IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
On trying to set down a chronicle of dress as it lived in the earlier
part of the nineteenth century, my mind becomes immediately obsessed with
short-waisted gowns; and a vision of the hapless Josephine--whose name,
by the way, I should have added to the list of the few who have stood
godmother to a fashion--immediately appears before me in her graceful
short-skirted evening dress with its high Empire belt.
That all women kill the style they love might with truth be said of the
enthusiasm which raged for that Empire belt, for it grew smaller by
degrees and grotesquely less when it commenced its career immediately
beneath the arm, pushing the bust under the throat, presenting but an
apology for a bodice, and needing the completely slim figure to withstand
its liberties with any degree of decorum. Decorum was, however, not among
its ambitions.
[Illustration: SOME QUAINT EXAMPLES OF NINETEENTH-CENTURY HEADGEAR.]
For walking wear the high waist was no less a desideratum, and cloth
skirts, long and full, were completed by short velvet coats with long
tight sleeves, vests of white, and stocks of black. The whole was crowned
by small hats with feathers on one side, or high hats of masculine
convention made of cream-coloured beaver. Napoleon, following in the
footsteps of many of his predecessors in the profession of Royalty,
showed a nice appreciation of the charm of costume, being alternately
disapproving and encouraging in his criticisms, and always leaning
towards the side of prodigality.
Princess Pauline Buonaparte made dress the religion of her salon,
and there are records of her audacious grace in a fancy costume as
Minerva, and of one of her _soirée_ gowns which expressed the last word
of extravagance in pink tulle over pink satin, trimmed with marabout
feathers, and diamond _agrafes_, with the bodice encrusted, and every
seam of the skirt glistening, with diamonds.
In England Queen Charlotte evinced a decided predilection for the
greatcoat and the cloth pelisse with a velvet collar, crowned by the
circular hat of beaver, veiled with green muslin; and much favour was
granted to such masculine properties as the silk cravat and the boot
with the high military heel, the feminine situation being saved only by
the sprigged lace veil. An alternative to the pelisse was a garment not
unlike the Greek chiton, which, however, never received the attention
bestowed upon the boxcloth driving-coat with heavy capes, and the manly
etceteras to do it honour or dishonour.
It goes to prove my suspicion that there is a leaven of contrariety in
the soul of women, when I remember that beneath these was worn a cambric
or lawn dress of most diaphanous detail, and so close-fitting that the
feminine form, unfortunately not being divine, lacked under its influence
the best grace of reticence. Besides being of cambric and lawn, these
skimpy dresses were made of clear silk net over a foundation of white
satin, and all were very short in the waist and in the skirt, which was
trimmed with rouleaux of satin.
In warm weather the thick cloaks were discarded for the short cloaks and
mantles shaped as the Zouave, or in the short sacque style extending
only to the waist. A spencer in a contrasting shade of silk achieved
popularity and was considered the fitting complement to the muslin gown;
and about the year 1814 this was made with full sleeves and upstanding
collar and worn over the morning dress, which was either cut high to
the neck, or filled in with a ruff and kerchief of lace or muslin. A
fold of muslin also did service, crossed in front of the popular evening
bodice, whose _décolletage_ was more remarkable for its breach than its
observance of the best ideals of modesty.
A favourite ornament was a gold chain and heart, which would open to
reveal the eye of a lover, relative, or friend executed on ivory and
bordered with enamel; and this limned eye is a love token which seems to
be coming once more into fashion.
French fashions again became the mode at the beginning of the century,
when white chemisettes were worn with the Swiss petticoat, and powder
fell into disuse, and the hair was long or short in curls falling over
the face, a style of coiffure which was followed by the crop, in favour
of which even the most tolerant can find little to put forward. With
the crop a narrow fillet was placed round the head, holding a rose in
front, or over it an immense panache of feathers would nod with foolish
monotony. The cropped head had for its successor the style known as _la
chinoise_ for which the hair was tightly dragged back from the forehead,
with a long ringlet falling at the side, a plait set in a cluster of
roses crowning the top, which was further decorated with gold pins,
tasselled with small gold balls.
Many garments had foreign names. A robe known as the Mameluke had a
Delta trimming; a coiffure adorned with jewels and a double row of beads
on the forehead was dedicated to Egypt; and Austerlitz expressed a
nankeen-coloured gown with blue trimmings. And there were caps recognised
as Patmos and Tyrolean; and there were Spanish dresses, and Etruscan
borders to Pyrenean robes. The Patmos cap had charms which easily pushed
it to the height of success, when it was made of satin and lace cut into
points at the front, was covered with diamonds, and had tassels falling
at either side.
Beau Brummel, as he walked upon the Pantiles, carefully cultivating
towards everybody an insolence that would not be tolerated nowadays,
even in the richest member of the Stock Exchange, laid down the law of
dress for men. About 1811 he held supreme sway, and was the "Arbiter
Elegantarium," contributing doubtless to the gaiety of nations many a
new stock and new button. It was not long after this, however, that man
gave up fashion as a bad job, ultimately contenting himself for his
adornment with the details of his waistcoat and the cut of his whiskers,
begging the question at first by full-skirted coats with velvet collars,
frilled shirts and stock ties, tasselled canes, and light beaver hats,
then gradually drifting into the safe harbour of broadcloth and linen,
where he permitted himself selection only in the colour of his necktie
and the option of the hard or the soft hat. Gone are his glories of
brocade and satin and tight breeches, which revealed silk stockings and
buckled shoes; banished are the lace ruffles, the nankeen, the mulberry,
and the blue cloth with brass buttons; diminished are the curled heads;
and frankly I regret all these as losses to the beauty as well as to the
humour of social existence.
It was in the earliest days of the nineteenth century that artificial
flowers began to obtain considerable popularity, and they were used in
the hair and on the bodices and in festoons on the skirts, and on the
hems of trains. After the return of Napoleon from Elba, violets were the
conspicuous fashion, being regarded as an emblem of Imperialism, and no
faithful follower was seen without a bunch of violets in her dress; while
the ladies of royal sympathies would, in honour of Louis XVIII., decorate
their gowns with eighteen tucks, and supply their cashmere shawls with
vermilion borders.
Shawls, the manufacture of which had begun in England in the eighteenth
century, were in great request later in the century. They were made of
cashmere, in imitation of the Indian shawls, which were respectfully
considered articles of luxury and importance during all the days of Queen
Victoria, who chose these as wedding gifts for the brides she delighted
to honour.
But I progress too fast.
After the battle of Waterloo, fashion decidedly changed, and the
clinging gown, with its skimpy skirt hanging from a short belt or Empire
bodice, was discarded in favour of a much-trimmed dress standing well
away from the figure, and fancy would work its elaborate will on the
trimming of these skirts with scollops, many-coloured embroideries,
fringes and gold braid. The bodice still remained a minor quantity,
supplied with two short puffed sleeves and filled to the bust or somewhat
below it with a jewelled clasp or some decoration of embroidery or
lace, whose indiscretions were presumably to be concealed beneath a
dainty scarf of silk or coloured gauze, an elegance which failed in its
duties lamentably, and hung limply over the arm as if ashamed of its
delinquencies.
The fashionable outdoor dress could hardly have been suitable to the
English climate, unless indeed its habits have altered strangely, and its
detractors have reason for their abuse. The loose robe was of jaconet
muslin open at the neck and covered with embroidery, and round the
shoulders would hang the scarf, usually dropping to the waist, and held
in the hollow of the elbow; and on the head appeared a French cap of
blonde lace trimmed with ribbons.
In the 'thirties, dress was merely a travesty of the 'twenties; huge
sleeves and stiffened petticoats were universal, and the tight-fitting
bodices, cut with sloping shoulders, gave a thin flat appearance to the
waist, further accentuated by the ballooning sleeves, setting closely to
the wrist. The skirts were short, and still further enhanced the immense
effect of the sleeves; and round the waist a plain band added angularity
to the outline. Revers, shaped like capes at the back and pointed in the
front, were on day and evening bodices alike, and pelerines of all kinds
established their popularity, being tucked into the waist, or having wide
long ends crossed at the back or front. Blonde lace was a favourite
trimming to all gowns; and a style of dress that took the fancy for a
short time was known as the "tunic." This was made with a sleeveless
bodice and pointed shoulders, the under-dress being two inches longer and
of a colour different from the skirt, which was open in the front. Bright
colours were very popular, but, on the whole, the spirit of costume was
chastened, and muffs, fans, bouquets, and parasols became considerably
smaller.
[Illustration: LADY BLESSINGTON.]
The most conspicuous garments in the earliest days of Queen Victoria were
the shawl-shaped cloak, the circular cape, and the crossover made of
either embroidered crêpe or taffeta, and bearing on its borders a fringe
or some frill of lace. Beneath these the sleeves dropped lower and lower
from the shoulder, and extended their fulness from elbow to wrist; their
top was tight and plain, or edged with two little frills, and the billow
beneath was expressed in white lawn. The fichu in cambric or lawn was
a feature of nearly every bodice, the only alternative being a double
collar, which turned down at the neck.
The outstanding petticoat was ubiquitous, skirts over it being single
and trimmed with flounces, or double and dividing in the centre, to show
a contrasting under-skirt. Kerchiefs and capes were draped over low
dresses, and berthas were important features in the tulle or tarletan
gown, which was festooned and flounced, tied with ribbons, one skirt
being looped up over another with more ingenuity than elegance.
The bonnet poked its brim into an audacious spoon, tilting upwards to
reveal a trimming beneath of quillings and ruchings in muslin or net,
with a bow of ribbon and a bunch of feathers on the crown, whence fell
the curtain at the back to the neck. The poke gradually decreased in
height and width, eventually assuming a semicircle as close to the brow
as the bonnet of a barge-woman, and the French ladies adopted this
fashion, making the bonnets of straw and draping them with a green gauze
veil. About 1860 the crinoline of horsehair and steels "swelled visibly,"
like another hero, and Leghorn hats took the place of bonnets. These,
decked with ribbons and plumes, would bend low their brims over the face
of beauty and ugliness.
Hair was permitted every license except the monstrous unhealthy
misdemeanours of the Stuart and Tudor periods. In turn, it strained
itself rigidly to the topmost point of the crown, where, coiled in
plaits, it met the just reward of a disfiguring bunch of feathers; it
puffed itself out in a mass behind the ears, or banded itself demurely
over them. It merrily shook itself in ringlets from a centre parting,
which knew such sorrow as Macassar oil and the controlling influence of
the side comb; or, stuffed out with frisettes, it hid its insincerity
in the meshes of the silk and chenille net; or it lay low in flat curls
at the nape of the neck. At different times it placed the burden of its
rolls and curls upon every inch of the crown--on top of it, in the middle
of it, behind it, and in front of it, where, indeed, it once developed a
frenzy of disorder, and hung in wild and fringed confusion to the eyebrow.
[Illustration: LADY BLESSINGTON.]
[Illustration: LADY DALMENY.]
This reminds me to note the royal conservatism of her gracious Majesty
Queen Alexandra, who follows fashion at a dignified distance, lending
her sweet personal enchantment to our view of her antedated coiffure,
with its raised curls over her brow pointing slightly to the centre of
the forehead. Royalty no longer seeks to lead fashions, nor, indeed, to
follow them, the only exceptions to the rule of generality being the
royal ladies of the houses of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and of Connaught, who
all show a most delightful appreciation of, and a becoming sympathy with,
every vagary of _La Mode_. Yet our supreme Royalty takes interest in the
national aspect of the affairs of costume, and bestows much personal
trouble in arousing loyalty towards Irish poplins, British-made silks,
the tweed industries of Ireland and Scotland and Wales, and the lace
manufactures of Devonshire and Bucks and Nottingham.
The blouse and the teagown of to-day date their inception from the last
century, but the beneficent law of evolution concedes them the grace of
novelty, even while dogma tediously reiterates "There is nothing new
under the sun."
[Illustration: TWO COIFFURES.]
[Illustration: EARLY VICTORIAN STYLES.]
[Illustration: IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.]
In costume the Victorian era was "Everything-arian," welcoming and
discarding all shapes and styles of garments, and gathering in the
fashions from every age, adopting with mild enthusiasm and moderated
transport the most graceful and the most graceless, and impartially
bestowing attention upon the slashed and puffed sleeves of the Tudors,
the lace collar and wide ruff of the Stuarts, the Watteau dress,
re-christened "Dolly Varden," the short waists of the Empire, the full
coats and large revers of the Directoire, and the long plumes and
brilliant buckles of the seventeenth century. An injustice to the word
æsthetic was committed by the followers of a fashion which cried aloud
for sad colours, sadder shapes, and the saddest untidiness; and amongst
the ridiculous mistakes may be written down a polonaise dress looping up
in unexpected places, flounced and furbelowed without bounds of reason,
while extending itself from the waist over an immense bustle. There is
satisfaction in remembering the reaction which took place after this
in favour of the eelskin dress, setting as tightly as was convenient
from neck to heel, when the woven jersey-bodice had a short spell of
patronage, but, proving itself suavely unsympathetic in its treatment of
any but the perfect figure, lapsed speedily into disuse. About 1882 the
questionable charms of the bustle reasserted themselves, and the Watteau
style of frock exercised some beneficial influence over the waist of its
fair wearer.
Man's last aspiration towards dandyism gasped and died in the embrace of
the stock of Count D'Orsay. Now, woman alone rules the roost of fashion,
man is "no longer dressed but clothed," and under feminine autocracy,
dress, whose interests are widely and publicly recognised, has reached a
position of primary importance. No more are these interests represented
in an unwanted corner of a monthly periodical, or in the letters of the
town cousin to the country cousin, or in the counsels of perfection
signed by "the old woman." They maintain various journals established
in their honour, and in the field of Fashion England has risen from
the ranks to leadership; while a wide plain of cheap selection opens
to the proletariat the chance to beautify their outer as well as their
under wear, which has emerged from the uncompromising confines of stiff
long-cloth and Madeira work to the seductive limits encompassed by fine
lawn and embroidery, allied to Valenciennes lace and soft ribbon.
As I write, Fashion seems a pleasantly moderate thing, and the summer-day
dress of white linen, with a broad-brimmed hat encircled by the floating
veil, and the evening dress of chiffon garlanded with chiffon, appear to
justify my suspicion that "whatever is, is right, in the world of dress."
And, when I remember that the "picture" dress of to-day was the garb of
convention yesterday, I can hope that our bespangled nets and tinselled
brocades will in due course be encircled with charm from the halo of the
bygone. May it also, I pray, come to soften the hardest outline of our
leather-trimmed tweed and serge costumes of sport, and to exercise a
benign influence upon our disproportionate figures and our perky toques!