Princess Pauline Buonaparte made dress the religion of her salon, and there are records of her audacious grace in a fancy costume as Minerva, and of one of her soirÉe gowns which expressed the last word of extravagance in pink tulle over pink satin, trimmed with marabout feathers, and diamond agrafes, with the bodice encrusted, and every seam of the skirt glistening, with diamonds.

In England Queen Charlotte evinced a decided predilection for the greatcoat and the cloth pelisse with a velvet collar, crowned by the circular hat of beaver, veiled with green muslin; and much favour was granted to such masculine properties as the silk cravat and the boot with the high military heel, the feminine situation being saved only by the sprigged lace veil. An alternative to the pelisse was a garment not unlike the Greek chiton, which, however, never received the attention bestowed upon the boxcloth driving-coat with heavy capes, and the manly etceteras to do it honour or dishonour.

It goes to prove my suspicion that there is a leaven of contrariety in the soul of women, when I remember that beneath these was worn a cambric or lawn dress of most diaphanous detail, and so close-fitting that the feminine form, unfortunately not being divine, lacked under its influence the best grace of reticence. Besides being of cambric and lawn, these skimpy dresses were made of clear silk net over a foundation of white satin, and all were very short in the waist and in the skirt, which was trimmed with rouleaux of satin.

In warm weather the thick cloaks were discarded for the short cloaks and mantles shaped as the Zouave, or in the short sacque style extending only to the waist. A spencer in a contrasting shade of silk achieved popularity and was considered the fitting complement to the muslin gown; and about the year 1814 this was made with full sleeves and upstanding collar and worn over the morning dress, which was either cut high to the neck, or filled in with a ruff and kerchief of lace or muslin. A fold of muslin also did service, crossed in front of the popular evening bodice, whose dÉcolletage was more remarkable for its breach than its observance of the best ideals of modesty.

A favourite ornament was a gold chain and heart, which would open to reveal the eye of a lover, relative, or friend executed on ivory and bordered with enamel; and this limned eye is a love token which seems to be coming once more into fashion.

French fashions again became the mode at the beginning of the century, when white chemisettes were worn with the Swiss petticoat, and powder fell into disuse, and the hair was long or short in curls falling over the face, a style of coiffure which was followed by the crop, in favour of which even the most tolerant can find little to put forward. With the crop a narrow fillet was placed round the head, holding a rose in front, or over it an immense panache of feathers would nod with foolish monotony. The cropped head had for its successor the style known as la chinoise for which the hair was tightly dragged back from the forehead, with a long ringlet falling at the side, a plait set in a cluster of roses crowning the top, which was further decorated with gold pins, tasselled with small gold balls.

Many garments had foreign names. A robe known as the Mameluke had a Delta trimming; a coiffure adorned with jewels and a double row of beads on the forehead was dedicated to Egypt; and Austerlitz expressed a nankeen-coloured gown with blue trimmings. And there were caps recognised as Patmos and Tyrolean; and there were Spanish dresses, and Etruscan borders to Pyrenean robes. The Patmos cap had charms which easily pushed it to the height of success, when it was made of satin and lace cut into points at the front, was covered with diamonds, and had tassels falling at either side.

Beau Brummel, as he walked upon the Pantiles, carefully cultivating towards everybody an insolence that would not be tolerated nowadays, even in the richest member of the Stock Exchange, laid down the law of dress for men. About 1811 he held supreme sway, and was the "Arbiter Elegantarium," contributing doubtless to the gaiety of nations many a new stock and new button. It was not long after this, however, that man gave up fashion as a bad job, ultimately contenting himself for his adornment with the details of his waistcoat and the cut of his whiskers, begging the question at first by full-skirted coats with velvet collars, frilled shirts and stock ties, tasselled canes, and light beaver hats, then gradually drifting into the safe harbour of broadcloth and linen, where he permitted himself selection only in the colour of his necktie and the option of the hard or the soft hat. Gone are his glories of brocade and satin and tight breeches, which revealed silk stockings and buckled shoes; banished are the lace ruffles, the nankeen, the mulberry, and the blue cloth with brass buttons; diminished are the curled heads; and frankly I regret all these as losses to the beauty as well as to the humour of social existence.

It was in the earliest days of the nineteenth century that artificial flowers began to obtain considerable popularity, and they were used in the hair and on the bodices and in festoons on the skirts, and on the hems of trains. After the return of Napoleon from Elba, violets were the conspicuous fashion, being regarded as an emblem of Imperialism, and no faithful follower was seen without a bunch of violets in her dress; while the ladies of royal sympathies would, in honour of Louis XVIII., decorate their gowns with eighteen tucks, and supply their cashmere shawls with vermilion borders.

Shawls, the manufacture of which had begun in England in the eighteenth century, were in great request later in the century. They were made of cashmere, in imitation of the Indian shawls, which were respectfully considered articles of luxury and importance during all the days of Queen Victoria, who chose these as wedding gifts for the brides she delighted to honour.

But I progress too fast.

After the battle of Waterloo, fashion decidedly changed, and the clinging gown, with its skimpy skirt hanging from a short belt or Empire bodice, was discarded in favour of a much-trimmed dress standing well away from the figure, and fancy would work its elaborate will on the trimming of these skirts with scollops, many-coloured embroideries, fringes and gold braid. The bodice still remained a minor quantity, supplied with two short puffed sleeves and filled to the bust or somewhat below it with a jewelled clasp or some decoration of embroidery or lace, whose indiscretions were presumably to be concealed beneath a dainty scarf of silk or coloured gauze, an elegance which failed in its duties lamentably, and hung limply over the arm as if ashamed of its delinquencies.

The fashionable outdoor dress could hardly have been suitable to the English climate, unless indeed its habits have altered strangely, and its detractors have reason for their abuse. The loose robe was of jaconet muslin open at the neck and covered with embroidery, and round the shoulders would hang the scarf, usually dropping to the waist, and held in the hollow of the elbow; and on the head appeared a French cap of blonde lace trimmed with ribbons.

In the 'thirties, dress was merely a travesty of the 'twenties; huge sleeves and stiffened petticoats were universal, and the tight-fitting bodices, cut with sloping shoulders, gave a thin flat appearance to the waist, further accentuated by the ballooning sleeves, setting closely to the wrist. The skirts were short, and still further enhanced the immense effect of the sleeves; and round the waist a plain band added angularity to the outline. Revers, shaped like capes at the back and pointed in the front, were on day and evening bodices alike, and pelerines of all kinds established their popularity, being tucked into the waist, or having wide long ends crossed at the back or front. Blonde lace was a favourite trimming to all gowns; and a style of dress that took the fancy for a short time was known as the "tunic." This was made with a sleeveless bodice and pointed shoulders, the under-dress being two inches longer and of a colour different from the skirt, which was open in the front. Bright colours were very popular, but, on the whole, the spirit of costume was chastened, and muffs, fans, bouquets, and parasols became considerably smaller.

The most conspicuous garments in the earliest days of Queen Victoria were the shawl-shaped cloak, the circular cape, and the crossover made of either embroidered crÊpe or taffeta, and bearing on its borders a fringe or some frill of lace. Beneath these the sleeves dropped lower and lower from the shoulder, and extended their fulness from elbow to wrist; their top was tight and plain, or edged with two little frills, and the billow beneath was expressed in white lawn. The fichu in cambric or lawn was a feature of nearly every bodice, the only alternative being a double collar, which turned down at the neck.

The outstanding petticoat was ubiquitous, skirts over it being single and trimmed with flounces, or double and dividing in the centre, to show a contrasting under-skirt. Kerchiefs and capes were draped over low dresses, and berthas were important features in the tulle or tarletan gown, which was festooned and flounced, tied with ribbons, one skirt being looped up over another with more ingenuity than elegance.

The bonnet poked its brim into an audacious spoon, tilting upwards to reveal a trimming beneath of quillings and ruchings in muslin or net, with a bow of ribbon and a bunch of feathers on the crown, whence fell the curtain at the back to the neck. The poke gradually decreased in height and width, eventually assuming a semicircle as close to the brow as the bonnet of a barge-woman, and the French ladies adopted this fashion, making the bonnets of straw and draping them with a green gauze veil. About 1860 the crinoline of horsehair and steels "swelled visibly," like another hero, and Leghorn hats took the place of bonnets. These, decked with ribbons and plumes, would bend low their brims over the face of beauty and ugliness.

Hair was permitted every license except the monstrous unhealthy misdemeanours of the Stuart and Tudor periods. In turn, it strained itself rigidly to the topmost point of the crown, where, coiled in plaits, it met the just reward of a disfiguring bunch of feathers; it puffed itself out in a mass behind the ears, or banded itself demurely over them. It merrily shook itself in ringlets from a centre parting, which knew such sorrow as Macassar oil and the controlling influence of the side comb; or, stuffed out with frisettes, it hid its insincerity in the meshes of the silk and chenille net; or it lay low in flat curls at the nape of the neck. At different times it placed the burden of its rolls and curls upon every inch of the crown—on top of it, in the middle of it, behind it, and in front of it, where, indeed, it once developed a frenzy of disorder, and hung in wild and fringed confusion to the eyebrow.

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This reminds me to note the royal conservatism of her gracious Majesty Queen Alexandra, who follows fashion at a dignified distance, lending her sweet personal enchantment to our view of her antedated coiffure, with its raised curls over her brow pointing slightly to the centre of the forehead. Royalty no longer seeks to lead fashions, nor, indeed, to follow them, the only exceptions to the rule of generality being the royal ladies of the houses of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and of Connaught, who all show a most delightful appreciation of, and a becoming sympathy with, every vagary of La Mode. Yet our supreme Royalty takes interest in the national aspect of the affairs of costume, and bestows much personal trouble in arousing loyalty towards Irish poplins, British-made silks, the tweed industries of Ireland and Scotland and Wales, and the lace manufactures of Devonshire and Bucks and Nottingham.

The blouse and the teagown of to-day date their inception from the last century, but the beneficent law of evolution concedes them the grace of novelty, even while dogma tediously reiterates "There is nothing new under the sun."

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In costume the Victorian era was "Everything-arian," welcoming and discarding all shapes and styles of garments, and gathering in the fashions from every age, adopting with mild enthusiasm and moderated transport the most graceful and the most graceless, and impartially bestowing attention upon the slashed and puffed sleeves of the Tudors, the lace collar and wide ruff of the Stuarts, the Watteau dress, re-christened "Dolly Varden," the short waists of the Empire, the full coats and large revers of the Directoire, and the long plumes and brilliant buckles of the seventeenth century. An injustice to the word Æsthetic was committed by the followers of a fashion which cried aloud for sad colours, sadder shapes, and the saddest untidiness; and amongst the ridiculous mistakes may be written down a polonaise dress looping up in unexpected places, flounced and furbelowed without bounds of reason, while extending itself from the waist over an immense bustle. There is satisfaction in remembering the reaction which took place after this in favour of the eelskin dress, setting as tightly as was convenient from neck to heel, when the woven jersey-bodice had a short spell of patronage, but, proving itself suavely unsympathetic in its treatment of any but the perfect figure, lapsed speedily into disuse. About 1882 the questionable charms of the bustle reasserted themselves, and the Watteau style of frock exercised some beneficial influence over the waist of its fair wearer.

Man's last aspiration towards dandyism gasped and died in the embrace of the stock of Count D'Orsay. Now, woman alone rules the roost of fashion, man is "no longer dressed but clothed," and under feminine autocracy, dress, whose interests are widely and publicly recognised, has reached a position of primary importance. No more are these interests represented in an unwanted corner of a monthly periodical, or in the letters of the town cousin to the country cousin, or in the counsels of perfection signed by "the old woman." They maintain various journals established in their honour, and in the field of Fashion England has risen from the ranks to leadership; while a wide plain of cheap selection opens to the proletariat the chance to beautify their outer as well as their under wear, which has emerged from the uncompromising confines of stiff long-cloth and Madeira work to the seductive limits encompassed by fine lawn and embroidery, allied to Valenciennes lace and soft ribbon.

As I write, Fashion seems a pleasantly moderate thing, and the summer-day dress of white linen, with a broad-brimmed hat encircled by the floating veil, and the evening dress of chiffon garlanded with chiffon, appear to justify my suspicion that "whatever is, is right, in the world of dress." And, when I remember that the "picture" dress of to-day was the garb of convention yesterday, I can hope that our bespangled nets and tinselled brocades will in due course be encircled with charm from the halo of the bygone. May it also, I pray, come to soften the hardest outline of our leather-trimmed tweed and serge costumes of sport, and to exercise a benign influence upon our disproportionate figures and our perky toques!

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