If we regard these as the author's considered opinions, expressed with a characteristic touch of malice, we shall probably agree that she is, on the whole, right. Were women to make a note, every time a man describes one of them as "well dressed," of what the subject of the remark was wearing, they would, I believe, find an overwhelming preponderance of votes in favour of well-fitting, plain, if not actually "tailor-made" costumes for the daytime, and simple though not conventual frocks for the evening, as compared with all the highly decorated "confections," covered with what one may call "applied art," whereon women spend so large a proportion of their allowances.
The letters to Cassandra make up to some extent for the deficiencies of the novels in a matter so attractive to the author's admirers among her own sex, though the particulars given are almost always incomplete; that is to say, they depend on information which Cassandra possessed, but which is denied to us. Such a case is presented when we read: "Elizabeth has given me a hat, and it is not only a pretty hat, but a pretty style of hat too. It is something like Eliza's, only, instead of being all straw, half of it is narrow purple ribbon. I flatter myself, however, that you can understand very little of it from this description. Heaven forbid that I should ever offer such encouragement to explanations as to give a clear one on any occasion myself! But I must write no more of this." The tantalizing thing is that while we know that this pretty hat was something like Eliza's, we have no idea what Eliza's was like, beyond the untrimmed fact that it was "all straw."
Then Cassandra is told by Jane, "I believe I shall make my new gown like my robe, but the back of the latter is all in a piece with the tail, and will seven yards enable me to copy it in that respect?" Alas! that we cannot discover how the robe was made, except that "the back was all in a piece with the tail." Often, of course, the news about dress is mixed up with other news, as when Jane writes: "At Nackington ... Miss Fletcher and I were very thick, but I am the thinnest of the two. She wore her purple muslin, which is pretty enough, though it does not become her complexion...." Once Jane's account of her own necessities in the way of dress is nearly followed by a sentence which not only contains evidence of her close acquaintance with Fielding's greatest novel, but also reminds us of Mr. Tom Lefroy. "You say nothing of the silk stockings; I flatter myself, therefore, that Charles has not purchased any, as I cannot very well afford to pay for them; all my money is spent in buying white gloves and pink persian.... After I had written the above, we received a visit from Mr. Tom Lefroy and his cousin George. The latter is really very well-behaved now; and as for the other, he has but one fault, which time will, I trust, entirely remove—it is that his morning coat is a great deal too light. He is a very great admirer of Tom Jones, and therefore wears the same coloured clothes, I imagine, which he did when he was wounded."
Many of her references to dress are of the partly serious, partly humorous kind which came naturally from her pen. "Flowers are very much worn," she writes from Bath in the summer of 1799, "and fruit is still more the thing. Elizabeth has a bunch of strawberries and I have seen grapes, cherries, plums, apricots. There are likewise almonds and raisins, French plums, and tamarinds at the grocers', but I have never seen any of them in hats." She had, in the Southampton days, a spotted muslin which she meant to wear out, in spite of its durability. "You will exclaim at this, but mine really has signs of feebleness, which, with a little care, may come to something." Then she has some "bombazins" with trains, which "I cannot reconcile myself to giving up as morning gowns; they are so very sweet by candlelight. I would rather sacrifice my blue one ... in short I do not know and I do not care."
A peep into the economy of Steventon parsonage is now and again offered. In 1796, "We are very busy making Edward's shirts, and I am proud to say that I am the neatest worker of the party. They say that there are a prodigious number of birds hereabouts this year, so that perhaps I may kill a few."
Another bit of work that the want of the riches of Kent forced upon the poorer folks of Hampshire is shown to us when Jane writes: "I bought some Japan ink and next week shall begin my operations on my hat, on which you know my principal hopes of happiness depend." In this case there is no difficulty of interpretation. Now-a-days there are simple "dips" wherewith young ladies whose allowances are small or who in any case wish to make the most of their money can change old straw hats into new, soiled white into black, or green, or heliotrope. It was not so a century ago, and when Jane wanted to turn her old white straw hat into a new black one, she must needs Japan it.
"I have read the 'Corsair,' mended my petticoat, and have nothing else to do," she writes from London in 1814, and on another day about the same time she informs her sister: "I have determined to trim my lilac sarsenet with black satin ribbon, just as my China crape is, six-penny width at the bottom, threepenny or four-penny at top." An even closer glimpse of Jane in her home is afforded by a letter in which she says—
"I find great comfort in my stuff gown, but I hope you do not wear yours too often. I have made myself two or three caps to wear of evenings since I came home, and they save me a world of torment as to hair-dressing, which at present gives me no trouble beyond washing and brushing, for my long hair is always plaited up out of sight, and my short hair curls well enough to want no papering."