CHAPTER XXXIV.
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.”