AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PIERROT.
AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PIERROT.
AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PIERROT.
A good idea for a fancy-dress ball, if not one based perhaps upon the truest spirit of poetry, is "Greens"; chiffon or silk of many shades of green, with a head-dress in the shape of a cabbage. Very successful, though not inexpensive, is the Oyster dress, composed of a very thin white satin lined with pink satin, adorned at discretion with fringes of pearls, while a pink chiffon chemisette is gauged to admiration upon the draped white satin bodice, and the coiffure of the wearer is surmounted by a coronet of oyster shells set on a bandeau of pale-pink chiffon, with a floating veil of a deeper pink.
The White Queen fromAlice in Wonderlandcan be cheaply and sufficiently represented by a frock of white calico, with the hooped skirt set in a succession of thickly padded rolls, the hair net of white chenille, surmounted by a crown of white cardboard painted with the title. Ingenious, but perhaps not very becoming, is a dress of white linen, with a big clock painted in the middle of the skirt, the hands pointing to, say, 5A.M., with the obvious purpose of suggesting that the wearer is "Better late than never." A character which never fails to attract at the gay carnival is Mephistopheles, the feminine or masculine variety being alike adopted with avidity, in bright red, feather in the cap, and a little shoulder-cape, and spangles complete. A good costume for a man is the Druid, when he can arrange voluminous white draperies as he will, and take unto himself the liberty of the mistletoe wreath. A popular habit prevails of embodying the names of certain illustrated journals, and representing the titles of some books. Some daring innovator suggests labelling himself as a Doctor, and vows he represents the "Dark Lantern," and the principle opens up a large field for selection. Why should not an ordinary evening-dress-coated gentleman be labelled "The Sphinx's Lawyer," and "The Coming Race" be expressed by the Oxford and Cambridge crews limned on satin; and "The Imaginative Man" might have a pair of wings fixed to the shoulders of his ordinary broadcloth, a sign that he imagines himself an angel. The ground is fruitful of suggestion.
"Fancy me in fancy dress," sings some gay lady in some gay play, and the notion is full of fascination, which may best be realised, not by the borrowing of clothes, but by making them, planning them, inventing them, and, above all, wearing them with grace. We have passed the days and nights when we yearned to represent some tragic figure—when to appear as Marie Antoinette or Mary Queen of Scots seemed the pinnacle of delight. Gone too are the times when the representation of the lamp-shade would exhaust the inventive power of the many, and fled are our desires to coquette as a Columbine or flit as a fairy in white tulle.
In an assembly where none are masked, a masked girl may attract conspicuous attention, a monk who never draws cowl from his face may have a following of the curious; she who would dress as Money, in gold or yellow satin, jingling with golden coins, may be assured that she will be run after, and she who represents Cleopatra, or some other Oriental queen, blazing with jewels, will not be allowed to sit in a corner.
An audacious selection is the costume of the Wallflower in gold and brown, which looks its best when made in chiffon and velvet.
As a rule, it must be admitted that the finest fancy dress looks the best, and however charming may be the effects arrived at with muslin, cotton, crêpe, and calico, she who stands out in the vast crowd will be she who has the most magnificent clothes. The glories of brocade and satin and velvet will always hold supreme sway, allied to some distinctively grand head-dress elevated from the head on a frame and banded with jewels, with a long diaphanous veil flowing into a sumptuous length of train. The splendidly glorious is only rivalled by the darkly mysterious, and the maiden of the Yashmak, if only she has the liquideye that speaks the flirtatious soul, and the veiled Sorceress, if her wit be sufficient to carry the situation, may be quite irresistible: for always the unknown allures.
A SOUTH SEA ISLANDER.
A SOUTH SEA ISLANDER.
A SOUTH SEA ISLANDER.
THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS.
THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS.
THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS.
An idea which, to say the least of it, savoursnothing of conceit is to select the costume of a South Sea Islander, and it is one most easily contrived with a sateen foundation oversewn with feathers, and surmounted by a head-dress of erect plumes disposed in wild confusion above locks apparently uninfluenced by the persuasive brush or comb. You can see the result pictured, and note the contrast of the sleek knave of diamonds, whose dress should be expressed in red and blue and white and yellow, with black silk stockings.
In deciding upon a costume for a fancy-dress ball, the first thought of the reveller should be to secure the becoming and the suitable, and to be successful the choice should be mainly influenced by his or her personality. I quite realise the problem to be a difficult one, since happily we have not the gift given to us to see ourselves as others see us, else should we never meet a podgy Mephistopheles bulging out of his clothes, nor an attenuated Juno, nor a dusky Desdemona, nor a buxom Puck.
Most artistic and felicitous results may be obtained from copying costumes in old pictures; and visits to the National Gallery, and an afternoon spent at the Wallace Collection, will prove themselves at once a profit and a pleasure, and an easy guide towards the selection of the appropriate dress. It is advisable on such occasions to be accompanied by the kind friend who, without fear to risk a reproach, will counsel with all wisdom, and temper your ambitions to your personality.
An admirable item in the programme of the fancy-dress ball is the quadrille, the lancers, or the cotillon, which shall be danced by people clad in costumes of the same period, such harmonybeing a special pleasure to the beholder, who may nevertheless also glean some entertainment from the spectacle of the nineteenth-century Columbine hobnobbing with the fourteenth-century monk; and may no doubt get some satisfaction from the sight of Cleopatra in the arms of the Devil.
But I will linger no longer lightly in the realms of fancy dress, but penetrate the dark depths of Dominoes and Masks, leaving the many illustrations in these pages culled from the centuries to speak the last word of selection with most fluent and expressive tongue.
OF DOMINOES AND MASKS
Italian in conception, the domino is of ecclesiastical origin, and as such has retained its monkish aspect throughout the many changes rung by fashion. In its primitive form it consisted of a long, loose robe of black material with a cowl attachment which completely covered the head. During the middle ages, and, in fact, as late as the sixteenth century, it constituted the popular travelling costume of those engaged upon secret missions. Disguised in the habit common to the countless hordes of monks and other pious mendicants who infested the country, it was an easy matter to go, unnoticed, from end to end of Europe, the garb protecting its wearer and ensuring him immunity from criticism or inquiry.
Its serviceable shape and virtue of concealment led to the universal adoption of the domino, until it actually became as much an institution as the toga of ancient Rome. Clad in its all-enveloping folds, the hood drawn well forward and the face masked, the domino formed an ideal dress for intrigue, love adventures, conspiracy, ball, rout, procession, and evening wear in general over a galacostume. It owed its first entry intole monde où l'on s'amuseto those Venetian orgies and wild midnight revels encouraged by the Council of Ten as a means whereby the attention and energies of the youth of the capital of the Adriatic might be diverted from politics.
When the gay world made the domino its own, fashion decreed that it should retain its original shape, and this it has continued to do down to the present. The same conservatism did not extend to colour. As a matter of fact it has, at one time and another, appeared in all shades, and in every appropriate variety of texture, lined or unlined; in two or more tones, self-coloured, trimmed, or plain, sumptuous or severe, according to the tastes and inclination of the wearer. A man's domino, as typical of to-day as of five hundred years ago, consists of a long, ample robe of scarlet cashmere gathered into a plain yoke piped with satin. Three small cashmere buttons fasten it snugly from the throat downwards, and satin ribbon ties it across the chest. The peaked hood is lined with satin and weighted with a heavy silk tassel, and over the shoulders falls a short, pleated cape. Of the "angel" order, the wide, pointed sleeves are turned back to allow a narrow glimpse of satin, the fold held in place by a cord loop and a diminutive gold button sewn to the under arm seam immediately above the wrist. That the religious origin of the domino was never lost sight of is illustrated by the anecdote of the dissipated young reveller who, leaving a masked ball in the grey dawn, was met by an indignant father, who proceeded to load him with reproaches on the subject of his dissolute mode of life. Afterlistening for some time in filial silence, the son made the witty answer:
Beati qui moriuntur in Domino.
From Italy the fashion of wearing dominoes spread to France, and thence to England. In Paris the vogue reached its height under Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. During the reigns of both monarchs, and more especially the latter, masquerades and masked balls were the favourite amusements of the Court. Many entertainments were given at which dominoes were compulsory for men, the King alone being exempt from this rule. Louis XIV. generally elected to appear in a white domino of transparent muslin which merely veiled, without in any way concealing, the gala dress beneath. Dominoes at this period were richly trimmed, and contrived from costly materials.
Under the Regency masked balls were instituted at the Opera. At these public functions, safeguarded by the practically impenetrable disguise of a domino, all classes of society mixed indiscriminately. If tales of the time are to be believed, many a gallant has shadowed a domino the entire evening, only to make the humiliating discovery that the coquettish countess of his dreams was a tripe-seller from the market.
With the fall of the French monarchy the domino degenerated into an abuse, and was finally abolished, excepting for such occasions as carnivals and fancy-dress balls.
The dominoes worn by women differ from those worn by men in that they invariably manage to strike a distinguishing feminine note. The textures employed are lighter, being usually softsatin, silk, or mousseline de soie. The hood, instead of partaking of the severity of a cowl, is round in shape and, for most festive occasions, is trimmed with fluffy frills of silk, chiffon, and lace, further elaboration consisting of flowers. A characteristic example is of forget-me-not-hued bengaline lined with pale pink. The yoke sparkles with silver sequins and the round hood and shallow cape display frills powdered with glittering paillettes, and reveal inner frills of frayed pink silk and cobwebby lace the tint of old ivory, a bunch of shaded roses being fastened near the left temple and another at the throat. At the foot is a flounce which, when the wearer walks, shows occasional glimpses of pink silk and cream lace, and the wide sleeves bear sequin-embroidered cuffs and lace ruffles. A quaint domino is of gauze of an opaque whiteness, strewn with black and gold spots of varying sizes, the hood gathered up in the middle beneath a big white poppy, the petals tipped with gold and the centre of black silk.
For obvious reasons, many dominoes, both for men and women, were made reversible. Occasionally, in addition to the hood, a towering erection was worn on the head, causing the wearer to appear of supernatural height, and the more mysterious. And I pause here to observe with emphasis that at a masked ball a domino is invested with special interest when surmounted by a fantastic headgear, and that such an incongruous alliance as that of a white-powdered and curled wig and the black silk domino shaped as a gaberdine, with a full hood and lace-frilled silk mask, creates an effect beneath which an identity may be most easily concealed. Far more desirable, however, inthe interests of the beautiful, is it to select the domino and head-dress in sympathy; and I may quote as a successful blend a long cloak of jet-spangled net, with jet-spangled hood falling round the shoulders, and a high-pointed head-dress of the fourteenth century, with a pendent jet veil and a jet mask to cover the face, the chin being held by a few folds of net to match the veil. Dominoes made of net oversewn with petals of flowers, the hoods adorned to match and well drawn over the hair, and the masks of lace in butterfly shape, may also be quoted as decorative; and so too may the domino of accordion-pleated silk, but custom has somewhat staled the charms of this, and I would vote rather for the more sumptuous brocade, and urge the importance of liberality in its folds.
The mask has, at all times, been the essential complement of the domino. In its ordinary form it consists of a stiff shape arranged to fit the face as far as the upper lip. Moulded to the nose, it is provided with slits for the eyes and nostrils, and fastened by means of a button and a narrow elastic band. Now and then it is edged with a frill of lace which conceals the chin and further enhances the disguise. Black satin and velvet are most frequently employed to cover this kind of mask, the latter, by the way, being far more becoming; but the black lace mask is an innovation of modern times, sometimes failing in its purpose of disguise, and the chiffon spangled mask may be accredited with like disadvantage. Coloured masks, orloups, as they are termed in French, are also worn, but have little to commend them, being grotesque and ugly.
Authorities differ concerning the origin ofmasks. The most generally accepted theory is that they were first employed at the festivals of Bacchus, and recent discoveries have proved them to have been in use in ancient Egypt, numerous specimens having been found at the heads of mummy-cases. These early examples are composed of a substance closely resembling papier-maché, and painted in imitation of life.
It was in Greece, however, that the mask reached its apotheosis. There it formed an indispensable factor in classic drama. Its introduction on the stage is attributed to Thespis, who is held to have substituted masks for cosmetics.
There is no confusing the mask peculiar to the Greek theatre with that of any other country or period. The industry rose to the dignity of an art, as the beauty-loving Hellenes would tolerate nothing ugly or ill-made on their actors.
The dramatic masks consisted of an entire head, with hair, beard, and ornaments arranged in exact accordance with the character to be portrayed. All the features were strongly accentuated, vividly coloured, and of supernatural size. The eyes were deeply sunken, the nose exaggerated, and the mouth open. Inside the parted lips was a metal construction designed to make the voice carry a considerable distance—a necessary measure, as all performances took place in colossal open-air buildings. The moment an actor appeared upon the scene a glance at his mask sufficed to determine the rôle he was about to play; and, whether masculine or feminine, the details were equally exact.
How comprehensive the range of selection was may be gathered from the fact that masks were broadly divided into three great classes, namely,Tragical, Comical, Satirical, each of which was in turn subdivided as follows:—
1. Eight masks of old men, typifying differences of age, rank, humour, etc.
2. A series of eleven masks of young men.
3. Seven varieties of masks of slaves.
4. Eighteen masks of women.
In addition to the above, the masks depicting gods and heroes were placed in a separate category. These never varied, and each displayed the attributes of the deity portrayed. Thus Actæon appeared with the antlers of a deer, Argus with a hundred eyes, Diana with a crescent; and so on.
The earliest masks were fashioned from wood fibre, which in due time gave place to leather, and finally to wax.
In Rome the art of mask-making was further elaborated. Trades and professions were distinctively personated. Double-faced masks were introduced, one side representing laughter and the other tears, so that by turning his right or left profile to the audience, the actor could change his expression at will.
Among the Romans the use of the mask was not restricted to the theatre. It was worn in processions, and at certain festivals, notably those dedicated to Pan, where masks of vine leaves were customary. A strange funeral rite consisted of a performance given by a comedian wearing a mask made in the likeness of the defunct. This mummer's mission was to follow the coffin, acting and reciting the salient features of the dead man's career, impartially setting forth both the good and the bad.
In the reign of Augustus, patrician ladies werein the habit, when indoors, of wearing masks delicately perfumed and treated with cosmetics. This fashion was revived by Henry III. of France and his courtiers for the preservation of the complexion.
The fall of the Roman Empire marked the disappearance of the mask from the stage. From then onward it appeared only in pantomime, where the mask of Punchinello is familiar to this day. The nutcracker countenance, with its highly-coloured cheeks and tinkling bells, is a survival of extreme antiquity. I pause to wonder who the old Greek may have been whom the maker of masks thus immortalised? There is a world of cynicism, pathos, and philosophy in his face. I feel that he sorrowed, and that it was not because he knew too little, but because he knew too much.
The practice of wearing masks, by private individuals in everyday life, started, as did the fashion for dominoes, in Venice. There the black satin and velvet masks, still worn at fancy-dress balls and during Carnival time, first obtained, to be enthusiastically adopted in France and England a little later on. In the latter country, however, the use of the mask never degenerated into an abuse as in France, although masks became so fashionable in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that society ladies deemed them an essential accessory to the toilette. They were not always worn: sometimes they were carried in the hand and held up to the face only when necessary. The exclusive elected to appear masked at the theatre and other public places.
But the universal wearing of masks became such a public menace and incentive to crime thatin 1535 an edict was issued in France prohibiting the fashion excepting during Carnival time. Under Henry IV. the privilege was restricted to the nobility, and it was made a capital crime for any commoner to don a mask.
With Louis XIII. the mask fell into temporary abeyance, only to be revived with renewed vigour under his successor. The first occasion upon which Louis XIV. appeared in a mask was at the Palais Cardinal in January 1656. From that date until January 1668 he was an enthusiastic supporter of the vogue. The fashion, prevalent in 1650, of ladening masks with superfluous trimming was of but short duration. While the craze lasted a ruching of lace adorned the top, a lace frill the bottom, and the eyes were encrusted with various decorations to such an extent that ladies, descending from their carriages, were obliged to be led, it being impossible for them to see. The preposterous vogue inspired Scarron's ditty:
Dirai-je comment ces fantasquesQui portent dentelles à leurs masquesEn chamarrent les trous des yeuxCroyant que leur masque en est mieux.
Dirai-je comment ces fantasquesQui portent dentelles à leurs masquesEn chamarrent les trous des yeuxCroyant que leur masque en est mieux.
Dirai-je comment ces fantasquesQui portent dentelles à leurs masquesEn chamarrent les trous des yeuxCroyant que leur masque en est mieux.
Dirai-je comment ces fantasques
Qui portent dentelles à leurs masques
En chamarrent les trous des yeux
Croyant que leur masque en est mieux.
Like its associate the domino, the mask gradually faded away with the passing of the eighteenth century. In Italy it enjoyed the longest and most undisputed sway. There it was worn by all members of the community, including the clergy. The Council of Ten, the Inquisitors, and the members of the Holy Office generally, both in Italy and Spain, were closely masked when employed upon the exercise of their terrible functions.
Certain unwritten but universal and indisputable laws rule the wearing of masks. Whether worn privately or in public, its disguise has at all times and in all countries been respected as inviolably sacred. To the masked the greatest extravagance of language and gesture is permitted. He is allowed to indulge in acrid personalities and proclaim scathing truths which, even if addressed to the monarch himself, go unrebuked. To strike a mask is a serious offence, while in no class of society, however degraded, would any one dare to unmask a woman. Yet another prerogative entitles the masked to invite any woman present, whether masked or not, to dance with him, etiquette decreeing that the queen of the land may not claim exemption from this rule. Dear to romance is the masked highwayman, who flourished until the advent of railways robbed him of his occupation; and a grim figure is ever the masked headsman.
Of numerous romances, none has equalled in fascination that of the impenetrable mystery of le Masque de Fer. Held by many to have been brother to Louis XIV., this strange prisoner of State guarded his incognito to the end. He was never seen without a pliable steel mask provided with a movable mouthpiece to allow of his eating with comparative ease. Other peculiarities of his were his fondness for exquisitely fine linen and his habit of invariably dressing in brown.
No mode ever invented has appealed so strongly to the imagination, or given rise to such tragedies and comedies, as that of the mask, and no other has led its followers to such flights of folly. Nevertheless, I find myself sighing for the days when it invested the neutral-tinted world with the glamour of romance, twin sister of mystery, which was theprevailing atmosphere when fashion decreed that men and women should assume a common disguise and flit, shadow-like, among other nameless shadows through the complicated mazes of their social highways and byways.
OF MATERIALS, THE CORSET, AND THE CRINOLINE
The material question seems to have been answered in every country save England, where the initiative in manufacture is conspicuous by its absence, though we have through the centuries so successfully begged, borrowed, stolen, or acquired an expert knowledge of the various textile arts, that every manufactured fabric is now grist which may come from our mill.
The art of cloth-making the early Britons learned from the Romans, but their ambition towards this industry died after the departure of their instructors, not actively asserting itself again until, at the suggestion of Philippa of Hainault, some Flemish weavers established themselves at Norwich—a policy evidently successful enough to induce Edward III. in the fourteenth century to invite a Flemish weaver to teach the art to "such of our people as shall be inclined to learn it."
The trade was started at Kendal, spreading to York and thence to many different towns, where there grew up in due course the manufacture of broadcloth, baizes, kerseys, and serges, the North of England then, as to this day, holding the best interests of the cloth trades firmly in the hollow ofits hand. It is interesting to note that an Act was passed forbidding all save the King and Queen and her children to wear any cloth but that made in England, for here we may trace surely the work of the legitimate ancestor of our passionate protectionist, Joseph Chamberlain.
But, after all, woollen cloth is dull stuff, and the first on the list of fabrics aiming at the beautiful is cloth of gold, which made its bid for fame in the days of Richard II., whose patronage of the luxury was, however, mild in comparison with that of that past master in the art of prodigality, Henry VIII., who is said to have had as many as twenty-five suits of cloth of gold, securing it at a price of 40s. per yard, which does not seem a very extravagant sum to-day.
A textile used in England during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is imperial, wrought with gold, and credited with being woven at the workshops kept by the Byzantine Emperors; and gold also gave its assistance to the making of a well-known stuff in the Middle Ages christened baudekin, which later came to be a term signifying any rich silk. A variety of the cloth of gold was plunket cloth of gold—plunket, however, being more properly described as a coarse woollen cloth; yet it is authentic that Richard III. had a gown lined with this, and in revels held by Henry VIII. at Greenwich it was registered that there were six ladies in "crimosin plunket" embroidered with gold and pearls, so that fashion seems to have idealised the homely plunket, which in its original state would have been more suitably classed with home-spuns, burnet, russet, and frieze. In the fourteenth century taffeta was introduced intoEngland, and taffy was the name of a watered edition of this, which we owe to the refugees, who crowded here in their numbers, and made us familiar with brocade amongst other novelties. Satin was known in England as early as the thirteenth century, having been imported into Europe from China, but not achieving much popularity owing to its exorbitant price, though later Henry VIII. had a great predilection for it in red. Amongst stuffs associated immortally with history and romance are sackcloth and samite, and the latter, besides bearing its fame down from biblical days, has been credited with possessing every known virtue that the textile is heir to; it was originally, no doubt, a heavy silk material woven with a thread of six fibres, and carrying thick upon its surface most glossy honours. When Sir Launcelot came to King Arthur, the poet says:
Lancelot and the queene were clede,In robes of a rich weede,Of samit white, with silver shredde.
Lancelot and the queene were clede,In robes of a rich weede,Of samit white, with silver shredde.
Lancelot and the queene were clede,In robes of a rich weede,Of samit white, with silver shredde.
Lancelot and the queene were clede,
In robes of a rich weede,
Of samit white, with silver shredde.
And it is in white we invariably picture it, yet more constantly in olden days it was made in red. Suffering much change in its orthography, it was originally written "samits," later "samit," and finally invested with the final "e," and yet while every record grants it a silken surface, some German scholar, owing to the circumstance that to this day their word "samt" expresses velvet, is quite convinced that the samit of old was of velvet substance.
To China was accorded the privilege of persuading us permanently of the charms of brocade and velvet, and the descriptions of the mediæval velvets suggest that this could have been no difficult task,for they include diapered velvets, figured velvets, changeable velvets, velvets figured with white, and velvets worked upon gold, while the Genoese and the French rivalled each other in the best manufacture of these.
The making of linen has been traced back to the early Egyptians, and the art was brought to England by the Romans, but a very fine linen dedicated to altar cloths and shirts in the middle ages was first manufactured at Rennes in Brittany. The English linen trade made no great stride until the reign of Charles I., and lawn and cambric were first greatly used in England in the sixteenth century.
Fur as a trimming appears to have had no popular existence previous to the thirteenth century, but after the reign of Henry III. it bears its part bravely in romance and chronicles, ermine being pre-eminent together with a fur known as lettice, which closely resembles it; there were lettice caps worn by ladies in the reign of Elizabeth, who indeed forbade their wear to any but "a gentlewoman born, having arms," and sable was permitted only to the nobility and to certain officers of the Royal household in the Middle Ages.
Lace has paid for its success in a disputed birthplace, for both Flanders and Italy claim its first manufacture, the experts declaring in favour of the latter, and asserting that Italy bore the art to Spain and passed it on to Flanders. In any case Venice must be granted the first prize for the beauty of its lace, which in early days was enriched with gold and silver. Caen is accorded the honour of having first introduced blonde lace, while France and Switzerland and Belgium have all contributedtheir share towards the perfecting of "the most fascinating of all fabrics," and different events of history have brought no small influence to bear on the popularity of different laces in different periods, the foreign-made bone-lace obtaining the distinction of being banished from England by royal order. In the reigns of the Stuarts, lace adorned alike feminine and masculine attire, and the collar of the luckless King Charles I. in his many pictures by Vandyke has stamped the fact indelibly on our minds. The Commonwealth greatly affected the manufacture of lace in England, though some of the most rigid Puritans continued to wear Flanders lace, and the dead body of the Protector was "robed in purple velvet, ermine, and richest Flanders lace"—not so bad for the simple cerements of the greatest socialist who ever lived! The passion for wearing lace reached its height in England in the reign of William and Mary, when lace was indispensable to the most exalted wearers of the commodes, and its influence was essential on the full cravats and ruffles. In the reigns of George I. and George II., Brussels lace grew especially popular; but English lace reached a pitch of perfection at this period, Devonshire being especially famous for the industry. In its delicate meshes lace has held captive to its charms many earnest students who have set down its biography in various volumes, and to skim these hurriedly is to do them wrong; so in passing I would recommend their pages to the leisured, while chronicling that we have known lace needle-run or pillow-made for nearly four centuries, and that it was preceded by the "cut out," theappliqué, and an embroidery worked in stiffly conventional design on net with cords of thread.
The most faithful and punctilious archæologists confess that the origin of the corset must be written down to the credit or discredit of man, for they find the birth of its existence may be dated in the far antiquity, when the savage made his hunting belt of leather stiffened with bone or hard stick held with a thong of hide, and as decorative as useful, since it was adorned with shells and quills and served to hold the knife or quiver.
Ovid recommends the fair ones of his day to wear those ingenious constructions which give lines to the bust and all it lacks, while Homer describes Juno as wearing a ceinture ornamented with a thousand fringes, and we are, of course, convinced of the fact that she borrowed from Venus a famous cestus wherein were all the pains and penalties of love.
The ancient Greeks and Romans sternly opposed the corset, and yet they yielded to the necessity for bands and belts to support the bust, this band being usually made of embroidered leather. There is indisputable proof that in the earliest days of civilisation there was in use a variety of contrivances for the reduction of the feminine figure, and in a most interesting chronicle I read that "Amongst the works of art discovered amongst the ruins of one of the mysterious forest cities in South America is a bas-relief representing a female figure which, in addition to a profusion of massive ornaments, wears a complicated and elaborate waist bandage, which by a system of circular and transverse folding and looping confines the waist just below the ribs to the hips." What could be more conclusive? Here is obviously the ancestress of the straight-frontedSpécialitécorset.
The origin of the word "stays" comes from stay, to support; the term "corset" may have been developed from "corps": the term "corse," however, must not be confounded with it, and Planché considers this should apply merely to the bodice of a gown. The earliest method of making the stay was with pieces of cane, and this may be compared favourably with a variety obtaining as lately as in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This was made of steel with broad pieces of steel shaped to the hips, and clamped or hinged under each arm, being straightly stiff at the top of the front and the back, where it reached up to the shoulder-blades. These frames, however, were not primarily used to reduce the waist, for they were worn over a corset, so that the dress might yield not to the weakness of a single fold, and that the stomacher might present a front of unruffled smoothness. A development of this stay showed it curved at the top, front, and back, somewhat in the outline of those we wear now, but clamped together down the back, and made of the stiffest of iron, and decorated with countless meaningless-looking little holes and apertures. This was the style adopted by Catherine of Medici, which permitted her the questionable joy of reducing her waist to thirteen inches.
Christine of France, we are told by Jacob the bibliophilist, wore a "justaucorps" embroidered in gold and studded with precious stones; this was a remarkable shape, not defining the waist at all, and finished off with an indented basque.
The first mention of what may rightly be termed the corset is at the end of the fourteenth century, when the dresses cut low in the frontintroduced by Isabella of Bavaria were responsible for the innovation, and made popular the wearing of the new garment, which was made in all kinds of materials laced either at the front or at the back.
At the end of the fifteenth century the basquine was adopted, a corset of stout linen or cotton with a busk of wood or metal at the front. Rabelais says, "The ladies at the Court of Francis I. wore basquines, and a silk camlet over their chemises," and it is needless to say that they incurred the displeasure of the preachers of the day; indeed Charles IX. and Henry III. issued several stringent laws with regard to the corset, being convinced that it was highly injurious to the health of its wearers, and the corps piqué which was worn in this reign was neither more nor less than an instrument of torture, compressing the body into a hard unyielding mould, the splinters of wood often tearing the skin. Until the end of the sixteenth century the tailor had the monopoly of corset-making, and his methods seem to have been anything but tender. It was in the seventeenth century that Ben Jonson pathetically complained
The whalebone man,Who quilts the bodies I have leave to span.
The whalebone man,Who quilts the bodies I have leave to span.
The whalebone man,Who quilts the bodies I have leave to span.
The whalebone man,
Who quilts the bodies I have leave to span.
In the reign of Louis XV. corsets were cut away on the hips and laced at the back, the long busks of wood or steel being only in the front; whalebone was used to stiffen the corset, which was sometimes made in two pieces and laced under the arms, and it was invariably supplied with shoulder-straps, and began in those days to take unto itself such rich materials as brocade and satin embroideredin gold chenille or silk. The Directoire period produced a classic zone worn outside the dress, a mode that soon gave place to the boneless corset, a fleeting fancy, for all costume worn in the time of Louis XVI. owes its greatest charm to the stays, the bodices being cut into long points and fitted tightly from bust to waist. In some instances these bodices were sewn on to the figure of the wearer after the stays had been laced to their extreme limit, and many of Hogarth's figures prove the influence of the very stiff stay, the figures being erect in an uncomfortable degree, for it is impossible to imagine any human creature achieving such excellence of carriage without considerable support from without, and some inconvenience from within.
In the later days of the eighteenth century greater comfort was granted, when the short-waisted dress prevailed, together with the most laudable ambition to copy the flowing elegance of the classic period. But the rule of ease did not obtain long, and in the early times of the nineteenth century the fashion of tight lacing was revived with enthusiasm, stays being composed of bars of iron and steel with the tops stiffly steeled so that the shoulder-straps might be dispensed with. Women suffered a craze for compression, until the sixth decade of the nineteenth century, when its influence was somewhat less essential by reason of the ubiquity of the crinoline, which gave a semblance of the small waist to the least slender.
The crinoline boasts as its great-great-grand-mother the farthingale or vertingale, which was worn in France in the reign of Henry II., whenit is described as a cage put on beneath the petticoat to inflate it to extravagant extent. It was, however, in the days of Elizabeth that the farthingale reached its apogee, and according to Sir Roger de Coverley made its wearers look as if they were "standing in a drum." Early in Charles I.'s reign it went out of fashion, and when Catherine of Braganza and her Portuguese ladies wore it on coming to London for her marriage with Charles II., the anachronism attracted crowds of amused spectators. The farthingale, in fact, had become obsolete, to reappear, however, in the somewhat more convenient form of the hooped petticoat which swelled in the reign of Anne. The contour of this was very slightly altered in the reign of George I., the sides being more curved at the front and the back, and the old shape of the circular farthingale was preferred with the trainless gown. 1796 is the date given when hoops were discarded except at Court, and the real crinoline made its appearance in 1854, the previous year having witnessed the crinoline petticoat as an ordinary adjunct to dress. The Empress Eugénie pronounced in favour of the crinoline, and it became the mode, remaining so for many years, while those few who refused to give it patronage gave hostages to fashion in the horsehair-stiffened petticoat. The crinoline in those days was of the skeleton kind and formed of hoops of steel held together by perpendicular tapes, but it soon developed into a petticoat of calico with the steels running through it at intervals from hem to waist. It is amongst the fashions over which even the most pessimistic may hopefully write "Ichabod."
OF CEREMONIAL AND BRIDAL DRESS
The rules and regulations of ceremonial dress are as exacting, if not as unalterable, as ever were those of the Medes and Persians. Kings and Emperors punctiliously observe the etiquette which frames them, so that every royal meeting or parting or festivity is attended in a carefully prescribed garb, and the Master of the Royal Wardrobe must be deeply and wisely versed in the history of the nations, and worthy to take a diploma in the first division of the Court of Costume.
His Majesty the King has a lynx eye; no item escapes his notice; and he gives as much attention to the details of everyday garb as to those of clothes for merry or solemn occasion. Unlike the Queen, he rules the fashions, and his wearing of a low hat or a high hat, in white or in brown, a tweed suit or a frock-coat, white boots or black ones, decides such question for the multitude when attending inaugurations, race meetings, and other social functions, and the Royal decisions are heralded forth in the press for public guidance.
At the recent coronation there was much discussion of the form and shape of the robes for theladies, and the King, anxious to conciliate the strictest etiquette of yesterday with a nice sense of the fashionable exigencies of to-day, concerned himself with the shape of the bodice and trimming of the train. The results we may all remember, the deeply crimson velvet, the borders of miniver, and the license of the jewelled stomacher and the lace under-skirt; while the rank which is but the guinea's stamp found expression in the epaulette, the coronet, and the bars of fur. In truth, the coronation robe, even under its improved conditions, cannot conscientiously be described as becoming or comfortable. The only virtue that I can see in it is its ponderous simplicity, the details of which I will give—for the benefit of a future generation—in the pompous language of the official proclamation.
The edict issued informed those immediately concerned that "the robe or mantle of the Peers be of crimson velvet edged with miniver, the cape furred with miniver pure, and powdered with bars or rows of ermine according to their degree, viz.—
Barons.Two rows.Viscounts.Two rows and a half.Earls.Three rows.Marquesses.Three rows and a half.Dukes.Four rows.
"The said mantles or robes to be worn over the full Court dress, uniforms, or regimentals.
"Their coronets to be of silver-gilt, the caps of crimson velvet turned up with ermine, with a gold tassel on the top, and no jewels or precious stones are to be set or used in the coronets, or counterfeit pearls instead of silver balls.
"The coronet of a Baron to have on the circle or rim six silver balls at equal distances.
"The coronet of a Viscount to have on the circle sixteen silver balls.
"The coronet of an Earl to have on the circle eight silver balls raised upon points, with gold strawberry leaves between the points.
"The coronet of a Marquis to have on the circle four gold strawberry leaves and four silver leaves alternately, the latter a little raised or pointed above the rim.
"The coronet of a Duke to have on the circle eight gold strawberry leaves."
Similar instructions were forwarded to Peeresses, who were informed that their coronets were to be identical in all respects with those worn by their husbands. With regard to the remaining items of their toilet, the following is an extract from the Earl Marshal's proclamation:—
"These are to give notice to all Peeresses who attend at the Coronation of their Majesties that the robes or mantles appertaining to their respective ranks are to be worn over full Court dress.
"That the robe or mantle of a Baroness be of crimson velvet, the cape whereof to be furred with miniver pure and powdered with two bars or rows of ermine (i.e.narrow pieces of black fur), the said mantle to be edged round with miniver pure two inches in breadth, and the train to be three feet on the ground.
"That the robe or mantle of a Viscountess be like that of a Baroness, only the cape powdered with two rows and a half of ermine, the edging of the mantle two inches as before, and the train a yard and a quarter.
"That the robe or mantle of a Countess be as before, only the cape powdered with three rows of ermine, the edging three inches in breadth, and the train a yard and a half.
"That the robe or mantle of a Marchioness be as before, only the cape powdered with three rows and a half of ermine, the edging four inches in breadth, the train a yard and three-quarters.
"That the robe or mantle of a Duchess be the same as before, only the cape powdered with four rows of ermine, the edging four inches and a half in breadth, the train four yards."
A note is added still further assisting the exact interpretation of the Earl Marshal's instructions:
"It is understood that the above orders refer to all English, Scotch, and Irish Peers (except Peers who are minors, and Irish Peers who have seats in the House of Commons)."
"Peeresses in their own right, the widows of Peers, and the wives of living Peers, including the wives of Irish Peers who have seats in the House of Commons. With respect to such Peeresses as have remarried under the rank of the Peerage, they, according to former precedent, are not considered as entitled to such summons." (A summons to attend the Coronation.) "As to widows of Peers who have remarried with a Peer of lower degree, their precedence is with that of their late husband."
The dress regulations relating to others than Peers and Peeresses ruled that gentlemen should appear in full uniform or full Court dress; while ladies were commanded to wear Court dress without trains, and mourning was strictly prohibited. Knights Grand Cross and Knights GrandCommanders were instructed to present themselves in the mantles and collars pertaining to their various orders.
Such youths as were fortunate enough to receive invitations to attend, were instructed to do so in a black velvet costume, knickerbockers, black silk stockings, shoes with steel buckles, and a Glengarry cap of black velvet.
The two dominant figures in the great pageant bore upon them a burden of crowns, and cloaks, and swords, and trains, palls, sceptres, and rings and rods, mantles and caps and robes, whose heavy cares represented but lightly Royal responsibility.
But the most interesting of all the garbs of convention, because the most supremely personal, is the bridal costume, dedicated primarily to white, and permitted to enjoy the distinctions of silver or lace decoration.
Under ordinary conditions the widow who remarries, even as the mother of a bride, finds herself tempted to the paths of grey, and only occasionally lapses into the more triumphant glories of violet and pale blue and cream colour; and with the present fashion of enshrouding the hat or toque with a pendent veil, she may confidently share the grace of drapery with the virgin bride. Now and again during the past and the present centuries brides have thought fit to indulge their white satin simplicity with embroidery outlined with gold threads, and some have been sufficiently audacious to introduce a yellow-petalled daisy; and the revival of an old custom is the substitution of the prayer-book for the bouquet. But these are trivialities which obtain but scant attention, not even reaching the importance of a nine-days' wonder. On thewhole, the bride's dress in the civilised parts of Europe must be written down as pre-eminently conservative and "splendidly null," and it is interesting to turn from its monotony to a consideration of the ordinary bridal costume in Ægra. This is black, and round the forehead of the bride is bound a fillet of pendent jewels in the shape of tears. And, by the way, I find that an embroidered pattern of tears was selected to ornament a widow's grey cloak in the sixteenth century. Assuredly this is a poetic notion, but its realisation might prove a little embarrassing, if the grief for the departed subsided before the garment was worn out. There would be nothing for it, I suppose, but to dedicate it to private service as a house-gown, or to give it the obscurity which a petticoat enjoys. When the sorrow dwindled to extinction, the remnants of the garment might well be bestowed on some very poor widow whose woe, mitigated or not, would inevitably rejoice at the chance of such elegant proclamation. But to return to my bride of Ægra, who enters upon her duties with much gravity and solemnity, going to the altar in a short black skirt, laced bodice, and hooded cloak, her sole ornament the nuptial band, which is bound round her forehead and tied with ribbon at the back, while in her hands she carries her rosary and her veil.
In Switzerland black is allowed on festival garb, and on Sundays the women wear black in the mornings and change to colours in the evening. In the Berne Canton the women usually display a black lace cap, shaped like a fan and tied under the chin, accompanying this with long green gloves; and in everyday life their costume comprises a blue or black petticoat reaching to the ankles,scolloped at the border with red or white, completed with a white chemisette high to the throat, with full short sleeves revealed beneath a short sleeveless jacket. On their heads are straw hats, and on their legs and feet red stockings with black clocks and heel-less shoes, and their hair is worn hanging down in two long plaits.
Costume has through the ages been allowed to signify the married or unmarried state of its wearer. In Rome the purple-bordered toga and the segmentum—concerning which there has been some discussion, since it has been separately described as a necklace, a fringe, and an embroidered ribbon—would grace the matron. The Roman bride wore a red veil or flamen on her wedding-day; and in Greece the married woman parted her hair in front in a different fashion from that of the maids; and to this day in some parts of the Grecian Islands brides wear the flame-coloured veil, and follow the custom of putting a patch of gold-leaf on the face. The modern bride of Corfu illustrated at page 126 is wearing a skirt of purple and an apron of blue, and a short blue corselet buckled with gold; her small red velvet coat is traced with gold, and gold ornaments hang round her neck and hold the white chemisette across the bust. Ribbons entwine her hair with garlands of flowers, and over these a soft white veil hangs to the waist, ribbons again fluttering their elegance from waist to hem.
In various parts of Italy the peasants have ornaments handed down from generation to generation, and as a present to each succeeding bride an extra chain or jewel is added, forming a sentimental record of lineage which only themost devastating poverty induces the possessor to part with.
The practice of weaving a wedding-veil is an old one, dating from the times of ancient Greece. A bride of Attica is immortalised in a long flowing robe of clinging rose colour, with a girdle of gold cord knotted and tasselled. Her hair is closely curled round the nape of her neck, and drawn up at the back into a wide meshed net, the front banded with a golden fillet engraved with a Grecian key pattern, whence floats a transparent white veil to the ground.
The donning of a bridal crown is a fashion which traces its origin to the far North, and in Scandinavia it is the most significant feature of the bridal attire, each parish being possessed of its special crown, the property of the church, the pastor of which sanctions the use of the crown only when the bride is of irreproachable character. Such a custom should act as a powerful incentive to virtue, since to stand before the altar uncrowned must be conclusive evidence of unworthiness.
Of copper-gilt, the bridal crown differs slightly according to the district. In the diocese of Drontheim it is round in shape, tapering up to spire-like points, the rim encircled with a double garland of flowers emblematic of innocence, while from beneath it at either side dangle streamers of gaily coloured ribbon and black lace over luxuriant tresses, real or false, either of hair or straw. The dress consists of a close-fitting bodice with long tight sleeves, and a plain skirt to the ankles, of the same dark material, the short narrow apron being of white muslin. The corsage is almost hidden beneath a pelerine made of wool coveredwith white lace, edged with green ribbon, and decked across the chest with a triangular piece of scarlet cloth, which forms the resting-place for lavish adornment with gold and silver ornaments connected by chains; the narrow belt is of scarlet cloth, and falls in a single end down the left side of the front. The hands are held in a little drum-shaped muff of red cloth, bordered by lines of green silk and lace and further decorated with brooches; and on the feet are dark stockings and black leather shoes with imposing silver buckles.
The costumes and customs of Sweden and Norway have always borne a certain family resemblance; in both countries the crown plays a prominent part at weddings, occasionally assuming proportions more fantastic than convenient. In Hardanger the crown is a very gorgeous affair, large and wide at the top, set with rubies and emeralds and quivering with pendent ornaments; and beneath it the hair is divided to hang down loosely from a shower of bright ribbons. The scarlet skirt is trimmed with black velvet, and the white apron has a band of drawn thread-work at the hem, the bodice revealing a plastron made of a variety of coloured cloths, with red for the predominant hue, covered with gold and silver jewellery of the filigree description. Tradition orders that the bride shall retain her finery intact for an entire week, during which period the wedding festivities are kept up with unflagging enthusiasm, and on the eighth day she gives the signal for the merrymaking to cease by raising her hand to press a secret spring, when the heavy crown falls from her head and leaves her free to join in the last joyous dance with her husband.
Possibly the annals of costume contain no more extravagant wedding-dress than that peculiar to the Duchy of Saxe-Altenburg. The bridal crown is certainly unique. It is made of little quadrangular pieces of metal which display a raised design and are mounted upon a high cylindrical shape of pasteboard encircled by a fringe of gilt leaves attached to silver buttons. These buttons head a band of red velvet ribbon tied in a huge bow behind, where a curved handle of twisted green velvet extends itself with wide ends of green velvet ribbon that conceal the ears and are tied in an enormous bow under the chin above a stiff gigantic bow of black silk. The tight short skirt is of dark wool with a scolloped border of red and yellow, and a narrow pleated apron is in a dull shade of tangerine. About the waist is a broad sash of black silk tied in a monster bow in the front, and the tight bodice introduces the multi-coloured vest. Little can be seen of the bride or her gown beyond the Brobdingnagian bows, and her costume might be thought to embody the axiom—it is well to have more than one bow to your string.
The peasantry of the Swiss canton of Fribourg hold reverently to ancestral tradition, wearing the dress of their grandparents in token of their resolve to remain faithful to ancient custom. The bride plaits her hair in a single plait under an erection like the hussar's cap, made in pale blue trimmed with narrow lines of rose silk ruching, and banded across the forehead with black velvet. Her stockings, short skirt, and bodice are of scarlet, the sleeves terminating with velvet cuffs, and her apron is of black or of silk of some sombre shade.The indispensable plastron-vest is of pink edged with silver lace and loaded with silver buttons, and the flat circular ruffle is of pale blue edged with silver braid; and below it hangs a fine silver chain supporting a large medallion.
Mystic in its simple grandeur is the dress of an Armenian bride, consisting of a long trailing gown of thick silk, richly interwoven with gold, held at the waist by a golden girdle, and opening down the front to show a petticoat of a contrasting colour. On the head is a wreath of white flowers, overspread by a veil of misty white, which falls to the ground above a shower of glittering gold streamers.
The early fashions of Egypt in gala times, although sufficiently decorative in their colour and drapery, were always spoilt by the hideous head-dress of black wool or hair tied with wool and plaited, or set out aggressively at either side like a furze bush in mourning. On state occasions the Egyptian woman wore a dress with full sleeves of silk checked in crimson and yellow. The hem was trimmed with a gold fringe, and round the waist was a wide girdle, and on the feet leather shoes embroidered in gold. The black plaits as well as the head were adorned with gold braid encrusted with precious stones; a blue lotus flower fell over the forehead, a number of gold bodkins were placed above the fillet, and large gold hoops hung from the ears. Bracelets and necklets formed of rows of enamelled discs, pearls, strings of lizards and beetles of stamped gold, all served at feasts to adorn the Egyptian beauty, whose favourite bangle was in the form of a snake, and whose fingers were stiff with rings.
An old Indian festival dress is emblazoned with beads and silks in gay colours, and bears long square lappets hanging from a jewelled headpiece. The sombre tunic is enriched with jewels at the neck and waist. Remarkable specimens of old Indian taste and ingenuity are the tunics made of leather thickly encrusted with beads of different colours in geometrical pattern, such tunics being fringed with leather and completed by a much feathered head-dress.
Byron's verse gives a haunting picture of Moorish magnificence, when he describes Haidée in her joy: