“None other symbol—the cross excepted—has so entered into the feelings and the affections of men, or so ruled and bound in integrity and right the transactions of life, as the glove.”—William S. Beck.

It is no unusual thing to meet American women who are connoisseurs of the hand-made laces brought to this country from abroad. Laces, like painting or sculpture, are an object of study; they have been raised to the level of the fine arts. But how often do we come across a woman—it matters not how intelligent she may be—who has any real standards to guide her in the selection of gloves? Whether we have need, in a business sense, of expert knowledge on this subject or not, nearly everybody spends enough money yearly on this single detail of dress to be interested to know just what he is getting. Yet, there is scarcely any other department of merchandise with which the average person has so hasty and superficial an acquaintance. Nor is this by any means the layman’s own fault entirely.

Let us look for a moment at the fabrics which go into the making of women’s suits and gowns; shoes, men’s shirts, carpets and furs: we recognize that all these long have been a matter of public education. Where is the woman who does not know the leading materials for coats and dresses? She may live far from the great commercial centres, but her women’s magazine, published in New York, Philadelphia or Chicago, brings her descriptions by an expert, with colored, photographic reproductions, of the fashionable novelties. As for the experienced city shopper, if she were tested with her eyes shut, simply by touching the fabric she could identify it in most cases and could readily distinguish between goods of fine and inferior quality.

In the carpet department not infrequently a customer talks intelligently of “three frame” and “six frame” Brussels, or insists upon being shown “hand-cut” Wilton. Even the male shopper is not so indifferent in these days as not to know the names of the several varieties of fine cottons of which his shirts are made. He is aware of the difference between plain woven madras and crepe madras; he may prefer cotton cheviot, and will stipulate whether it shall be the Oxford or the “basket” weave. But if he be really fastidious, the chances are that he will demand “soisette.” In the last few years an amazing amount of style and seasonal variety have been introduced into shoes and furs. The result is that in these lines we feel obliged to be informed up to the minute. But, while fabrics and fashions in gloves constantly are changing, how much discrimination do most persons display in the selecting of this equally important item of apparel?

A well-dressed woman enters the glove department of a large shop on Fifth Avenue, New York. She may be an independent professional woman or she may be the wife or daughter of a man of means. In either case she should be concerned to know what value she receives for the money she spends. She asks for mocha gloves; but finding these rather more expensive than she had supposed, she may be persuaded to accept a sueded sheepskin under the misnomer of mocha, which substitute—could she but know it—is a fraud, as even the finest suedes in point of durability are invariably inferior to, while they strikingly resemble, the Arabian mocha. The fallacy consists in her not being educated to know that it is the genuine mocha which she requires and for which she should be perfectly willing to pay. The unqualified superiority of real mocha to sueded sheepskin is worth every cent of the difference she would put into the purchase.

On the other hand, a man has been told that the only serviceable heavy glove for common wear is the cape glove. He insists, therefore, upon having the genuine cape—a name originally and properly used to designate gloves made of superior skins from the Cape district of South Africa. As a matter of fact, the soft, pliable, widely-worn glove in various weights, now commercially known as cape, is made from skins grown in many lands—principally lamb, tanned and dressed by the “napa dipped” method. In consequence of having wool hide, these skins are not so tough as the Cape Hope goat with the hair hide. One pays less for them than for the real cape, but, for ordinary appearance, they are a fair substitute, and their wearing qualities undoubtedly meet the average requirement. A practical saving of this sort the public should be taught to appreciate.

But not for material reasons alone should gloves be given a prominent place in the curriculum of popular “uplift.” In the most obvious sense they are too little known, too vaguely appreciated, to be sure; and yet, the satisfaction of being well-gloved consists in something more than merely the delightful sensation of having one’s hands neatly, warmly and substantially covered. We think of gloves first, no doubt, as a daily necessity. But we also value the finer qualities as a mark of elegance. Beautiful gloves impart the coup de grace to the formal costume of either man or woman. At the same time, clinging to this luxury, like a perfume of old, we are dimly conscious of an aura of half-forgotten associations, linking the glove with royalty, chivalry and romance; with famous affairs of honor, with the pomp and ceremonial of the Church, with countless dramatic episodes in history and literature.

How does it happen that, instinctively, we invest this trifle with so much meaning? Can it be that we are the repository of memories of past splendors, invoked by a familiar object which has all but lost its symbolic and poetic significance of ancient times? Even to-day the wearing of gloves lends to the individual a sense of dignity and personal distinction. Like Mrs. Wilfer, of Dickens fame, our grandeur is increased by our gloves.

In the pages which follow we shall discover that the background of our subject is one of the richest and most picturesque we could desire to explore. Gloves have deeply affected the lives of human beings from the very earliest periods. They have descended to us from a remote antiquity, and are in very fact our inherited title to nobility, for they were bequeathed to us by the princely prelates, the kings and over-lords of the past, whose chief insignia and most treasured badge of honor was the glove. To comprehend all that they have brought with them down through the centuries we must retrace a vast deal of history, and let our imaginations play over scenes and customs far removed from our own day.

We shall find the glove intimately bound up with the development of social usages in every land. To solemn observances in which the glove filled a special role, much of the impressiveness of the stately rites of the mediÆval church was due. The white linen glove on the hand of a bishop literally represented to the people the stainless purity of the revered palm raised in benediction. The glove itself was holy. No layman dared to clothe his hands in the presence of the clergy. Kings and the military, however, wore gloves with quite a different meaning. In appearance, also, their gloves were utterly unlike those consecrated for religious use. Of heavy leather, elaborately tooled or decorated, or the mailed gauntlet which formed part of a warrior’s armor, they signified authority, power, and were often conveyed from one prince to another as an expression of hostility, or as a promise of good faith.

Princely etiquette, indeed, revolved about the glove to such a degree that the latter became, as it were, the proxy of its master, his embassador, the mute herald of the royal will. What a high ethical bond and pledge of honor that leathern effigy of a ruler’s hand actually constituted! And as the glove descended with the customs of feudal tenure from sovereign to liege lord, and became gradually the regalia of a growing landed aristocracy, how the manners of semi-barbarous Europe were moulded and softened by the glove! At first we find it the jealous device of the royal few. Then it becomes the badge of superiority among the over-lords. Their followers receive it; and, slowly, through the centuries, this fascinating bit of personal apparel works like leaven until it at last is recognized as the mark of gentlefolk everywhere. It spreads in proportion as liberty and culture are diffused among the people. Follow the progress of the glove, and you trace the growth in enlightenment and refinement of the nations. One of the true forerunners of democracy—as democracy means the elevating, not the levelling, of mankind—the glove takes its place among the civilizing forces of the world.

No small part of the importance which attaches to the subject of these investigations lies in the relation gloves bear to the history of modern industry. We shall find that the position of the glove-makers among the mediÆval craftsmen was unique, and of the utmost consequence to the industrial evolution of Europe. The life of a French city has depended for many centuries upon the development of the glove drama. And, in their turn, what have not the glove-makers of Grenoble meant to the wealth and artistic prestige of France? In the annals of the world’s trade—from the early days of barter and exchange down to the present methods of international commerce—gloves have always been conspicuous. The product in itself is worthy of our wonder. We may marvel at the beautiful finish, that anything so delicate can also be so strong; we may admire the style, the cut, the fit of the glove of to-day. And yet, the perfection of the glove art has by no means been reached.

To the simple prototype of four fingers, thumb, palm, back and wrist, the glove-makers of our time have added all that makes the present glove elegant beyond any which has preceded it. Here we have, perhaps, the most interesting article of personal apparel regardless of the wearer’s sex. For a glove is a glove, whether it graces a woman’s slender hand or a man’s stouter member. The same cannot be claimed for the shoe—at least, not since the passing of the mannish girl. The high-arched, French-heeled, parti-colored footgear which to-day is patronized by the feminine species has little in common with the broad-built, low-last article in which the male walks comfortably about his business. The tradition of the glove, however, is less erratic, and equally applicable to man or woman.

It is perfectly possible to out-countenance boredom by turning to our simplest, our most casually accepted, possessions. Even our gloves may kindle in us delight by their beauty, or may plunge us into the mysteries of the past. Gloves are history. Gloves are an art. Far from being the humble member of our wardrobe we sometimes have carelessly supposed them to be, they are of exceedingly ancient lineage, and have retained much of their original regal and aristocratic character. Though once a symbol and a cult, gloves have been adapted to our Twentieth Century needs, and the subtleties of a new age are finding expression in the tireless multiplying of the finest gloves to suit every conceivable occasion.

The glove which encases your hand—no matter how much a part of yourself through daily familiarity it may seem—never can be anything but a stranger to you and unappreciated, until you know gloves. Even the sense of politeness and prestige which you enjoy is not enough; the glove legend also should be yours. Not without good reason are we inspired to live up to our gloves.