In this eighteenth centurv, which was nearing
SO dismal a close, there were, besides the belles of the Court and the capital, the more or less great ladies — for the demi-monde already
existed—the famous dancers, and the celebrated courtesans, besides the queens of fashion who went to Longchamps attended by a turbaned footman to carry their parasols, and preceded by a running footman in tights and a plumed cap, with a long gold-tipped cane in his hand, besides the bedizened dames who followed every freak of the capricious mode, many charming women of the bourgeoisie,—we may trace them in old portraits, and in the minor Memoirs—who did not cover themselves with feathers and lace, but dressed with taste and discretion, following fashion at a wise distance, and discreetly preserving the old traditions and the old attire.
These were the fair women who wore little coifs, so different from the pyramids of hair and trumpery built up by Léonard, exquisitely becoming and pretty under a hood stiffened with wire ; these were the women who wore modestly-cut gowns and small hoops, and who eschewed furbelowed paniers twenty feet in circumference.
These were the women who retained the purity of the good old ways and morals, in a licentious age, who led calm and dutiful lives, treading the narrow paths of household occupations and simple pleasures, going to their religious duties on Sundays and feast-days, and to such homely entertainments and country-
parties as came in due -course in their quiet existence.
Theirs, too, was a world nearing its end, in the fusion and confusion of classes in the great revolutionary caldron, first in the political. and afterwards in the industrial and scientific revolution, that vast upturning and overthrow which was to result for us all in the feveiisli and breathless life of our own epoch.
Meanwhile, the women on whom we turn a passing glance, the worthy, simple women of the lesser bourgeoisie, never dreamed of the troublous time that was so near, saw nothing of that terrible blood-cloud, which was gathering upon the horizon, but would sing with light hearts to their harpsichords in their little wliite salons some pretty little sentimental air, very different from our complicated musical logarithms.
Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment, Chacjriu d'amour dure toute la vie.
Charlotte Corday Cap.
X.
THE REVOLUTION AND THE EMPIRE.
Fashions called 'à la Bastille' —Fashions of the Revolution — Notre - Dame de Thermidor — 'Incroyables' and 'Merveilleuses' —Antiquity in Paris—' Athenian ' and ' Roman ' women—A pound of clothes — Transparent tunics—Tights, bracelets, and buskins —• The reticule or ridicule— ' Tlie Victims ' Ball—Blonde wigs and dog's ears—' A la Titus'—'Robes-fourreau'^—Little caps and Hats— Shakos—Turbans.
The hurricane which was destined to sweep as a cyclone over our ancient Europe for twenty-five years, ah-eady blew upon Paris, whence it took its origin, shaking and demolishing all before it. A monarchy that had lasted for centuries was about to fall amidst the débris of the old order, like a Bastille or a house of cards.
During this time, while the slaughterers were carrying heads about on pikes, while the new masters of France at the Assembly or the Commune were deciding the fate of millions of men about to be set in battle array, while already, in that ominous dawn of a new age, the new queen, the Guillotine, had risen in her might and spread her blood-red arms over her people, imperturbable Fashion was busy with fresh contrivances, altering the cut of skirts, arrano^ing bodices, twisting ribbons into previously-unknown knots, inventing idyllic toilettes of exquisite novelty, for must not a new nation have new costumes ?
The change that set in during the last peaceful years of Louis Seize gathered speed and character. Fashion had struck into a new path, and little by little all the characteristics of the former time, the old régime, as it is called, disappeared.
In the famous print by Debucourt, La Promenade picllique, which gives us a vivid vision of a crowd of fine folk in the early days of the Revolution, what remains of the costumes and modes of the century among that charming assemblaoe of belles and beaux, who seem wholly unconcerned with the great drama ? Powder, a few shovel-hats on the heads of a few old men, who lag behind the time, and that is all.
The aspect of women was strangely altered. English fashions prevailed at first, that is to say waistcoats and riding-habits were worn, but afterwards gowns became more simple, both in make and material.
Times were hard, good-bye to rich tissues, to silks and satins, to the costly gear of former days. Cotton, Indian print, and lawn replaced silk, and dressmakers adhered to straight lines with little ornament and few accessories. Lawn bodices were made chemise-wise, leaving the arm bare from the elbow, skirts were plain, almost flat, and had long saslies. This extreme simplicity was relieved by the national colours, trophies, and revolutionary symbols, imprinted on the stuff, or a scanty frill was added to the edge of the skirt.
Large muslin fichus were still worn, and on great occasions the costume was completed by a bunch of tricolored flowers placed on the left side above the heart, and by patriotic trinkets, neck-lockets, waist-buckles, in steel or copper, cockades, earrings, buttons ' à la Bastille,' ' au Tiers-État,' ' à la Constitution,' &c. For a while everything was ' à la Bastille,' even the hats.
The large cone-shaped hats with wide brims, and over-laden with ribbons, after having tried to hold out for some time, disappeared ; then came a spell of caps only—caps with great puffed and be-ribboned crowns, caps like the head-tires of the women of Caux in Normandy, especially the ' peasant ' and ' milkmaid ' caps and the graceful coif with wide lace borders.
MERVEFLLEUSE EX TUXiaUE A LA GRECaCE.
which we now call the ' Charlotte Corday cap,' mounting a large tricolour cockade.
Hardly any white powder was used—so much black was about to be consumed— the hair was worn as it grew, with a little added, but white wigs were just 'coming in.'
Soon, however, the tempest broke out in earnest. The Terror had begun. Could there be any further question of luxury, frivolity and fashion ? The ranks of fine ladies were thinned, they were in the Abbaye, in La Force, in a hundred prisons, or at Coblentz ;—they were in hiding, or they were dead.
The extreme simplicity affected by everybody, either from motives of prudence, or because it was impossible to care about dress at such a time, did not always suffice to avert the appellation of * suspect,' which was a sure passport to the scaffold, Talleyrand said that those who had not lived in the old society of former times did not know the sweetness of living. In '93, the problem was to live, no matter in what seclusion, like a mouse in a hole, if necessary. Under this gentle reign of Liberty, the law ordained that a placard should be placed on every house, setting forth the names of all the inhabitants, and even their ages ; this was a hard enactment. Many harmless people who had known bright and happy days endeavoured to shut out the mutterings of the storm, the tumult of the streets, and the horrible clamour of clubs and newspapers, in obscure apartments in silent and sleepy streets. Nevertheless, a small group yet hoisted the standard of dress in the face of the Sans-culottes. These brave men and women still displayed elegant attire, at the Palais-Royal, on the boulevards, at the prome-
