A DISSERTATION ON CLOTHING.

Evening Star, Issue 12396, 9 January 1905, Page 8

A DISSERTATION ON CLOTHING.

By \Maby Angela Dickens, Author of 'A Mere Cypher,' etc. The Spectator. Number 0. Monday, 17th May. Looking over the letters I have lately received from my correspondents, I met with the following one, which contains an account of so remarkable an occurrence, that I could not but be very much pleased with it myself, and question not but that it will be as acceptable to the reader. Mr Spectator,— On Sunday mornings I generally give my whole mind to the keeping of one commandment This does not seem a great work when, many are set before us to keep. But to keep one is perhaps better than to ignore all, and my concentration on that one is remarkable, especially as I am by nature by no means of a concentrated disposition, my-mind being of a diffuse cast,- and what my detractors are pleasd to call " absent" —an utterly inappropriate term. A human being's mind is an integral part of himself, and therefore must be present.' I understand, however, that this term is meant in some sort as a term of obloquy. I therefore prefer to ignore such sayings, and to look upon myl mind as all-embracing. To return to my point—a close adherence to my point has, as a matter of fact, always been a characteristic of my literary style—it might be well to give some hint of which is the commandment in question. It is the fourths—or rather part of it. "Thou shalt do no manner of work." This has always seemed to me worthy of the most implicit obedience, and I find that I observe it with the closest particularity when I do not rise from my bed before noon. —Church Parade.— One fine spring Sunday lately, however, I relaxed this close rule of obedience to some .extent. Tempted by the rays of sunshine which met my eyes, entering my room, irradiating the worn places in the wall paper and the paint, and impelling me to compose i\ fifth letter on that subject to the obdurate being who has the honor to call me his tenant, I temporarily abandoned the stricter observance of this command, and rising gave m) mind to what is certainly work, and weary work—the attiring of myself in my daily habiliments. My servant—graceless creature—l had sent out on an errand, noij expecting to need his services until my usual leisurely hour, and I had therefore to attire my self unaided. I placed upon and about my person about a dozen distinct impedimenta, and then set forth, to see my fellow creatures. There is one spot above others at midlay on Sunday in London where those who iesire it can enjoy this sight, and to that spot I tent my steps forthwith. I made my way across the Park to the neighborhood of the Achilles statue, where for some unknown reason men and women of late chosen to walk up and down at this hour, and seated myself in one of the chairs provided for public use. The chair was one of two, which were placed very close, together, and a little apart from all the others near. Both were .slightly sheltered from view by a large tree, but though thus in comparative isolation I was able to eee all that passed before my eyes. Rather wearied by reason of the exertiop entailed in my breaking of my favorite commandment, I sat witn my eyes half closed listening to a low murmur of voices from theever moving stream of people which 'mingled with the rustling of the trees above my head. I had almost forgotten where I was, so soothing was the soft summer air, when suddenly a voice broke upon my dreaming. "I regret to disturb your meditations," it said. —A Precipitation from Venus.— I roused myself suddenly, and looked hastily in the direction from which the voice had come. . It seemed to me to proceed from the chair which was nearest to my own. But for the moment I could see nothing more. As I looked, however, tho sunshine seemed less dazzling, and an outline seemed to grow distinct—the outline of a slender figure. First the face became clear to my .wondering eyes. It was a beautiful face of the type which we, for the lack of a better word, call ascetic. Then the form, graceful and admirably proportioned, became clear. Tho figure wore a grey-robe very simply formed with nothing superabundant about it. It was a fitting garment for the beautiful form, and admirable —unlike any dress I had ever seen in any of the many countries in which I had travelled—and I recognised as I looked at it that it was perfect. "I am wholly at your service, madam," I said, I could answer in no other words it seemed to me "Your manners on this planet are mot J courteous,!' e stranger. " I have met with pothing but courtesy during the hours I have spent here." "Do you then come from another?" I asked her, eagerly. "Most certainly I do. From the planet known to you as Venus,*the world of all beauty and grace. I have" recently brought to a high development the faculty possessed by all dwellers on our planet, that of precipitating myself through Fpace, and at the request of a large proportion of mv Teliowcreatures I am come here to gather from them some details as to the dress of the inhabitants of a world so comparatively near our own. Many details of your lives are known to us through the agency of powerful telescopes, but your dress is beyond their scope, and therefore I am here." "You have come to the right spot of earth at the right moment of time," I said. "Here before you are the men and women who know all that is to be known about dress, and express that knowledge on their persons." ° "I am indeed fortunate," said my new friend, gravely, gazing around her with lovely, earnest grey eyes. "This assembly, is it frequent? By what name is H known ?" "Tt is weekly," I said. "It ie known as Church Parade." —The Worship of Strange Gods.— "Indeed!" The figure in grey made an eager movement, becoming thereby, if posable, more graceful than before.' "Is it possible that I am present at a religious ceremony—are these persons whom I behold engaged in worshipping their gods?" . I mused a moment, and then I answered as perforce I must answer. "They aro undoubtedly worshipping their gods—some of them," I said. The beautiful personality at my side made an incoherent sonnd expressive of deep interest. I looked around, and saw to my surprise that no one but myself, seemed aware of its sence. Possibly the green shade cast by the tree obscured the vision of the passersbv.

" TeD me." • she said, " describe to me, my courteous friend, some of the dress T see before me here. This lovely personage, for instance, what are her garments composed of? I will meantime note down on Tny tablets all that I may desire to impart to my own "people for their guidance." The stranger's glance had fallen on a woman who paused before us to talk to some friends. She was dressed .in the height of the mode.

"-Her dress," I began, "is composed of a soft, thin stuff. I am told by those who know that its name is chiffon. These materials, you will observe, do not form part of the dress of our men, so I inform yon from hearsay. But my informant is reliable—on that subject." I was thinking of my sister Beatrice, and the bills I used sometimes to pay for her before her marriage. She was such an appealing little soul—-no one could refuse her anything. Thank goodness, my brother-in-law's parse ' is longr. It need be! " .

"Chiffon," wrote down my strange friend. "And what are the special properties of this stuff? It is. I imagine, a protection against the rays of the sun, and since these arc more powerful here than I had imagined would be the case, this delicate fabric doubtless repulses the heat." "No," I said, "it is no protection. The sun's rays penetrate it very readily." She gazed at me, and then at. the loose transparent sleeves of the dress in question. "Possibly the women of your planet have ho dislike to the effect of .the sun's rays upon their skins?" "''.»■ "Oh, indeed they have'." I.said. "They spend much time—and money—trying to jumal that effect"

Indeed!" she said, gravely. *' I scarcely understand the. position, then. But kindly explain to me the designs in color which I see upon this garment. . "j e designs in colori represent, very inadequately, roses—a lovely flower of our gardens." .

Ah, said my friend. -"And on that other woman robed in black, who converses with her of the painted flowers, I S iv sparkling points of light which dazzle the eye. What are these?"

" Hie points of light are /small scraps of metal and glass known as sequins and beads."

"Do they-serve any purpose?" "None, save to enhance the beauty of the wearer."

"Neither bits of metal nor glass nor illpainted flowers would be considered to have that effect.with us. With you it seems it is different. Explain to me the headgear, if you will be so obliging."

—The Fluctuations of Fashion.— "It is known as a hat," I said, looking at two hug© structures of open-worked straw—one white and black, both, loaded with flowers and with veils hanging down behind.

" They form a shelter in rain, to judge from their size. I presume you know rain here?"

"Assuredly," said I; "but I fear that is not their use. They are not impervious to weather."

"The floating fabrio behind—does that envelop the fair wearer's face when necessary to screen it from the sun, or /otherwise?"

"No," I said, slowly; "those fabrics are fixed where they are." I knew this because the day before I had asked Beatrice as to hers.

"The covering of the hands—l perceive it is something placed over the natural skin. That, at least, must be cool in heat and warm in cold."

" That covering is neither," I said, slowly. I was beginning to feel rather foolish. The feet, I see, are encased in a material which allows the skin to show in places. Why is this?" "I do not know," T said, gazing at the elaborate open-worked stockings which were displayed as the wearer of the chifibn held up ner gown. "And is it from fear or exultation that she grasps her robe tightly in both hands?" she asked.

" Neither," I said. " But it is too long. It would be soiled by contact with the ground if she did not do so."

" Why should it be so formed? I notice that the black robe also lies around the wearer's feet. Is it some mistake?"

"It's not a mistake," I said, feebly. "They like it so—just now." "Just now? Do they—the women of your land—waver between sense and folly in their drees?"

"They waver," I said; "they certainly waver. But"—the stranger's eyes were insistent—"it is not between 6ense and folly only, but between different degrees of folly." —Reason Paramount in Men.—

My friend sighed. "It is strange," she said, " and disappointing. I fear none of these details will help my sisters in Venus to a better understanding of the principles of dress. But let us turn to the dress of your men. With regard to this you will speak to me from peisonal knowledge,' and the principles of reaeon, I feel sure, are paramount."

She turned to me, and I contrasted In appearance with that of the two women whose dress we tad been analysing. The advantage was not on their side. She scrutinised me from head to foot. Then she said very courteously: "You would do me a great service, kir, if you would remove your head-gear and let me examine it." I took off my hat and gave it to her, not without a tinge of anxiety. Her criticisms were scathing—and besides, it was a new one.

"Ah," she said, turning mv Lincoln and Bennett over slowly in her shapely fingers. "A strange shape, and scarcely beautifnl, sir, but probably the shape in question serves some excellent purpose!" " None, madam, that I know of," I said, after a little reflection—the first I had given to the shape of my hat. "The consistency—this great solidity of substance—it, of course, preserves your head from extreme heat?"

_ ' I think not," I said humbly, remembering the straw hats to which London has recourse as far as may be in the summer. "A comfortable shelter in the days of wind and rain?"

I suddenly thought of a fearful episode of three weeks back, in which my umbrella turned inside out, and my hat was blown off" in Knightsbridge. "Well—no," I stammered. "They don't stand rain. We have to hold a shelter over them in wet, and they are apt to blow off in wind."

"They are, however, not easily bruised, I feel sure? This must be their merit." Tho least touch," I said, impelled to indignant frankness by the sight of a little mark mine had acquired since the day before, "the least thing spoils them, and they have to be restored—ironed, we call it." * She gave me back my property with a charming grace and a reflective face, "And yet," she said, looking around her, "I see every man here in this head-gear. Strange!" —The Mystery of the Frock Coat.—

There was a pause, and then, with a smile, she said: "My procedure shall be different this time. I will ask you to point out to me without questions the chief virlne of the over-drapery which you and .all other men here wear, I perceive. You would not be of one mind concerning it if there were not some signal virtue in its form." Very gently she touched my frock coat, so I knew the word over-drapery referred to this.

"Why," she added, "is it invariablv black or grey? Will you tell me this, of your courtesy?" There was a silence. I thought as I have never thought before of my frock coat. But I could not find one single reason why it was better than, say, mv serge jacket or my flannels. I tried—with all my wind I tried—to discover in it one grain of intrinsic merit, and failed.

"I don't know," I said at last, shamefacedly. "I don't know why we weir it, and I don't know why it is black or grey. I don't think anybody does." Then a fash of inspiration came to me. "It was not always so," I went on. "Once men dressed in pleasing colors, as women do now; once their dress was graceful, and their hats were picturesque. I can show you pictures to prove this."

"Show me pictures to prove that the sense of your men in these matters is less than it was t Surely you do not preserve records of retrogression! You amaze me 1 If in Venus such a. thing as retrogrcorlon were known the testimony of such a fault would be destroyed— not preserved. Forgive me, courteous sir. I grieve to ter minate our acquaintance thus abruptly, '«at I do not think I can learn mnch as to the art of dress from your men and women, and it is principle with us never to waste time. Farewell, therefore, with many thinks for your courtesy." And just as I was going to ask her to luncheon that I might show her the picture of an ancestor by Vandyck she vanished, and I found myself alone. Will you, sir, explain the meaning of this vision, and enlighten your obedient, humble servant, Philander.