THE COSTUME OF THE FUTURE.
Our business is with male attire, and it would be ungallant to introduce, merely in a parenthesis, the subject of ladies' dress, or we might pause to congratulate them and ourselves upon the very reasonable and natural costume which they have enjoyed for some time. The portraits of the present day are not disfigured by the towering head-gear, the long waists and hoops against which Reynolds had to contend, nor by the greater variety of hideous fashions, including the no-waist, the tight clinging skirt, the enormous bows of hair, and the balloon or leg-of-mutton sleeves, which at various periods interfered with the highest efforts of Lawrence. The present dress differs slightly from that of the best ages; and Vandyke or Lely, if summoned to paint the fair ladies of the Court of Queen Victoria, would find little they could wish to alter in the arrangement of their costume. But what would they say to the gentlemen?
They would miss the rich materials, the variety of color and of make, and the flowing outlines to which they were accustomed, and would find, instead of them every body going about in a plain, uniform, close-fitting garb, admitting of no variety of color or make, and not presenting a single line or contour upon which they could look with pleasure. They might not be much gratified by learning the superior economy of modern fashions: they might say that, putting rich materials and delicate hues aside, it is possible to contrive a picturesque dress out of the most simple fabrics. Beauty and expense are by no means of necessity associated in dress. When Oliver Goldsmith, after spending more than would pay a modern gentleman's tailor's bill for a couple of years, upon a single coat of cherry-colored velvet, had the misfortune to stain it in a conspicuous place, he was obliged to go on wearing it, and always to hold his hat (in this instance of some use) before the fatal grease-spot. He could not afford to have another new coat, and yet this expensive and unfortunate piece of finery was every bit as ugly, if not more so, than the plain black or invisible-green cloth coat of this age. The long shoes, pointed toes, and other grotesque fashions of the middle ages, must all of them have been expensive; and it was by inefficient sumptuary laws that it was attempted to put them down. The draperies which we admire on an Etruscan vase were of the coarsest woollen: and the possession of silken stuffs in abundance has not tended to make the Chinese national dress better than what we know it to be.
Of coats, the frock is better than the evening or dress-coat. It fulfils the purpose of a garment more completely, and when buttoned up is capable of protecting the chest. The triangular opening in front of the coat and waistcoat is, however, an absurdity. It leaves unprotected from cold and wet the very part which most requires protection. Pictorially, the regularly-defined patch of white seen through it is always offensive; but its whiteness has one merit, if it really be white. The exposure of part of the linen worn under the tailor's portion of the man's dress makes attention to its condition necessary; and perhaps has contributed to the greater personal cleanliness which obtains among a coat-wearing than among a blouse-wearing population. Cleanliness is very truly reputed to be next to godliness, and it may be worth while making some sacrifice of convenience and taste for the sake of it: it belongs to morals rather than to æsthetics, and should accordingly take precedence of any thing appertaining only to the latter.
The tail or dress coat is evidently derived from the frock, or from something like the frock, by turning back the skirts. Remains of this process may be seen in the buttons which, without serving any useful purpose, still continue to decorate the coat-tails in many military uniforms, and in servants' liveries, and in those which, without being so remarkable, still adhere to the tails of an ordinary dress-coat. This arrangement may be noticed very distinctly in the well-known portraits of Charles XII. of Sweden, in which the white livery is seen buttoned back upon the blue cloth which forms the outer side of the coat skirts.
The tail-coat is certainly the worst of the two, whether for utility or for appearance; and so thought George IV., whose opinion, however, in matters of taste, was not in general good for much. This king, in his latter days, carried his aversion to it so far as to banish it entirely from his back, and from his presence for a time, during which he, and the persons immediately about him, wore a kind of frock coat in evening dress. But the public did not follow the royal lead, and the swallow-tails still flutter behind the wearer of an evening coat.
Waistcoats do not call for much reprobation, except in the matter of the already-mentioned white triangle, in which they err in company with the coats. But a good long waistcoat, buttoned up to the throat, is a very useful and unexceptionable piece of attire. A few years ago, people wore them of all kinds of color, and of all kinds of stuffs, silks, and velvet; now, however, black is your only wear, with perhaps an occasional license to assume the white waistcoat, which was once associated with that exceedingly frivolous and now evanescent party who were called 'Young England.'
Trousers are so sensible and convenient a portion of attire that little can be said against them. It is a form of covering for the legs well fitted for the inhabitants of a cold and variable climate, and hardly differs from what may be seen on the figures of the Gauls on Trajan's Column, and other monuments of antiquity. In practical convenience, they far surpass their shorter rivals, which also require continuation by stockings to complete the purpose of clothing the leg. Buttons at the knee are a great nuisance, and probably were what chiefly contributed to the melancholy determination of a certain gentleman in the last century, who found his existence insupportable, and put an end to it with his own hand. Life, he said, was made up of nothing but buttoning and unbuttoning; and so he shot himself one morning in his dressing-gown and slippers, before the intolerable burden of the day commenced.
Trousers are great levellers. The legs of Achilles and of Thersites would share the same fate in them, and both would in modern London be as well entitled to the epithet of "well-trousered," as the former alone was to that of 'well-greaved' before Troy. Probably the majority of mankind are but too well content with this result, as there are few who could emulate Mr. Cruikshanks in James Smith's song of names, who
"——stepped into ten thousand a year
By showing his leg to an heiress;"
and the trouser is therefore likely to be a permanent article in the wardrobe, so that its continued existence must be taken as a datum or postulate in any discussion upon vestimentary reform. This, it must be allowed, makes any reform to a very picturesque costume out of the question; for not only is the loose trouser itself hostile to the fit display of the lower limbs, but it interferes with the use of any such dress as the military habit of the Romans, or the Highland kilt, or the short tunic with which we are familiar on the stage in costumed plays, where no particular accuracy as to place or time is affected. The effect of the combination may often be noticed in the dress of little boys, who may be seen wearing trousers under such a tunic, reaching to the knee or a little above it. The horizontal line which terminates the lower part of the kilt is seen in immediate contrast with, and at right angles to the almost perpendicular lines of the trousers, which produces a most disagreeable appearance; although it is well adapted, by the contrast of a straight line with the graceful curves of the legs, to set them off to advantage when uncovered.
Flowing robes after the classical or eastern fashion are of course not to be thought of. They would be mightily out of place in railroad carriages, or in omnibuses, or in walking the streets on muddy days. Modern habits of activity and personal independence require the dress to be tolerably succinct and unvoluminous; but some change in the right direction has been lately made by the introduction of what are called paletots, and other coats of various transitional forms between them and the shooting-jacket proper. In these a good deal of the stiffness and angularity of the regulation frock coat is got rid of, and they admit of adaptation to different statures and sizes. They have much comfort and convenience to recommend them, and it would be a great point gained if they were altogether adopted, and the frock-coat, which still asserts a claim to be considered more correct, were quietly given up.
It may be matter only of custom and association, or it may also depend upon some deeper considerations, but the result of much observation is, that with the ordinary out-of-door costume of the present day, as worn in cities, nothing goes so well as the black hat. There is an ugliness and a stiffness about it which is congruous with the ugliness and stiffness of every thing else. Its very height and straight sides tend to carry the eye upwards, in conformity with the indication of the principal lines in the lower part of the dress. It is like a steeple upon a Gothic tower, and repeats the perpendicular tendencies of what is below it, instead of contradicting them by the introduction of a horizontal element. Certainly, no kind of cap goes well with it: the traveller who has not unpacked his hat, and continues to wear in the streets what served him on the road, or the Turk, European in all but his red fez, cut but a sorry and mongrel figure among the shining beavers around them, which retain their place as necessary evils under the existing order of things.
Once, however, escape from the town, and see how every one gets rid of his regular coat, and of his chimney-pot. The man of business in his rural retreat, the lawyer in vacation, the lounger at the sea-side, have all discarded them. Emancipation from the coat and hat is synonymous with leisure, enjoyment, and freedom from the formal trammels of public and civic life. The most staid and reverend personages may now be seen disporting themselves in divers jackets, and in that Wide-awake which a few years since was confined to the sportsman or his slang imitator. Surely this universal consent of mankind must be accepted as an omen of the future; and when the looser and more sensible garments now worn in the country, shall be established as the usual dress of the towns also, they will be accompanied by the soft and wide-leaved hat of felt, which already goes along with them wherever they are tolerated.