IV
THE DOUBLET AND HOSE

The absence of wrinkle or fold, alluded to in the above quotation, is commonly suggestive of the modern spirit in dress. The first thing an artist does in painting a figure in hose is to indicate the little wrinkles or folds at the knee and ankle. This, as serving two purposes, first as a decorative enrichment to the limb, and secondly as indicating, together with the colour of the material, the fact that the limb is clothed. There are, however, such things as "fleshings," which are made of some material possessing elasticity, and so reducing the wrinkles and folds to a minimum; but if there is one thing more than another which is characteristic of clothing or drapery, it is its folds—their constant and endless change varying with every movement. The ideal of modern tailoring appears to be something which shall have as near as possible the appearance of a deal board, to eliminate as far as possible the foldings of drapery with their infinite variety and almost endless play of light and shade.

With the doublet and hose we deal with a comparatively recent period, when dress generally assumed a more formal character, and the loose tunic gave place to the more closely fitting doublet.

Long before this, however, the sleeves had developed in various ways, in strange and fantastic shapes. In the reign of Richard II.—

Harding's Chronicle.

The tight sleeves of the reigns of the three Edwards had given place to a sleeve of more ample proportions. The monk of Evesham speaks of "pokys" shaped like a bagpipe: "The devil's receptacles, for whatever was stolen could be popped into them."

The "cut work" above alluded to was extremely fantastic, the jagged edgings of the sleeves, and, indeed, the rest of the costume, taking the shape of the serrations of leaves, as well as other ornamental devices.

In the reign of Edward IV. the short jackets, doublets, or pourpoints, were provided with closely fitting sleeves, which were divided at the elbow and shoulder, allowing the shirt or under-garment to appear as puffing, tied with ribbons at these points, and laced underneath up the whole length of the arm.

Another development of the sleeve, which lasted for a long period, was the addition of an outer sleeve with a slit in the middle to allow of the arm with its tight sleeve being passed through, the rest of the sleeve hanging down. This was ornamented in a variety of ways, either by edgings of fur or by embroidery.

Hose, that is, the more or less tightly fitting nether garments, be they breche, hosen, or what not, have been worn from a very early period. An illustration is given, from Hope's "Costume of the Ancients," of Paris on Mount Ida, in which he is figured as wearing a closely fitting garment which covers the whole body and limbs, being buttoned all the way up the legs and arms; a short tunic, also buttoned up the front, being worn over this dress. A similar tightly fitting dress was, in fact, worn by the Amazonian women.

The cross-gartering, worn by the Goths, Franks, Anglo-Saxons, and other nations, is referred to under the "shoe," of which it usually formed a part. Some kind of hose, stockings, or bandages was invariably worn underneath the gartering, which often extended the whole length of the leg. This cross-gartering probably originated with the practice among the peasants of enswathing the legs with hay-bands.

The short trouser of the Normans, or tunic and trouser in one, with short sleeves attached, of which so many examples occur in the Bayeux tapestry, is a garment which has puzzled many writers, on account of the apparent difficulty of putting it on. It appears to have been put on from below upwards, by being drawn on the thighs, and afterwards putting the arms in the sleeves. In the illustration given of a similar dress (p. 116), the metal plates or pieces of leather which serve as armour are added to the front of the dress only. The cross-gartering in this instance would probably not reach above the knees.

From the Norman period onwards, tight hose continued to be worn, and presented little variation except in the matter of colour and material. The parti-coloured hose of the Plantagenet period and later called forth many strictures from the satirists and moralists, chiefly clerical, of the time. "The red side of a gentleman, they declared, gave them the idea of his having been half roasted, or that he and his dress were afflicted by St. Anthony's fire!"[12]

This parti-colouring presented many variations. The legs were either plain, dark and light alternately, of various colours, black and red, black and yellow; or a variation of one colour, red, yellow, or grey, as the case may be; or one leg was striped in various ways; or the parti-colouring would assume various forms, as a zig-zag on the thigh, or calf, or both; in fact, the leg was regarded as a field for the dress designer to exercise his ingenuity in the matter of contrast, upon the principle of what is known in ornament as counterchange.

In Field's play of "A Woman is a Weathercock," 1612, one of the characters exclaims, "Indeed, there's reason there should be some difference in my legs, for one cost me twenty pounds more than the other."

At the beginning of the sixteenth century a new development appears, which began as an upper garment reaching only to the knees, also at this period called hose, upper stocks, and "trawses," which were puffed, slashed, and embroidered in various ways; this was the precursor of the breeches, or trunk-hose, which by the end of the century had developed to such enormous proportions.

Numerous examples of the "slashed" period will be found in the drawings by Holbein and Durer, and the engravings by Hans Burgkmair. The "slashings," which may be regarded as ornament in relief, presented as many variations as did the flat ornament of the earlier period on the plain surface of the leg. The garment was either slashed downwards, horizontally, or diagonally, and occasionally slashed to such an extent that it appeared merely as a system of ribbons. Variety of colour was arrived at either by the under-garment, stocking, or hose being of a different hue to the upper; or by a system of puffing, in which another or third colour was introduced. The puffing was also of a different material, either of silk or other light material, while the upper or slashing was of cloth or velvet.

It was an exceedingly rich, ornate, and fantastic period; the jerkin, or body garment, together with the sleeves, were also cut and slashed on the same principle as the lower garment, or vice versÂ, the slashings on the body usually appearing diagonally on either side. In two female portraits, however, by Holbein at Basle, the slashings appear perpendicularly underneath the breast, the sleeve being slashed on the same principle.

The greatest richness of slashing always appears in the sleeve, a common form being to slash the sleeve in ribbons, which hang loose from the shoulder to the elbow. In the instances of several of the foot soldiers in Hans Burgkmair's "Triumphs of Maximilian," the outer sleeve is simply cut to ribbons, which stream loosely from the shoulder; and it seems, indeed, a little curious that at present, when all sorts of devices are employed for the purpose of producing variety, that some fashion of this sort has not been adopted for women. It represents, however, the most extreme development of the slash; it would be impossible to carry the principle farther.

We now arrive at the period of the enormous trunk-hose, temp. Elizabeth and James I., of which an example of their highest development appears in the illustration of "Knightly Pastimes—Hawking, 1575," and in which the middle of the body appears inflated like a balloon, the "bombasting" of the breeches being carried to its utmost limit. Their gipcieres are well in evidence in each instance. This article of costume was, no doubt, originally a game bag, but was afterwards generally used as a pocket or pouch—

Chaucer.

The trunk-hose are, according to Stubbes ("Anatomy of Abuse"), of three kinds—the French, the Gallic, and the Venetian hosen. The French hose "are of two divers making; the common sort contain length, breadth, and sideness sufficient, and they are made very round; the other sort contain neither length, breadth, nor sideness proportionable, being not past a quarter of a yard on the side, whereof some be paned or striped, cut and drawn out with costly ornaments, with canions adjoined, reaching down beneath the knees.

"The Gallic hosen are made very large and wide, reaching down to the knees only, with three or four gardes apiece laid down along the thigh of either hose. The Venetian hosen reach beneath the knee to the gartering-place of the leg, where they are tied finely with silken points, and laid on also with rows or gardes, as the other before. And yet notwithstanding, all this is not sufficient, except they be made of silk, velvet, satin, damask, and other precious stuffs besides; so that it is a small matter to bestow twenty nobles, ten pounds, twenty pounds, forty pounds, yea, an hundred pounds, upon one pair of breeches; and yet this is thought no abuse neither."

It has been stated by various writers that silk hose, i.e., stockings of silk, were unknown in England prior to the middle of the sixteenth century. However this may be, silk stockings were, in the reign of Edward VI., considered as a gift worthy of a king's acceptance; it is recorded that Sir Thomas Gresham (whose portrait appears on p. 121) presented this monarch with a pair of long Spanish silk hose.

In the inventory of the wardrobe of Henry VIII., taken after his decease, appears: "One pair of short hose, of black silk and gold woven together; one pair of hose, of purple silk and Venice gold, woven like unto a cawl, and lined with blue silver sarsenet, edged with a passemain of purple silk and of gold, wrought at Milan; one pair of hose of white silk and gold knit, bought of Christopher Millener; six pair of black silk hose knit."

We learn from Stow that Mistress Montague, the Queen's silk-woman, presented Elizabeth with "a pair of black knit silk stockings, which pleased her so well, that she would never wear any cloth hose afterwards."

The "bombasting" of the trunk-hose (the word is usually applied to the doublet, but may be applied equally well to the trunk-hose) was effected by means of a stuffing of rags, wool, tow, hair, and even bran. Holinshed relates a story of a man "who is said to have exhibited the whole of his bed and table furniture, taken from these extensive receptacles." The name trunk-hose would seem a peculiarly appropriate one! The story is probably apocryphal (although quite plausible) of the young man who, engaged in animated, and apparently rather excited conversation with several ladies, caught his trunk-hose in a nail, and let out the bran, the hose collapsing suddenly, to the consternation of their wearer and the corresponding amusement of the ladies.

Ben Jonson, "Every Man out of his Humour," thus recounts a misfortune which happened to Fastidio in a duel: "I had on a gold cable hatband, then new come up, of massie goldsmith's work, which I wore about a murrey French hat, the brims of which were thick embroidered with gold twist and spangles; I had an Italian cut-work band, ornamented with pearls, which cost three pounds at the Exchange.... He, making a reverse blow, falls upon my embossed girdle—I had thrown off the hangers a little before; strikes off a skirt of a thick satin doublet I had, lined with four taffataes; cuts off two panes of embroidered pearls; rends through the drawings out of tissue; enters the lining, and skips the flesh; and not having leisure to put off my silver spurs, one of the rowels catched hold of the ruffle of my boot, it being Spanish leather, and subject to tear; overthrows me, and rends me two pairs of stockings, that I had put on being a raw morning—a peach-colour and another."

In the same play, Fungoso, reckoning up the price of Fastidio's dress, says: "Let me see; the doublet—say fifty shillings the doublet—and between three and four pounds the hose,—then the boots, hat, and band;—some ten or eleven pounds will do it all."

By the year 1583 the trunks are rifled of their contents in order to provide stuffing for the doublet. It will be noticed in the cut of knightly pastimes that the girdle meets at a point in front. This shape was emphasised, the doublet protruded in front, and hung down for some distance, and the peas-cod bellied doublet was developed. We must again turn to our old "anatomist" Stubbes: "Certain I am there was never any kind of apparel invented that could more disproportion the body of a man than their doublets with great bellies do, hanging down beneath the groin, as I have said, and stuffed with four or five, or six pounde of bombast at the least. I say nothing of what their doublets be made; some of satin, taffata, silk, grograine, chamlet, gold, silver, and what not; slashed, jagged, cut, carved, pinched, and laced with all kinds of costly lace of divers and sundry colours, of all which, if I could stand upon particularly, rather time than matter would be wanting." The peas-cod bellied doublet is still perpetuated in the person of our esteemed contemporary, Mr. Punch.

An excellent example of the trunk-hose of the latter part of the reign of James I. appears in the engraved portrait of Henry, Prince of Wales. The hose consists of a series of richly embroidered straps discovering the silk or velvet trunk in the narrow intervals between.

With the reign of the "martyr King" Charles, both peas-cod bellied doublets and trunk-hose disappear, and the costume of this period is strikingly picturesque. Charles was a man of cultivated taste, and handsome to boot; he undoubtedly influenced the costume of his time. The earliest engraved portraits, by Francis Delaram and William Hole, exhibit him in long, loose breeches reaching to the knees, with the doublet still pointed at the waist. The more familiar costume of this monarch is, however, that which is seen in the various portraits by Vandyke. The costume of the Cavaliers is well described in a little book on British costume published in the "Library of Entertaining Knowledge" in 1834: "It consisted of a doublet of silk, satin, or velvet, with large loose sleeves, slashed up the front; the collar, covered by a falling band of the richest point lace, with that peculiar edging now called Vandyke; a short cloak was worn carelessly on one shoulder. The long breeches, fringed or pointed, as we have already mentioned, met the tops of the wide boots, which were also ruffled with lace or lawn. A broad-leafed Flemish beaver hat, with a rich hatband and plume of feathers, was set on one side of the head, and a Spanish rapier, hung from a magnificent baldrick or sword-belt, worn sashwise over the right shoulder."

We now arrive at the period of the dandiacal Pepys, who describes with great unction the various changes and details of his costume. On September 13, 1660, the Duke of Gloucester died of the small-pox "by the great negligence of the doctors." He was buried on the 21st at Westminster, and on the 22nd our chronicler "purchased a pair of short black stockings to wear over a pair of silk ones for mourning." On April 23, 1661, the occasion of the King's going from the Tower to Whitehall, he rose with the lark, made himself as fine as he could, and put on his velvet coat, the first day that he put it on, "though made half a year ago."

"September 29th, 1661.—This day I put on my half cloth black stockings, and my new coate of the fashion, which pleases me well, and with my beaver I was (after office was done) ready to go to my Lord Mayor's feast, as we were all invited."

The long laced coats, familiar during the latter part of the reign of the "Merry Monarch" and the succeeding reign, had already come into vogue. On May 11, 1662, Pepys repaired in the afternoon to Whitehall, and "walked in the parke," where he saw the King, "now out of mourning in a suit laced with gold and silver, which it was said was out of fashion."

The costume of the masses during the Commonwealth and Restoration, was the well-known knee breeches and stockings, with doublet or jerkin.

In a poem called "Wit Restored," c. 1658, is described the holiday dress of a countryman when courting:—

About the year 1658 petticoat breeches crossed the silver streak from Versailles, and became the vogue at the Court of Charles II. Randal Holme, writing in 1659, describes the dress as follows:—"A short-waisted doublet and petticoat breeches, the lining being lower than the breeches and tied above the knees; the breeches are ornamented with ribands up to the pocket, and half their breadth upon the thigh; the waistband is set about with ribands, and the shirt hanging out over them." The petticoat breeches were not ridiculous in themselves—the modern Scotch kilt, which is an extremely picturesque and even reasonable costume, is made upon precisely the same principle; it was the absurd lace ruffles, which hung drooping below the knee, which were worn with the petticoats during the earlier period, and in which Charles II. is figured in Heath's Chronicle, 1662, which made the costume a banality. The figure of the exquisite of 1670 from Jacquemin wears the petticoat breeches, but without the ruffles or frills at the knees. It must be confessed, however, that the gentleman possesses a sufficiency of frill!

Petticoat breeches had disappeared by the end of the reign of Charles II., and we have now to deal with another distinct change in the national costume. In an inventory of apparel of Charles II. in 1679 appears a suit of clothes of one material, and consisting of coat, waistcoat, and breeches. William III. is figured in 1694 in a long laced coat with enormous sleeve cuffs, the waistcoat almost as long as the coat, with large flaps and pockets also richly laced, the nether garments being knee breeches and stockings with buckled shoes, the hat cocked according to the fancy of the wearer. This coat, indeed, has, with variations, existed up to the present time. The gold lacings, the rows of buttons down the front, the huge cuffs, indeed, have vanished; but the modern coat is, fundamentally, the same as its earliest prototype. The two buttons at the back, which now serve no purpose other than an ornamental one, once buttoned up the flaps, and constitute the last remains of the coat's former glories.

Towards the middle of the eighteenth century the coat fits tightly to the body, the skirts being long and ample, and made to stand out stiffly by being lined with buckram; the large Kevenhuller hat has given place to one of much more moderate proportions.

The fop of the day is thus ridiculed by Diana in the play of "Lionel and Clarissa," by Isaac Bickerstaff, 1768:—

The short hair and large bishop's sleeves of the clergy are satirised in the same play:—

"Lauk! Madam, do you think, when Mr. Lionel's a clergyman, he'll be obliged to cut off his hair? I'm sure it will be a thousand pities, for it is the sweetest colour! and your great pudding-sleeves, Lord! they'll quite spoil his shape, and the fall of his shoulders. Well, Madam, if I was a lady of large fortune, I'll be hanged if Mr. Lionel should be a parson, if I could help it."