgence for our fair women
Who, in dresses far too precious,
Usurp the rank of the nobles.
But now, the long-despised wool
Resumes its former station.”
[23]
“That little popinjay,
Curled, ruffed, and milk-skinned,
Whose shining face
Puts even his mirror to shame,
And his delicate skin
Outdoes the tints of a picture;
That coxcomb whose mode of speech
Is mincing, soft, and lisping,
And whose foot when he walks
Would not crack an eggshell,
Took a fancy, the other day,
To marry Marie.
She was dressed almost as gaily
As her gallant.
And when they came to church,
The priest, looking at them,
Asked, jestingly:
‘Which of you two is the husband?’”
[24]
“So that at a first glance, each comer was at a loss
To know whether he beheld a king-woman or a man-queen.”
[25]
“What is it that is published? what do we hear?
Let us shut up shop, and of our goods make ropes
To hang ourselves withal.”
[26]
“Here lies under this picture, for having deserved it,
Fashion, which caused so much madness in France.
Death has put superfluity to death,
And will soon revive abundance.”
[27]
“A lady can never be admired
If her wig be not trimly curled,
If she wears not perfumed powder in her hair,
And a multitude of knots, pinned here and there
By four, five, or six, or many more,
As in her head-dress pleasantly dispersed.”
[28]
“Shall I tell of those fanciful creatures
Who wear lace on their masks,
And bedecking the eye-holes
Think the mask is perfect?
Shall I say that in the dog-days,
When one burns even in the cellar,
They wear gold cloth and velvet?
But it is not every day
That in place of patches our coquettes
Cover their chins with spangles,
And chew ginger and cloves,
That they may smell sweetly,
Or fennel—I lie not—
Or a strong herb like mint.”
[29]
“Mourning wife has joyful husband,
And the purse a truce until a new fashion arrives.”
[30]
“No longer are our ladies to be distinguished
From the women of the people;
Since a person of honour
Wears a coloured petticoat,
Or changes the fashion of her clothes,
In short, since she dresses herself
In a gaudy manner.
A bourgeoise does as much as that;
She too will put on plumes,
And stick on moustaches,
False hair and pads,
‘Tours,’ plaits, and knots;
White and yellow coifs,
With ells of lawn in them;
And those fine striped silks
Which are sometimes not paid for;
For often such bravery of dress
Hides much roguery.”
[31]
“It makes me furious to see Champagne
Lay his hands upon your hair.”
[32] Hurly-burly.
[33]
“However a gallant may slight you,
If not to-day, he will be caught to-morrow;
Whether he be indifferent or conceited,
In the end the _fly_ (_mouche_) stings him.”
[34]
“I increase the natural whiteness of complexion,
And the last touch put to her beauty
By a woman on her way to conquest,
Is an adjustment borrowed from the _flies_ (_mouches_).”
[35]
“But just think of their pattens
Which raise them half a foot.”
[36]
“Tall Lise _will_ be, despite of nature.”
[37]
“You will have clumsy actresses,
Half woman and half patten.”
[38]
“A stockade of wire
Supports the superb structure
Of the lofty head-dress;
Even as in time of calm upon the sea,
A vessel bears its masts.”
[39]
“Paris yields to fashion, and changes its adornments;
This people, given to imitation, and copyist of the court,
Has begun a day since
To pull down the pride of its head-dresses.”
[40] “Seemed to flutter in the ladies’ hair.”
[41]
“A woman in ‘pretintaille’ and ‘fontange’
Thinks herself as beautiful as an angel;
But this vain falbala, by its vast size,
Makes her as big as a tower;
And all this set-out inflates and stuffs her up,
Until she resembles a fat turkey.”
[42]
“When a thing is new,
That suffices to make it handsome,
And little is thought about other things,
La, la, la, &c.
“No matter who invents it,
So that it is extravagant,
Good taste yields to it,
La, la, la, &c.
“But it disappears
Almost as soon as it appears,
For all changes and will change,
La, la, la, &c.”
[43]
“My chiefest concern is the care of my attire;
Nothing pleases me more than a new fashion.”
[44]
“After dinner, the indolent Glycera
Goes out, just for the sake of going out, having nothing to do.
Her insipidity is deposited in a chariot,
Wherein her tightened body groans under the trammels
Of a heavy panier which protrudes from the two windows.”
[45]
“Is there anything more beautiful than a corset,
Which naturally defines the figure,
And shows how one is made
In the mould of nature?”
[46] This is a Provençal expression, meaning, “What does it mean?” or
“What is it all about?”
[47] It will not assist the reader’s imagination much to give the
translation of these extraordinary names; but here they are: “the
ingenuous maiden,” “the counsellor’s wife,” “the royal bird,” “dog lying
down,” “gallant pits,” “calèches with the hoods up.”
[48]
“Everything is to be ‘à la harpie;’
Ribbons, frock-coats, and caps;
Ladies, your taste grows instructed,
You are abandoning gewgaws
For a costume in character.”
[49]
“The ‘harpy’ is ill chosen;
Let us pardon this caprice;
But sometimes in the fashions
More justice is done to the fair sex,
And worthier laws prevail.
Ladies, upon your heads I have seen
The attributes of our warriors,
And laurels may fittingly be worn
By those who are conquerors.”
[50]
“Spangles on the caps,
On the toques,
On the little bodices!
Spangles
On the soft hair-bands,
On the large hats!
Spangles
On the black necklaces,
On the white shoes!
Spangles,
Spangles on the ribbons,
On the turbans.
Nothing is to be seen
Without spangles!”
[51]
“The diamond only ought to adorn
Charms which are hurt by wool.”
[52]
“What is the price, mamma, of those ugly caps?”
“Ten francs.” “The name?” “Madwoman’s caps.”
“Ah, that is strange,” interrupted Nicolle,
“For all our ladies wear them.”
[53] The author relates an anecdote here to which justice cannot be done
in English, as the play upon words cannot be translated. The anecdote is
as follows: “Une dame, ayant perdu son sac, voulut le faire afficher. ‘Fi
donc!’ lui dit un mauvais plaisant, ‘faire afficher un ridicule, quand on
en a tant!’”
[54]
“Thanks to the Fashion
No one has any hair (_bis_);
O! how convenient!
No more hair,
They say it is better so!”
[55] “There’s a warm, substantial person.”
[56]
“Yes, far from fields there is another Flora,
Born of art, and adored by Paris ...
Upon nosegays of which zephyrs know nothing,
A skilful brush lays cunningly
The gold of the gorse, the carmine of the rose,
Or the sapphire tints of the iris;
And then we see them, amid our orgies,
In the ball-room, far from the sun-rays,
Bloom in the glare of the wax lights.
Art applauding their brilliancy;
But on those flowers, children of another Flora,
In vain I seek the tears of another Aurora.”
[57]
“Besides, those heavy shawls
Which you delight in wearing,
Have previously served for girdles
To perfidious Arabs.
Ah! at those profane fabrics
I should laugh in my turn,
If in theirs they inspired you
With the taste of the caravans.”
[58] The familiar “bustle,” of course.
[59] Silk louse. Queen’s louse.
[60] Old woman.
[61] Peasant woman.
[62] This was the well-known “Ladies’ companion.”