CHATS ON
COSTUME

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

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CHATS ON OLD CHINA

By ARTHUR HAYDEN

Second Edition. Revised, with many New Illustrations.

"A handsome handbook that the amateur in doubt will find useful, and the china-lover will enjoy for its illustrations, and for the author's obvious love and understanding of his subject."—St. James's Gazette.

"All lovers of china will find much entertainment in this volume."—Daily News.

"It gives in a few pithy chapters just what the beginner wants to know about the principal varieties of English ware. We can warmly commend the book to the china collector."—Pall Mall Gazette.

CHATS ON OLD FURNITURE

By ARTHUR HAYDEN

"The hints to collectors are the best and clearest we have seen; so that altogether this is a model book of its kind."—Athenæum.

"A useful and instructive volume."—Spectator.

"An abundance of illustrations completes a well-written and well-constructed history."—Daily News.

"Mr. Hayden's taste is sound and his knowledge thorough."—Scotsman.

"Should be as indispensable to collectors and lovers of antique furniture as the author's 'Chats on Old China' is to connoisseurs of old china."—Lady's Pictorial.

CHATS ON OLD PRINTS

By ARTHUR HAYDEN

(In Preparation)

LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN

PREFACE

Needless to say the present work is far from exhausting the subject of costume, which extends, indeed, over the whole field of history. For reasons of space, neither ecclesiastical nor military costume is touched upon. The book makes no pretensions to being anything more than what its title suggests—a series of chats upon a subject which fills a considerable place in the minds of, at any rate, the larger half of the community.

While many works germane to the subject of costume have, of necessity, been here largely drawn upon in the way of quotation, there will, at the same time, be found a certain proportion of what may be described as fresh material, the result of the author's acquaintance with the subject in his individual practice as an artist. Indeed, the subject of dress is, or should be, an artistic matter; it was so in the past, and it will again, in the very near future, come to be recognised as one of the Decorative Arts, requiring artistic knowledge, and some perception of the fundamental laws of Design.

The author's thanks are particularly due to Mr. J. S. Sargent, R.A., for his kind permission to reproduce his portrait of Miss Ellen Terry.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

BIBLIOGRAPHY

• Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.
• Barclay: Ship of Fools of the World, 1508.
• Bell's Fashionable Magazine, 1812.
• Bulwer: Pedigree of the English Gallant.
• Carlyle, T.: Sartor Resartus; French Revolution.
• Caxton: The Four Sons of Aymon.
• Chaucer.
• English Costume from Pocket-books, 1799.
• Eginhart: Life of Charlemagne, 1619.
• Fairholt: Costume in England, 1896.
• Froissart's Chronicles, H. N. Humphreys, 1855.
• Gregory of Tours: History of the Franks.
• Gosson, Stephen: Schoole of Abuse, 1579.
• Harding's Chronicle, 1543.
• Holme, Randal: Notes on Dress, c. 1660.
• Hope, T.: Costume of the Ancients.
• Jonson, Ben: Plays.
• John de Meun     }
• William de Lorris} Romance of the Rose.
• Knight of La Tour Landry, 1371, Caxton.
• Lydgate, Monk of Bury: Poems.
• Le Blanc, H., Esq.: The Art of Tying the Cravat, 1828.
• Paris, Matthew.
• Piers Plowman: Pierce Ploughman's Vision.
• Planché: British Costume, 1874; Cyclopædia of Costume, 1877.
• Racinet: Costume.
• Roxburghe Ballads, c. 1686.
• Statutes: Henry III., Henry VIII.
• Stothard, C.: Monumental Effigies, 1877.
• Strutt: Dress and Habits of the English People, 1842.
• Stubbes: Anatomy of Abuses.
• Stow, John: Chronicle, 1615.
• Stewart, J.: Plocacosmos, or the Whole Art of Hairdressing, 1782.
• Viollet le Duc: Dictionnaire raisonné du mobilier Français, 1858-75.
• Wright, T.: Caricature and History of the Georges, 1868.
• William of Malmesbury.

I

A
GENERAL
SURVEY

CHATS ON COSTUME

I

A GENERAL SURVEY

That singular clothes-philosopher, Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, whose revolutionary theories upon the subject of the "vestural tissue" first burst upon an astonished world some seventy odd years ago, has, with characteristic emphasis, drawn attention, amongst other things, to the fact that man is the only animal who is not provided with some Nature-made protection against the elements—a protection either of fur, feather, hide, or what not. Bounteous Nature, however, always kind, who never withholds a good without affording ample compensation, has endowed man with that fertile brain and cunning hand whereby he may convert hide into leather, wool of sheep into cloth, web of worm into silk, flax and cotton into linen of various kinds, and so restore that balance of endowment without which man would be at the mercy of every wind that blew.

The uses of clothes, or costume—the words may be here taken as synonymous—may be said to be threefold: first, for decency, which was their first and apparently only use, as we may assume that in Eden the sun always shone; secondly, for comfort and protection; thirdly, for beauty and adornment.

First, then, for decency. That is sufficiently clearly established if we may accept the Mosaic account of the world's juvenescence: "And the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons"; "Unto Adam also and to his wife did the Lord God make coats of skins and clothed them."[1] This habit of observance of the decencies of life appears to be common to all nations. No people or tribe, however primitive the civilisation, but makes some sort of provision in this respect. The Veddas of Ceylon make girdles of leaves, which gives them a strangely fantastic appearance. We learn from the accounts of travellers in Central Africa that "clothing, though extremely simple, consisting of a little grass-cloth, ornaments of feathers, fur, shells, glass and metal beads, are worn, and the skin is decorated by stripes of paint or an extensive series of cicatrices." Among the aborigines of the Malay Peninsula (Sakais) "the men wear a strip of bark-cloth twisted round the waist and drawn between the legs. The women sometimes wear small cotton-cloth petticoats (sarongs) purchased from the Malays, and the men occasionally adopt Chinese trousers; but in their native forests, however, none of these luxuries are indulged in."

Secondly, for comfort and protection. The climatic influence on dress is, and must necessarily be, considerable. This is well illustrated by the well-known fable of "The Wind and the Sun." The more boisterously the wind blows, the more closely the man enwraps himself with his cloak; the more fiercely the sun shines, the more the man divests himself of raiment;[2] but between the skins of the Laplander, fashioned by the help of a thorn or a fishbone for a needle, and the sinews of the animal for thread, and the light gossamer clothing of the countries of the East there is a vast range, the extent of which, indeed, is almost boundless. Climate not only determines the amount or degree of warmth or otherwise, but also, as in architecture, influences its character both as to form and colour. Moreover, clothes are an index to the character or temper of an individual or nation. "What meaning lies in Colour! If the Cut betoken intellect and talent, so does the Colour betoken temper and heart."[3]

Thirdly, for beauty and adornment—and it is with this latter aspect that this work is mainly concerned. That clothes should be beautiful is an axiom which, one would think, might readily be accepted; that clothes have been beautiful is a fact which cannot be denied. (It is only during the present utilitarian age that the æsthetic principle has been lost sight of.) That clothes might again be beautiful, without suffering any loss on the score of utility, is also unquestionable. To attempt to follow the whims and vagaries of that jade, Fashion, through all her endless diversities and constant changes, would indeed be a Herculean task, and might well appal the boldest he (or she, for that matter) who would wield pen or pencil.

The will-o'-the-wisp of Fashion is, however, a less capricious person than would appear at first sight. There is some method in her madness. Similar types, similar decorative motifs, appear and reappear through the centuries with the regularity of the changing seasons. The veracious chronicler may therefore take some comfort from this fact; it lightens his burden, and makes his task less difficult than it would otherwise be. Moreover, dress, as in architectural form, to the careful student of decorative development, presents really less inherent variety than one would suppose; historical accuracy is the favourite bugbear of pedants, and, while appreciating to the full the great distinctiveness of such periods as the Elizabethan, the Stuart, and the Georgian, there are certain primitive forms, certain leading characteristics, which are common to most periods, and which, like the poor, are always with us. One might hazard the contention that a painter would be perfectly safe in introducing a pot-hat and a pair of trousers at practically any period of the world's history—not in conjunction, mind; no, that glorious consummation was reserved for this happy age of ours. The Greeks, however, as is well known, wore trousers. Some form of the trouser was worn by the lower classes at most periods of English history. Ben Jonson makes Peniboy junior walk in his "gowne, waistcoate, and trouses," expecting his tailor. Nay, do we not read in the Old Testament—in some Old Testaments, at any rate—that even Adam and Eve made themselves—ahem!—breeches? As for the pot-hat, its origin is lost in the maze of antiquity. It crops up in its various developments at all sorts of odd times and periods. A fearsome variety of it is to be seen upon the head of Jan Arnolfini in Van Eyck's picture in the National Gallery. It appears in Durer's engravings and woodcuts, woolly, hairy structures, occasionally of abnormal height. It is perhaps not generally known that it occurs in the Raphael cartoons ("Paul preaching at Athens"). One would have imagined such a singular appearance as a pot-hat, in such surroundings, to have been evident at first sight. The reason it was not so was on account of its colour (vermilion). Had it been black, one would have spotted it at once; and this fact, when one comes to consider it, is a little singular, since, if one were to march down Piccadilly some fine afternoon crowned in a vermilion pot-hat, methinks one would not altogether escape notice.

There is, however, still another aspect of clothes which remains to be considered, i.e., their symbolism. It has been written, "Manners maketh man." It might also be written with even a still greater degree of truth, "Clothes maketh man," since clothes contribute so much to man's dignity. Carlyle finds it difficult to imagine a naked Duke of Windlestraw addressing a naked House of Lords, and asks, very pertinently, "Who ever saw any Lord my-lorded in tattered blanket fastened with a wooden skewer?" His King Toom-tabard (empty gown) reigning over Scotland long after the man John Baliol had gone! His quaint conceit of a suit of cast clothes, meekly bearing its honours, without haughty looks or scornful gesture, has been imitated by Thackeray in his amusing illustration of "Ludovicus Rex"—the "silent dignity" of "Rex" as represented by the suit of clothes, the forlorn appearance of Ludovicus, the magnificence of "Ludovicus Rex," all testify to the great importance and value of costume, as contrasted with the relatively trivial character of the wearer.

Who, then, shall dare to belittle the importance of costume? or to affirm that character can rise superior to its environment? Our subject is one of the most significant which can be presented to the reader's consideration. It provides one of the most curious and fascinating studies in the world.