Yet even this costly magnificence was afterwards surpassed by that of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, with whom it was common, even at an ordinary dancing, to have his clothes trimmed with great diamond buttons, and to have diamond hatbands, cockades, and earrings, to be yoked with great and manifold ropes and knots of pearl; in short, to be manacled, fettered, and imprisoned in jewels: insomuch that at his going to Paris in 1625, he had twenty-seven suits of clothes made, the richest that embroidery, lace, silk, velvet, gold, and gems could contribute; one of which was a white uncut velvet set all over, both suit and cloak, with diamonds valued at fourscore thousand pounds, besides a great feather, stuck all over with diamonds, as were also his sword, girdle, hatband, and spurs.[110]
It would but weary our readers were we to dwell on the well-known peculiarities of the “Cavalier and Roundhead” days; and tell how the steeple-crowned hat was replaced at the Restoration by the plumed and jewelled velvet; the forlorn, smooth, methodistical pate, by the curled ringlets and flowing lovelock; the sober, sombre, “sad” coloured garment, with its starched folds, by the gay, varied, flowing drapery of all hues. Then, how the plume of feathers gave way to the simpler band and buckle, and the thick large curling wig and full ruffle, to the bagwig, the tie, and stock.
The dashing cloak and slashed sleeves were succeeded by the coat of ample dimensions, and the waistcoat with interminable pockets resting on the knees; the “breeches” were in universal use, though they were not of the universal “black” which Cowper immortalises; but “black breeches” and “powder” have had their reign, and are succeeded by the “inexpressible” costume of the present day. We will conclude a chapter, which we fear to have spun out tediously, by Lady Morgan’s animated account of the introduction, in France, of that universally-coveted article of dress—a Cashmir shawl:—
“While partaking of a sumptuous collation (at Rouen), the conversation naturally turned on the splendid views which the windows commanded, and on the subjects connected with their existence. The flocks, which were grazing before us had furnished the beautiful shawls which hung on the backs of the chairs occupied by our fair companions, and which might compete with the turbans of the Grand Signor. It would be difficult now to persuade a Parisian petite maitresse that there was a time when French women of fashion could exist without a cashmir, or that such an indispensable article of the toilet and sultan was unknown even to the most elegant. ‘The first cashemir that appeared in France,’ said Madame D’Aubespine, (for an educated French woman has always something worth hearing to say on all subjects,) ‘was sent over by Baron de Tott, then in the service of the Porte, to Madame de Tessé. When they were produced in her society, every body thought them very fine, but nobody knew what use to make of them. It was determined that they would make pretty couvre-pieds and veils for the cradle; but the fashion wore out with the shawls, and ladies returned to their eider-down quilts.’
“Monsieur Ternaux observed that ‘though the produce of the Cashmerian looms had long been known in Europe, they did not become a vogue until after Napoleon’s expedition to Egypt; and that even then they took, in the first instance, but slowly.’ The shawl was still a novelty in France, when Josephine, as yet but the wife of the First Consul, knew not how to drape its elegant folds, and stood indebted to the brusque Rapp for the grace with which she afterwards wore it.
“‘Permettez que je vous fasse l’observation,’ said Rapp, as they were setting off for the opera; ‘que votre schall n’est pas mis avec cette grâce qui vous est habituelle.’
“Josephine laughingly let him arrange it in the manner of the Egyptian women. This impromptu toilette caused a little delay, and the infernal machine exploded in vain!
“What destinies waited upon the arrangement of this cashemir! A moment sooner or later, and the shawl might have given another course to events, which would have changed the whole face of Europe.”[111]
The Empress Josephine (says her biographer) had quite a passion for shawls, and I question whether any collection of them was ever as valuable as hers. At Navarre she had one hundred and fifty, all extremely beautiful and high-priced. She sent designs to Constantinople, and the shawls made after these patterns were as beautiful as they were valuable. Every week M. Lenormant came to Navarre, and sold her whatever he could obtain that was curious in this way. I have seen white shawls covered with roses, bluebells, perroquets, peacocks, &c., which I believe were not to be met with any where else in Europe; they were valued at 15,000 and 20,000 francs each.
The shawls were at length sold by auction at Malmaison, at a rate much below their value. All Paris went to the sale.