Aqua eye shadow

Vintage Ski Attire- 1960, Constanze Mode

2013-01-23T17:29:00.000-08:00

I picked up a fabulous German fashion magazine at an antique store a few months back, "Constanze Mode", 1959-1960. The text is in German, I cannot translate, but I can share some images of vintage ski wear. Enjoy!

start naked? Constanze Mode

FREI: au naturel, bare, complimentarily, for free (colloquial), for nothing, freelance, free-lance, freelancer, freely, free of charge, gratuitously (scarce), in the nude, naked, nude, self-employed, unrestricted

make sure your lipstick matches!

rough translation: we are, will be, or want to be, or look, sporty. ?

Cute dots~ The chick on the right is jealous~

Does my outfit go better with the skis on the left? Does my lipstick match everything?

I lost my other ski. I'll just use this one. Weeeee!

apres-ski, I presume. LOVE.

amazing. Cool shades.

LOVE.

GREAT colors

The Devil's Mark

2012-10-31T11:26:00.000-07:00

A fine Victorian tale of witchcraft, the desire for beauty, eternal youth, poisoning and jealousy...

Happy Halloween!

Wencelas Hollar, Metropolitan Museum of Art

On the morning of August the first, sixteen hundred and fourteen, the village of Hambledon was the scene of much lively bustle, which rallied chiefly round the dwelling of Master Simon, farrier, blacksmith, and wheelwright for the township. Master Simon's only daughter Rose —the White Rose of Hambledon, the folks called her—was going to be married that day to her cousin, Richard Nicholl, who had come to Hambledon about a year before to work at the forge for his kinsman, whoso strength was declining, and had fallen in love at once with the pretty and warm-hearted Rose. They were a very well-matched couple of young people, for if she was as blooming and sweet as her name, Richard was the goodliest man in that parish, and many another. She was nineteen, and he was twenty-six—both of them in the full glow and excellence of youth.

The forge fire was out that morning, and if any traveller's horse had chosen to cast a shoe near the village, he must have gone a couple of miles farther, to Wistlebank, before the damage could have been repaired. In Master Simon's cottage were collected half the women of the place, but Rose's chamber was the favourite point, for there the young maiden's toilet was being accomplished by half a dozen of her particular friends. We ought not to go into that mysterious sanctum, I know; but for the telling of our story it is necessary that we should look through the doorway and over the heads of the crowding gossips, and listen also to the remarks of the handmaidens engaged in their agreeable task. The costume of those days was not remarkable either for its picturesqueness or its grace; but Rose's pretty shape and sweet face were proof against its disfigurements. She stood in the centre of the room, fair and blushing, in a petticoat of remarkable stiifness and a bodice of preternatural length, her gold-coloured hair rolled up elaborately, and a highly-starched ruff lying close at hand to imprison her round white throat.

Wencelas Hollar, Metropolitan Museum of Art

There was not one of the half-dozen friends so beautiful as Rose; but one of them—the chief it seemed, from her being the putter on of the bows and decorative paraphernalia of the dress— had a singular countenance, cold, repellent, and stone-grey. The blackness of her eyebrows, which met and were depressed over her eyes, gave her a furtive, stealthy expression, and her narrow scarlet lips, while they indicated a sensual disposition, showed also one of cruelty and vindictiveness. She was older than most of the girls, but still quite young, and had pretensions to beauty which she was more ready to assert than others were to allow. Everybody, however, Rose included, treated her with a certain respect, for she was waiting-woman to my lady the wife of Sir Roger Bedinfield, at Hambledon Hall. Her name was Mistress Gilbert, and she was reputed to possess philters and love-charms, which in those good old times were held in high repute, not only amongst silly maidens, but even amongst wise and discreet matrons. One charm, however, Mistress Gilbert did not possess—that charm which would have charmed Richard Nicholl's heart out of his bosom. Her disappointed hopes had been a sly theme of talk many a time in the village, and even Rose herself had shared in it . Possibly that was the reason why, when Mistress Gilbert's chilly hands glided so stealthily about her person, a slight shiver kept running over her flesh.

"You are cold, Rose," said the waiting-woman; "shut the window, some of you. You shudder all over when you are touched."

"It can't be that her enemy is walking over the place where her grave is to be," remarked a careless young body who looked straight at Mistress Gilbert, and then turned red under the cold scrutiny that she received from her cruel eyes.

"Rose is too good to have an enemy. Every one loves her," said the waiting-woman, slowly: directly she had spoken she approached her lips to the white polished shoulder, and blew softly at a tiny brown mark, and then brushed it with her hand carelessly.

"You will have to blow a long time before you blow away that little mole, Mistress Gilbert," laughed Rose: "I was born with it."

"I am short-sighted this morning—I mistook it for a fly:" and the waiting-woman began to arrange the starched ruff.

Rose would have been glad to dispense with the honour of Mistress Gilbert's company at her marriage, because Richard Nicholl did not like her, and also because the waiting-woman's aspirations after the handsome young smith offended her feminine prejudices; but Mistress Gilbert invited herself for the purpose of dressing the bride, and even lent her taste and skill in composing the attire to be worn on the occasion, so there was no evading her cold, uncomfortable presence. When the ceremony was over in the chamber, and Rose's beauty was eclipsed as far as it could be by her stiff clothing, she was ushered into the living-room, where were her father, Richard as fine as herself, and the male friends of the family.

Wencelas Hollar, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Richard received her with a fine honest blush, which was more softly reflected on her own face; and, after a short interval, the whole company fell into order, two and two, to walk across the green to church, where Parson Phillips was waiting to marry the young pair. My Lady Bedinfield and two of her daughters had thought right to honour the ceremony by coming to look on from the elevation of the family pew, and afterwards to praise the rustic grace of the White Rose of Hambledon. Mistress Lucy Bedinfield and her sister Elizabeth would have given half their rich clothing for a tint out of her cheeks: they were but sickly young gentlewomen, on whose complexions Mistress Gilbert's various washes had no effect at all, unless it were to make them deader and duller than even Nature —who coloured them in one of her penurious, pallid moods—had ever intended.

When Rose walked out of church, her pretty blue eyes downcast, and holding Richard's arm, the folks inside blessed her softly as became the place, and those outside gave them a cheer, after which the bells rang out a famous wedding peal. Mistress Gilbert's clayey visage looked colder and more clayey than ever as they disappeared. No body heeded her, and she did not choose to follow the returning party to Master Simon's house; but when my Lady Bedinfield, the rabble being dispersed, issued stately from the family pew with her daughters behind her, she was graciously told that she might walk with them to the Hall. Perhaps my lady loved a little gossip as much as if she were a mere common person; and, if so, her waiting-woman was just the person to gratify her, not being in the least scrupulous that her intelligence should be fact rather than fiction.

"They are a pretty pair of lovers, I'm sure, and Rose's dress was uncommon gay," said Lady Bedinfield, who had a mother's heart.

"Her cheek could not have looked fresher if it had been painted. Gilbert, your new wash for the face is quite useless," querulously observed Mistress Elizabeth: "I am sure it dries the skin."

"Natural roses have the finest bloom," replied Lady Bedinfield, who had been a beauty herself, and was still a handsome woman. She sometimes had a little spite against her daughters for being so unmanageably plain.

"Rose Nicholl's bloom looks natural," said Mistress Gilbert, with an air of sarcastic respect; "it looks even brighter than nature."

"You are jealous, Gilbert; we know all about the young suitor's indifference to black eyes when blue ones are willing to shine on him," returned Lady Bedinfield, with a jolly laugh—she was above caring for her waiting-woman's feelings, and, besides, she had just been touched and pleased by the pretty scene in the church. A marriage always refreshed her, and made her think of her own youth.

Mistress Gilbert's face blushed lividly. That taunt was not needed to increase the deadly hatred she had conceived for Richard and his young wife. She dropped behind and would not answer when spoken to. Lady Bedinfield called to her just as they were entering the house, and said, in the same tone of mockery,—

"If Rose's beauty is all paint, why don't you put it on too, Gilbert?"

"I did not say it was all paint, my lady. I wish it were. It would be the less harm," replied the waiting-woman.

"If it is neither nature nor paint, what is it?" asked Lady Bedinfield.

"It is devil's beauty. I saw his mark on her neck to-day," said Mistress Gilbert.

Lady Bedinfield laughed again, but this time in a less loud and assured manner. Scarcely any one in these very good old times was altogether free from the black plague-spot of superstition, and she was neither better nor wiser than her age. She entered her house in silence, and Mistress Gilbert, pacing her room that night vehemently, as a caged wild beast newly caught, rejoiced to think that she had dropped on her rival's fair fame the first deadly drop of that corrosive poison which she hoped ere long to see blacken and blast it utterly.

II.

Wencelas Hollar, Metropolitan Museum of Art

The apartments of the two sisters at Hambledon Hall adjoined, and Mistress Gilbert passed from one to the other attending on the young ladies. There was company that day; especially, there was one young gallant named Sir Henry Cavendish, whom either of the girls would have been proud to captivate; for, not only was he handsome, brave, and accomplished, but he was also wealthy. Mistress Lucy stood before her mirror, fully dressed; but there was dissatisfaction on her countenance,—she had small, delicate features, but her skin was cloudy, her eyes were lacking in brilliance. Mistress Elizabeth was even worse favoured; for her visage was long and lean as well as colourless, and her eyes were not so perfectly set as they might have been. The waiting-woman had suffered something from their tongues that morning, as her chafed and hurried manner betrayed.

"You will soon be of no more use to us than a mole, Gilbert. Can you not see how thick my complexion is to-day?" said Mistress Lucy, pointing at her own reflection in the glass; she always laid the blame of Nature's defects on her abigail.

"Yes, Mistress Lucy, I see—" she hesitated a minute, opened the door to look into the passage, and then whispered, hurriedly, "I have a powder that I got from Mistress Turner in London; but if I let you have some, my lady must never know."

"Ah, good Gilbert, I will not tell her;—speak low that Elizabeth may not hear. How does this powder affect one?"

"It preserves youth, makes the skin smooth, and gives it a bloom like a little child's; but it is highly dangerous."

"How dangerous? Is it a poison?"

Mistress Elizabeth, overhearing the mysterious whispering, crept stealthily behind her door, watched through a chink, and listened. The arrival of Sir Henry Cavendish had sown jealousy between the two sisters.

"It is a mineral poison; but with care and in very small quantities, it is safe. In a week you would be as fair as Rose Nicholl. Will you try it? or do you fear the risk?"

"Oh! I will try it. I would try anything to have a face like the young smith's wife; but promise me not to let Elizabeth have any."

Mistress Gilbert gave the required pledge, and then stole away to her own chamber to fetch the powder. The watcher waited for her return impatiently. When Gilbert re-entered the room, she brought in her hand a small box of ebony, which she opened with a key attached to a chain hidden under her ruff. Elizabeth listened breathlessly; but she could not quite catch all that was said. But she saw a small packet given to her sister, and by her, after a portion of its contents had been extracted for immediate use, deposited in her jewel-box. How that taken out was used, she could not see; for Mistress Gilbert carried it to where stood the ewer and basin, and thither Mistress Lucy went to apply it; but she heard the waiting-woman say, "It will sink— mingle it well with water;" so she conjectured that it was something to be swallowed, and determined that she herself would soon have a face as fair as Rose, the smith's wife, if it only depended on taking the powder hidden in the jewel-box.

The application of the powder made no perceptible improvement in Mistress Lucy's face that day, and Sir Henry Cavendish was by no means charmed out of his senses; but, in the course of the week, there was certainly a change for the better, and Mistress Elizabeth—who had not yet found an opportunity to lay her hands upon any of the powder—became more and more eager to profit by its beautifying effects. One evening Mistress Lucy left her chain with the jewel-box key fastened to it on her table, and her sister, who had never ceased to watch, availed herself of this chance to possess herself of a good portion of what remained of the powder. She immediately mixed a little of it with water, and drank it.

Very soon she was seized with pain, nausea, and sickness; but not so severely as to enforce greater caution in using the powder, for she repeated the dose daily. She suffered, but her skin acquired a clearness which it had never worn before, and this would have reconciled her to anything short of martyrdom. Her store being exhausted, and the key falling no more into her possession, she was obliged for a time to desist from her beguiling experiments. Mistress Lucy, however, still steadily continued her applications, —she used the water in which the powder was dissolved as a cosmetic,—but, though her complexion became clear, it did not gain the much-coveted bloom of the village smith's wife. Both the sisters would occasionally visit her in her cottage, and as Rose's beauty was on the blush always when they so honoured her, they went away each time more emulous and more envious than before. At last Mistress Gilbert's ebony box was empty, and no more of the powder could be obtained, until Sir Roger Bedinfield went up to London with his family, when the celebrated Mistress Turner might be induced to part with more at a price something like twice its weight in gold. Mistress Lucy was very impatient of this delay, but at length, though Mistress Turner was then in trouble, for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury in the Tower, a supply was obtained from another person, and the beautifying discipline was recommenced by the elder sister at once.

Whether some more deadly ingredient was now mingled with it, or it was unskilfully prepared, or, what is still more probable, Mistress Lucy used it incautiously, and too often, it now began to work on the muscles of the face, and the miserable girl awoke one morning with her mouth drawn on one side, and frightfully disfigured. Mistress Gilbert, terrified at her appearance, and rightly attributing it to the cosmetic, to shield herself from all suspicion, immediately exclaimed that her young lady was bewitched; and, as all new or ill-understood diseases were, in these good old times, laid to supernatural influences, this was readily believed. But, bewitched or poisoned, poor young Mistress Lucy's days of vanity were past, and she would never charm Sir Henry Cavendish, or any gay gallant, with her face again. Mistress Elizabeth was so much shocked and grieved for some days, that she forgot to profit by all the opportunities that, at this crisis, fell in her way for appropriating the powder; and, when she recovered her spirits and looked for it in the jewel-box, she found that it had been removed. At first she thought of frightening Mistress Gilbert into giving her some by threatening to tell Lady Bedinfield; but caution interposed to remind her how many petty secrets of hers the waiting-woman could employ against her if so disposed. Therefore, she determined to wait until they returned in spring to

Hambledon, when she would endeavour to get at the precious store kept in the ebony box itself.

III.

Lady Bedinfield devoted herself like a good mother to her afflicted daughter; and, when they retired to their country-house—where the only amusements were such as her health and spirits' were far too broken to enjoy—they might be seen almost daily wandering through the shrubberies together, or sitting under the trees. Poor Mistress Lucy could not bear to be seen by the most intimate friends, or even by the villagers; and the idea that she had been bewitched, gained ground fast.

Mistress Gilbert was one of those patient haters, who never balk themselves of their revenge by rushing upon it prematurely. To screen her own malpractices, she had said at first, that Mistress Lucy was bewitched; but it did not occur to her then to turn this to the furtherance of her schemes against Rose Nicholl. One lovely June evening, however, in passing by the smith's cottage, she saw a gathering of the village goodies, who told her that the White Rose, her detested rival, had just got a little son; and, a week or two later, she saw the young mother herself standing at her open window with the child in her arms, and the stalwart smith leaning in, making gentle paternal advances, to her great and laughing delight. Mistress Gilbert's heart felt like a lump of molten lead in her bosom at this picture. She stopped and looked at it wickedly over the hedge for several minutes, and then rushed rapidly homewards. Her plan was maturing.

A dreadful scene greeted her when she arrived: the house was in an uproar. Everybody running hither and thither, calling for this thing and that, in frantic haste. Mistress Elizabeth was ill; she was dying—dying in agonies; her shrieks coold be heard half over the house.

"She is poisoned," said Lady Bedinfield, who was shuddering and weeping by her daughter's writhing form; but Mistress Gilbert, bending over the bed her ash-grey face, said,—

"No, I have seen these convulsions before; she is bewitched, like Mistress Lucy."

Every one in the room paused aghast with their remedies, Lady Bedinfield said,—

"Who can pursue our family with such a relentless hatred? Whom have we any of us injured? There is worthy Parson Phillips coming to our aid; let him be admitted."

While the minister recited his prayers, Mistress Elizabeth died.

"She has been poisoned," he also observed; but the doctor, not being able to name the drug that had killed her, solemnly countenanced Mistress Gilbert's idea, that she had been bewitched. The waiting-woman was not long in discovering where Mistress Elizabeth had found her fatal draught. Advantage had been taken of her absence to break open the ebony box and abstract the cosmetic powder. Too large an internal dose had done its work for ever.

From the time of her sister's death, poor Mistress Lucy's health also began fast to decline. She became subject to long fits of melancholy depression, and more than ever evaded seeing strangers. Still she would go out of doors, and her favourite haunt was a sunny knoll in the plantations, where she would sit for hours with either her mother or Mistress Gilbert. Any sudden noise, even the flight of a bird from one branch to another, would cause her to tremble convulsively, as if with overwhelming dread; for the poor girl had heard it said that she was bewitched, and the idea worked in her imagination until she believed it. It happened one morning while in the wood, as usual, that Rose Nicholl—with her baby in her arms on her way to the Hall, to show him to Lady Bedinfield, as she had received commands to do—passed within sight of Mistress Lucy and the waiting-woman. Rose was singing as blithely as any bird, and never noticed the two under the trees; but Mistress Lucy began to shudder and cry out.

"Is it Rose Nicholl that has bewitched you, Mistress Lucy?" asked Mistress Gilbert, earnestly.

"Yes, yes," replied the nervous creature, following the retreating figure with wild eyes.

"I always thought so! I saw the devil's mark upon her neck the day she was married," cried the waiting-woman, triumphantly.

When they returned home, Mistress Lucy told her mother that all her deformity and all her present illness had been inflicted upon her by the malice of Rose Nicholl, the smith's wife, and that the sight of her threw her into convulsions such as those in which her sister died. Lady Bedinfield was troubled, but suspicious. She consulted her husband, who was remarkable for anything rather than sagacity, and proposed to have Rose tried by one of the common prickers who made it their business to go from place to place discovering witches and bringing them to punishment.

Sir Roger consented, and Mistress Gilbert having undertaken to produce a witch-finder, innocent, unconscious Rose was indicated to him as a suspected person; and, full of the importance of his terrible office, the pricker went to the smith's house, when he was at his forge. Master Simon also was away from home, and Rose, with her baby asleep in her lap, sat sewing diligently, like the good housewife and housemother that she was. The pricker obtained an entrance into the cottage by pleading that he had walked far, and was tired; so the unsuspicious Rose bade him rest himself, and gave him some refreshment. Presently two of the village women sauntered in, ostensibly to see the baby, but in reality, by preconcert with the pricker, to help in the examination.

They all began to talk, and presently led the conversation round to the subject of witches and warlocks.

Martthew Hopkins, Witch Finder
NYPL Digital Library

There had been many hundreds of wicked and cruel executions in England during recent years for the crime of witchcraft, and Rose had heard of them like others: indeed, a witch had been swum and drowned in Hambledon millpond within her own memory. She expressed great commiseration for this old woman, and said that she believed many unfortunates were the victims of the malice of their enemies, rather than real criminals, as was pretended. The pricker took umbrage at this remark, perhaps because Mistress Gilbert's bribe lay heavy on his conscience at the moment; and, thinking to daunt Rose, he exclaimed that she herself was a notorious witch and evil-liver, and he was there to prove it.

Rose started up; and when the two women approached to lay hold on her, she broke from them, and rushed out of the door shrieking,— "Richard, Richard, help me!"

The hammer was not going in the forge just then, and the smith heard her. Clutching a stout cudgel, he ran to the spot; and, while the two assistants decamped, he seized the pricker in a grasp like a vice, and, without waiting for explanation, proceeded to belabour him so soundly that the miserable official was likely to have a skin full of sorely-aching bones for a month to come.

When her husband paused, Rose said, bitterly weeping,—

"He is a witch-finder, Richard, and declares that I am a witch. He came here to prove it . Oh, where, where shall we fly? You know, dear husband, that I am your own true wife, and no wicked witch. Don't you, love?"

She clung to him beseechingly.

In those good old times there were few ties of blood or of affection that did not break under this terrible accusation; but the smith loved his Rose dearly; and having an intense antipathy to the manipulations of such odious gentry as the pricker, his wrath was so far increased by the idea that they might have been exercised on his young wife, as to find it indispensable to beat him again, and then to throttle him until he confessed that he had received a bribe from Mistress Gilbert to accuse Rose.

needles used to test for the devil's mark,
image source unknown

A second shaking made him give up the instrument with which he proposed to prick for the devil's mark, which all witches bore on their persons. This instrument was a steel needle with a hollow handle, into which it retired under very slight pressure, coming out again when that pressure was withdrawn, so that though it appeared to run into, the flesh, it in reality did not even break the skin; as the devil's mark could be pricked, as was asserted, without the witch feeling any pain, and without blood following the withdrawal of the needle. This ingenious piece of mechanism answered every malicious purpose, and, with its lying witness, did to death many a poor innocent wretch, who, after conviction, was tortured into confessing every enormity that the diseased imaginations of wicked or superstitious examiners could devise. The smith was something of a mechanician himself, and immediately discovered the secret of the instrument, which he determined to carry to Parson Phillips.

As luck would have it, the minister coming across the green at the moment, he hailed him to come in, and related what had been threatened against Rose.

"These common prickers are common knaves; I hope you have ." the parson glanced significantly at the cudgel, as much as to add, " used it well!"

The smith nodded affirmatively.

The pricker was trying to sneak off, but Richard stopped him, and said, No, not until he had been before Sir Richard Bedinfield and had a judicial whipping as a cheat, and then a ducking by the village folk, who would be glad to give him one when they saw how very readily they might, any, or all of them, be proved witches or wizards by the painless trial of the pricking instrument.

A good number of the rustics had gathered at a respectful distance from the cottage, waiting for the issue of what was going on there, the news of which the two women had taken pains to spread; and when they saw the official dragged out by the smith, Parson Phillips following, and Rose looking out from the doorway, a few of them felt glad that the pretty white Rose of their village had escaped the dangerous trial; but when the smith came among them, and exhibited the trick of the witchfinder's needle, nothing would satisfy them except the summary administration of justice there and then; so the bruised wretch was hauled off to the mill-pond, ducked until he was half dead, and then driven out of the village with hoots and execrations.

Mistress Gilbert was foiled of her revenge for the present; but she said, with a deadly tenacity,—

"Though he was not a true witchfinder, that does not make Rose Nicholl less a witch."

And the village began to look coldly on the smith's wife, and to avoid passing near her door, lest she should blight them and theirs with her evil eye.

IV.

"Sorceries" NYPL Digital Library

The very name of witch was fatal in those good old times. No one could long bear it with impunity; and this poor Rose well knew. To see herself hated and feared poisoned her life with a dread that the general feeling might extend itself to her husband, her father, and her child. Sometimes she wished she were dead, as the only way of escape from the indignities and cruelties which she had heard of as inflicted upon other women, probably as innocent of witchcraft as herself.

Six months after the visit of the pricker, Mistress Lucy Bedinfield died; and the old report that she had been bewitched was revived, with the addition that it was Rose Nicholl, and Rose Nicholl only, who had laid upon her the spells that had destroyed her.

Every calamity that happened in the village was now laid to the charge of the smith's wife. If an old person died from age, Rose had bewitched him or her; if a baby perished from weakness, Rose had bewitched it; if a crop failed, Rose had bewitched the seed; if the corn, when heavy in the ear, was laid by violent rain, Rose had raised the storm; if a horse cast a shoe, Rose had bewitched the nails, or the hammer, or the anvil. Rose might look as innocent and pretty. as she would, but popular superstition declared her to be a witch, and popular persecution used her as one.

Mistress Gilbert scarcely found her schemes march so quickly as she desired; but an unexpected aid came to her from another quarter. A poor old woman at Wistlebank was tried for witchcraft, and, under her tortures, she gave a list of names of persons whom she said she had herself seen at the Sabbath, or general meeting of witches and warlocks. She did not at first mention Rose Nicholl; but the name being suggested to her, she also avowed that she had seen her, and no later ago than the previous Friday night

witch, NYPL Digital Library

All the accused were immediately arrested, and carried before Sir Roger Bedinfield, and two other magistrates as sapient as himself. In vain did Richard Nicholl swear that at the time his wife was stated to be present at the horrible mysteries of the witches' Sabbath, she was sleeping comfortably at his side; he was told that the devil deluded him by putting a semblance of her in her place, that he might not discover her nocturnal absences. The poor smith was nearly maddened; but what answer could a man make to magistrates, who were so deeply in the fiend's confidence as to know every stratagem he employed; Richard was persuaded of his wife's innocence, but he could not prevail on others to believe in it; and though Parson Phillips protested against the confessions of an old woman crazed by pain being received as evidence against Rose and her so-called accomplices, no attention was paid to his remonstrance, and they were all confined until the day when they were to be tried.

These must have been strange times that folks now call "good old times;" when a man who loved his wife more fondly than anything else in the world, could ejaculate fervently, "Thank God!" when he was told that she was dead. Two days after poor Rose was thrown into prison, Parson Phillips brought these tidings to the smith, and said that he had leave to bring her body home and give her Christian burial. Terrified at the accusation brought against her, deprived of her child and her husband, the young creature was seized with fever, and died in her prison—by God's mercy both the parson and Richard thought, for she thereby escaped the doom of her companions in misfortune, against whose names stands in the criminal records of the time, the fatal words,—" convict and brynt."

The smith brought his poor white Rose home on the third anniversary of their marriage; and the next day she was interred, with all the rites of the church, amidst the too late repentance of her persecutors. Master Simon and Richard stood by the grave in angry sorrow, and directly opposite them, with her wicked eyes fixed on the smith's face, was Mistress Gilbert. As he was moving away, at last their glances met; the waiting-woman laughed triumphantly, and pointed downwards at the coffin with a significant air. Richard looked at her steadily for a moment, and then said, in a deep, concentrated tone, which the hearers recalled afterwards as a tone of prophecy,—

"Ay, Mistress Gilbert, there lies the body of my poor Rose that you hated, and her spirit is safe in heaven. You may laugh now, but you shall not laugh long. The day is near when your body shall raise a lowe that shall be seen from Wistlebank to Carnridge, and your spirit shall skirl to be heard from Hecklestone for three miles round."

Mistress Gilbert only laughed the louder as she marched away.

But Richard Nicholl's words came true.

The Hecklestone was a tall block of granite, set up in Hambledon park, on an elevation about a hundred yards from the house. So long as it remained, there were two marks upon the top, which tradition said were made by the burning hands of Mistress Gilbert; she was set on fire accidentally, and, flying from the house, in her agony she ran up to Hocklestone, screaming, and clung to it, blazing all over, until the light was seen "from Wistlebank to Carnridge, and her cries were heard for three miles round." People ran to her help, but the story goes that the fire resisted every effort to put it out. 'Mistress Gilbert was burnt to ashes; and wherever the wind scattered them, says tradition, the ground was for ever after barren.

Witch Burning, NYPL Digital Library

Story: "The Devil's Mark", by Harriet Parr, 1860

images: http://www.metmuseum.org/

http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/

LADY ARCHER~ a life in caricature

2012-10-14T20:35:00.000-07:00

L-DY A-CH-R

"The Finishing Touch"', James Gillray

Portraits are always painted of nobility, yes? It would certainly seem so. I have tried and tried to find an actual portrait of Lady Archer(Sara West), 1741-1801, but it seems that visual imagery of this lady only exists in caricature form. She was a great subject of caricaturists, both visual and literal. I'm clipping from two articles below, the first an "intro" of sorts, the second a scathing commentary compliments of "The Female Jockey Club", 1794. It seems that she actually cut quite a dashing figure in her youth. I suppose that her great crime was an attempt to extend the physical beauty of youth via enameling and the excitement of youth via gaming.

...an explanation of enameling. This article fails to mention lead, which was a common ingredient of the time...:

http://aquaeyeshadow.blogspot.com/2012/03/martyrs-of-fashion-1902.html

"...a process highly mysterious and jealously secreted by its practisers: that of enamelling. It substitutes for the outfit of paints a small solid envelope, transparent and coloured, which covers the face with a coat of enamel. While the most successful make-up of paint cannot long resist exposure to heat, and must be renewed at least once a day, enamel lends the face a brightness that may endure for several weeks. Its inconvenience is the ceramic stiffness, the immobility in which it holds all the features while giving them a brilliant appearance. Its application, moreover, is a long and painful operation. To fix, cold, upon the skin the colouring powers, recourse must be had to acids of a dangerous character. Part of the enamelling must be done in darkness, and two or three days of interrupted treatment are indispensable for rendering the application definitive.
Grave accidents, chronic affections of the skin, often result from enamelling that has been too energetically performed. But the very risk seems to add temptation to this mysterious operation; and who would not brave it to obtain the pearly splendour which turns the visage into a piece of art pottery? Scraped, massaged, polished, electrified, a halo of blue about the large and flashing eyes, the whole face brilliant.."

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"La Belle Assemblee", James Gillray

This lady, formerly Miss West, lived to a good age—a proof that cosmetics are not so fatal as some would have us suppose. Nature had given her a fine aquiline nose, like the princesses of the House of Austria(such as Marie Antoinette), and she did not fail to give herself a complexion. She resembled a fine old wainscoted painting, with the face and features shining through a thick incrustation of copal varnish.

Her ladyship was for many years the wonder of the fashionable world, envied by all the ladies of the Court of George the Third. She had a well-appointed house in Portland Place. Her equipage was, with her, a sort of scenery. She gloried in milk-white horses to her carriage, the coachmen and footmen wore very showy liveries, and the carriage was lined with silk of a tint to exhibit the complexion to advantage...

...Lady Archer lived at Barn Elms Terrace, and her house had the most elegant ornaments and draperies to strike the senses, and yet powerfully address the imagination. Her kitchengarden and pleasure-ground, of five acres—the Thames flowing in front, as if a portion of the estate—the apartments decorated in the Chinese style, and opening into hothouses stored with fruits of the richest growth, and greenhouses with plants of great rarity and beauty, and superb couches and draperies, effectively placed, rendered her home a sort of elysium of luxury.

English Eccentrics and Eccentricities, by John Timbs

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HER Ladyship's figure has been for many years common to this metropolis, but the natural complexion of her face, is no more remembered, it having been so long disguised by cosmetic art, that flesh and blood seem not to form the least part of its composition. The art of painting, however, of brushing up an old decayed picture, is not the only art in which she excels. The noble dame is a perfect mistress of all our polite, fashionable arts. In the art of driving a phaeton with superior grace and dexterity ;—of shuffling the cards, and raising a cock* at Faro. (1)

"Exaltation of Faro's Daughters"', James Gillray

In the secret art of prudent, frugal hospitality(2), as an adept in certain manual exercises, although now bending under the weight of years, she has still the PALM(3), and in all the mysteries and arts of of love, she is acknowledged to have been the paragon of her day. His late R-yal H-n-ss the D-ke of Y—k, brother to our gracious Sovereign, the most wife and most merciful prince that ever swayed a r-y-l sceptre, and uncle to our renowned Dunkirk hero, who, we are assured, is the greatest and most successful general, the world ever saw, some thirty years years ago, submitted to her chains, a voluntary captive. The E-r-ngt-ns, the St-r-rs, who have passed away, and now only present the miserable relics of worldly vanity and folly.—Those philanders of former times once led captivity captive, too happy to be bound in her fetters. Rather more advanced in age than they, she trained up those veterans in the way they should go, and they never strayed from the right path, till forced, agreeably with the order of things, to submit to fate, and yield up their places to the superior vigour and attractions of more juvenile successors.

Her Friendship with Mr H-y E-r-ngt-n, (who can boast alliance with R-y-l blood, should not the Ecclesiastical court judge proper to interfere,) is of very ancient date, and amidst the vast variety of lovers who have succeeded one after another, that gentleman has still maintained his post, and to this very hour, mighty even in his ruins, enjoys his virtuous triumph, without exciting envy in his contemporaries, and on his last stage, displays a singular example of the most meritorious constancy and love.

"Modern Hospitality, or, a Friendly Party in High Life"' by James Gillray

When there is a falling off of lovers; when a conscious decay of nature promises no return of those courtships and flatteries so lavishly offered to youth and beauty, other substitutes are explored. The mind must be occupied, and gaming is a noble field for avarice (which is the vice of age) to work in. Female vanity never dies, and when personal charms are faded, nor adorers to be met, still it delights in dissipated scenes, and finds a resource in the spectacles of a theatre, or in the tumultuous croud and distractions of a gaming house. Never was there a more fervent devotee, than this noble lady has uniformly been through life, to pleasure ; never, did any person labour more indefatigably to fill up the wrinkled deformities of nature, with the impotent remedies of art; but all is labour in vain the remedy worse than the disease, it chiefly consisting of mercurial and a variety of pernicious ingredients, often inflicting palsies and other most fatal maladies: nor in another sense, does it ever answer the purpose intended, exciting disgust, instead of stimulating desire: a revolting melancholy instance of which, we have now before us—a PAINTED SEPULCHRE. If the sex were only anxious to appear beautiful in their own eyes, to please themselves, doubtless, they would be free to choose their own ornaments, and to dress themselves out after their own fashion and caprice; but if it be men whom they aspire to please, if it be for them that they daub and varnish their complexions, I have collected the opinions of mankind, and I promise on the part of the great majority, if not of all, that the use of paint renders women hideous and disgusting, that it withers and disguises them, that men hate as much to behold the female countenance thus plaistered, as to see false teeth in the mouth, or balls of wax in the jaw; that they decidedly protest against every artifice employed to disfigure the sex.

"Six Stages of Mending a Face"' Thomas Rowlandson

If women were by nature, what they make themselves appear by art; were they to lose in an instant the bloom of youth; should their complexions become naturally and suddenly as leaden and wan, as they are rendered by the destructive minerals they employ, they would be inconsolable. Nevertheless, such continues the stupid, pernicious practice, in all the higher circles of polished society.

It is a glorious custom in Britain, amongst the great, for the daughters of nobility, to be presented at court, and initiated into all the virtuous enjoyment of the beau monde, as soon as they have attained a certain number of years; but our antique dame kept back her lovely daughters, nor ushered them into society, till compelled to do so, till the young ladies had bidden adieu to their mama's house, without notice, and committed themselves to other protection.

This reluctance on her part to make known her OFFSPRING, the fruits of honest and lawful love, has also been assigned to a different cause.—Her ladyship being to enjoy the interest of their fortunes while they remained unmarried, it has been wickedly reported, that her conduct was influenced in this business, by the above sordid ungenerous motive.

"Discipline a la Kenyon"' James Gillray

The motive however, is immaterial. The widow's income was certainly very much reduced by her daughters' marriages, and as it is rather a painful talk to curtail those luxuries, which custom has rendered essential to existence, it became necessary to strike out some plan of reparation, for this decrease of property, whereby me might be able still to keep up her former splendid appearance, and set the envy of gossip malignity at defiance. The fecundity of her brain supplied an adequate remedy. A faro bank was to be the happy instrument of renovation, and Plutus has crowned her most sanguine hopes.

"The Loss of the Faro Bank", James Gillray

In the temple of virtue, which she inhabits, a happy freedom reigns, and it is only to be lamented, as a partial drawback on the pleasure derived from the profits of her bank, that so perfect is the liberty which there exists that she is treated with as little respect, and with as sovereign contempt by her honourable and noble noble guests, as if she were, what most assuredly she is not—a prostituted mistress of the vilest gaming brothel. So true it is, that there scarcely exist any uses, without their abuses. But when great benefits flow from any system, little petty evils that may attend it, are scarcely felt, and if the grand object be fulfilled, a few trifling rebuffs and hard words are not deserving of notice. Besides, sensibility is not very quick or irritable at a gaming table, except on that point, wherein the mind is immediately engaged, and provided money replenishes the bank, my Lord's abuse makes very little impression on my lady's sentiment.

Characters of this description are not unfrequently devout. Her Ladyship, in the year 1793, was seized with an alarming paralytic complaint, since which time, her piety shines conspicuous, and religion is blended with her other devotions; yet it is to be sincerely regretted, that her religion consists more in outward visible show than in inward spiritual grace and that if her theory be just, her practice is miserably imperfect, so that all her piety and faith neither procure her friendship, love, or respect.

We now bid adieu to this hackneyed female veteran, whose whole life, it must seriously be admitted, has been consumed in one unvaried round of vapid or c-m-n-l pursuits; who threatened as she now is by approaching infirmities, cannot command one endearing reflection to cheer and console her, and who is about to quit this mortal stage, without being able morally to say, "I have performed one good or generous action."

(1) * An expression much used at the intricate and pleasant game of Faro, and a practice never omitted, when an opportunity offers.

(2) * It is a general complaint amongst our elegant muscadins and muscadines who frequent her Ladyship's assemblies and punt at her bank, that when lemons are dear, she makes her lemonade of cream of tartar, which is apt very much to agitate their noble intestines, and to produce a most unpleasant effect in the company.

(3) It must here be observed that her Ladyship's little lovely virgin sister M—fs W-t, long disputed the preeminence with her in this truly ingenious and popular art,and with whom the victory remained, was left fpr arbitration, to that pink of chivalry, that favourite of the fair, that all competent judge, the illustrious and puissant chevalier of the B-ck R—d, who after repeated trials, impartially pronounced their merits to be so equal, that it was impossible for him to decide between them.

Not A-ch-r's bible can secure her age,

Her threescore years are shuffling with her page,

While death stands by, but till the game is done,

To sweep that stake, in justice long his own."

source: "The Female Jockey Club", by Charles Pigott

"The Royal Joke, or Black Jack's Delight", James Gillray

Mata Hari~

2012-10-07T10:33:00.000-07:00

FEW stories of the Great War contain more romance, adventure and tragedy than that of the Dutch-Javanese woman who was shot as a spy on the rifle range at Vincennes at the breaking of dawn on the morning of October 15, 1917.

Marguerite Gertrude Zelle, better known as Mlle. Mata-Hari, lived in an atmosphere of mystery and mysticism. She was born in Java about 1877, the daughter of a Javanese mother and a wealthy Dutch planter. As a child she gave promise of the great beauty which came to her in later life. As a young girl she was tall and dark, with a wonderful skin that was almost bronze in color. She seems to have had natural talents of a high order, and was given opportunities for education not granted to the poorer inhabitants of that Dutch possession.

It is not strange that she should have had an unusually colorful life. One need only try to picture her early surroundings to understand that her existence was to be an uncommon one in every respect. In the locality where she was born and reared there were many men of many races. Besides the Javanese there were Arabs, immigrant Malays, Chinese, Hindus and other Orientals and some Dutch and other Europeans. Among the educated Javanese there was a love of literature, and we are told that they were fond of romances, poems and chronicles of the olden days, and that many of them made translations from the Sanskrit and Arabic. Christianity did not thrive in the Islands, and the religions which predominated then, as now, were Mohammedanism, Brahmanism and Buddhism.

As a child, Mata-Hari roamed among the remarkable Hindu ruins which dotted Java; she visited the beautiful temples of Buddha, and peered over the edge of more than one terrifying volcano. Her father died when she was quite young, and her mother, in order to protect her from the dangers which beset a child in that country of mixed races, took her to Burma and placed her in a Buddhist temple to learn the art of dancing, and at the same time pledged her to the life of a vestal bayadere. It was on this occasion that she was given the name of Mata-Hari. She must have remained there for nearly ten years, but when she was still in her teens she escaped from the temple. The escape occurred on the occasion of a great Buddhist festival where she met a young army officer. She fell in love with the man and the story has it that they were married, and that two children were the result of the union. One report says that the boy, who was the favorite of his mother, died suddenly, and that a post-mortem examination proved that he had been poisoned, and finally that the dancer, taking the law into her own hands, shot a discharged gardener, who was suspected of the crime. She fled from her home and going to Paris began the professional career which gave her a world-wide reputation. The husband, we are informed, died soon after this, and the other child, a daughter, is now supposed to be living in England.

Surely this may be regarded as a sufficiently interesting prelude to the sensational life of a woman whose life was to end before a firing squad on the plains of Vincennes. In Paris she created a stir when she appeared as an exponent of Eastern ritualistic dancing. That city which loves sensations, took the tall, handsome woman to its bosom. She became one of the fads of the day. She was almost instantly deluged with offers to appear elsewhere. Invitations came from London, Berlin, Vienna, and New York. It is interesting to note at this point that Mata-Hari became a special favorite in Berlin and Vienna. She performed frequently before titled men of those two capitals. Among her dances were several sinuous ones that were performed with the aid of wriggling snakes. About this time the war began and she made her way to Spain, and afterwards to Holland. Later she went to England and finally found her way again to Paris.

But she found a different Paris from the city where she had made her first success as a dancer. The gay capital was in gloom. Amusements were tabooed for the time being, and even the gay Parisians thought of nothing but the war. The dancer did not enjoy this sort of thing. She was a child of pleasure, and for a time thought of leaving Paris for other parts. But something happened that caused her to remain there. It was hinted that she was in correspondence with some of her former admirers in Berlin and Vienna. The finger of suspicion was pointed in her direction. Evidently she was unaware of this fact for she moved about freely and made no attempt to conceal her movements. She left Paris and went to one of the English towns where experiments were being made with the famous tanks which proved to be such an important factor in the war. On one occasion she was seen with a young English officer who had fallen under the spell of her charms.

It was currently reported that her arrest and conviction were due to a rejected sweetheart, the brother-inlaw of a former French Minister of Finance and once a noted banker, but, however true that may be, it is certain that the first tangible evidence in the case came to light while she was in England. She did not remain in the English town, but made frequent trips to London, and it is presumed that the information she was able to gather about the tanks was transmitted from the capital. How she was able to communicate with the Germans was long a puzzle. During this period she visited by turns Holland and Spain, and it is not hard to believe that it was in these countries that she was able to obtain a trustworthy messenger to carry the English secrets to Berlin. In the intervals between these trips to the Continent she was seen walking along the Strand and the West End of London. It was difficult for such a person to remain unnoticed. Her reputation had preceded her, and she was described in the English press as a "high-class Indian Princess, who had been a priestess in India, and one who had acquired complete control of enormous snakes."

Indeed, her very prominence served as a cloak under which she was enabled to carry on her dangerous operations. Her repeated presence in the company of the young officer attached to the tank service eventually brought her under suspicion. The tanks, or armored motor tractors, were trump cards in the British war game, and that fact in itself caused the Government to watch over them with unremitting care. Presently came word that the Germans were working furiously on a special gas to combat the tank operations. This meant that in some way or other they had obtained information of what the British were doing in this connection. Where did the information come from? That was the natural question, and after some inquiries in the little town where the tractors were being manufactured, suspicion pointed to Mata-Hari.

For one thing it was discovered that she was always well supplied with money. After giving a famous "veil dance" she had practically ceased her professional work, so that it was evident that the cash was not coming from her public exhibitions. In the midst of the British investigation she suddenly left for Paris. Her arrival in the French capital was the beginning of the end for the famous dancer. The French Secret Police were on her trail from the moment she stepped on French soil. In Paris her name of Mata-Hari was translated to mean " Eye of the Morning." The Secret Service men smiled grimly at this as they followed her from the Cafe de Paris to Maxim's and finally to Armenonville in the Bois. They did not fail to take note of the fact that she was in the company of an English officer who wined and dined her, and seemed proud of the fact that he was permitted to be in her company. The young man wore in the lapel of his coat a little twisted brass dragon, the same being an official insignia denoting service with the tanks.

One of the American correspondents says that it was on June first, exactly a month before Generals Haig and Foch began their drive astride the Somme, that Mata-Hari returned to Paris. He adds: "And the first thing she did was to apply for a vise on her passports permitting her to go to Spain. San Sebastian was the place she mentioned, explaining that she wished to attend the horse races there. Her papers were stamped and sealed, and she left almost immediately for the fashionable winter resort in the south.

"Madrid, Spain, and Nauen, Germany, are in constant wireless communication. There were other radio stations, privately owned in Spain, which could flash messages to Germany", according to Allied officers, and, of course, there were innumerable German agents, spies and propaganda disseminators infesting the land of the Dons. Secret Service reports disclosed the fact that Mata-Hari was seen much at the San Sebastian race course in the company of a man who was looked upon with suspicion by the French Government. He was a frequent caller upon her at the hotel where she stopped, and it was reported that he made many of the big bets which she placed upon horses that did not materialize as winners. Soon Mata-Hari came back to Paris and to the apartment near the Bois Boulogne. And once more the limousine owned by the individual branded a Deputy began rolling up to her door twice a week and sometimes oftener.

The plot was thickening. About this time the French people began to get the first news from the Somme. They learned of the simultaneous FrancoBritish offensive. There the tanks went into action for the first time, and, according to General Haig's report, his "land ships" scored satisfactory results. But at the same time there were some disquieting rumors. It was hinted that several of the tanks were put out of commission in a curious manner. The enemy seemed to be possessed of private information concerning the "land ships." A number of German officers were taken prisoners at the battle, and when they were pressed, admitted that they had received descriptions of the tanks weeks before, and that they had been given special training in the art of combating these new weapons of war.

Mata-Hari was still in Paris at this time, and it is likely that she read the news of the battle with more than ordinary interest. At all events, the cozy apartments which she occupied in the Bois de Boulogne proved to be a magnet for the French police. One evening an officer appeared there, and asked for MataHari. She appeared, radiant in evening toilet. She greeted the caller with regal pride, her bronze-like skin slightly flushed and her head held high in the air.

"How may I serve you, sir?" she demanded.

The man was lost in astonishment at this tall, beautiful woman, but he managed to tell the purport of his errand in a few words.

"You are wanted at headquarters. Come with me."

For a fleeting instant her countenance lost its composure. Evidently she fully realized the meaning of the command. The game was ended and she had lost. Without another word she put on her hat and coat and followed the officer. From that moment she was a prisoner, and was watched day and night until her trial. The story of her trial has not been given to the world, and probably never will be. Indeed, one of the difficulties in telling the story of the spies of the Great War has been found in the reluctance of the authorities to tell any more than has been necessary. But it is not hard to picture this regal beauty facing her judges in the hall of justice. Much of the testimony against her must have been circumstantial, as it is in the case of most spies, but when the evidence had all been pieced together the jurist who presided over the inquiry was satisfied of her guilt. That, too, was the verdict of his associates, and one morning she was commanded to stand up and hear the verdict pronounced by the Judge. It came in the awful words:

"Guilty, and condemned to be shot for the crime of high treason!"

She went back to her prison cell to await the final summons, and it was in the gray dawn of a dull October morning that Mata-Hari heard her last hour had arrived, heard it with an impassive face and not

the least sign of emotion. It was the fifteenth of the month, and when the dancer awakened in her cell in the prison of Saint Lazare she instantly realized that the preparations for her execution were going on. Captain Bourchardon, the representative of the French Military Court that had condemned her to death, was there, so was the warden of the prison and her counsel, M. Clouet.

The Protestant clergyman, who was to offer her spiritual consolation, paced the corridor, while two nuns, connected with the prison, entered her cell to assist her in dressing. Smilingly she thanked them while declining their friendly offices. Quickly, deftly, and with the air of one who is about to go on an ordinary journey she dressed, attiring herself in a dark dress, trimmed with fur, which she had worn at her trial. A felt hat and a long coat completed her outfit. Nervously the little procession lined up and marched through the dark corridor of the prison. The men in the party were visibly affected. Mata-Hari, as has been said, " was mistress of herself and her emotions." There was a pause in the office of the warden. Here the condemned woman was given the optfortunity of writing two letters, which she entrusted to her lawyer. Without further ado, she entered a military automobile, in the company of Captain Bourchardon and the two nuns.

Presently they came in sight of the fortress of Vincennes. If any emotions stirred Mata-Hari she did not betray them. Around about her were some of the most historic buildings in France. The castle which

was used as a royal residence until the time of Louis XV, and which has since served the double purpose of a prison and a fortress, loomed up before her eyes. She probably recalled that the structure had housed Conde, Diderot, Mirabeau and other distinguished prisoners, and, if so, it made her hold her stately head a little higher. Nearby were the woods of Vincennes, where the people of Paris came for their outings. Absent now were the signs of merrymaking. War had changed all of that, and for the moment a grim tragedy was being enacted within sight of the Parisian playgrounds.

Mata-Hari was the first to alight from the automobile, and with a graceful inclination she turned to help one of the nuns to alight. The two nuns accompanied her to the office of the Governor, and after the final official formalities had been concluded they started for the rifle range, this time being accompanied by a squadron of dragoons. During the brief ride from the prison, and in the short time before the execution, there seemed to arise a sort of understanding between the dancer and the nun who stood by her right side. The one a woman of the world, and the other a woman of God. Differing in faith, appearance and mode of thought, they were yet both women. The one pale and spiritual, and the other dark and almost bronzed with an air of haughty defiance. The calm, religious life of the little nun was reflected in the serenity of her countenance. The pride of the tall, beautiful dancer was shown in the stoicism of her face and manner. If the unfortunate woman felt anything, it was the sympathy of the little nun, and in the clasp of the two hands there was a world of meaning.

The Paris correspondent of the New York Sun has given us a dramatic picture of those last moments. Let him tell the rest of the story:

"On the range all preparations for the execution were ready. A detachment of infantrymen in their blue-gray uniforms were drawn up, forming a hollow square — the targets being at the further end. The firing platoon of zouaves was in the center, the men standing at attention. The automobiles stopped at the entrance to the square and Mata-Hari stepped out. She gazed unmoved, almost disdainfully, at the setting prepared for her final appearance, in much the same manner as she had regarded the audiences that had applauded the exotic dances with which she had startled Paris. In the background stood a group of officers from the Vincennes garrison, many of whom had been witnesses of the condemned woman's stage triumphs. With her lawyer on one side and one of the nuns on the other, she passed unshaken in front of the silent, waiting troops.

"Arriving in front of the targets, Mata-Hari bade these two good-by, embracing the nun as she stretched out her hands to a waiting gendarme who held the cord with which they were to be bound. As he fastened it about her right wrist the spy with the other waved a friendly little farewell to the second nun off in the background. When both were securely fastened she was left alone, standing erect, facing the muzzles of the twelve rifles of the firing squad. The commander of the platoon raised his sword and the volleys rang out, followed a second later by the report of a single shot — one of the squad had not pulled his trigger in unison with his fellows. Mata-Hari fell on her knees. A non-commissioned officer of the dragoons advanced and fired at close range. The dancer fell backward. She had answered her last curtain call. The troops marched past the prostrate body and returned to their barracks to begin the day's garrison duties, while the corpse was taken to a military cemetery and buried in a section set apart for the interring of executed criminals."

Such is the dramatic and thrilling story, so far as it can be gathered from many conflicting sources, of one of the most notable women spies of the world's greatest war.

text: Celebrated Spies and Famous Mysteries of the Great War by George Barton

Tight-lacing!

2012-10-03T18:53:00.000-07:00

Tight lacing, or, The cobler's wife in the fashion,

Tight Lacing In The Pulpit.

[Mr. Haweis addressing a crowded Congregation at St. James's, Marylebone, spoke very strongly on the Criminal Ignorance and thoughtlessness of Tight Lacing.]

What is it makes a lady's head

Feel heavy as a lump of lead?

What makes her nose's tip so red?

Tight-lacing!

What makes her cheek burn like a coal,

Her feet as cold as Arctic pole?

What cramps her body and her soul?

Tight-lacing!

What makes her temper short and sharp?

What causes her to fret and carp,

And on the smallest ills to harp?

Tight-lacing

Tight-lacing!

What checks her proper circulation,

And dulls her ordinate sensation?

What blighted babes breeds for the nation?

Tight-lacing!

What makes her waist a wasp-like thing,

And gives her tongue a waspish sting?

What baulks her when high notes she'd sing?

Tight-lacing!

What is it, with its vice-like squeeze,

Destroys its fated victim's ease,

And brings her doctors countless fees?

Tight-lacing!

Fashion before Ease... James Gilray

What is it makes her gasp for breath,

And—so stern modern science saith—

Dooms her too oft to early death?

Tight-lacing!

What brings a "corn upon her heart,"

And makes her—spoil'd by cruel art—

Unfit to play the mother's part ?—

Tight-lacing!

What tortures her into a shape

Which "ruts the liver " past escape,

And which, at most, makes gommeux gape ?—

Tight-lacing!

What beauty's lines in her destroys,

And fashion's powerful aid employs,

To crush from out her life its joys ?—

A Little Tighter, Rowlandson

Tight-lacing!

What ages her before her time,

And makes her feeble ere her prime?

What tempts to a self-suffer'd crime ?—

Tight-lacing!

What quite ignoring nature's facts,

Her waist so cruelly contracts,

That each inch saved fresh pain exacts?

Tight-lacing!

And what bad fashion of the day

Is it that ladies now should say

They'll spurn without an hour's delay ?—

Tight-lacing!

text: Parodies of the works of English & American authors, Volume 2, 1885

Lina says "don't"

2012-09-30T17:40:00.001-07:00

Beauty don'ts from "My Secrets of Beauty", by Lina Cavalieri, 1914. Lina was an Italian operatic soprano, world renowned for her beauty. Good advice never changes, this is a perfect example~

Don't eat too much.

Don't chew the lips.

Don't bite the nails.

Don't sit on your foot.

Don't eat many sweets.

Don't read in a dim light.

Don't bathe in a cold room.

Don't neglect a daily outing.

Don't read or write facing a light.

Don't sleep in ill-ventilated rooms.

Don't read when the eyes are tired.

Don't read or write on a moving train.

Don't open the eyes upon a bright light.

Don't stand with the shoulders forward.

Don't stand with the abdomen thrust out.

Don't let your hands or feet remain cold.

Don't make faces when you talk or listen.

Don't drink much wine. The less the better.

Don't neglect to bathe your feet every night.

Don't sit on the last three bones of your spine.

Don't be afraid to yawn or stretch when alone.

Don't thrust the hips far backward as you walk.

Don't sit with one shoulder higher than the other.

Don't stand with one hip higher than the other.

Don't fail to sleep as many hours as you require.

Don't wear too light weight clothing in winter.

Don't sleep in a room crowded with draperies and rugs.

Don't forget to visit your dentist once every three months.

Don't let the chin bury itself in the neck. Keep it high.

Don't wear tight shoes or tight gloves or tight corsets.

Don't brush or comb the hair roughly. The scalp is tender.

Don't go into the outer air directly after washing the face.

Don't be afraid of rain or snow. They are tonics and beautifiers.

Don't be discontented. Discontent engraves ugly lines in the face.

Don't fall asleep with the features drawn in anger, worry or fatigue.

Don't forget that the warm bath is a sedative; the cool bath a stimulant.

Don't use every new cosmetic you see advertised or hear recommended.

Don't wear clothing so heavy that its weight drags upon the vital organs.

Don't dwell upon unpleasant things. Dismiss them if you value your beauty.

Don't allow the skin to grow dry. A dry skin is the parent of many wrinkles.

Don't rest upon large pillows. They cause round shoulders and double chins.

Don't lie down for rest with your nerves and muscles tied in small, hard knots.

Don't forget that the reclining posture is a storehouse of strength and beauty.

Don't let the muscles grow flabby. Firm muscles give the appearance of youth.

Don't lead a too regular life. A varied programme is better than an unvarying one.

Don't keep your rooms either too hot or cold, but at an even, moderate temperature.

Don't be afraid to work, and to work hard. It is only worry mingled with work that kills.

Don't allow yourself to become ill. Every illness subtracts from vitality and adds to apparent age.

Don't think that when you have brushed your hair your duty to your head is done. The scalp must be massaged.

Don't wriggle the feet or fingers or hunch the shoulders. Find other and less ugly outlets for your nervous energy.

Don't moisten the lips with the tongue to make them red. It will only cause them to roughen and chap.

Don't forget that the eye bath, the nasal douche and the mouth bath are part of the daily ceremonial of cleanliness.

Don't forget for one moment that health is the basis of beauty. And build your beauty upon that only sure foundation.

Don't neglect the protection for your skin when you go out or the care for it when you come in from out of doors.

Don't think that to keep the teeth beautiful they must be continually brushed. After the daily brushing remember the mouth bath.

Don't think you are ever too tired for the night toilet. The face must always be washed and cold creamed at night if you value your complexion.

Don't, especially if you are slenderly built, permit the shoulders and chest to sink. If you are too tired to hold them up take a nap, or at least recline for a time.

The Patent Mammary Elevator

2012-09-19T15:31:00.000-07:00

From a book entitled "The Beautiful Forever Tales", published 1869, by an anonymous author. This is yet another cautionary tale on the tragedy that awaits those who that involve themselves with so mundane and hopeless a pursuit as the pursuit of beauty. Paint, powder and so on were not so much an aesthetic choice in those days as a moral choice and tales such as this were common in reaction to the increased popularity and availability of cosmetics, falsies and the like. The truly lovely woman concerned herself with devotion to God, husband, children and home, not with vulgar vanity. Some of these moral tales can be quite ponderous and heavy-handed. This one is quite funny, in my opinion.

The title, Beautiful Forever also refers to the name of a booklet published by the infamous Madame Rachel of the time.

"The science, secret, and art of attaining, improving, and preserving personal beauty, graceful development of the body, clear, soft, and lustrous skin, bright and sparkling eyes, luxuriant and glossy hair, profusion of whiskers and moustaches, sound, white, and regular teeth, by rational and hygienic means; likewise of removing or concealing deformities and blemishes of all kinds, including wrinkles, freckles, moles, wens, scars, discolorations, defective limbs, bust, etc., thus rendering the naturally plain person lovely and attractive, and preserving to old age the charms and vivacity of youth. For particulars apply to Madame Cleopatra Pompadour, New Bond Street."

Mrs. Jocund laid down the "Daily Telegraph" in a flutter of delight, while a radiant vision rose up before her—herself restored to youth and beauty once more by the rejuvenating, improving, preserving, and developing process of Madam Cleopatra Pompadour.

She cut the paragraph out, carefully pasted it on a card, called for her boots, put money in her purse, ordered a cab, and in an incredibly short space of time was in New Bond Street.

"What am I to do for you, madam," asked Cleopatra, smiling blandly, and thereby exposing a magnificent set of teeth, the beauty of which spoke volumes in favour of the Pompadour secret, as did also the clear, soft, and lustrous skin, the bright and sparkling eyes, the luxuriant and glossy hair, and the graceful development of body possessed by this remarkable woman.

Mrs. Jocund replied that she had called relative to an advertisement which had appeared in that day's "Telegraph," and tendered the paragraph alluded to.

Cleopatra bowed, motioned her visitor to a couch, and taking a place beside her, said: "To make you beautiful by rational and hygienic means: to give you a graceful development of body, clear, soft, and lustrous skin, bright and sparkling eyes, luxuriant and glossy hair, sound, white, and regular teeth—to endow you with charms which shall all be real—to make you Beautiful Forever, will require time, the change will be gradual, and the process is expensive— very expensive."

The patient's countenance fell, upon which the teeth gleamed again, and the lovely lips continued:

"But in the meantime—while the process is going on—I can make you beautiful by art—supply you with artificial charms of every kind and description: pads, for giving a graceful development to the body; belladonna, for making the eyes bright and sparkling; pearl powder, for rendering the skin clear, soft, and lustrous; rouge, for creating a ravishing blush; dye and interpolating tresses, for causing the hair to seem luxuriant and glossy; the finest ivory masticators, to represent sound, white, and regular teeth, and all these charms are so artfully constructed, and look so natural when on, as to defy detection. I can fill up your wrinkles with enamel, paint out your freckles, and remove or conceal any other deformities or blemishes you may have: moles, wens, scars, discolorations, defective limbs, or bust"

She then conducted the customer through her extensive warehouse, and succeeded in disposing of several articles, boxes of pearl powder, rouge, false tresses, and such like.

1900 cartoon, Jan Duch, Wiki Commons

THE PATENT MAMMARY ELEVATOR

At last they came to a glass case under which reposed a false bosom.

"That," said Cleopatra, "is the newest thing out. We call it the Patent Mammary Elevator, from mamma the Latin for breast. We sell great numbers of them. This one has been purchased by the Duchess of F------- y."

"How beautiful? What a marvel of art! And so natural. What is it made of?"

McClure's Magazine, 1900

"Of a thin skin of caoutouche, or India Rubber, filled with air. It is furnished with a little valve by which the size of the bosom can be regulated to suit individual taste—by blowing into the pipe you can increase the inflation of the bosom, making it larger without destroying its just proportions, and by a reverse process you can make it smaller."

"How ingenious. And, dear me, how light it is—why it is not heavier than a child's balloon. This one, you say, has been purchased by the Duchess of F------ y. Could you have another made for me exactly the same?"

"Egypt Awakening"', Francis Edwin
Elwell, Wiki Commons

THE BOSOM

The answer was favorable, and that evening the bosom was sent home.

The happy purchaser spent many hours each day admiring it, trying it on, and endeavouring to ascertain the exact dimensions which would be most becoming. Not being able to make up her mind as to what were the true dimensions of beauty, or perfect symmetry, she started off to the Exhibition to examine the works of eminent sculptors. The result was that she became more puzzled than ever, for some of the marble nymphs were quite flat and others remarkable for their mammary elevation. While pondering on the strange diversity of tastes exhibited by the artists, and scrutinizing the countenances of the visitors, to gather their opinion on the relative merits of delicacy of proportion and robustness, she suddenly remembered having left the key of the door in the press in which her mammary elevator was locked up. Imagine her consternation! Picture her horror!

STOLEN

Delineator Magazine, 1905

The maid servant, being of a prying disposition, is certain to open the press, and to be frightened into fits on discovering a severed human member reposing on the topmost shelf. What follows?—believing the remainder of the body to be hidden somewhere—perhaps uuder the bed or up the chimney—confident that a terrible crime has been perpetrated— the girl shrieks "murder"—the alarmed household rush to her assistance—the delicate secret transpires, and the result is that the unfortunate owner of the bosom is driven out of society by ridicule.

Upon reaching home Mrs. Jocund rushed up stairs to her room—her worst anticipations were realised—her bosom—the bosom was gone!

The owner of the stolen property sat down upon the bed and cried. The bosom was to have appeared in public at the morrow's cavalry ball, and now all the pleasing anticipations of triumph were doomed to disappointment—of the brilliant castle which she had constructed on the mammary elevation not a vestige was left. The charm had cost twenty pounds, and another twenty could not be commanded.

Who could have taken it? One of the servants of course. But which of them?

TRIUMPHANT APPEARANCE

The servants being summoned, were told that a certain article, which for reasons of a private nature, would not be named, had been taken out of a certain press, that a sovereign would be left upon the spot from which it had been removed, and that if the person who had taken the article would restore it, they might keep the money as a reward, and no questions asked. It was added that the person who had taken the article was known, and if it was not restored, would be dismissed.

The servants all loudly and indignantly disclaimed the imputed theft, observing that they had nothing to live by but their characters. The lady's maid wanted to know if it was she that was suspected. The housemaid made a similar demand.

Mrs. Jocund replied that she did not mean to impeach the honesty of the person she suspected, the article was doubtless taken as a joke. She hoped to see it back in its place that evening, and then there would be an end of the matter.

That evening the bosom, in some unaccountable way, found its way back to the shelf from which it had been taken, and the owner retired to rest with a light heart, to dream of coming triumphs.

The American Monthly Review of Reviews, 1901

"WHAT A MAGNIFICENT BUST!"

On the following night the bosom made it's appearance at the cavalry ball, and became the cynosure of all eyes, the envy of all the women, and the admiration of all the men. A murmur ran round the room, "What a magnificent bust!" In a moment the card of the bosom was full, and delighted were those who had succeeded in snapping it up.

THE BOSOM SWELLS

At first Mrs. J. felt rather afraid of detection, and trembled as she caught the piercing glances of her rivals scrutinising the graceful orbs as they rose and fell with respiration; but after a little time, finding the aforesaid glances continued to gleam with envy untinged with suspicion, she gathered confidence, and commenced to enjoy herself thoroughly. The rooms had not filled when, upon looking down, she discovered, with some little alarm, that the bosom had grown sensibly since her arrival. Yes—there could be no doubt about the matter—it had grown larger; but its increased robustness only added to its beauty. In the excitement of the dance the circumstance was forgotten. Shortly after she went out to flirt and cool herself upon the stairs, where she remained for upwards of an hour, at the end of which time the bosom had assumed its original dimensions. Upon returning to the dancing room she found the apartment had become crowded during her absence, and insufferably hot, but being an inveterate disciple of Terpsichore, she did not hesitate to elbow her way in, and join in the rapid evolutions of the waltz which was going on. Round, round, round she went in a delirium of pleasure, thinking of nothing but the triumph of the moment, for she had as partner the handsomest man in the room. Observing that everybody stared at her, and even the other couples all stopped to gaze, as if spell bound, and attributing the sensation to her own graceful movements, she felt much gratified, and increased her exertions.

Suddenly her partner stopped too, and addressing her very gravely, said, "Madam, I fear you are very ill. Rest one moment here, while I summon Doctor Hargrove, who is in the next room."

Durston, "Giantomastia"' , Wiki Commons

IT GETS BIGGER AND BIGGER

Following the direction of the speaker's eye, the unhappy woman looked down, and discovered that the bosom was swollen to enormous dimensions, and was still rising—still expanding—still getting bigger and bigger.

Oh! the agony of that moment! She grew crimson, and tried to reach the door, but the room was crowded, the stairs were jammed, and retreat in time seemed impossible.

LAMENTABLE CATASTROPHE

"I am ill—Oh! I am very ill—let me go home?" she implored.

"Take my arm, madam," said an elderly gentleman, who proved to be Doctor Hargrove, "Lean on me—make way, gentlemen —make way, ladies—don't you see the lady is very ill!"

They did see it, they thought she was dying, and, regardless of their delicate ball dresses, tried to make a passage. Some fainted, some went into hysterics, while others came close to examine the preternatural phenomenon.

"Oh, quick, quick, please, quick, quick," prayed the unhappy possessor, seeing the bosom was now swollen nigh to bursting, and was still increasing in size, so that a catastrophe seemed inevitable; and, wild with despair, she battled with those who opposed her progress.

COLLAPSE OF THE BOSOM

Alas, it was too late! Before she had got half way across the room, the patent mammary elevator exploded—the bosom blew up with a loud report, and then, collapsing, shriveled up to nothing!!!

The wretched owner, terrified by the anticipations of exposure, fainted. And well, perhaps, for her was it that she did so before the true nature of the catastrophe was made evident by the withered fiction popping up, like a liberated jack in the box, from the ruins of the lately blooming fiction. The universal and unextinguishable burst of laughter which then arose would have killed her.

The secret of the explosion was this: the artificial bosom had been abstracted, not by any of the servants, but by those two incorrigible practical jokers, Hal Higgins and Sam Spoon. These malicious humourists had introduced into each of the mammary orbs a small quantity of a fluid which has the property of vapourising at a very low temperature. When the ball-room grew crowded, the temperature became sufficiently elevated to cause the ether to commence changing its state to a gaseous fluid, thereby expanding the bosom until the thin India Rubber sides, being no longer able to sustain the tension caused by the liberated gas, were rent asunder with great violence.

"Phyrne", anonymous, Wiki Commons

An Idea of the Arts of Beautifying, Perfuming, Alchymy and Chiromancie

2012-08-12T19:13:00.000-07:00

How can one resist a sales pitch like this?

By our directions you may attain such a rosid colour, and such a lively cheerfulness, as shall not only make you look like natures workmanship, but also put admiration into the beholders, and fix them in a belief, that you are the first-fruits of the resurrection. Thus we teach you lippid mortalls to retrace the steps of youthfulness, and to transform the wrinkled hide of Hecuba into the tender skin of the greatest of beauties, which then you will dull by the advance of your Features, and make all conceited shadows of glory, to vanish in your presence. When once your artificial heat shall appear, others shall seem pale with envy for your perfections; and their natural ruddiness shall only serve them to blush, to see their features clouded by your splendor, who will seem like brown bread compared with Manchet,or rather like wooden dishes upon a shelf of China ware,or as another once said, like blubber'd jugs in a cupboard of Venice glasses, or as earthen piss pots in a Goldsmiths shop. By this means your sparkling Glories shall fire Platonick Lovers, so that none though as cold as Saturn, shall be able to resist your actuating flames, but shall force the stoutest heart, to be a Sacrifice to Love.

by William Salmon, Professor of Physick, 1685. The treatise, "Polygraphice: Or the Arts of Drawing, Engraving, Etching, Limming, Painting ..." will teach you to draw, paint, engrave, sculpt AND prepare cosmetics that will make you astoundingly youthful and beautiful! Never mind that some of the recipes contain mercury and other nefarious ingredients... proceed at your own risk:)

a link to the book: polygraphice

Learn to LOVE and to pray...

2012-07-31T19:58:00.000-07:00

"Picture her to yourself, and

ere you be old, learn to LOVE and to PRAY!"

~William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

an excellent cautionary tale that beauty is fleeting ~ published 1755

Dorinda at her Glass

by Mrs. Leapor

DORINDA, once the fairest of the train,
Toast of the town, and triumph of the plain;
Whose shining eyes a thousand hearts alarm'd,
Whose wit inspired, and whose follies charm'd:
Who, with invention, rack'd her careful breast
To find new graces to insult the rest,
Now sees her temples take a swarthy hue, And the dark veins resign their beauteous blue;

While on her cheeks the fading roses die,

And the last sparkles tremble in her eye.

Bright Sol had drove the fable clouds away,

And chear'd the heavens with a stream of day,

The woodland choir their little throats prepare,

To chant new carols to the morning air:

In silence wrapp'd, and curtain'd from the day,

On her fad pillow lost Dorinda lay;

To mirth a stranger, and the like to ease,

No pleasures charm her, nor no slumbers

please.

For if to close her weary lids she tries,

Detested wrinkles swim before her eyes;At length the mourner rais'd her aking head,

And discontented left her hated bed.

But sighing shun'd the relicks of her pride,

And left the toilet for the chimney side:

Her careless locks upon her shoulders lay

Uncurl'd, alas! because they half were gray;

No magick baths employ her skilful hand,

But useless phials on her table stand:

She flights her form, no more by youth inspir'd,

And loaths that idol which she once admir'd.

At length all trembling, of herself afraid,

To her lov'd glass repair'd the weeping maid,

And with a sigh address'd the alter'd shade.

Say, what art thou, that wear'st a gloomy form,

With low'ring forehead, like a northern storm;

Cheeks pale and hollow, as the face of woe,

And lips that with no gay vermilion glow?

Where is that form which this false mirror told

Bloom'd like the morn, and shou'd for ages hold;

But now a spectre in its room appears,

All scar'd with furrows, and defac'd with tears;

Say, com'st thou from the regions of despair,

T0 shake my senses with a meagre stare

Some straggling horror may thy phantom be,

But surely not the mimick shape of me.

Ah! yes~~~ the shade its mourning visage rears,

Pants when I sigh, and answers to my tears:

Now who shall bow before this wither'd shrine,

This mortal image that was late divine?

What victim now will praise these faded eyes,

Once the gay basis for a thousand lyes?

Deceitful beauty~~~ false as thou art gay,

And is it thus thy vot'ries find their pay; This the reward of many careful years,

Of morning labours, and of noon-day sears,

The gloves anointed, and the bathing hour,

And soft cosmetick's more prevailing pow'r?

Yet to thy worship still the fair-ones run,

And hail thy temples with the rising sun;

Still the brown damsels to thy altars pay

Sweet-scented unguents, and the dews of May;

Sempronia smooths her wrinkled brows with care,

And Isabella curls her gristed hair:

See poor Augusta of her glass afraid,

Who even trembles at the name of maid,

Spreads the fine Mechlin on her shaking head,

While her thin cheeks disown the mimick red.

Soft Sylvia, who no lover's breast alarms,

Yet simpers out the ev'ning of her charms,

And though her cheek can boast no rosy dye,

Her gay brocades allure the gazing eye.

But hear, my sisters, hear an ancient maid,

Too long by folly, and her arts betray'd;

From these light trifles turn your partial eyes,

'Tis fad Dorinda prays you to be wise;

And thou, Celinda,'thou must shortly feel

The sad effect of time's revolving wheel;

Thy spring is past, thy summer fun declin'd,

See autumn next, and winter stalks behind:

But let not reason with thy beauties fly,

Nor place thy merit in a brilliant eye;

'Tis thine to charm us by sublimer ways,

And make thy temper, like thy seatures, please:

And thou, Sempronia, trudge to morning pray'r,

Nor trim thy eye-brows with so nice a care;

Dear nymph, believe 'tis true, as you're alive,

Those temples stew the marks of fifty-five.

Let Isabel unload her aking head

Of twisted papers, and of binding lead;

Let sage Augusta now, without a frown,

Strip those gay ribbands from her aged crown;

Changed the lac'd flipper of delicious hue

For a warm stocking, and an easy shoe;

Guard her swell'd ancles from rheumatick pain,

And from her cheek expunge the guilty stain.

Wou'd smiling Sylvia lay that hoop aside,

'Twou'd shew her prudence, not betray her pride:

She, like the rest, had once her flagrant day,

But now she twinkles in a fainter ray. Those youthful airs set off their mistress now,

Just as the patch adorns her autumn brow:

In vain her feet in sparkling laces glow,

Since none regard her forehead, nor her toe.

Who would not burst with laughter, or with spleen, At Pruda, once a beauty, as I ween?

But now her features wear a dusky hue,

The little loves have bid her eyes adieu:

Yet she pursues the pleasures of her prime,

And vain desires, still unsubdu'd by time;

Thrusts in among the frolick and the gay,

But shuts her daughter from the beams of day:

The child, she says, is indolent and grave,

And tells the world Ophelia can't behave:

But while Ophelia is forbid the room,

Her mother hobbles in a rigadoon;

Or to the found of melting musick dies,

And in their sockets rolls her blinking eyes;

Or stuns the audience with her hideous squall,

While scorn and satire whisper through the hall.

image source~ wiki commons

Hear this, ye fair ones, that survive your charms,

Nor reach at folly with your aged arms;

Thus Pope has sung, thus let Dorinda sing;

"Virtue, brave boys, 'tis virtue makes a king."

Why not a queen ? fair virtue is the fame

In the rough hero, and the smiling dame:

Dorinda's soul her beauties shall pursue,

Though late I see her, and embrace her too:

Come, ye blest graces, that are sure to please,

The smile of friendship, and the careless ease;

The breast of candour, the relenting ear,

The hand of bounty, and the heart sincere:

May these the twilight of my days attend,

And may that ev'ning never want a friend,

To smooth my passage to the silent gloom,

And give a tear to grace the mournful tomb.

Dancing~ for Young Ladies~~~!

2012-07-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

"Young Lady's Book", ~1829

a review of the book, " Exercises for Ladies; Calculated to Preserve and Improve Beauty", by Donald Walker, 1836

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A CHARMING little book, to help ladies to walk upright in their ways. We are perfectly certain that without this book there is not a woman in the country who knows how either to stand, sit, walk, lie, or get up: and how they have managed to perform these operations for so many years, is to us unaccountable ;— no wonder so many false steps have been made; no wonder some have had a fall, and others slipped away, and others lost their equilibrium. Nature teaches nothing but to turn in your toes, and stare with your mouth wide open; and to keep your hands in your pockets. Most people are conceited enough to think they can stand. Presumptuous and absurd! The thing is utterly impossible, without Mr. Walker's assistance. Certainly, they may have the distant appearance of something like standing; or rather, they may not be sitting, or lying, or kneeling: but, really and absolutely to stand is a work many excellent persons have attempted, hut not one in a hundred succeeded in accomplishing. The fool says in his heart, 'to stand, is to be on my legs;' but the wise man thus interprets that noble and difficult action:

"The equal squareness of the shoulders and body, to the front, is the first and great principle of position. The. heels must be in a line and olosed; the knees straight; the toes turned out, with the feet forming an angle of sixty degrees. [There, you blockhead! did you know that ?] The arms hanging close to the body; the elbows turned in, and close to the sides; the hands open to the front, with the view of preserving the elbow in the position above directed. The little fingers lightly touching the clothing of the limbs, with the thumb close to the forefingers. The stomach rather drawn in, and the breast advanced, but without constraint; the body upright, but inclining forward, so that the weight of it may principally bear on the fore-part of the feet; the head erect, and the eyes straight to the front. The whole figure must be in such a position, that the ear, shoulder, haunch, knee, and ankle are all in a line. If females find this standing position very fatiguing, it may be modified."

"History of Dancing"' ~ 1848

Were we to follow the guidance of our own feelings, we should transcribe great part of this work, which has been introduced into our publisher's family with great success. But we have made ourselves so far masters of it, that the moment we go into a room, we can tell whether the young ladies of the family are Mr. Walker's pupils or not; just as a celebrated oculist of the present day can tell in an instant, in the most crowded assembly, an eye that he has brushed, from its extraordinary brilliancy. Lest any ladies in the country should not be able to avail themselves immediately of this work, we shall, for their sakes, transcribe a few short leading hints, which may, perhaps, prevent them exposing themselves:

~Ladies should not lift the feet high from the ground, or stamp noisily, or toss their feet; hut if their busts are long, they may lift their feet a little higher.

~ Short ladies may hold their arms a little higher than tall ones.

~Ladies, of course, hold their dresses with the tips of their fingers.

~For those ladies who are round-shouldered, it is advised to walk every day for an hour with a square book on their heads: this will make them like the Women on the Nile.

"Analysis of Country Dancing"' ~ 1822

~In dancing, the face must be occasionally turned to the right and left, both for convenience and because much elegance and grace may be produced by its judicious direction; the look should be on the partner, without appearing scrupulously to follow him.

~The countenance should be animated, and expressive of cheerfulness or gaiety, and an agreeable smile should ever play about the mouth.

~ Ladies must dance in a style different from gentlemen: they must delight by pretty terre-a-terre steps, and by a moderate and gentle abandon.

~ If the features of a lady breathe gaiety; if her shape be pretty ; her dancing may be more animated, and she need not be afraid of using a style almost brilliant—sissones, battues, pas d'ete &c.

~With the last piece of advice we cordially agree: 'That every lady should desist from dancing as soon as she feels over-heated. For perspiration renders the most beautiful dancer an object of ridicule or pity !'—We must also caution those 'angels of the earth' not to indulge too much in the waltz; for it causes vertigo, syncope, spasm, and other accidents, in ladies of an irritable constitution.

~We now feel we have done our duty to the fair sex; but, in conclusion, we must remark, that, beautiful as are the positions of a well-educated body, they are still defective unless accompanied or guided by a naturally benevolent and graceful mind. We shall therefore borrow Mr. Walker's words on this subject; and we must say that at the last Ipswich Ball (a ball unrivalled for its display of beauty and rank), we perceived many beautiful pupils of this gentleman, putting his lessons into practice.

"History of Dancing"' ~ 1848

"If a lady is merely invited to a ball, her duties are less peremptory, and less numerous, but not on that account less indispensable. She is bound to receive, with a smiling and modest mien, all partners, whatever their age or rank. She addresses a few words with politeness to her neighbours, even though unknown to her ? If they dance much, she compliments them on their success; and if, on the contrary, they are left alone, she does not seem to perceive it; and especially if she has been more fortunate, she is careful not to speak of the fatigue, or to evince an insulting compassion. And, if she can, she contributes to procure them partners, without their in any way suspecting her of the performance of such an office."

After perusing these and other monitory dicta of the same kind, we feel that Mr. Walker has a right to say of himself,

Vixi puellis nuper idoneus.

translation~ recently I led a life congenial to girls

article source: The Gentleman's Magazine, 1837

"Young Lady's Book"' ~ 1829

Wash a la Marie Antoinette~!

2012-07-16T19:43:00.000-07:00

~whether this was an actual recipe used by Marie Antoinette or inspired by her delicate complexion, I don't know. I will update if I find out!

"Marie Antoinette with Rose" ~ Elisabeth Vigee- Lebrun

Take half a dozen lemons and cut them in small slices, a small handful of the leaves of white lilies, and southernwood, and infuse them in two quarts of cow's milk, with an ounce and a half of white sugar, and an ounce of rock-alum. These are directed to be distilled in balneum mariae. The face, at bed-times, is to be rubbed with this water; and it is said that it gives a beautiful lustre to the complexion. It is a safe application, and its effects are certain.

balneum mariae

recipe source!

gypsy

2012-07-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

"A Gypsy Girl", George Elgar Hicks, 1899

The gypsy eyes have something quite special about them — a thrill and flicker of fire somewhere in their depths that has the power of making all other dark eyes seem tame and insipid, mere patches of color. A Hungarian youth once said to me as he distractedly struck his forehead — and I sympathized with his emotion — "The eyes of the gypsy women! ah! they drive you mad." 1

The Spanish Gypsies are remarkable for beauty in early youth; for magnificent eyes and hair, regular features, light and well-knit figures. Their locks, like the Hindus, are lamp black, and without a sign of wave , and they preserve the characteristic eye. I have often remarked its fixity and brilliance, which flashes like phosphoric light, the gleam which in some eyes denotes madness. I have also noticed the 'far-off look ' which seems to gaze at something beyond you and the alternation from the fixed stare to a glazing or filming of the pupil. " 2

"Gypsy Girl with Mandolin", Jean-Baptiste-
Camille Corot, 1870

I turned round. A Gypsy girl, dressed in fine Gypsy costume, very dark but very handsome, was sitting on a settle drinking from a pot of ale, and nursing an instrument of the violin kind, which she was fondling as though it were a baby. She was quite young, not above eighteen years of age, slender, graceful —remarkably so, even for a Gypsy girl. Her hair, plaited in the old-fashioned Gypsy way, in little plaits that looked almost as close as plaited straw, and as it was of an unusually soft and fine texture for a Gypsy, the plaits gave it a lustre quite unlike that which unguents can give. As she sat there, one leg thrown over the other, displaying a foot which, even in the heavy nailed boots, would have put to shame the finest foot of the finest English lady I have ever seen, I could discern that she was powerful and tall; her bosom, gently rising and falling beneath the layers of scarlet and yellow and blue handkerchiefs, which filled up the space the loose-fitting gown of bright merino left open, was of a breadth fully worthy of her height. A silk handkerchief of deep blood-red colour was bound round her head, not in the modern Gypsy fashion, but more like an Oriental turban. From each ear was suspended a massive ring of red gold. Round her beautiful, towering, tanned neck was a thrice-twisted necklace of half-sovereigns and amber and red coral. She looked me full in the face. Then came a something in the girl's eyes the like of which I had seen in no other Gypsy's eyes, though I had known well the Gypsies who used to camp near Rington Manor, not far from Raxton, for my kinsman, Percy Aylwin, the poet, had lately fallen in love with Winnie's early friend, Rhona Boswell. It was not exactly an 'uncanny' expression, yet it suggested a world quite other than this. It was an expression such as one might expect to see in a 'budding spae-wife,' or in a Roman Sibyl. And whose expression was it that it now reminded me of? But the remarkable thing was that this expression was intermittent; it came and went like the shadows the fleeting clouds cast along the sunlit grass. Then it was followed by a look of steady self-reliance and daring. 3

image source: nights...days...

There is something very winning about the Gypsy smile. It is so natural and spontaneous. It never palls. Still more fascinating, more hypnotic is the glance. The kodak cannot capture it; and no painter has quite succeeded in reproducing its likeness. It is an intense, absorbing stare that holds one in a spell...

...IMAGINE yourselves in a square cave hollowed from the rock. A little Spanish Gypsy girl is dancing an abulea to the accompaniment of a wild song and the vibrant notes of a guitar. Other Gypsies sitting tensely on the rims of their chairs, in a half circle about the dancer, are beating time with vigorous handclaps, and shouting, " Alsa! Alsa !" in tones that make the stone vault re-echo. Dancer and audience are as one, in a frenzy of excitement. The tiny feet stamp the rough floor; the gaily colored skirt flutters as she springs. Her elastic body bends and sways. There is something of the snake and something of the bird, in the writhing arms and quivering fingers. There is a glitter in her eye, whether she strikes her bosom in mock rage, or leaps with head thrown back and lips parted in a paroxysm of joy. And an answering sparkle illumines the eye of every Gypsy. 4

gypsy dance, image source: wiki

The Gypsy women and girls were the principal attractions to these visitors; wild and singular as these females are in their appearance, there can be no doubt, for the fact has been frequently proved, that they are capable of exciting passion of the most ardent description, particularly in the bosoms of those who are not of their race, which passion of course becomes the more violent when the almost utter impossibility of gratifying it is known. No females in the world can be more licentious in word and, gesture, in dance and in song, than the Gitanas; but there they stop: and so of old, if their titled visitors presumed to seek for more, an unsheathed dagger or gleaming knife speedily repulsed those who expected that the gem most dear amongst the sect of the Roma was within the reach of a Busno. 5

Turn with us then, so please you, to the south of sunny France; it is the vineyard season, and the racy grapes, bloated with over ripeness, are being gathered. A gay time this among the French peasantry, and these gipseys know it well, for see, in this little post town, it is nightfall, and the laborers of botn sexes, each with a richly loaded basket of the generous product of the vine, are coming in from the neighboring fields. Here before the small post house and tavern on the little green, the laborers pause to witness the dance of the gipsey tribe. While the rest throw themselves lazily upon the greensward, forming a wild and picturesque group, to whose countenances the twilight and reflections of the western sky lent additional interest, by clothing them in strangely vivid hues, two of the gipsey tribe, a male and female, commenced the dance together upon the greensward.

image source: nights, days...

The girl coupled her light and graceful movements with the notes of the merry castanets, while the young man accompanied her upon the gay ringing tambourine. The girl might have been sixteen years of age, and her companion perhaps a couple of years her senior, both evincing the healthful vigor that the gipsey's life, so near to nature, is sure to induce. The fostered and delicate child of wealth could only envy such charms as the gipsey girl exhibited, she could not possess them. Art may imitate, but it cannot equal nature. Minuitti, the danseuse of the gipsey tribe, was a queen in beauty, and many a queen would have envied her.

What brilliancy in those eyes of black, and how round and beautiful the outline of that form and face. How thrillingly lovely the expression of her speaking countenance, how graceful her light and airy step. The dance over, she advances to the crowd, who have stood mute and entranced with the scene, and holding the tambourine taken from her companion, solicits in eloquent silence a few francs in payment for the exhibition. And stay, even the crabbed old post keeper thrusts his hand into his pocket. It must be enchantment that can move him. The gipsey danseuse has all the ruddy complexion that her exposed life induces, but still there is a delicacy in her skin, a native refinement in her manner, that seem to announce ber as being above the rude companions who surround her. Her dress resembles the Castilian style, and her companion wears the costume of a Spanish mountaineer. Had fate ever placed two beings more appropriately together? Each seemed the counterpart of the other, and grace and beauty the share of both. 6

image source: nights, days...

The Gypsies are nearer to the animals than any race known to us in Europe. They have the lawlessness, the abandonment, the natural physical grace in form and gesture, of animals; only a stealthy and wary something in their eyes makes them human. Their speech, which is their own, known to them, known to few outside them, keeps them to themselves. They are ignorant of the ugly modern words, the words which we have brought in to sophisticate language. 'Give me half and you take half': divide, that is, in our shorthand. Their lilting voices are unacquainted with anything but the essential parts of speech, all that we need use if we lived in the open air, and put machines out of our hands and minds.

image source: "In Gipsey Tents",

Then, they are part of the spectacle of the world, which they pass through like a great procession, to the sound of a passionate and mysterious music. They are here to-day and there to-morrow; you cannot follow them, for all the leafy tracks that they leave for each other on the ground. They are distinguishable from the people of every land which they inhabit; there is something in them finer, stranger, more primitive, something baffling to all who do not understand them through a natural sympathy. The sullen mystery of Gypsy eyes, especially in the women, their way of coiling their hair, of adorning themselves with bright colours and many rings and long earrings, are to be found wherever one travels, east or west. Yet it is eastward that one must go to find their least touched beauty, their original splendour. It was in the market-place in Belgrade that I saw the beauty of the Gypsies in its most exact form. Here, taken from the book in which I recorded it, is my instant impression of it: 'I had seen one old woman, an animal worn to subtlety, with the cunning of her race in all her wrinkles, trudging through the streets with a kind of hostile gravity. But here it was the children who fascinated me. There were three little girls, with exactly the skin of Hindus, and exactly the same delicately shaped face, and lustrous eyes, and long dark eyelashes; and they followed me through the market, begging in strange tongues—little catlike creatures, full of humour, vivacity, and bright instinctive intelligence. As we came to one end of the market, they ran up to a young girl of about fifteen, who stood leaning against a pump. She was slender, with a thin, perfectly shaped face, the nose rather arched, the eyes large, black, lustrous, under her black eyebrows; thick masses of black hair ran across her forehead, under the scarlet kerchief. She leaned there, haughty, magnetic, indifferent; a swift animal, like a strung bow, bringing all the East with her, and a shy wildness which is the Gypsy's only.' 7

image source: Harper's Magazine, 1882

Gypsy Caravan, image source: wiki

1~ Russia, Austria-Hungary, the Balkan States, and Turkey, by Eva March Tappan, publication date unknown

2~ The life of Sir Richard Burton, Volume 2 by Thomas Wright, 1906

3~ Aylwin, By Otto Jahn, 1906

4~ NIGHTS AND DAYS ON THE GYPSY TRAIL by Irving Henry Brown, 1922

5~ THE ZINCALI, OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE GYPSIES OF SPAIN, by George Henry Borrow, 1841

6~ Ballou's Dollar Monthly Magazine, 1855

7~ Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society, Volume 1, 1907-1908

The Masked Woman ~~

2012-07-12T22:50:00.001-07:00

"The Winter Habit of an English Gentlewoman"

I love it~ masked in order to hide the fact that one does not blush at tawdry bits~!

Francis Bacon somewhere remarks that politeness veils vice just as dress masks wrinkles. Perhaps this saying of his was founded on the circumstance, that Queen Elizabeth not only wore dresses of increasing splendour with increasing age, but that she also used occasionally to appear masked on great gala occasions. The mode thus royally given, was not however very speedily or generally followed. The introduction of masks as a fashion appears to have "obtained," as old authors call it, only about the year 1660. Pepys, in 1663, says that he went to the Royal Theatre, and there saw Howard's comedy of ' The Committee' (known to us in it's new form and changed name of ' The Honest Thieves'). He designates it as "a merry but indifferent play, only Lacy's part, an Irish footman, is beyond imagination." Among the company were Viscount Falkenberg, or Falconbridge, with his wife, the third daughter of Cromwell. " My Lady Mary Cromwell," he goes on to say, " looks as well as I have known her, and well clad; but when the house began to fill, she put on her vizard, and so kept it on all the play; which of late is become a great fashion among the ladies, which hides their whole face. So" he adds,—and it shows, does that sighed-forth " So " the melancholy consequence of leading wives into temptation,—"So to the Exchange, to buy things, with my wife ; among others a vizard for herself."

Certainly that pretty precisian, Mary Cromwell, in a vizard at the play, sounds oddly; one would as soon expect to hear of Mrs. Chisholm at a Casino! No wonder Mrs. Pepys admired her !

But Mrs. Pepys was not very long content with her English vizard; for six months after we find the little man, her husband, recording—" To Covent Garden, to buy a maske at the French house, Madame Charett's, for my wife." The taste of Mrs. Pepys was doubtless influenced by the example of the court, " where six women, my Lady Castlemaine and Duchess of Monmouth being two of them, and six men, the Duke of Monmouth, and Lord Arran, and Monsieur Blanfort (Lord Feversham) being three of them, in vizards, but most rich and antique dresses, did dance admirably and most gloriously." What Pepys thought of the fashion and the time is seen again by a sighing comment—"God give us cause to continue the mirth!"

The fashion was still in full force in 1667; and to what purpose it was used, and to what purpose it might be abused, may be seen in the following extract:

" To the King's House to ' The Maid's Tragedy,' but vexed all the while with two talking ladies and Sir Charles Sedley; yet pleased to have their discourse, he being a stranger. And one of the ladies would and did sit with her mask on through all the play; and, being as exceeding witty as ever I heard woman, did talk most pleasantly with him; but was, I believe, a virtuous woman, and of quality. He would fain know who she was, but she would not tell; yet did give him many pleasant hints of her knowledge of him, by that means setting his brains at work to find out who she was, and did give him leave to use all means to find out who she was, but pulling off her- mask. He was mighty witty and she also making sport with him very inoffensively, that a more pleasant rencontre I never heard;" and then once more a groaning commentary—"but by that means lost the pleasure of the play wholly."

In the following year Pepys makes record of his having been at Bartholomew Fair with his wife and a party. We " took a link," he says, " the women resolving to be dirty, and walked up and down to get a coach; and my wife being a little before me, had like to have been taken up by one whom we saw to be Sam Hartlib. My wife had her vizard on; yet we cannot say that he meant any hurt; for it was just as she was by a coach side, which he had, or had a mind to take up: and he asked her, ' Madam, do you go in this coach but as soon as he saw a man come to her (I know not whether he knows me) he departed away apace." By all which we may see that a vizard at a fair was evidently an outward and visible sign," recognized by the rakes and gallants of the locality.

A vizard in the Park, at dusk, was equally intelligible; and though the men were not masked at that or any other hour, they were at that time and place more than sufficiently disguised.

" And now" says Vincent, in Sir George Etherege's comedy of ' Love in a Wood, or St. James's Park'—now a man may carry a bottle under his arm, instead of his hat, and no observing, spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face." As at park and fair, so fell the convenient covering into evil application at the play itself. The matter is alluded to by the Widow Blackacre in the epilogue to the
' Plain Dealer':

" For as in Hall of Westminster
Sleek sempstress vends amid the Courts her ware ;
So while we bawl, and you in judgment sit,
The visor-mask sells linen too i: the pit."

By the end of the seventeenth century the fashion of masks was being tarnished by vulgarity; and the practice of concluding comedies with a ' Marriage in a Mask,' a ceremony which may not have been unusual, was already considered as a stale device. Congrevc winds up two of his comedies, ' The Old Bachelor,' and ' Love for Love,' with this jovial sort of bouquet.

The mode however still held on at the theatre. The latter was never more licentious than now, and the ladies never so much loved to resort thither. Our great grandmothers however, when young, were extremely modest: many of them were afraid of venturing to a new play till their lovers assured them they might do so without offence to their exquisite delicacy. The bolder spirits, still modest but impatient, went in masks,—not unwilling to listen to savoury uncleanness, but so modest that they could not bear any one to see that they did not blush at it. " Such incidents as these," says the ' Spectator,' " make some ladies wholly absent themselves from the playhouse; and others never miss the first night of a new play, lest it should prove too luscious to admit of their going with any countenance to the second;"—a most exquisite reason. It was good enough however to authorize vizards; and the theatre became something like what Nat Lee in his ' Nero' describes Mount Ida to have been,—

" Where the gods meet and dance in masquerade "

But Mount Ida had something divine about it, which our stage in the days of vizards certainly had not. As Joe Haines said to his masked audience, in the concluding lines of the prologue to the very play just named—

" All tragedies, egad! to me sound oddly;
I can no more be serious than you godly."

The fashion, after it had been indifferently well worn by the ladies, of course fell to their maids, and Abigail wore the vizard which Lady Betty dropped. In Malcolm's ' London' (eighteenth century) a writer is quoted, whose communication shows whither the masks had fallen in 1731. It is in a letter on " Boxing Day," and in it occurs the following passage :

—" My friend next carried me to the upper end of Piccadilly, where, one pair of stairs over a stable, we found near a hundred people of both sexes (some masked, others not), a great part of which were dancing to the music of two sorry fiddles. It is impossible to describe this medley of mortals fully; however, I will do it as well as I can. There were footmen, servant-maids, butchers, apprentices, oyster and orange women, and sharpers, which appeared to be the best of the company. This horrid place seemed to be a complete nursery for the gallows. My friend informed me it was called ' a threepenny hop;' and while we were talking, to my great satisfaction, by order of the Westminster justices, to their immortal honour, entered the constables and their assistants, who carried off all the company that was left; and had not our friend been known to them, we might have paid dear for our curiosity."

"The Vanity of Women: Masks and Bustles", attributed to Maarten de Vos

article source: "Habits and Men: with Remnants of Record Touching the Makers of Both", By Dr. Doran (John), 1855

Extravagant head-dresses of the fifteenth century

2012-07-10T19:20:00.000-07:00

image source: NYPL digital library

~just a snippet from an old tome, I have no idea whether or not this is true although I would not doubt it~! Nothing like public ridicule to inspire change, even if that change is only temporary! ha!

CHAPTER LIII. — A PREACHER, CALLED FRIAR THOMAS, CONVERTS MANY PERSONS, AND INVEIGHS AGAINST THE EXTRAVAGANT DRESSES OF THE WOMEN, IN DIFFERENT PLACES.

In this year, a friar called Thomas Conecte, a native of Brittany, and of the Carmelite order, was much celebrated through parts of Flanders, the Tournesis, Artois, Cambresis, Ternois, in the countries of Amiens and Ponthieu, for his preachings. In those towns where it was known he intended to preach, the chief burghers and inhabitants had erected for him in the handsomest square, a large scaffold, ornamented with the richest cloths and tapestries, on which was placed an altar, whereon he said mass, attended by some monks of his order, and his disciples. The greater part of these last followed him on foot wherever he went, he himself riding on a small mule.

Having said mass on this platform, he then preached long sermons, blaming the vices and sins of each individual, more especially those of the clergy, who publicly kept mistresses, to the breach of their vows of chastity. In like manner, he blamed greatly the noble ladies, and all others who dressed their heads in so ridiculous a manner, and who expended such large sums on the luxuries of apparel. He was so vehement against them, that no woman thus dressed dared to appear in his presence ; for he was accustomed, when he saw any of them with such dresses, to excite the little boys to torment and plague them, giving them certain days of pardon for so doing, and which he said he had the power of granting. He ordered the boys to shout after them, Au hennin, au hennin ! ~ even when the ladies were departed from him and from hearing his invectives; and the boys pursuing them, endeavoured to pull down these monstrous head-dresses, so that the ladies were forced to seek shelter in places of safety. These cries caused many tumults between those who raised them and the servants of the ladies.

Friar Thomas, nevertheless, continued his abuse and invectives so loudly, that no women with high head-dresses any longer attended his sermons, but dressed in caps somewhat like those worn by peasants and people of low degree. The ladies of rank, on their return from these sermons, were so much ashamed, by the abusive expressions of the preacher, that the greater part laid aside their head-dresses, and wore such as those of nuns. But this reform lasted not long, for like as snails, when any one passes by them, draw in their horns, and when all danger seems over put them forth again.—so these ladies, shortly after the preacher had quitted their country, forgetful of his doctrine and abuse, began to resume their former colossal head-dresses, and wore them even HIGHER than before.

source: THE CHRONICLES OF ENGUERRAND DE MONSTRELET

Strange Antique Cosmetic Recipe~ Pigeon Water~

2012-07-05T18:23:00.001-07:00

I have no doubt that the pigeon population of England plummeted after this secret was revealed....

DANISH COSMETIC.

proffering pigeon water?

It has been often remarked of the ladies of this country, that their complexion is more fair, and their colour more delicate and lasting than any other. It is probable that for this advantage they are in some degree indebted to nature; but it is certain that they are very assiduous to assist nature by art, and there is great reason to believe that their assiduity has it's desired effect. For this purpose they make use of a beautifying wash which they call Pigeon Water ;—the method of preparing which they affect to keep secret, but it is as follows.

Take of the water of nenuphar or water-lilly, bean water, melon water, cucumber water, and the juice of lemons, of each one ounce; of briony, wild succory, flowers de luce, borage, and bean-flowers, of each a handful; of white pigeons seven or eight, pluck them, and cut the heads and ends of the wings, then mince them very small, and put them, with the other ingredients into an alembic; add also four ounces of double refined sugar, one drachm of borax, and as much camphire; the crumb of four small white loaves new from the oven, and a pint of good white wine. Let them digest in the alembic seventeen or eighteen days, after which distill the whole and reserve the water for use.

Amelie Margrethe Wedel-Heinen, Danish
Lady-in-Waiting pre-1900

Before this water is used, they make the skin perfectly clean with the following composition. Take about the fourth part of the crumb of a rye loaf, fresh from the oven, the whites of four fresh eggs, and a pint of vinegar : beat them well together, and strain the whole through a linen scarf? Many ladies in this country [ Denmark] who are full fifty years of age, preserve by these means all the freshness and bloom of twenty-one.

Portrait of a Lady- Christtine of Denmark,
Dowager-Duchess of Milan and Lorraine, (1521
-1590)
anonymous. image source- wiki

This cosmetic I beg leave to recommend to the ladies of Great Britain, instead of those artificial colourings which are now in vogue, and which will inevitably destroy the finest, complexion in a short time.

William Wimple.

les pigeons blancs

A Painter of Ladies...

2012-07-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

Fabulous early satire on the cosmetic arts from "The Town and Country Magazine, circa 1772. The engravings are from the same magazine, belles of the day, perhaps future customers? enjoy!

To the Printer of the Town and Country Magazine,

S I R,

As I perceive you are an encourager of merit in every department of arts and sciences, I intreat you to introduce me to your readers, through the channel of your Magazine.

I am, by profession, a limner; but not meeting with success in the direct load of my calling, I applied my talents only indirectly to my profession, in other words, finding few ladies would employ me to paint their faces upon canvas, I undertook to paint fancy faces upon their own. In this pursuit I have been very successful, and have practised at Paris, with great approbation, for some years; during the course of which, I have had the honour to serve princesses of the blood, duchesses, countesses, and viscountesses, down to the bourgoisie, and have never failed giving ample satisfaction.

I have studied the necessary appearance in all situations, having proper countenances for the virgin, the bride, the widow ; the innocent tinge for the first ; the modest blush for the second ; and the softness of sorrow for the third. I can express either love, anger, or compassion; desire, or disgust—I have even a pencil for delight. Ladies may have their faces decorated, by the day, the week, or the month; according to the different colours of their cloaths, or the variety of their, head-dresses. I have a particular face for court mourning, which will last the whole time. I make the finest blue veins at a moment's warning, and fill up wrinkles, and the small pox, in the twinkling of an eye. I have also masquerade faces, that look as natural as real masks; whereby the heat and inconveniencies of such heavy countenances are avoided. A fresh assortment of patterns for all public places, are just finished, and ready to be laid on.

Among others, there is a most beautiful Cornelys' face, that will bear the heat of the warmest apartments. The second is a most divine Pantheon face, that is proper even for a goddess. Besides these, there are Almack Brunettes, and Coterie Olives, for late vigils, and ill runs of luck, which never alter, and will stand the test for a week, in case the party should continue so long.

In a word, sir, I have countenances for every day and night in the year. Side and front box faces in great variety ; and mourning-coach faces always ready: besides riding and walking faces, that will stand the most inclement weather. If, after this, any lady should have any doubt of my skill, by applying to my apartments, in St. James's street, she may receive ocular demonstration of my abilities, and the most perfect secrecy will be preserved.

I am, sir,

Yours, and the ladies,

Most humble servant,

Don Tinco De Pencilino

Geisha!

2012-06-30T21:03:00.000-07:00

geisha costume

Of course every nation has its own standard of feminine loveliness and finds it difficult to understand and appreciate any ideal of personal beauty that does not conform to that particular standard.

The most peerless of our American beauties would probably fail to excite the admiration of an African savage, while the Hottentot belle would scarcely reign as such in a New York drawing-room.

The Japanese ideal is strikingly different from ours. To the native eye, women of the Western world are very far from handsome. That golden-haired blonde loveliness that to us is the highest type of female beauty is not pleasing to the Japanese.

They call those sunny locks red! Indeed, all hair save ebony black they so designate, and when we recall the fact that their artists always depict the devil with fair or red hair, we realize in what estimation they hold it!
The rosy complexion of our blonde to them is florid and unhealthy looking, and the small waist, large bust and hips are positive deformities.

The Japanese ideal of beauty was thus publicly described by a native gentleman at the Paris Exposition:

"The head should be neither too large nor too small. The large black eyes should be surmounted by perfectly arched eyebrows and fringed with black lashes. The face should be oval, white, and but slightly rosetinted in each cheek, the nose straight and high. The mouth small, regular, and fresh, the thin lips parting to show the white teeth behind them. The forehead should be narrow and bordered with long black hair growing round the face in a perfect arch. This head should be joined by a round neck to a large but not fat body. The loins should be slender, and the hands and feet small but not thin, the swell of the breast modest and unexaggerated." Mere physical beauty has never been regarded by the Japanese as the sole criterion; fascinating manners, a ready but modest wit, and a gift for writing poetry and understanding poetical allusions weigh heavily in the balance, and some of their famous so-called "beauties" owe their reputations as such more to fascination of manner and a witty tongue than physical charms.

the GEISHA DANCE!

A "number one" geisha must be cultivated and well read besides being able to dance and sing.
Gentlemen who are giving dinner-parties or entertaining guests engage two or three or more geisha to come and amuse the company. They sing, dance, and talk, play various little games with their hands and fingers, and tell stories—anything, in fact, which seems to interest and amuse their patrons.

From time to time, some geisha becomes famous all over Japan for her beauty and brilliancy, and she is as much talked about as a celebrated actress is with us. Young men rave about her and commit all sorts of extravagances for her sake.

Drunken Courtesan~ Utamaro

The morals of the geisha are of all shades, good, bad and indifferent, varying with the individual, but the geisha are quite distinct from the yugo. Though the geisha are not, correctly speaking, actresses, they hold a somewhat similar position in the Japanese social scale to that which actresses do with us; and there is as wide a bridge between the first-class geisha and the lowest as there is between the famous actress whose name is above reproach, and the " song and dance" artiste of the dives.

In the same way as some very conscientious but rather narrow-minded people regard every woman connected with a theatre as morally depraved, so some people in Japan consider every geisha a woman of bad character.

Of course this is very far from the truth in either case. There are women as good and as pure on the stage as off. It can scarcely be denied, however, that both the actresses of the European theatres and the geisha of Japan live in a more relaxed moral atmosphere than most other women, though how much they are affected by it depends upon themselves...

...Manner and bearing are more highly regarded by the Japanese than beauty, and the same Japanese gentleman who described the native ideal of female loveliness added as necessary accompaniments to physical beauty "a gentle manner, a voice like a nightingale which makes one divine its artlessness, a look at once lively, sweet, gracious, and always charming; witty words pronounced distinctly, accompanied by charming smiles; a look sometimes calm, sometimes gay or thoughtful, and always dignified. Manners noble, simple, and a little proud, but without incurring the suspicion of undue assumption."...

...In European dress the Japanese woman is, as a rule, far from pretty, though whether she looks as badly to us as our women in Japanese costume look to the Japanese is a mooted question.
The reason for this lies not only in the dissimilarity of figure, but also the distinctly opposite carriage of the body adopted by Eastern and Western women. The bearing considered the most correct and aristocratic for a Japanese lady is the head bent slightly fonvard, the shoulders rounded, and a slight stoop of the upper part of the body; a submissive deportment being regarded as an eminently proper one for the inferior sex. In the loose, draped kimono of the native dress, such a carriage does not seem awkward or ungraceful, but in Western attire the effect is singularly bad.

The national dress demands a very curious gait, a sort of short, shuffling trot. The narrow skirt open down the front would flap round the legs and make more exposure than would be either comfortable or decorous if our easy, free walk were adopted. In order to prevent the least tendency to striding, girls frequently have a cord tied from one knee to the other. The shuffling is due to the heavy geta or wooden sandal, which is fastened to the foot only by a strap passing over and between the great toe.

The geisha have a peculiar swaying walk and carry the hands before the body in a manner considered particularly elegant. The dress of the "beauty," the empress and the maidservant differs only in the daintiness, the richness, or cheapness of the material employed; the cut and style are the same, with the exception of the court robe, which is longer and drags on the ground.

On state occasions, the ladies attached to the court wear long trailing costumes of exquisite painted crepe, set out round the lower edge by a roll of silk batting.

Lady Iwai Shijaku, by Utagawa Toyokuni, 1831

Some of these court robes are indescribably beautiful. I remember seeing one worn by a Japanese marchioness at a ball in Tokyo, which surpassed anything I had ever imagined. It was of pale blue-gray crepe, with a flower pattern in dark blue, light blue, white and palest rose-pink, embroidered in silver and white silk floss.

The Japanese are essentially a nation of bathers, and the native belle frequently takes two or even three scalding hot baths a day.

Strange as it may appear, this excessively hot bathing has a beneficial effect and is refreshing instead of weakening, as we might naturally suppose. The water used is so warm that the bather comes out the color of a boiled lobster; no soap is used, and the little towel, with its artistic blue or red border, is about as large as a fair-sized pocket-handkerchief.

the bath

After her bath the beauty rubs herself with a little coarse muslin bag filled with rice chaff, which is supposed to have a wonderfully good effect upon the skin and complexion. Probably its real benefit lies in the fact that the skin is thus more thoroughly dried than by the simple use of the towel.

This part of her toilet completed, a light cotton kimono is slipped on, and the geisha comes out of the bathroom fresh and smiling, to place herself in the hands of the shampooer, who is usually a blind man, shampooing or massage being almost as popular a resource as organ-playing is in America.

The Japanese amah rubs down only, never up, and he uses the flat part of the forearm as well as his hand. Sometimes he rubs with a " massage box." This is a wooden ball fitted into a round wooden box sufficiently tightly to prevent its falling out, but loosely enough to allow it to move freely.

After paying the amah the customary fee of three cents an hour, the beauty places herself under the hands of the professional hair-dresser, who comes twice or four times a week, according to the length of his customer's purse. One of the greatest beauties of the Japanese women is long, lustrous black hair, the slight coarseness of which is more than atoned for by its length and abundance.

Unfastening the heavy coil of hair from the top of her head, where the geisha had rolled it up while she took her bath, the hair-dresser carefully washes it in tepid water, anoints it liberally with fragrant camellia oil, and fans it until it is dry. He proceeds then to build it into that elaborate superstructure affected by Japanese women. In order to make it into that apparently solid ebony mass, he stiffens it with a sort of black wax, similar to the cosmetique used by our dandies and men of fashion upon their mustachios.

coiffure

The hair of the native beauty is never disordered, and no husband or lover would dream of stroking or caressing the wonderful coiffure of his lady-love. No rebellious little curls run riot in sweet confusion over her pretty head. The slightest tendency to curl or wave the Japanese girl regards with horror, and every hair is marshalled into place like a soldier.

Except costly and elaborate hair ornaments she wears little or no jewelry—no earrings, bracelets, rings, etc., but the inlaid tortoise-shell pins in her hair may cost a small fortune. After the hair-dresser has finished dressing his customer's abundant locks, he draws out of his case a pair of tiny tweezers and removes all the superfluous hair about the eyebrows, forehead, and neck.

Before the days of much foreign intercourse the ladies of the imperial family and court had the eyebrows entirely plucked out, and two black dots or lines high up on the forehead replaced them; but this custom is now obsolete.

If the geisha has no very clever maid, the hair-dresser will probably finish his work by painting Beauty's face for her. First with white ricepowder he marks out two V-shaped points, one running just below the nape of the neck at the back, and the other to a similar depth in front. He then powders her whole face and neck as far as the points indicated, rouges her cheeks slightly, reddens the lower lip in the centre, and carefully dots it with three gold spots. It is not at all uncommon to see the red paint on the lips put on so heavily that it shows the metallic green lustre.

Though all geisha and many aristocratic women of the old school still paint their faces upon special occasions, the custom is dying out among the latter. The use of cosmetics on the face is never looked at askance, or as a secret of the toilet as it is with us. A few years ago Japanese women not only painted the neck and face upon festive occasions, but the company were supposed to be quite well aware of the fact. Indeed a native lady would have felt mortified if she thought the other guests imagined she did not know enough to wear cosmetics upon ceremonial occasions. It was as much a feature of full dress as de'collete' costume is in Europe and Great Britain.

Native ladies who have received a -Western education, either at home or abroad, do not openly assume paint or wear the three gold dots on the lower lip. But numbers of Japanese women beside the geisha retain the custom. The paint on the lower lip requires that it should be slightly protruded lest the moisture of the upper lip affect it, which tends to give a half-pouting but not ill-tempered expression to the face, though it can scarcely be said to improve the appearance.

The blackening of the teeth by married women has become almost obsolete. About twenty years ago the present empress endeavored to totally abolish this ugly practice, and discouraged it not only by precept but by example. The stain was made by soaking iron filings in sake' and was of so temporary a nature that it had to be renewed at least once a week, and if it was not constantly applied the teeth soon regained their natural hue. Here and there an old woman may be found who refuses to yield to the strange new-fangled ideas that are contaminating the young women of the day, and still blackens her teeth to-day just as she did when first married. Certainly no custom could be more disfiguring or produce a more ghastly effect, but it has so nearly died out that a foreigner might live for months in Japan without meeting a woman with blackened teeth. Yet Mr. Clement Scott is credited with denouncing the Japanese women for following this unsightly fashion, which is much as if a Japanese writer were to condemn American women for wearing nightcaps, because he chanced to know, here and there, some old lady too conservative to change from the fashions of her youth when every one wore nightcaps as a matter of course.

Until very recently the age and condition of a Japanese woman was signified by the manner in which she wore her hair. If it was rolled back from the face in one pompadour puff, the wearer was a married woman; if the puff was divided into three, forming one in the middle and one on each side, she was unmarried. Widows wore two different styles of coiffure, according to whether they wished to marry again or not. But these fashions are not so closely followed as they used to be, though they may still be seen occasionally.

In one particular the distinctive way of dressing the hair is very strictly preserved. No woman of good character ever wears the elaborate coiffure or the array of gaudy hair-pins that ayugo does. A halo of tortoise-shell ornaments, some of which may be a foot long, and a sash tied in front proclaim to the world at large the yugo's calling. Never under any circumstances does the geisha wear her sash thus; a fashion which is imposed by law upon the yugo.

After the geisha has been thoroughly rubbed by the amah and had her tresses arranged and her face painted by the professional hair-dresser, she retires to her own room to dress.

Slipping off her cotton kimono, she ties two little aprons round her waist, puts a sort of shirt over them, then an inner kimono is assumed. This is fastened round the waist by a narrow band called a shita-jim/, which is drawn as tightly as possible. The shita-Jime"'is placed not at the waist line, but round the hips and lower part of the waist. The beauty of a woman's figure, according to the Japanese standard, lies in a straight line drawn from under the arm to the feet. The long, severe lines of the kimono do not accord with curves, but demand that the lines of the figure beneath it be as little undulating as possible.
If the tare geisha's figure shows an unfortunate tendency to curve at the waist and enlarge at the hips, she procures the assistance of her maid to draw her shita-jimd as tightly as she can endure it.

Western dress reformers who advocate the Japanese costume as not only artistic but healthy, would do well to consider these two points: in the first place, though there is little or no compression at the waist, there is frequently very severe pressure round the hips; and secondly, the skirt of the kimono is so exceedingly narrow that free movement of the legs is almost impossible.

Geisha- Utamaro

Though from the standpoint of beauty I admire the Japanese dress, I very much doubt if from the side of ease and comfort it can be highly recommended.

Over the inner kimono and shita-jimd comes the outside kimono, which bears in five places the coat of arms of the establishment to which the geisha is attached. If the wearer is a lady, the wife of a gentleman or noble, she wears the crest of her husband's family stamped or worked in these five places, viz., between the shoulders in the back, each side of the breast in front, and on each sleeve near the wrist. If the weather is cold two or three kimonos are worn, one over another, while in warm weather only one is put on.

Last of all comes the obi, the pride and glory of the Japanese belle. This obi or broad sash may cost a small fortune or only a few dollars. It may be stiff with gold bullion, silver embroidery, or of silk woven with an exquisite pattern, designed by some great artist.

A silk cord fastens it at the back, and a cushion or pad is placed under the broad ends. This pad, I honestly acknowledge, spoils the effect of the whole costume, to my eye. The sash ends are frequently too short to be graceful, and the padding so large as to be out of all proportion to the figure.

The geisha's toilet is completed when she assumes her tabi or thick white socks with a compartment for the big toe, and padded soles. If, however, she is going out the maid brings her sandals of lacquered wood and fine plaited rice-straw, and slipping her big toe under the brilliant velvet strap, the beauty is attired for the street. She is ready then either to pay visits or to go shopping. No hat, bonnet, gloves, mantle, or cloak troubles her. If the weather is very cold a square of silk lined with crepe is tied over the head. Inside of it are two little ear-straps, which make it fit over the head smoothly, but to arrange it quickly and gracefully requires considerable knack. It is always worn square, never three-cornered.

Should the weather chance to be stormy, the geisha shelters her pretty head with a paper or silk umbrella, and replaces her sandals with a pair of high clogs....

from "The Nightless City", By Joseph Ernest De Becker

article source: "The Professional Beauties of Japan", The Californian Illustrated Magazine~ 1893

Following the Fashion~

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An article, "WOMEN'S DRESS" from a book entitled "Old Times: a Picture of Social Life at the End of the Eighteenth Century", by John Ashton, 1885.

I've copied the article in it's entirety. The line drawings are from the book, I've taken the liberty of including the actual Gillray and Cruikshank images when I could find them rather than the author's line drawings...I've also thrown in a few illustrations from other publications that I thought illustrated the text well.

A good read, with lots of snippets from newspapers and magazines of the day.

The earliest Lady's fashion book I can find in the British Museum, is "The Lady's Monthly Museum," &c. "By a Society of Ladies,"—and it was published in 1799—or just the last year of which this book takes cognizance. But, luckily, the satirical prints supply the want, in a great measure, although they are somewhat exaggerated. From them we are able to see pictorially what might be hard to describe, and may be perfectly certain that they represent "the very last thing out" at their date of Publication. If, then, we have very little written about female attire, in 1788, and the next year, or two, we must be content with viewing the verce effigies of the belles of that time.

Indoor Costumes, 1788

Brighton, of course, was the fashionable wateringplace, for there were the life and gaiety of the young Court, in contradistinction to the humdrum existence led by the King, Queen, and younger branches of the Royal Family, at Weymouth. So it will be interesting to know their habits at this famous sea-side resort. The Morning Post, 18th September 1788, has the following :—

"The Ladies have no particular dress for the morning, but huddle away to the bathing place, in close caps, and gipsey bonnets, so that they look like a set of wandering fortune-tellers, who have just had the opportunity of pillaging the contents of a frippery warehouse, with which they had bedecked themselves in haste.

"It is to be remarked that the ladies do not atone for the negligence of the morning, by neatness, and elegance, during the rest of the day, but shuffle on something by dinner time, covering themselves with an enormous nondescript bonnet, which, to the confusion of all order, they afterwards think a proper garb for the Assembly."

In doors, the dresses were not so outre, as we see by the two illustrations taken from "The School for Scandal," 1st August 1788.

"A Cotillion", 1788

Fashions for 1788

That ladies copied the eccentricities of male attire, and made them their own, we have proof in this cutting from the Morning Post, I5th January 1789 :—

"Among other fashions lately introduced from Paris is the brace of gold watch chains now sported by our fashionable females. Some economical husbands may wish their wives were less imitative."

The Duchess of York

The portrait of the Duchess of York (the Princess Frederique, Charlotte, Ulrique, Catherine, of Prussia, married to the Duke, November 1791), shews us the indoor dress of a lady of rank in 1792. She had a remarkably small foot, and many were the delineations of her shoes—actual size, &c.

Of all curious freaks of fashion the following is the most incomprehensible, yet it doubtless obtained :—

"The fashion of dressing, at present, is to appear prominent, and the stays are made accordingly. This is holding out a wish to be thought in a thriving way, even without the authority of the Arches Court of Canterbury—something in the French way—a philosophical desire to be conspicuously great with Mischief, without any regard to law or reason. The idea was at first sent forward by a few dropsical Ladies."—(Times, March 25, 1793.)

"The Wapping Land-ladies are all at the very pinnacle of the fashion. Nature has given them prominences which far outpicture the false mountains at the West end of the town. It is not only the fashion of appearing six months gone, that prevails with the ladies—but that of not having any waists, so that, even with their prominences, they may be called—No-body." (Times, April 15, 1793.)

"Six Stages of Mending a Face", Rowlandson

A series of prints were published which represent the amount of indebtedness, ladies were under, to Art, to repair the ravages made by Nature.

~No. I shows us most graphically the. "levee au matin." —Tears drop from the eyeless socket—a yawn discloses the want of teeth, and, the handkerchief, tied round the head, which does service for a night cap, tells a sad tale of baldness.

~In No. 2 the defect of nature is being remedied by the insertion of a glass eye—which the subsequent illustrations prove to be very effective.

~No. 3 shows the triumph of the hairdresser's art; and, certainly, it adds much to the ladies personal attractions.

~In No. 4 false teeth are being inserted, to replace those, of which unkind nature has robbed her.

~No. 5 applies the bloom of youth to the faded cheek, —a bloom that never yet deceived any one.

~In No. 6 the Belle has finished her toilette, and is now prepared to break all hearts.

This series is attributed to Rowlandson—and, most probably, is his work. It is called "Six Stages of making a face.—Dedicated with respect to Lady Archer," of which lady we shall hear more anon under the head of " Gaming."

Waists, as may have been perceived by the last two, or three examples, have been gradually disappearing, until, as in "The Scarecrow," they became practically nil. High feathers were beginning to come in, and, in addition to the "panache," was worn a curious thing made of straw, very much resembling the "bristle plume" which used to be worn in the Shakos of our Engineers, and Artillery. In imitation of the men, the ladies' throats were swathed in voluminous wrappers.

With very low bodices, and very high waists, came very scanty clothing, with an absence of petticoat, a fashion which left very little of the form to the imagination. I do not say that our English Belles went to the extent of some of their French sisters, of having their muslin dresses put on damp—and holding them tight to their figures till they dried—so as absolutely to mould them to their form, or that they ever discarded stockings, and went to balls with bare feet, and only wearing sandals, having on but the lightest of classical clothing—but their clothes were of the scantiest, and we shall find that, as year succeeded year, this fashion developed, if one can call diminution of clothing, development. Men made fun of it, vide the following from the Times, I2th August, 1794:—"Amongst prudent papas, the favourite toast at this time is 'The present fashion of our wives and daughters,' viz. No Waste."

There was a very pretty song, called "Shepherds, I have lost my love, Have you seen my Anna ?"—and this was parodied as follows—the music being the same as the original song:—

SHEPHERDS, I HAVE LOST MY WAIST.

"Shep-herds, I have lost my waist, Have you seen my bo - - dy
Sac-ri-ficed to mo-dern taste, I'm quite a hod - dy dod - - dy.

Tisgone,andl have not a nook For cheesecake, tart, or jel - ly.

Never shall I see it more,

Till, common sense returning,

My body to my legs restore,

Then I shall cease from mourning,

Folly and fashion do prevail

To such extremes among the fair,

A woman's only top and tail,

The body's banish'd God knows where!'

That a fashion may become one person, and not another, is peculiarly exemplified by the two following pictures by Gillray, 9th December, 1794, both called "Following the Fashion : "—

Gillray~ "Following the Fashion", image source, wiki

"St . James's giving the Ton, I "Cheapside aping the Mode, a Soul without a Body." I a Body without a Soul."

note~ the author appears to be referencing the two women in this one picture~

"Leaving off Powder"... Gillray

The tax on Hair powder was much objected to; people had been used, for a long time, to grease, and powder their hair and wigs; and, when the duty of a Guinea per head was passed, many left off using it. The illustration "Leaving off Powder, or a Frugal family saving a Guinea," was doubtless the fact in many a family. The man, in the coloured engraving, with his "crop," to our eyes does not look so singular, as the lady, with her "fausse chevelure" unpowdered looks so bad, that, no wonder, ladies reverted to their own locks, as we see in future illustrations. So also shall we see the "Cap " of the period, the length of which is most amusingly portrayed.

The wearing of false hair is of very early origin, inasmuch as we possess, in the British Museum, an early Egyptian wig, and, in every age, we find women supplementing their natural attractions, by the addition of some one else's hair. Here is a Hair-dresser's advertisement of 1795, wherein is not only mentioned the price, &c., of hair, but shows the antiquity of the "Chignon," which, otherwise, many might think of modern date.

"TO THE LADIES.—T. BOWMAN respectfully acquaints the Ladies, that he has entirely removed his Shop and Manufactory to No. 102 New Bond Street, near Brook Street. Firmly relying upon the future favors and recommendation of his old Customers, and trusting to the superiority of his articles, he has augmented his stock of Chignons or Braids, from 600 to near 1000, in 14 shades (not 20) of brown colours, besides Auburns, Flaxens, &c., and in 8 lengths (not 50) at Ids., 14s., £1 1s.,^1 us. 6d., £2 zs., £3 3s., £4 4s., and £6 6s. each. Any colour matched in all the sizes in a minute. T. Bowman formerly gave a description of his Braids, but that has been copied by another and applied unto his own, without their possessing one requisite for which Bowman's Braids have been distinguished: and, not contented with slaying by twenties, he now kills by fifties. Bravo! Captain Boabdill, fifty more, kill them!!! As for the shades, what with Chinese hairs, mixing, and dying, he may have them (as he says) of every tint, but for real, natural, Brown colours. T. Bowman, with by far the greatest stock in the Kingdom, cannot make more than 14 shades; he can only challenge a comparison, and pledges himself to make good every assertion he has at any time made. His Brunswick fillets, an entire new and elegant article, with curls complete, fit either for morning or full dress, from 7s. 6d. to los. 6d. each, with Tetes, Borders, and every article in ornamental Hair, much cheaper than at any shop in town: having a very large stock, and dealing for ready money only, he has as yet made no advance on his old prices, although the price of hair is now double. Country orders, with money, or reference, duly observed. Chignons, &c, changed when not approved of, if not powdered."—(Times, June 22, 1795.)

"Corsettes about six inches long, and a slight buffon tucker of two inches high, are now the only defensive paraphernalia of our fashionable Belles, between the necklace and the apronstrings.— (Times, June 24, 1795.)

"The annual City Assemblies, from the glowing colours which decorate the belles, may be now fairly styled red-hot balls."—(Times, Dec. 29, 1795.)

But Feathers were now used on the shafts levelled at the vagaries of Fashion.

"At all elegant Assemblies, there is a room set apart for the lady visitants to put their feathers on, as it is impossible to wear them in any carriage with a top to it. The lustres are also removed upon this account, and the doors are carried up to the height of the ceiling. A well-dressed Lady, who nods with dexterity, can give a friend a little tap upon the shoulder across the room, without incommoding the dancers. The Ladies' feathers are now generally carried in the sword-case, at the back of the carriage."—(Times, Dec. 29, 1795.)

"A young lady, only ten feet high, was overset in one of the late gales of wind, in Portland Place, and the upper mast of her feather blown upon Hampstead Hill."

"The maroon fever has been succeeded by a very odd kind of light-headedness, which the physicians call the ptereo mania, or feather folly."

"The Ladies now wear feathers exactly of their own length, so that a woman of fashion is twice as long upon her feet as in her bed."—(Times, Dec. 30, 1795.)

"We saw a feather in Drury Lane Theatre, yesterday evening, that cost ten guineas. We should have thought the whole goose not worth the money."—(Times, Jan. 6, 1796.)

Here is a contrivance by which "A Modern Belle going to the Rooms or Balls" can go fully dressed, with her feathers fixed :—

"There is to be seen in Gt. Queen Street, a Coach upon a new construction. The Ladies set in this well, and see between the spokes of the wheels. With this contrivance the fair proprietor is able to go quite dressed to her visits, her feathers being only a yard and a half high."—(Times, Jan. 22, 1796.)

The freaks of fashion, towards the latter end of 1795, are most curious. "Waggoner's frocks," and the "Petticoat" dress, are singular illustrations of feminine taste. This latter is noticed in a paragraph in the Times, 27th Oct. 1795. "The present fashionable dress is the most simple imaginable. The petticoat is pinned to the Cravat, and the arms come out at the pocket holes."

"The only new fashions that remain for our modern belles are certainly puzzling and difficult. There can be nothing new. but going either dressed or naked."—(Times, Jan. 27, 1796.)

The following paragraph from the Times refers not only to the general absence of dress, but also to the famous (or infamous) Miss Chudleigh, a maid of Honour to the Queen, afterwards Duchess of Kingston, and tells the story of how the Princess of Wales, wife of Frederick (father of George III.), rebuked her for her nakedness.

"One night, when the late Duchess of Kingston appeared at Ranelagh in a dress which may be compared with the undress of some of our fashionable belles, a handkerchief was thrown to her, not from the Prince, but the Princess of Wales."—(Times, March 5, 1796.)

"Ladt Godiva's Rout", Gillray

"Lady Godiva's Rout, or Peeping Tom spying out Pope Joan," is by Gillray, I2th March 1796, and is a scathing satire on the extremely decollete'e, and diaphonous, dresses of the time. The fair one, whose uncovered bosom so attracts the candle snuffer, is intended to represent Lady Georgiana Gordon, afterwards Duchess of Bedford.

"High Change in Bond Street", Gillray

"High Change in Bond Street" is by Gillray (27th March 1796), and is a most amusing caricature of the then prevalent fashions both of men and women. The "Bond Street Loungers," are depicted to perfection.

"At the late Fandango Ball in Dublin, a certain Lady of Fashion appeared in the following very whimsical dress:—Flesh coloured pantaloons, over which was a gauze petticoat, tucked up at each side in drapery, so that both thighs could be seen; the binding of the petticoat was tied round the neck, and her arms were through the pocket holes. Her head dress was a man's pearl coloured stocking, the foot hanging down at the back of the head like a lappet, and in the heel of the stocking was stuck a large diamond pin, the tout ensemble not less novel, than ludicrous.1'—(Times, May 26, 1796.)

"Whalebone- Veils are worn by all the fashionable dames at Weymouth. This invention is evidently borrowed from the head of a one horse chaise."—(Times, August 27, 1796.)

"High heels are once more the rage; there is, however, no scarcity of flats. During the reign of the flat sole, the Ladies make more faux-pas than ever, so that we need entertain no apprehensions for them, if they chuse to get upon stilts. What with high heels and high feathers, the better half of many an honest man is just one third part of herself."—(Times, August 27, 1796.)

"Fashion would be its own murderer, if it were to be constant and permanent. The last year's dress seems to abdicate entirely; even the waist is walking down towards the hip; and three straps, with buckles in front, have abridged so much of the usurpation of the petticoat . One cannot see so many Ladies of high ton with the straps over the bosom, without thinking how much better they might have been employed over the shoulders."—(Times, Aug. 27, 1796.)

"Before the waist is quite again in fashion, and while the thing exists (which will soon be incredible), we set down the measurement of a petticoat in the summer of 1796, which for a middling-sized woman is five foot and an inch."—(Times, Nov. 4, 1796.)

"It would not be easily believed by our Great Grandmothers, that their lovely daughters cannot make their appearance without a dozen combs in their heads, and as many false curls and cushions. The victory over black pins is complete."—(Times, May 30, 1797.)

"Horse Hair has risen near 50 per cent, since Wigs have become so much the rage."—(Times, April 27, 1798.)

"The women at Paris are every day divesting themselves of some of the customary articles of dress, and the rage for nudity is so great, that it is apprehended, even by the Parisian Journalists, they will shortly have the effrontery to present themselves to the public eye in a state of pure nature. One of them appeared a few days since in the Champs Elysdes, in a simple robe of spotted black gauze, and shewed so much that little was left to guess. The spectators were struck with indignation at this flagrant violation of decorum, and she was compelled to make a shameful and precipitate retreat."— (Times, June 18, 1798.)

An Artist has advertised that he makes up worn out Umbrellas into fashionable Gypsey Bonnets. The transition is so easy, that he is scarce to be praised for the invention.

"The Gypsey Bonnet is commonly worn by the Lancashire Witches."—(Times, July 7, 1798.)

"We are very happy to see the waists of our fair. country women walking downwards by degrees towards the hip. But, as we are a little acquainted with the laws of increasing velocity in fashionable gravitation, we venture to express, thus early in their descent, a hope that they will stop there."—(Times, April 15, 1799.)

"Straw in the head-dress, according to the laws and immemorial customs of the stage, denotes the unsoundness of the brain it covers. Several of those useful and respectable young men, who make the campaign of Bond Street, have thought proper to invest their temples with the sacred symbols, and wear straw hats to give notice of their light-headedness."— (Times, July 4, 1799.)

The Censor could also be severe on the harmless "Reticule."

"In the present age of political innovation, it is curious to observe the great veneration for antiquity which prevails in all our dresses and fashions. Queen Elizabeth's ruffs decorate our blooming belles; and our beaux are puckered and stuffed on the shoulders d la Richard the Third. But what is still more remarkable, is the total abjuration of the female pocket. Those heavy appendages are no more worn at present than keys at the girdles. Every fashionable fair carries her purse in her workbag. Her money and her industry lie cheek by jowl: and her gambling gains lie snug by her housewife. Her handkerchiefs, her toothpick case, her watch, and her keys, if she has any, are the constant concomitants of her visits; and while no part of the symmetry of her shape is altered or concealed by the old-fashioned panniers, she has the pleasure of laying everything that belongs to her upon the table wherever she goes."—(Times, Nov. 9, 1799.)

"A dashing Lady of Fashion, inconvenienced by the new custom of carrying a bag with her handkerchief smelling-bottle, purse, &c., &c., went to a large party the other evening, attended by a Page, who was employed to present the articles as they might be wanted. The Page was well qualified to go through the fatigues of office, being well-made, active, and just one and twenty. Should the example be imitated, Pages will probably be more in request than waiting-women."— (Times, Def. 7, 1799.)

"If the present fashion of nudity continues its career, the Milliners must give way to the Carvers, and the most elegant fig-leaves will be all the mode.

"The fashion of false bosoms has at least this utility, that it compels our fashionable fair to wear something."—(Times, Dec. n, 1799.)

With which most pungent criticism, we will take our leave of lady's dress.

Cruikshank, 1799

Ancient Egyptian Cosmetics

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wooden statuette with heavy eye makeup, 12th Dynasty

The Art of Adornment is as old as humanity~ I've never seen this recipe for kohl- I've seen "galena" referenced, which is black lead sulphide. Lead sulphide is insoluble so it is not as poisonous as other lead salts and as far as I know there was no recorded danger to the eyes.

The recipe in this tome is fascinating, the wing of a bat and the body of a chameleon, burnt to cinder?

Souuini in his Travels in Egypt, says,

Queen Nofretiri worshipping, 19th Dynasty

'' There is no part of the world where the women pay a more rigid attention to cleanliness, than in Oriental countries. The frequent use of the bath, of perfumes, and of everything tending to soften and beautify the skin, and to preserve all their charms, employs their constant attention. Nothing, in short, is neglected,- and the most minute details succeed each other with scrupulous exactness. So much care is not thrown away; nowhere are the women more uniformly beautiful, nowhere do they possess more the talent of assisting nature, nowhere, in a word, are they better skilled or more practiced in the art of arresting or repairing the ravages of time, an art which has its principles and a great variety of recipes."

As it may interest some to know the composition of the farfamed Oriental cosmetics, I transcribe here a few recipes which were obtained from an Arabian perfumer, and can be vouched for as authentic.

Nefertiti, 18th Dynasty, 1352-1336 BC.

The kohl, which has been in use for darkening the eyelids since the time of the ancient Egyptians, is made as follows: — They remove the inside of a lemon, fill the skin with plumbago and burnt copper, and place it over the fire until it becomes carbonized; then they pound it in a mortar with coral, sandalwood, pearls, ambergris, the wing of a bat, and a part of the body of a chameleon, the whole having been previously burnt to a cinder and moistened with rosewater while hot.

A complexion powder, called batikha, which is used in all the harems for whitening the skin, is made in the following manner: They pound in a mortar some cowrie shells, borax, rice, white marble, crystal, tomata, lemons, eggs, and heibas, — a bitter seed gathered in Egypt; mix them with the meal of beans, chickpeas and lentils, and place the whole inside a melon, mixing with it its pulp and seeds; it is then exposed to the sun until its complete dessication, after which it is reduced to a fine powder.

The preparation of a dye used for the hair and beard is no less curious. It is composed of gall nuts, fried in oil and rolled in salt, to which are added cloves, burnt copper, minium, aromatic herbs, pomegranate flowers, gum arabic, litharge, and henna. The whole of these ingredients are pulverized and diluted in the oil used for frying the nuts. This gives it a jet black color, but those who wish to impart a golden tint to their hair, employ simply henna for that purpose.

Nefertiti

To conclude the list of Oriental cosmetics I will mention an almond paste, called hemsia, which is used as a substitute for soap; a tooth powder, named souek, made from the bark of the walnut tree, pastilles of musk and amber paste, kourss, for burning and also for forming chaplets of beads, which the fair odalisques roll for hours in their hands, thus combining a religious duty with a pleasant pastime; a depilatory called '' termentina," which is nothing more than turpentine thickened into a paste; and last though not least, the celebrated schnouda, a perfectly white cream, composed of jasmin pomade and benzoin, by means of which a very natural, but transient bloom is imparted to the cheeks. The coloring principle of this sympathetic blush is known to chemists under the name of Alloxan, and was discovered by Liebig.

source: "A romance of perfume lands", 1875, by Frank Sanford Clifford

mummy mask, 18th Dynasty

prostitute painting her lips, 19th Dynasty, c. 1295-1186 BC.

sketch on papyrus, 20th Dynasty

image sources: "Egyptian Art", by J. R. Harris, 1966, and "Sacred Luxuries"', by Lisa Manniche, 1999

Marketing Insecurity- boob job

2012-05-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

The following set of photos is from the book, "Venus Envy - A History Of Cosmetic Surgery"', by Elizabeth Haiken. Her source for the photo spread is the book "Beauty Surgeon" by Dr. Robert Alan Franklyn.

By the way, the term "insecurity complex" was popularized by Alfred Adler in the twenties. What a great marketing tool! The idea of an "insecurity complex" was also a way for plastic surgeons to justify their trade in terms of surgery for "beautification" rather than to repair injuries.

So, the "insecurity complex" is NOT an ancient idea, it's relatively new. An idea that works extremely well in this consumer society.

This particular spread is distasteful, to me, because even though she finds her "true love" as a result of her renewed confidence because of her enlarged breasts... AND her new love swears that he would love her just as much with a flat chest... the author points out that they did, indeed, meet at the beach...!!

The author also wonders if she had contemplated suicide! Egads.

True Beauty

2012-05-23T09:40:00.000-07:00

"To look beautiful you must be beautiful. To expect to cultivate beauty without trying to make your thoughts, words and actions beautiful would prove a failure and reveal insincerity, shallowness and love of artifical display.

If you determine to express kindness in your every act of life you will be surprised at the number of opportunities you will find every day for doing good. There is a kind and an unkind way of doing everything, so be careful, for the simplest act of your daily life reveals your mental attitude.

Loveliness is the true beauty. Loveliness is lovelikeness, or the likeness of love. You will, therefore, see how necessary it is to express, loving and kind relations toward everyone you meet. Remember that every thought of hate, envy or jealousy you allow to take possession of you destroys your beauty. Then shun them as you would a leper or a poisonous reptile. They are far more dangerous, for one evil thought attracts another in rapid succession.

That you may attain to the highest standard of beauty, it is necessary that you recognize the fact that you are, through your thoughts, continually rebuilding the physical body by molecular renewal. If your present beauty is below the true standard, you need not become discouraged, nor remain a slave to your present appearance, for you can change it. Each day as you build parts of the body anew, you can, by correct thoughts and a hygienic mode of living, create so much beauty and power that in a few months a transformation will have occurred."

source: How to live 100 years and retain youth, health and beauty: a course of ...

By A. Victor Segno

latest tumblr posts... images from a '70 vogue

2012-05-08T09:10:00.001-07:00

'70s fashions:) http://aquaeyeshadow.tumblr.com/

I've been on vacation! I'll get back up to speed here shortly... where was I? Stuck in the 1700s, I think...

also, a beauty salon in San Jose del Cabo, Baja California Sur, Mexico...

Timeless Snark: "Follies of Fashion"

2012-04-15T00:06:00.002-07:00

Today we poke fun at low-riding, oversize pants with underwear showing, muffin-tops, blue hair, pink hair, no hair, ill-conceived and UN-strategically located tattoos, preppy looks, "mom" looks, dominatrix looks, girlie looks. The list is endless and today, more than ever, that list depends on your personal taste because anything goes.

Pundits have been making fun of fashion for as long as people have been adorning themselves. I can well imagine cavewomen cattily discussing the local belle, "Oh, my! Gertrude is using a FEMUR in her hair! It's much too large for her freakishly small head! I'm surprised that she can maintain her balance with that bone tottering and swaying in the wind. Speaking of balance, she's got her coconut-shell shoes on upside down again...!!"

PURE SNARK, 1858: "Follies of Fashion"

HOW strange is the origin of a fashion! The "abomination of wigs" was first adopted by a Duke of Anjou to conceal a personal defect! Charles the Seventh of France introduced long coats to hide his ill-made legs. The absurdly long-pointed shoes—often two feet in length— were invented by Henry Plantagenet to cover a very large excrescence he had upon one of his feet. When Francis L was obliged to wear his hair short on account of a wound in the head, the crop became the prevailing fashion of his Court. Madame de Montespan invented the robe battante, or hooped skirt, to conceal an accident in her history; which, however, occurred at such regular periods that people soon began to guess the cause when they perceived the effect. Not least curious of all is the origin of the long-fashionable shade of yellow called Isabella. When Ostend was besieged by the Spaniards, the Infanta Isabella of Spain, in a fit of injudicious patriotism, made a solemn vow not to change her linen till the town was taken. Tho besieged, either not hearing this vow or else too rebellious to regard it, held out till time, which sullies every thing, and possibly perspiration, if, indeed, Infantas of Spain do perspire, brought her Royal Highness's linen to a color which needed a name. In a person of her rank it could not be dirty; and so it was called Isabella, became the fashionable loyal color, and was worn, so says the chronicler, "with honor by all, and with convenience by many"—making loyalty, so to speak, dirt cheap.

We have it on the best historical authority* that the present prominence of the nasal organ on the Israelitish face divine is owing, in great measure, to the fact that, at one time, when the propriety of abolishing that somewhat distinctive feature was in debate in the Israelitish camp, the tyrant Fashion came to its rescue. Here is the account of the transaction—not in Homeric verse, but as veracious as though it were:

"Says Aaron to Moses,

Let's cut off our noses;

Says Moses to Aaron,

"Tis the fashion to wear 'em."

The gentle reader will perceive (on reference to the first Jewish countenance he may meet) that the plea was found quite unanswerable.

What might have been the result had it been disregarded who can tell? 'Tis certain that very sad effects have ensued upon a failure to pay proper heed to the behests of the mighty potentate. Take, for instance, the Liliputian nation, who (as recorded by their veracious historian, Swift) declared war against the inhabitants of Blefuscu, solely because the latter refused to break their eggs at the same end which Fashion dictated to the former as the proper one for breakage. The Big-Endian rebellions cost the monarch of Liliput not less than forty first-rate ships of war, a multitude of smaller vessels (the war being chiefly maritime), and 30,000 of his best seamen and soldiers; while the loss of the Big-Endians—the rebels—was, rightly, much greater.

So Louis the Eleventh of Franco had the temerity to crop his hair and shave his beard at a time when Fashion dictated ambrosial locks and flowing beard. What was the consequence? His Queen, Eleanor of Acquitaine, properly disgusted at such contempt of appearances, rested not till she procured a divorce, and married the Count of Anjou, afterward King of England. Is it too much to suppose that the interminable wars which followed upon this alliance were brought about, primarily, by the injudicious conduct of King Louis?

Who will say, looking upon these and like facts, that Fashion is to be contemned; or that her changes are unworthy the historian's note or the philosopher's attention? As for the popular mind—that is, with its usual sagacity keenly alive to any thing relating to so important a subject as dress, as is at once proven by the common remark, in every body's mouth, of knowing a man by the style of his coat, or, as Captain Cuttle would put it, "by the cut of his jib."

First among fashionable follies—on the score of absurdity—come the trunk hose, which were thought indispensable about the middle of Queen Elizabeth's reign, and which were, in fact, a sort of masculine counter-puff to the verdingale, which then first began to swell the fair proportions of feminine loveliness, taking the place of the hoop of our day. The coat is what the dandy of our times most prides himself on. From the time of Henry VIII of England, and for the three succeeding reigns, his breeches were the objects of a young man's chief solicitude. Figure 1, representing James the First of England in hunting costume, is taken from a book devoted to various fashionable methods of killing time, published in the year 1614. It will be seen that " the great, round, abominable breech,"- as it was styled, then tapered down to the knee, and was slashed all over, and covered with embroidery and lace. Stays were sometimes worn beneath the long-waisted doublets of the gentlemen, to keep them straight and confine them at the waist. In our illustration the King is evidently encased in whalebone.

The fashion varied. We read of "hose pleated as though they had thirty pockets;" "two yards wide at the top;" and (date 1658) of "petticoat-breeches, tied above the knee, ribbons up to the pocket-holes, half the width of the breeches, then ribbons hanging all about the waistband, and shirt hanging out''—which last fashion may be said to have altogether died out among our modern dandies. We read of breeches "almost capable of a bushel of wheat;" and of alterations which had to be made in the British Parliament House, to afford additional accommodations for the members' seats.

It is related of a fast man of the time, that, on rising to conclude a visit of ceremony, he had the misfortune to damage his nether integuments by a protruding nail in his chair, so that by the time he gained the door the escape of bran was so rapid as to cause a state of complete collapse.

A law was made "against such as did so stuff their breeches to make them stand out; whereupon," says an ancient worthy, "when a certain prisoner (in these tymes) was accused for wearing such breeches contrary to law, he began to excuse himself of the offence, and endeavoured by little and little to discharge himself of that which he did weare within them; he drew out of his breeches a pair of sheets, two table-cloaths, ten napkins, four shirts, a brush, a glass, a combe, and night-caps, with other things of use, saying, 'Your worships may understand that because I have no safer a storehouse, these pockets do serve me for a roome to lay my goods in; and though it be a straight prison, yet it is a store-house big enough for them, for I have many things more yet of value within them.' And so his discharge was accepted and well laughed at; and they commanded him that he should not alter the furniture of his storehouse."

Figure 2 is an excellent representation of a dandy of 1646, from a very rare broadside printed in that year. From the description of his garments we learn that he wears a tall hat with a bunch of ribbon on one side and a feather on the other, his face spotted with patches, two love-locks, one on each side of his head, which hang down upon his bosom, and are tied at the ends with silk ribbons in bows. A mustache encompasses his mouth. His band or collar, edged with lace, is tied with band-strings and secured by a ring. A tight vest is left partly open, and between it and his breeches his shirt sticks out. The cloak was in those days carried upon the arm. His breeches were ornamented with "many dozens of points at the knees, and above these, on cither side, were two great bunches of ribbon, of several colors." His legs were incased in "boot-hose tops, tied above the middle of the calf, as long as a pair of shirt-sleeves, and double at the ends, like a ruff-band. The tops of the boots were very large, fringed with lace, and turned down as low as his spurres, which gingled like the bells of a morrice-dancer as he walked." In his right hand he carried a stick, which he "played with as he straddled along the street singing."

With such boots "straddling" was an ungraceful necessity. A buck of those days, who was probably not well up to the straddling dodge, complains that " one of the rowels of my silver spurs catched hold of the ruffle of my boot, which being Spanish leather, and not subject to tear, overthrew me!"

The love-lock worn by our beau caused an immense sensation among quiet, staid people. Mr. Prynne wrote against it a quarto volume, called "The Unloveliness of Love-locks," in which he quotes a nobleman who, having been scared from this vanity by a violent sickness, "did declare the love-lock to be but a cord of vanity by which he had given the devil hold fast to lead him at his pleasure; who would never resign his prey as long as he nourished this unlovely bush."

Patches, mentioned above as one of the decorations of our beau, were introduced about the middle of the seventeenth century. The fashion is said to have come from Arabia. Among Eastern nations a black mole is considered a "beauty spot," a fit theme for poetic raptures. Hence those to whom Nature had denied this boon endeavored to imitate it by means of black silk and paste. In England, however, the taste was arbitrary, and the excess to which it was carried during the reign of Queen Anne was as barbarous as comical. Pepys makes frequent mention of the mode in his "Diary," as: "My wife seemed very pretty to-day, it being the first time I had given her leave [!] to wear a black patch." And again: "May 5—To the Duke of York's Play-house: one thing of familiarity I observed in my Lady Castlemaine; she called to one of her women for a little patch off her face, and put it into her mouth and wetted it, and so clapped it upon her own, by the side of her mouth." .

When at its height the patching mania must have made curious havoc among the facial charms of the fair daughters of Eve. Various shapes were used. A satirical poet of 1658 says:

"Her patches are of every cut.

For pimples and for scars;

Here's all the wandering planets' signs,

And some of the fixed stars

Already gummed, to make them stick,

They need no other sky."

This lady's face (Figure 3) is from a portrait of a reigning beauty of those times, and may be considered a fair sample of the fashion. She lias a star and half-moon upon the cheek, a circular mark upon her chin, and—marvel of marvels, a coach, two coachmen and two horses with postillions upon her forehead!

Patches were even made a symbol of political allegiance—the ladies who favored the Tories patching the right side of the face, while those who adhered to the Whigs patched the left side. Mr. Spectator tells us that, "Whatever may be the motives of a few fantastical coquettes, who do not patch for the public good so much as for their own private advantage, it is certain there are several women of honor who patch out of principle, and with an eye to the interests of the country." And we learn farther that these ladies were very far above sacrificing the public welfare for the sake of any mere personal feeling, as, "in a late draught of marriage-articles, a lady has stipulated with her husband that, whatever his opinions are, she shall be at liberty to patch on which side she pleases."

Patches were absolutely requisite as ornamental toilet appendages even so late as 1766, but soon after went out of fashion. The women of Chili and Peru to this day affect the mode, but with them the black plasters are but little variegated in shape. A patch on each temple is thought a rare beautifier in some portions of Spanish South America.

Masks formed another fashionable decoration to the face—ostensibly to preserve the complexion, but in reality to lend a fancied charm to the features. In Figure 4, from a portrait taken in the middle of the seventeenth century, we see the half-mask, which was thought sufficiently ornamental to be worn with full dress. During the reign of Charles II. few ladies visited the theatre unmasked. We read of

"Half-wits and gamesters, and gay fops, whose tasks

Are daily to invade the dangerous masks."

During the latter half of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth centuries vizard masks, covering the entire face, were worn by ladies when they rode out. They were suspended to the side by a string, as shown in Figure 5, copied from a print of 1743. When in use these masks were held by the teeth, by means of a round bead fastened on the inside.

John Durant Breval, who wrote a poem on "The Art of Dress," in 1717, claims for the hoop an English origin. He sings:

"When and from whence the Ruff at first was Drought,

Long, but in vain, have puz'ling Criticks sought

In after times, some future Bentley's care

Shall gravely mark the climate, and the year.

Bentley (great sage), who ne'er vouchsafes to write

But such important matters come to light

Queen Kate of Austrian Blood, Demure and Wise,

Swell'd the stiff-circle to a larger size,

And wore it as was then the Spanish mode,

For Female shoulders thought too great a Load.

Some Winters passed, and then Eliza sway'd.

Sworn Enemy to Rome, a wondrous Maid I

She turn'd out Popish modes, but kept in That,

And introduced, besides, the Steeple-hat;

Fein'd the huge Petticoat with Ribs of Whale,

And arm'd our mothers with a circling mail."

Hoops, however, seem in the first place to have been rather an extension or exaggeration of a feature in female dress mentioned so early as the beginning of the fifteenth century, under the name of " padding, or false hips." It was not till toward the close of the seventeenth century that we hear much of them. Good old Sir Roger de Coverley, describing the portraits of his ancestors hanging up in his family mansion, says: "You see, Sir, my grandmother has on the new-fashioned petticoat, except that the modern [1710] is gathered at the waist. My grandmother appears as if she stood in a large drum; whereas the ladies now walk as though they were in a go-cart." The " drum" style is shown in Figure 6, from a portrait of the Earl and Countess of Somerset, which will give the reader an accurate idea of the state of dress during a part of the reign of James I. of England. The "new-fashioned petticoat," which, according to Sir Roger, caused the ladies to walk as though they were in a go-cart, is shown in Figure 7. It widens gradually from the waist to the ground; and the gown is looped up around the body in front, and falls in loose folds behind, somewhat after the manner of the washer-women of the present time.

The shape and size of the hoop has undergone, at different times, remarkable changes. A writer of the last century says: "It (the hoop) has been known to expand and contract itself from the size of a butter-churn to the circumference of three hogsheads. At one time it was sloped from the waist in a pyramidal form; at another, it was bent upward like an inverted bow, by which the two angles, when squeezed upon both sides, almost came in contact with the ears; and again it is nearly oval in form, and scarce measures, from end to end, above twice the length of the wearer!" Figures 8 and 9 furnish samples of these styles, in sketches taken from contemporary prints.

Figure 9 is from a print dated 1746, and gives a pretty good idea of those hoops which spread at the sides. These were formed of whalebone, and their wearers doubled them round in front, or lifted them up on each side, when they entered a door or carriage.

About 1740 an ugly novelty was introduced, called the sacque—a wide, loose gown, open in front, and hanging free of the body from the shoulders to the ground, being gathered in great folds over the hooped petticoat, which was thus made to take up more room than ever.

About 1750 an exceedingly small cap (Figure 11) was the mode; and this, with the hair closely turned up beneath it, gave, by contrast with the enormous bulging hoops, an extraordinary meanness to the head when compared with the rest of the body.

The Spectator ceased not to make sport of the hoops of his day. We find there the petition of "one William Jingle, coach-maker and chair-maker of the liberty of Westminster," which states that for the service of ladies wearing hoop petticoats said Jingle "has built a round chair in form of a lantern, six yards and a half in circumference, with a stool in the centre of it; the said vehicle being so contrived as to receive the passenger by opening in two in the middle, and closing mathematically when she is seated." And farther, " that petitioner has also invented a coach for the reception of one lady only, who is to be let in at the top." And " that the said coach has been tried by a lady's woman, in one of these full petticoats, who was let down from a balcony and drawn up again by pulleys, to the great satisfaction of her lady and all who beheld her."

The Tattler reports the proceedings in a trial held by himself upon one of the hooped ones, who "was taken up as she went out of the puppet-show-some three nights ago." Having divested this young lady of her hooped garment, a jury of matrons brought her into the house. "I had before given directions for an engine of several legs, that could contract or open itself like the top of an umbrella, in order to place the petticoat upon it, by which means I might take a leisurely survey of it as it should appear in its proper dimensions. I directed the machine to be set upon the table, and dilated in such a manner as to show the garment in its utmost circumference; but my great hall was too narrow for the experiment, for before it was half unfolded it described so immoderate a circle that the lower part of it brushed upon my face as I sat in my chair of judicature. I then inquired for the person who belonged to the petticoat, and to my great surprise was directed to a very beautiful young damsel, with so pretty a face and shape that I bid her come out of the crowd, and seated her upon a little crock at my left hand.

"'My pretty maid,' said I, do you own yourself to have been the inhabitant of the garment before us?' I then ordered the
garment to be drawn up by a pulley to the top of my great hall, and afterward to be spread open by the engine it was placed upon, in such a manner that it formed a very splendid and ample canopy over our heads. I entered upon the whole cause with great satisfaction, as I sat under the shadow of it."

An instrument or appendage called "a pair of hips," was, as before said, the predecessor and also contemporary of the hoop. In 1710, a lady whose maid has run away, taking with her some of the recherche articles of her mistress's wardrobe, advertises the truant and the lost valuables. Among the latter are mentioned "four pairs of silk stockings, curiously darned (darned stockings being also then the rage), three pairs of fashionable eyebrows, two sets of ivory teeth, and one pair of box (wood) for common use, with two pairs of hips of newest fashion."

Figure 12 is from a print in a French work, date of 1727, and represents an Alsatian belle of that period. There is evidence in the manner in which her gown hangs that hoops were then the mode even in Alsace. The dress of this belle is very curious. Her robe appears to be of two different materials, half the petticoat being laid in very fine close plaits and the other half in larger plaits. The body is made with an immensely long pointed stomacher, trimmed with lace and jewels. Over it is a lace handkerchief with long pointed ends, apparently of black silk trimmed with black lace. The sleeves are full, puffed, short, and open, longer beneath than on top, and long gloves join them and conceal the arm. The most singular feature of this costume is the coiffure, which consists of an enormous three-cornered edifice of satin, lace, and jewels, stretching out on each side far beyond the width of the figure, and standing up in a point in front. The hair is turned back from the forehead, and hangs in a very long plait which the fair one carries over one arm. Fancy such a figure promenading Broadway!

After being the mode for a full half a century, hoops were discarded. Only, however, to be revived in, if possible, greater extravagance than ever towards the close of the eighteenth century. Figure 13 represents a lady's Court Dress of 1796. Not content with it's natural enormity, the hoop skirt was at this time decorated with immense bows of ribbon, cords, tassels, wreaths of flowers, and long swathes of colored silks, hung and twisted about it in the most horrid taste.

"Good Queen Bess" was noted for her extravagant and extraordinary taste in matters of dress. She possessed costumes of all countries, and left at her death no less than three thousand habits or suits in her wardrobe. Her courtiers used to give her gowns, petticoats, kirtles, doublets, and mantles, mostly highly embroidered and adorned with jewels. Paul Hentzner, a German traveler, who paid a visit to the English Court when Elizabeth was still in her heyday, says:

"The Queen had in her car two pearls with very rich drops. She wore false hair, and that red; her neck was uncovered, and she had a necklace of exceeding fine jewels. Her gown was white silk, bordered with pearls the size of beans; and over it a mantle of flush silk shot with silver threads. Her train was very long. Instead of a chain she had an oblong collar of gold and jewels." This must have been before increasing years induced the Virgin Queen to favor the Elizabethan ruff and high collar concealing eyen the neck. As her charms decayed she grew more chary of their exhibition.

Ruffs were the leading enormity in the dress of this period. Elizabeth's were the most extravagant. But her courtiers all wore them. The Queen imported a starcher, "the substance called starch" being just then brought into use. Stubbs, the chief railer against the vanities of those days, says: "There is a certain liquid matter which they call starche, wherein the devil hath learned them to wash and dive their ruffs, which, being dry, will then stand stiff and inflexible about their necks." We read, too, of wire supports to make the ruffs stand out; of "three or four small ruffs placed under the master-devil ruff," "which was often loaded and adorned with gold and silver and needlework." Thus arranged these monstrous appendages expanded like wings as high as the head, or fell over the shoulders like flags, as shown in our sketches of courtiers of that period.

Several important toilet luxuries and conveniences were introduced in the time of Queen Bess. Sir Thomas Gresham first began to manufacture pins and ribbons during this reign. Knitted worsted stockings, too, were first made in England about the year I565, by a London apprentice named William Ryder, who, having seen some that came from Italy, imitated a pair exactly, and presented them to the Earl of Pembroke. Also, we find it written in Stowe's "Chronicle" that, "in the 2d yeere of Queen Elizabeth, her silk-woman, Mistress Montagu, presented her Majesty for a New-Yeere's gift a pair of black silk knit stockings," which she had made herself. So well did these please the Queen that she declared, according to Stowe, "Henceforth will I wear no more cloth hose"—that is to say, stockings of cloth sewed into shape.

Elizabeth had a passion for strange ornaments of embroidery work. She had a dress with lizards and all sorts of creeping things on it. There is a portrait of her wherein she wears a gown embroidered with serpents, birds, a sea-horse, a swan, and an ostrich; while in another portrait a spotted ermine crowned, the emblem of chastity, is embroidered upon her gown sleeve.

Figure 17 is from a portrait of Sir William Russell, one of Queen Elizabeth's most distinguished courtiers, and will give some idea of the style of dress among the gentlemen of the later part of her reign. In his immense ruff, his "pease-cod-bellied doublet" of thickly quilted black silk, slashed sleeves, showing a rich lace under-garment, Venetian hose, and stockings of finest yarn, the dandy of those days seems to have been an exceedingly stiff and ungainly figure. In Lord Howard of Effingham (Figure 16), another courtier of Elizabeth's, we see an example of the trunk hose and the sleeveless doublet, which were for a time the mode. A poet of the day speaks of

"A fair black coat with outen sleeve,

And buttoned the shoulder round about;

of Xxs a yard, as I beleeve,

And layd upon with parchment lace withoute."

Sleeves were, while in the mode, a very recherche article of dress. They were made separate from the garment, and were often of great splendor. Among Elizabeth's wardrobe were "a pair of sleeves of sypers (Cyprus work), wrought with silver and black silk;" "a pair of sleeves of gold pulled out with lawn;" "a pair of sleeves of gold and silver knytt, cawle fashion;" and many more, each in a different style. Her father, Henry VIII., was also remarkable for his splendid sleeves. The portrait of the Earl of Surrey (Figure 18) will give the fair reader some idea of the ridiculous appearance of these sleeves upon gentlemen. This gallant is dressed in a suit of scarlet throughout, and must have presented a most surprisingly gorgeous spectacle as he walked out, rapier in hand, looking at least twice as broad as he was long.

Garters, also, were a most fashionable male ornament. They were worn externally below the knee, and became so expensive and yet so common a luxury that we read of men of mean rank wearing garters and shoe-roses of more than five pounds in value. They were made of gold and silver, satin and velvet, often deeply fringed with gold. Taylor, the water-poet, satirizes those who

" Wear a farm in shoe-strings edged with gold.

And spangled garters worth a copyhold."

The mode seems to have excited the envy of the fair sex. In one of Massinger's plays, a young lady, whose attendant has just supplied her with shoes, garters, fans, and roses, exclaims:

"Would 'twere in the fashion

That the garters might be seen too!"

To which reasonable wish her attendant replies,

"Many ladies that know they have good legs, wish the same with you: Men that way have the advantage."

It is recorded at a later period, of the Queen of France, Anne of Austria, that she contrived to elude the jealous scrutiny of Cardinal Richelieu, and to send the Duke of Buckingham her own garter as a memorial.

With all the exposure of the bust permitted by fashion during the reign of the Virgin Queen, "the abomination of wearing short sleeves" failed to receive the countenance of England's fair. Indeed, for many years, "naked down from the elbows" was a fashion which was looked upon with horror and disgust-—a hint to our modern ball-room belles.

Ardent a devotee of fashion as was Elizabeth, she could not bear that her subjects should please themselves in the shape, size, and material of their attire. In no reign were so many sumptuary laws enacted. She decreed that no "great ruff should be worn; nor any white color in doublets or hosen; nor any facing of velvet in gowns, but by such as were of the bench. That no gentlemen should walk in the streets in their cloaks, but in gowns. That no hat, or curled or long hair be worn, nor any gowns but such as be of a sad color." All which to the contrary, the "common people," at whom these acts were leveled, were most unlawfully extravagant, causing the clergy great trouble of mind, and calling forth from the reformers of that age such devout tracts as "England's Vanity; or, the Voice of God against the monstrous sin of Pride in Dress and Apparel." In this little book the writer utters the following quaint denunciation:

"Ladies, shall I send you to the Royal Exchange, where a greater than an angel has kept open shop for these sixteen hundred years and more, and has incomparably the best choice of every thing you can ask for? And because he sells the best pennyworths, himself descends to call, ' What do you lack? what do you buy?' and advises you to buy of him. Lord, hast thou any mantoes for ladies, made after thine own fashion, which shall cover all their naked shoulders and breasts and necks, and adorn them all over? Where are they? Revelations, iii., 18, brings them forth. There they are, ladies; and cheap too, at your own price, and will wear forever; and with this good property, that they thoroughly prevent the shame of your nakedness from appearing; and if you stoutly pass away, and take them not with you, if there be a God in heaven, you'll pass naked into hell to all eternity!"

Among the numerous caprices of Dame Fashion, not the least strange is that in pursuance of which the shape, color, and quantity of the hair has been most curiously diversified. False hair was used by the ancients. The Emperor Commodus used a wig, which was first oiled, then powdered with gold. There is in the British Museum an ancient Theban wig, the curling and arranging of which would puzzle many a modern hair-dresser. After an existence of some thousands of years the hair still preserves the curl imparted to it by some unknown art of the Theban perruquier.

The reign of the peruke in Europe, as an article of fashion, began at the commencement of the seventeenth century. They were soon the rage, their ugliness, and the protests of fairtressed damsels and love-locked young beaux to the contrary, notwithstanding. The barbers, of course, hailed the innovation with delight; and it is related of one zealous perruquier that he hired his sign-painter to depict, with due pathos and expression of attitude and face, Absalom hanging by his hair in the tree, and David weeping beneath, while out of his mouth proceeded the legend—

"Oh, Absalom! oh, Absalom!

Oh, Absalom, my son!

If thou hadst worn a periwig

Thou hadst not been undone."

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth it became the fashion for the gallants to comb their wigs in public, as a means of busying their hands.

"How we rejoiced to see 'em in our pit!

What difference methought there was

Betwixt a country gallant and a wit:

When you did order periwig with comb.

They only used four fingers and a thumb."

The combs thus publicly displayed were of very large size, of ivory or tortoise-shell, curiosly chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pockets as constantly as the snuffbox. On the Mall, and in the boxes, the dandies walked and combed their perukes. There is a picture yet in existence of John, Duke of Marlborough, at his levee, in which his Grace appears dressed in a scarlet suit, with large white satin cuffs, and a very long white peruke, which he combs: while his valet stands behind him, adjusting the curls after the comb has passed through them.

Miason, who traveled in England in 1698, says of the gentlemen: "Their perruques and their habits were charged with powder, like millers, and their faces daubed with snuff." The muff, now so exclusively the property of the ladies, was then an indispensable article to the gentlemen. Tom Brown gives, in his "Letters from the Dead to the Living," the following description of the beaux of the early part of the eighteenth century: '' We met three flaming beaux of the first magnitude. One made a most magnificent figure: his periwig was large enough to have loaded a camel, and he bestowed upon it at least a bushel of powder I warrant you. His sword-knot dangled upon the ground, and his steinkirk, that was most agreeably colored with snuff from top to bottom, reached down to his waist; he carry'd his hat under his left arm, walk'd with both hands in the waistbands of his breeches, and his cane, that hung negligently down in a string from his right arm, trailed most harmoniously against the pebbles, while the master of it, tripping it nicely upon his toes, was humming to himself."

The costliness of wigs (£20 being a very common price) created a curious branch of robbery— a gang of London thieves devoting themselves to the stealing of perukes from the heads of their owners, and making the streets unsafe for the big-wigs after nightfall. The most ingenious mode of day robbery was for the thief to carry on his head, concealed in a basket, a smart lad, who, in passing through the crowd, would dexterously snatch from the head of its wearer and conceal the most attractive looking wig in the company. Also it was dangerous for any child, with a beautiful head of hair, to wander abroad, certain women being always upon the alert to entice such into out-of-the-way places aud there rob them of their locks.

Pepys, who was an amateur in wigs, wonders, naively, "what will be the fashion after the plague is done, as to periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy any haire for feare of the infection, that it had been cut off the heads of the people dead with the plague." But the fashion outlived even this blow, and an old writer pointedly says, that "Forty or fourscore pounds a year for periwigs, and ten to a poor chaplain to say grace to him that adores hair, is sufficient demonstration of the weakness of the brains they keep warm."

Wigs, as well as natural hair, were dyed; red being curiously enough the favorite color during Elizabeth's reign. The Virgin Queen herself possessed no less than eighty wigs, of various colors; and we may suppose that the broad-ruffled votaries of fashion of those days who were obliged, on account of the breadth and stiffness of their collars, to feed themselves with spoons two feet long, were not far behind their royal mistress in the matter of wigs. The ladies, as in duty bound, followed the example of their lords, and, as usual, so far exceeded the masculine absurdity, that in the course of two centuries the female fashionable head passed through some most extraordinary metamorphoses. The head-dress of the Third William's time —a specimen of which is given in Figure 22— compares oddly with that of a century and a half previous (see Figure 23); while the fashion of 1783, shown in Figure 24, copied from a French print of that year, is still more outre than either.

Such changes gave cause for the old poet's satire:

"Now dress'd in a cap, now naked

in none;

Now loose in a mob, now close in

a Joan;

Without handkerchief now, and now

buried in ruff;

Now plain as a Quaker, now all of

a puff;

Now a shape in neat stays, now a

slattern in jumps;

Now high in French heels, now low

in your pumps;

Now monstrous in hoop, now trampish,

and walking.

With your petticoats clung to your heels like a manikin;

Like the cock on the tower, that shows you the

weather,

You are hardly the same for two days together."

When wigs were changed from flowing to crisp locks the ladies perpetrated enormities of which Figures 25 and 26, on the preceding page, will give the reader a faint idea, and-in which the hair was disposed in rows of curls towering up, one above the other, to a tremendous height. On these followed the commode—an actual tower of true and false hair, rags, ribbons, feathers, powder, and pomatum, accompanying which was a head-dress of which the following comic summary is given in an old print of the last century:

"A cap like a bat

(Which was once a cravat),

Part gracefully platted and pinned is;

Part stuck upon gauze,

Resembles mackaws,

And all the fine birds of the Indies.

But above all the rest

A bold Amazon's crest

Waves nodding from shoulder to shoulder;

At once to surprise.

And to ravish all eyes,

To frighten and charm the beholder.

In short, head and feather,

And wig altogether,

With wonder and joy would delight ye;

Like the picture I've seen

Of th' adorable queen,

Of the beautiful, blest Otaheite.

Yet Miss at the rooms

Must beware of her plumes;

For If Vulcan her feather embraces,

Like poor Lady Laycock,

She'll burn like a haycock,

And roast all the Loves and the Graces."

Figures 27, 28, 29, 30, are fair examples of this towering monstrosity. So enormous were these "heads" that women of fashion were compelled to ride with them thrust out of the carriage-windows, or kneel down in the carriage to accommodate them within. The body of the vast edifice was formed of tow. Over this the hair was turned, and false hair added in great curls, bobs, and ties, all powdered in profusion; then hung all over with vulgarly large rows of pearls, or even glass beads. Above this came flowers, and the whole was surmounted by broad, silken bands and great ostrich feathers. The entire structure added about three feet to the lady's legitimate height, and caused the gentlemen to look like dwarfs beside their wives. Of course such an edifice was to be constructed only at a vast expense of time and labor, and could not lightly be disturbed. Heads, when properly dressed, "kept for three weeks." as the barbers quietly phrased it. To "keep" them longer necessitated the employment of numerous preparations sold and warranted to destroy the vermin which bred in the flour and pomatum so liberally used. "Directions for opening a three weeks' head," openly circulated in those days, should have been enough to disgust cleanly people with the fashion. Of course false hair was still in great demand; and we read of a young country girl, with fine locks, coming to London and selling her hair for fifty pounds (.$250)) with which sum as her dower she returned, pacified an obdurate father, and married his willing son.

What with the towers and trains of the ladies, the wigs and tight breeches of the gentlemen, and the stays worn by both sexes, locomotion in full dress must have been a matter of difficulty, while a departure from the erect position seems to have been an impossibility. At a ball given by an English royal Duke, "Lady H___ d" chanced to drop her handkerchief.
Having a bad cold, she needed it; but neither she nor her partner, a royal Duke, being dressed for stooping, they were obliged to ring for the servant to assist her ladyship's nose to a handkerchief.

Yet even these towers of flowers and feathers were preferable to the disgusting fashion which followed it, of piling garden stuff— such as carrots and parsnips—on the head. Here is an inventory of the contents of such a fashionable head as we just mentioned:

"Sing her daub'd with white and red,

Sing her large terrific head.

Nor the many things disguise

That produce its mighty size;

And let nothing be forgot.

Carrot, turnips, and what not;

Curls and cushions for imprimis,

Wool and powder for the finis;

Lace and lappets, many a flag.

Many a party-colored rag,

Pendent from the head behind,

Floats and wantons in the wind."

For a long time gray powder was the rage. This applied on black hair caused it to look blue, transforming young ladies for the time being into actual blues. Figure 31 is a sample of this head-dress. This is alluded to in the following graphic account of a fashionable lady's toilet for tho year 1759—just one hundred years ago:

"Hang a small bugle cap on, as big as a crown,

Snout it off with a flower, vulgo diet, a pompoon;

let your powder be gray, and braid up your hair,

Like the mane of a colt to be sold at a fair.

A short pair of jumps, half an ell from your chin,

To make you appear like one just lying-in;

Before, for your breast, pin a stomacher bib on,

Kngout it with curlets of silver and ribbon.

Your neck and your shoulders both naked should be,

Was it not for Vandyke, blown with cheveux-de-frize.

Let your gown be a sack, blue, yellow, or green,

And frizzle your elbows with ruffles sixteen;

Furl off your lawn apron with flounces in rows,

Puff and pucker up knots on your arms and your toes;

Make your petticoats short, that a hoop eight yards wide

May decently show how your garters are ty'd;

With fringes of knotting your dicky kabob,

On slippers of velvet, set gold a-la-daube.

But mount on French heels, when you go to a ball;

'Tis the fashion to totter, and show you can fall;

Throw modesty out from your manners and face,

A-la-mode de Francois, you're a bit for his Grace."

So vast were the "towers" and so expanded the hoops that the doors of the French Queen's palace were forced to be made both higher and wider to admit herself and her ladies. The author of "The Enormous Abomination of the Hooped Petticoat,", has a description of a lady entering a room which will put sonve malicious persons in mind of experiences of the present day: "Suppose the fine lady entering a room; First enters, wriggling and sideling and edging in by degrees, two yards and a half of hoop; for as yet you see nothing else. Some time after appears the inhabitant of the garment herself; not with a full face, but in profile. Next, in due time, follows two yards and a half of hoop more; and now her whole person, with all its appurtenances, is actually arrived fully and completely in the room. She sits down: if it be upon a couch or squab, though the couch or squab be five yards long, her hoop takes up every inch of it, from one end to the other. If upon a chair, it is the same in effect; only the hoop is suspended in the air, without any thing else to rest upon."

The "heads" excited the satire of all the poets and poetasters of the age. They were compared to almost every disagreeable subject in nature; but no amount of fun affected the mode. The quick changes from one monstrous fashion to another more monstrous still, caused one to sing,

"O let a wind-mill decorate the hair,

a wind-mill, apter emblem of the fair!

as every blast of air impels the vane,

So every blast of folly whirls their brain."

To shape and order the cumbrous "head" required the strength of a male hairdresser, whose labors are thus described by the author of "The New Bath Guide":

"And first at her porcupine head

he begins

to fumble and poke with his

irons and pins

Then fires all his crackers with

horrid grimace

and puffs his vile rocambol breath

in her face

Discharging a steam that the

devil would choke,

From paper, pomatum, from powder

and smoke;

The patient submits, and with due

resignation,

Prepares for her fate in the next operation!

When lo! on a sudden, a monster appears,

A horrible monster, to cover her ears;

What sign of the zodiac is it he bears?

Is it Taurus's tail, or the tete de

mouton,

Or the beard of the goat, that he

dares to put on?

'Tis a wig en vergette, that from Paris

was brought Une tite comme il faut, that the var-

let has bought

Of a beggar, whose head be has

shaved for a groat.

Now fixed to her head, does he friz-

zle and dab it;

'Tis a fore-top no more—'tis the skin

of a rabbit—

'Tis a muff—'tis a thing that by all

is confest,

Is in color and shape like a chaffinch's nest."

The strong scents which were universal toilet adjuncts from the time of Queen Bess down to the close of the last century, seem to have been necessities rather than luxuries. Cold water as a purifier was not much used in the cumbrous toilets of those days. To ladies who painted in red and white, as they did in the last century, an imprudent washing of the face would have been almost certain death. Lady Fortrose indeed killed herself by such a rashness, and several similar deaths are on record. A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1741 confesses that "from my love of appearing clean, and conversing with the ladies, I am what people call a Beau." At Bath, the focus of every thing refined and fashionable during the early part of the last century, they never washed the uncarpeted floors of the apartments; but they were occasionally smeared over with a mixture of soot and small beer, which hid, or at any rate clouded, all unsightly accumulations.

Lest our fair readers think we give undue prominence to the fashionable absurdities of their sex, we must cite here one more extravagance in male attire, which seems to eclipse almost any thing to be laid to the fairer portion of creation. The Prince of Wales, who was afterward George IV., and whose wardrobe sold at auction, after his death, for the trifling sum of $45,000 (it was estimated to have cost $500,000), was the first to countenance buckskin breeches as an indispensable fashionable morning garment. This article was made to fit so close to tho person that, we read, the maker and a couple of assistants were usually required to aid at the ceremony of trying it on. In some instances it was actually suspended from the ceiling by machinery, and the wearer descended into it, endeavoring, partly by the influence of his natural gravity, and partly by the pullings and haulings of those around him, to get home into the shell prepared for him. The effect of three hours' work of this kind (and the task lasted that time) may be imagined, especially if it was in the summer time. To walk in them was a torture, and to get out of them no less; but the dandy submitted to all with the devotion of a new-made saint, and the imperturbable firmness of a martyr.

In conclusion, we come to bonnets—of which the varying shapes are so numerous that we can give only a few of the most remarkable.

The horned and peaked styles (Figure 32) were in vogue during the reigns of the Plantagenets but died out before Elizabeth's time. When the tower was the mode, a head-covering to correspond was a necessity. The balloon or hood (Figure 35) seems to have been rather graceful than otherwise. But it was soon driven out by the basket-shaped contrivance shown in Figure 37. This, heavy as it looks, was exceedingly light and fragile, composed chiefly of laces, gauze, wire, and ribbon, and intended to protect and shelter, and not weigh down, the immense head which it covered.

The three styles here presented in Figure 34 were all the rage at different periods, and all are more graceful than the cumbrous head-piece shown in Figure 33.

This was the height of the mode about 1768, and was—so says Stewart, a perruquier-author, in his Plocacosmos—thought a most graceful adornment! What taste!

But equally ungraceful and fashionable was the monstrous cap shown in Figure 36—a fact we should be loth to ask the reader to believe, were it not that our engraving is copied from an engraved likeness of the fair Mary Anne Robinson, the first love of that prince who was afterward George IV. One can scarcely imagine that a really beautiful woman would so disfigure herself. No wonder a pious rhymer of those days sang:

"The pride of our females all bound'ry exceeds,

'Tis now quite the fashion to wear double heads.

Approaching this town to disburse heavenly treasure,

I passed by a head that would fill a strike -measure.

If I'd had that measure but close to my side,

I then should have had the experiment tried.

By sins a man's said to be covered all o'er.

With bruises and many a putrified sore:

From the sole of his foot to his crown they aspire

But the sins of a woman rise half a yard higher.'

And yet, not one of the bonnets so ridiculed will seem more strange and outre to our small bonneted generation than will this specimen of the head covering which excited the budding vanity and enthusiasm of our mothers.

article source: Harper's New Monthly Magazine, 1858

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2012-04-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

images from a 1935 McCall's and Delineator~

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The Rise and Fall of the Ruff. And other things...

2012-04-12T20:23:00.000-07:00

Mademoiselle de Maupin, seventeenth century Paris Opera star

I'm not sure how to approach this blog entry. The article below is a generalized lampooning of women's fashions, focusing in particular on Mademoiselle de Maupin. Not the REAL Mademoiselle de Maupin (aka Julie d'Aubigny), pictured above, but the Mlle. Maupin featured in Theophile Gautier's 1834 novel entitled "Mademoiselle De Maupin"! Confused? I am as well:) I've posted the article in it's entirety, with a few images thrown in for fun. Queen Elizabeth I popularized the ruff, and it is said that the ruff died on the gallows with Anne Turner. We have an image of Madame Frontenac, with a, well, a large hat.

It seems that the author used Mademoiselle de Maupin as a jumping-off point to satirize other objectionable fashions. It's rather scatter-shot, but amusing.

It's quite possible that this article is a lampooning of the book, not having read it, I don't know... The original La Maupin was reputed to be quite a swashbucker~!

A CONSCIENTIOUS CHRONICLE OF PRETTY WOMEN'S PRETTIEST FROCKS.

(By an Unborn Babe-)

Chapter XXV.—After The Ruffs. Away with the ruffs. Here is another style, rather different. How do you like it? The sleeves still large, the collar very large indeed, but lying down now, and no end of a hat!' "Je me suis figure," says Theophile Gautier, writing of Mademoiselle De Maupin,—" Je me suis figure bien souvent le costume que porterait mon heroine: une robe de velours ecarlate nu noir, avec des creves de satin blanc ou de toile d'argent, un corsage ouvert, une grande fraise a la Medicis, un' chapeau de feutre capricieusement rompu comme celui d' Helena Systerman, et de longues plumes blanches frisees et crespelees."

Goodness only knows why ruffs went out. It could not possibly be only because they were a little bit uncomfortable, for every right-thinking woman would suffer indescribable torments, and does suffer them every day, to be pretty. Yellow starch had become unfashionable, it is true, since Mrs. Turner, the cosmetic seller, went to the gallows with a yellow ruff round her neck, to be hanged for her share in the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury. You may see from this that it was somewhat of an unenlightened age. Later on, Mr. Walker, a hatter in a small way in Fetter Lane, had the good fortune to sell one of his hats to Muller the murderer. Only a few years have elapsed since then, and I see Mr. Walker's shop has stretched itself nearly a third of the length of the lane. If another murderer would only go and buy another hat of him, he would most likely require the other two-thirds, at least, to conduct his business.

MADEMOISELLE DE MAUPIN.

Mme Maupin

Queen Elizabeth having died (leaving behind her a wardrobe of three thousand gowns), ruffs somehow began to get smaller, and died away altogether at last. Meanwhile stockings became popular. Queen Elizabeth's black silk ones I have already told you of. When Mary Queen Of Scots went to the scaffold, she wore stockings of blue worsted, clocked and tipped with silver, and under them another pair of white. Public attention having been directed to ladies' stockings, it would appear that garters got to be thought about too, for we find them manufactured for ladies at this period of gold and silver, costing four and five pounds a pair. "Honi soit," &c.

At the time of the civil wars of the Fronde, the French ladies seem to have gone in for extremely large hats, and in this particular, as well as in others, they extinguished the male creature very effectively. It was, then that Madame De Chevreuse was working wonders in diplomacy. Madame De Frontenac reviewed the troops. The " Grande Mademoiselle " fired big guns. Mme. Coatquen forced hitherto invincible Turenne to capitulate. What were all the men about? Where were they? How many were there? There were only two; and both wore petticoats—Mazarin and Gandi.

Lady Frontenac, image source, Gutenberg

There is much self-assertion and determination about our fair friend with the large hat, and that ridingwhip she carries looks as if it could give a pretty good slashing cut, if needs were. I trust no such occasion ever arose, and that all treated her with proper respect, and that she never lost her temper and gave it to the groom, say—or her husband, or anything of that kind.

source: Judy, or the London serio-comic journal, Volume 18, 1876

....................................................

Anne Turner on her way to the gallows
wiki commons

The ruffs then generally worn fell under the severe censure of Dr. Bulwer, who observed, "It is hard to derive the abominable pedigree of cobweb lawn, yellow starched ruffs, which so much disfigure our females, and render them so ridiculous and fantastical; but it is well known that fashion died at the gallows with her who was the supposed inventrix of it." The person thus alluded to was Mrs. Turner, the widow of a physician who was hanged for assisting in the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury. The yellow starch used for these ruffs was introduced by this infamous woman from France. The circumstance of her wearing one on the scaffold soon terminated the fashion.

source: Fashion then and now, by Lord William Pitt Lennox

Mademoiselle de Maupin, based on the real Julie d'Aubigny. A Photogravure Reproduction by Boussod Valadon and Co from a Water colour painted in 1897 and contained in Six Drawings illustrating Mademoiselle de Maupín published by Leonard Smithers and Co 1898. Wiki Commons