odest is often
to be excessively vain, and, having made an exhaustive study of my
subject from my own point of view, I do not feel called upon to hide
my knowledge under a bushel. Of course, I do not suggest that the
ordinary cultured man should acquire the same amount of knowledge as a
painter, or a writer of historical subjects, or an actor, but he
should understand the clothes of his own people, and be able to
visualize any date in which he may be interested.

One half of the people who talk glibly of Beau Brummell have but half
an idea when he lived, and no idea that, for example, he wore
whiskers. Hamlet they can conjure up, but would have some difficulty
in recognising Shakespeare, because most portraits of him are but head
and shoulders. Napoleon has stamped himself on men's minds very
largely through the medium of a certain form of hat, a lock of hair,
and a gray coat. In future years an orchid will be remembered as an
emblem.

I have arranged, as far as it is possible, that each plate shall show
the emblem or distinguishing mark of the reign it illustrates, so that
the continuity of costume shall be remembered by the arresting notes.

As the fig-leaf identifies Adam, so may the chaperon twisted into a
cockscomb mark Richard II. As the curled and scented hair of
Alcibiades occurs to our mind, so shall Beau Nash manage his clouded
cane. Elizabeth shall be helped to the memory by her Piccadilly ruff;
square Henry VIII. by his broad-toed shoes and his little flat cap;
Anne Boleyn by her black satin nightdress; James be called up as
padded trucks; Maximilian as puffs and slashes; D'Orsay by the curve
of his hat; Tennyson as a dingy brigand; Gladstone as a collar; and
even more recent examples, as the Whistlerian lock and the Burns blue
suit.

And what romantic incidents may we not hang upon our clothes-line! The
cloak of Samuel Pepys ('Dapper Dick,' as he signed himself to a
certain lady) sheltering four ladies from the rain; Sir Walter Raleigh
spreading his cloak over the mud to protect the shoes of that great
humorist Elizabeth (I never think of her apart from the saying,
'Ginger for pluck'); Mary, Queen of Scots, ordering false attires of
hair during her captivity--all these scenes clinched into reality by
the knowledge of the dress proper to them.

And what are we doing to help modern history--the picture of our own
times--that it may look beautiful in the ages to come? I cannot answer
you that.

Some c