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.
[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.”
[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.
[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.”
[14] A cord twisted so as to form a figure of ∞ was called a lac d’amour, or love-knot.—Translator’s note.
[32] Hurly-burly.
[40] “Seemed to flutter in the ladies’ hair.”
[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.”
[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!’”
[55] “There’s a warm, substantial person.”
[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.”