semi-savages dress more sensibly and more to the
purpose than civilised nations. The negro's
waistband, the South American's poncho, the
Russian's woolly coat, are perfect for their
special purposes. But what Fiji would wear
our black hat? What aboriginal would not dance
on it in sheer disgustful contempt? It is costly,
frail, lets in the rain, does not keep out the sun,
attracts the wind, is unfit to travel or to sleep
in, is ugly, uncomfortable, cold, yet has existed
now in full fashion for some seventy years—
ever since the First Consul's time, in fact— and
it defies all reformation. Stupid type of Chinese
changelessness that it is. It has spread over all
Europe, and reigns predominant wherever
civilisation is.

The history of English dress is an epitome of
human folly; old satirists of centuries past
laugh at us for our caprice and imitativeness.
We always copied the French in dress, and the
Italians in music. Our armour was the only
real dress that was thoroughly adapted to its
purpose, and that never changed till a change
was indispensable either for splendour or
defence. The knight never ceased adding scale
and plate, till he grew into a perfect lobster of
steel— dangerous to others, but himself impenetrable.
Unfortunately, just as this result was
attained, in came gunpowder, and blew all the
strong men in armour away.

People who wore wigs and hoops could not
afford to laugh at any one, but we reformed and
sensible people can now venture to smile at
those Polish boots of Richard the Second's time,
whose toes, a yard long, were fastened with
silver chains at the knees; and at the horned
head-dress of Edward the Third's reign, that
drove some learned prelates almost to insanity.
Richard the Second's time was, indeed, the
coronation time of dandyism, for then men wore
long jagged sleeves, and robes glittering with
heraldic devices, and they rioted in
parti-coloured hose, one leg red, and the other blue,
and hung silver bells to their tunics, and
generally made consummate fools of themselves, but
in a splendid and gorgeous manner.

In Edward the Third's magnificent reign,
however, people dressed sensibly enough. The
light surtout with the jewelled belt, the useful
hood, were as becoming as they were well
invented; the hood especially, was a most
admirable adaptation of old classic dress, and will
never die out. It is still much used on the
Continent, and, only lately, hoods have been
universally introduced into the costume of the
Russian army.

In Henry the Seventh's time, Flemish trade
led to our adoption of those half Oriental head
robes, so heavy, grave, and voluminous, that one
sees in Van Eyck's pictures, and in the
chef-d'oeuvre of Quentin Matsys. This head tire has
a turban-like border, it rises in huge bag-like
folds over the head, or falls in cumbrous drapery
upon the robed shoulders. It gave a certain
dignity to the large fleshy noses and grim hard
faces of that great pre-Lutheran epoch. It typified
the solid heads it covered.

In the next reign, this semi-turban fell away
to a jaunty Italian or French cap— a mere velvet
tartlet, garnished with lace, and tufted with a
side feather— the cap that everybody wears in
the Huguenots. Square, tow-padded shoes, and
short slashed coats, accompanied this cap.

The alert, vivacious, sensible age of Elizabeth
brought in a sensible dress: an alert tight-fitting
doublet, a short energetic cloak, sensible shoes,
knee-breeches, that set off the foot and left
the leg at full liberty to storm Cadiz or follow
Raleigh up a ship's side. Still it was a luxurious
dress, expensive, keeping apart classes, too
much belaced and bejewelled. Charles the First's
reign, or rather the progress of free thought and
the independence of the middle class, led to a
more sombre and Spanish style of dress,
saddened here and there by the scruples of
Puritanism. With Charles the Second, we
abandoned lace collars, and became more sober in
colours. With William we grew Dutch, gave
up silks and velvets and frequent changes, for
square-skirted cloth coats, square-cut shoes,
heavy jack-boots, and lace cravats.

And here a word on wigs. A certain king
of moderate intellect and considerable ambition,
vice, and intolerance, becomes bald. He adopts
a flowing black wig, and henceforth for one
hundred and thirty years or so, people shave
their hair in order to wear other people's fleeces,
for which they have to give forty and fifty
guineas. How few people questioned the
wisdom of this? It was not till after George the
Third came to reign that wigs began to die out,
and at about the French Revolution time they
slowly passed away. Yet even now, do not
judges and barristers still wear those
absurdities, and rejoice in them, and flourish them in
our eyes, and shake them at each other in heats
of verbal battle?

The French Revolution made the first real
sensible improvements in dress. It took from
us the muslin bolster, and gave us black silk
neckerchiefs; it threw away the old head wig
for real living hair; it started the swallow-tail
coat and trousers; it abolished the cocked-hat;
and tossed away the sword.

And here a word about the sword. Never
was a more mischievous custom tolerated in a
civilised country than that of civilians habitually
carrying swords. It was not because highwaymen
rendered the suburbs of London dangerous
by night, that swords were worn. It was
because it was the custom, as it had been the
custom, without reason, and originating no one
knew why. From the time of Elizabeth, to
that of George the Third, when the custom, a
little before the French Revolution, died out,
hundreds of brave but hot-brained young men
(the very flower of England) perished in duels,
for the most part resulting from this senseless
custom. Take up any book of our criminal
trials of the sword-bearing times, and you will
find it full of trials for manslaughter, originating
simply in this habit of wearing swords.
A party of young men met at a city tavern.
They emptied several bottles of claret, and then