Part 2

The simplest and probably the oldest head-covering for the men was the conical skull-cap as seen on the head of Ulysses, but there are examples of soft broad-rimmed hats made either of felt, leather, or straw. These would have been worn by field laborers, masons, etc.

The Phrygian cap is worn at the present day by almost all Mediterranean fishermen. This is the famous cap of liberty, and although in very bad repute since the French Revolution, it is a comfortable and inoffensive head-covering.

The first helmets were modifications of the Ulysses cap. The material was changed from straw or felt to thick leather or brass. A couple of feathers were sometimes added, and sometimes doubtless the leather or brass was ornamented with gold and precious stones.

After a time it was found that this primitive helmet did not protect the face; so a large piece was added in front. This covered the face, but was soldered to the helmet and not movable. It is this immovability of the vizor which throws the whole helmet back when the face is uncovered, and it is this backward position which gives the peculiar character to the Greek helmet. We see it constantly in the statues of Minerva, and we have adopted it for our figure of Britannia.

In later times still further improvements were made. A movable vizor was invented and flaps to protect the ears, and the coal-scuttle shape went out of fashion.

The defensive body-armor of the Greeks consisted of a close-fitting leather jerkin terminating at the hips. Strips of leather loosely connected together sprang from the bottom of this jerkin, and reached nearly half-way down the thigh. Both the jerkin and the strips of this petticoat were often strengthened by bands of metal. Armor was also worn below the knees. These greaves protected the shins, but did not encircle the whole leg.

There can be no doubt, from the descriptions of Homer and other ancient authors, that all this defensive armor was worn, but many of the elaborately ornamented and embossed breast-plates and greaves which are to be seen in every museum (though nominally Greek) are the works of a much later age.

Before finishing what I have to say about Greek costume, I ought to mention the coverings for the feet. These were of manifold shapes and fashions; sometimes they consisted of a mere sole fastened to the foot with thongs; sometimes the toes were covered, but as there were no sides nor heel-piece the thongs were still necessary. The most elegant form was that which we see in the statue of Diana.

In the very early days of Greece, it was considered effeminate to protect the foot, but at a later period every one except children, slaves, and ascetic philosophers wore some kind of sandal when they went out; and in the last two centuries before the Christian era, great luxury and elegance were displayed in the adornment of those sandals.

The costumes of some of the nations inhabiting Asia Minor differed greatly from those worn by the Greeks.

In several of the maritime provinces which had frequent intercourse, and indeed had been colonized by the Greeks, this difference was not very marked, although even here there was an Oriental or Assyrian element introduced; but the dresses of Phrygia were much more Assyrian than Greek. In the first place, the Phrygians, like Oriental people generally, had a dislike to expose any part of the body, consequently they wore tight sleeves reaching down to the wrist. Drawers or close-fitting hose covered their legs and feet, and over these they wore regular shoes made of soft leather.

To complete the costume, an armless tunic was worn, reaching to below the knees and girt by a leather belt. The whole of this rather elaborate dress was often embroidered and ornamented with the richest colors. It was altogether an effeminate and a gorgeous dress, such as Paris might have worn when he captivated Helen.

The dress of the women bore a greater resemblance to the Greek; but fashion insisted on having the arms and feet covered. Whilst the women of Lydia and the maritime provinces indulged in the most coquettish and elegant Greek fashions, the ladies of the interior had quite a Persian way of dressing. A very long close-fitting tunic or gown with tight sleeves reaching to the wrist, with a girdle for married women, and ungirt round the waist for young girls, seems to have been the usual costume. Like the men, they wore shoes, and often the Phrygian cap.

If the men were fond of embroidered garments, it may be guessed that the ladies were not behind in the matter of ornament. Many of their dresses were figured all over with spots, stars, and a kind of shawl pattern, whilst the coiffures sometimes developed into sultana-like turbans, and were enriched with the most showy jewels.

Jewelry of all kinds was indeed worn profusely by both sexes, and it was a common saying in ancient Greece, when a man was effeminate or voluptuous, that he ought to go to Lydia and have his ears pierced.

Before passing on to the dresses of Imperial Rome, it will not be out of place to consider the important question of how to clothe the personages of the New Testament.

I call this question an important one, because the New Testament is, _par excellence_, the great field for subjects of a high class, and in the present era of research and investigation, it cannot be a matter of indifference to the painter how the Founder of Christianity and his disciples were dressed.

The Mosaic laws strictly forbade any representation of living organisms. We have therefore nothing to guide us in our research, as we have for Egyptian, Assyrian, and Greek costume. The dress of the Jewish priests is tolerably minutely described in Leviticus, and is indeed almost identical with that worn at the present day; but we have no authority whatever for the ordinary dress of the Jews in the time of Tiberius.

The old masters almost invariably adopted some shade of red and blue for the dress of Christ, and the same colors were also generally reserved for the robes of the Virgin Mary.

This choice of colors seems to have originated somewhere about the sixth century, but it was not till much later that the Church adopted these colors so exclusively that the artist had no option in the matter. This traditional choice of colors became more and more binding as ages rolled on. It has lasted even to the present day, and few painters of religious subjects for church decoration would venture upon a departure from the time-honored red and blue.

The practice may have some advantages. In the first place, these colors (when in combination) have come to have a kind of sacred significance, and from being reserved for the highest personages of the New Testament, they serve the same purpose that was formerly fulfilled by the nimbus.

They attract the eye to the principal figure in the composition. Again, they are strong primary colors; their juxtaposition in a picture is unusual, and therefore likely to draw attention to the figure which is clothed in them.

The disadvantages are, first, the difficulty of harmonizing two such colors as red and blue (a difficulty enormously increased when there are several figures in the composition); and, secondly, the great improbability that our Saviour or the Virgin Mary ever _were_ so attired.

In the _very_ early ages of Christianity, we never find this red and blue.

The Saviour, unless enthroned in glory, is generally represented as the Good Shepherd, and his garments are white or some shade of gray.

It may be argued that as he personates the Good Shepherd, the artists of course give him a shepherd’s dress, but that this dress may have been totally unlike the one he actually wore.

This is perfectly true, and I am not recommending the blind adoption of this shepherd’s tunic. I merely mention these earliest representations of Christ, as an answer to those who argue for the antiquity of the red and blue. If in the absence of precise information we allow ourselves to be guided by precedent, it is only logical to go to the _earliest_ precedent.

The truth is that there are two distinct methods of treating subjects from the New Testament, especially those where Christ himself is introduced.

One is the traditional or mediæval method, and the other the naturalistic or (as I prefer to call it) the natural method, the word “naturalistic” being generally applied to the grotesque style of the early German and Dutch masters.

The first or traditional method seems to me more suitable for stained-glass windows and for church decoration generally, than for easel pictures. In decorative work no one expects to see the apostles and saints clad in the homely garments they certainly wore.

The figures are to a certain extent symbolical; they represent the personages beatified; and gorgeously colored mantles with jewelled borders, nimbi, and other mediæval ornaments are not so much out of place.

Even here I would depart from the traditional red and blue for the dress of Christ. White and gold are more suggestive of perfection and purity than strong colors, and I cannot help thinking that the red tunic which tradition gives to St. John is singularly inappropriate to his character.

I do not, however, wish to extend my remarks in this direction, but rather to confine what I have to say about costumes to real, and not to ideal dresses.

If there exists a danger of degrading the ancient Jewish patriarchs by giving them the dress which they probably wore, the danger becomes greatly intensified when we have to deal with the sacred personages of the New Testament. Nevertheless, I think that something might be done toward an approximation to truth without any irreverence.

In the first place, I would discard all strong positive reds, blues, and purples for the dresses, as inappropriate. To wear garments of these bright hues was the prerogative of kings, emperors, and great generals, and it is quite out of keeping with the spirit of the New Testament to clothe its personages in these imperial colors.

White, dull yellow, brown, and black are the colors to which I should principally adhere. Linen, bleached and unbleached, goats’ hair, and wool of all shades, from creamy white to sooty black, would be the materials.

Clemens of Alexandria says: “All dyed colors should be avoided in dress, for these are far away from man’s need and from truth; and besides they give proof of evil in the inward disposition.”

Tertullian, who wrote about two hundred years after Christ, has a whole chapter denouncing the iniquity of dyed colors.

Now it is hardly conceivable that these early Christian writers would have fulminated against red, purple, and blue garments if Christ and his apostles had been in the habit of wearing them.

Secondly, I should endeavor, while preserving the tunic and outer cloak or pallium, to give to these garments something of an Oriental appearance. There is not much scope for doing this with the tunic. Rich men, like Joseph of Arimathea or Nicodemus, would wear long tunics reaching to their ankles; but it is very doubtful whether Christ himself, who denounces the scribes on account of their loving to go in long clothing, would wear a garment of this description.

The women would have two tunics, one over the other, with short or long sleeves, but never with the open sleeves of the Greek women.

The under tunic (which would, in fact, be the Roman stola) would reach to the feet. The upper one would be shorter, and embroidered or ornamented with colors.

The pallium or cloak, both of the men and the women, should have a fringe; not a heavy gorgeous one, like the Assyrian kings, but a thin light one.

In the 22d chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses commands: “Thou shalt make thee fringes upon the four quarters of thy vesture,” and in the Book of Numbers these fringes are again ordained. When we consider how particular the Jews were in observing their law, we may assume, as a fact, that the cloak or outer garment of the New Testament would have a fringe, and this would at once give it a Jewish or Oriental character. Broad vertical stripes again, either on the tunic or the cloak, of a different colored wool to the garment itself, would be unlike Greek or Roman fashions, and would be perfectly allowable.

Thirdly, I should not hesitate (when the subject required it) about covering the heads of my figures.

In most Biblical pictures by the old masters, particularly of the Roman school, we find the figures bareheaded.

There does not seem to be any special reason for this, and whatever may have been the practice in Italy, it certainly could not be the custom in Syria and Palestine to expose the head to the burning rays of the sun.

St. Peter and the other Galilee fishermen may very likely have worn some kind of Phrygian cap, and we may be quite sure that all the personages of the New Testament would have had some protection for the head; probably a loose cloth bound round the head with a cord.

Some writers have said that they merely threw a portion of the cloak over their heads. This they very likely did on an emergency, but when undertaking a journey or wandering about the country, they must have had a proper head-covering.

As to the shoes, I should avoid both the elegant sandal of the Greeks, and the elaborate leggings and straps of the Roman soldier.

The ordinary Jew, of the class to which the apostles belonged, was not in the habit of wearing any foot-covering at home, but when on a journey he would protect the soles of his feet with leather or goat-skin.

It is a mistake to suppose that garments made of coarse materials are incompatible with dignity. Any one who has seen the fishermen of the Adriatic or the Arabs of the desert, knows the contrary. It is not the material, but the amplitude of the garment and the mode of wearing it, which give grandeur and dignity.

We, as artists, have no means of making our personages speak. All we can do is to take care that their gestures, appearance, and dress, shall not be inconsistent with the words they are supposed to utter. If we bear this in mind, and at the same time honestly endeavor to clothe them according to their station in life, we cannot be far wrong.

Before leaving the subject of the New Testament, I should like to say a few words about the position the Jews assumed at their meals. I endeavored to get at the truth a year or two ago, and the results of my investigations were these.

The rich Jews, like the rich Romans, reclined at their meals; the poor either stood or sat. Of this there can be no doubt, and it is only what might have been expected. The rich would have a proper dining-hall, fitted with a triclinium or couch. The poor would dine in the same room in which they worked, and would have no place for so bulky a piece of furniture as a broad couch.

As for the Last Supper, it must be recollected that the room where it was eaten was an upper room, and therefore very unlikely to be furnished with a triclinium; and, secondly, it was more in keeping with Christ’s teaching to adopt the humble fashion of sitting rather than the luxurious one of reclining. Finally, all the Evangelists use the word “sat” and “sitting,” which, if correctly translated, ought surely to settle the question.

On the whole, therefore, I think that Leonardo, Andre del Sarto, Raffaelle, and all the old masters were right in giving the figures a sitting posture, and that modern innovators are wrong in assuming that because Roman patricians and their imitators in Judæa reclined at their meals, our Lord, and his disciples would also adopt the same position.

The costume of the ancient Romans under the kings was very like that of the Greeks. The resemblance was especially noticeable in military costume. If, therefore, you have to paint any Roman or Sabine warriors of the time of the early kings, you should take Greek armor as your model, rather than the late Roman, such as is seen in the reliefs of the Trajan column. The Romans, however, appear never to have worn the peculiar Greek helmet which protected the face.

In these early times there is no reason to suppose that the civil dress differed materially from that of the Greeks. Both sexes wore the tunic and pallium (or cloak). The Roman “toga” was a large semicircular pallium.

The question as to the exact shape of the toga has never been settled, and most likely never will be. The older authorities say that it was rectilinear on one side and curvilinear on the other; but more modern writers say it was of the shape of two segments of a circle joined together. I am inclined to favor this latter opinion. It would in this case be folded in two before being put on, and the complicated and multitudinous folds would be easily accounted for.

It is doubtful when it was first worn, but it certainly was in fashion during the kings, and it would therefore be the proper clothing for Numa Pompilius, the elder Brutus, Tarquin, and the other personages of that period. The mode of wearing it in these ancient times was slightly different to the fashion which prevailed in the time of the Cæsars. Instead of being brought round the body _under_ the right arm it was laid _over_ the shoulder, thus covering the whole right arm. This must have been extremely inconvenient, and although when sitting in judgment or taking part in some state ceremonials, the ancient Roman senators may have muffled themselves up in this way, it is impossible to believe that they did not adopt some more comfortable way of draping themselves when actively employed.

We are told that in early times the toga was the _only_ garment worn by the men, but I suspect that this is a mistake. I rather think that a short sleeveless tunic was always worn.

I shall refer to the toga again, but I wish to proceed chronologically, and to finish what I have to say about the costume of the earliest Roman period. Whatever may have been the custom with the men, the women certainly wore a long tunic, and a shorter one underneath. It is well to avoid giving them the chlamys, as we have no evidence that they wore it: but a cloak was certainly customary. It was either of the toga, semicircular make, or cut square like the Greek pallium. Care should be taken, in dressing Roman figures of this period, to keep the costumes very simple and primitive.

The togas of the Roman kings are said to have been striped with purple. Pliny mentions this, and in a matter of this sort he is likely to have been correct.

Silk was introduced into Europe about this time, but the material was far too costly to be generally worn. We may suppose that a luxurious monarch like Tarquinius Superbus may have worn a tunic of Oriental silk, but luxury of this kind was not general, as it became six hundred years later under the emperors.

The same stern sobriety of costume should be observed in painting subjects of the Consulate.

Scipio Africanus, Regulus, Coriolanus, and the other heroes of this period, should be clothed with Spartan plainness. White (or at any rate monochromatic) cloaks and togas, armor composed of iron, bronze, and leather would be the proper clothing during the Consulate.

We now come to the Imperial period; and here I would remark that in the Augustine age, luxury had not reached that point of extravagance and bad taste which it acquired afterward. The toga was still the ample woollen cloak of preceding ages, and was worn over a simple short tunic. I ought, however, to mention that in the time of Augustus the toga began to be discarded in favor of more convenient garments. It was, however, always worn on ceremonial or state occasions, and great care was taken with the adjustment of the folds. A Roman gentleman would dress for a dinner at Lucullus’, or a grand show at the Colosseum, by putting on a clean white toga.

The toga pulla was made of the wool of black sheep. It was of a coarser texture than the white toga, and was worn by mourners. The toga picta was, as its name implies, embroidered with colors. The toga prætexta had a purple or rather what we should call a lake-colored border. It was worn by young people, and also by magistrates and other officials. The purple and white striped toga, already mentioned as having been worn by the old Roman kings, was also worn, under the Empire, by the “equites,” or mounted knights. The emperor alone had the privilege of wearing a toga entirely of purple. The female cloak of this period was the palla, which is only another form of the word pallium. It differed only from the toga in being rectangular.

The long tunic worn over the inner one (the gown in short) of the Roman matrons was called a “stola.” The lower part of it was crimped or plaited, so as to form a kind of flounce. This explains the numerous minute folds we see about the feet and ankles in many of the portrait statues.

I ought not to omit mentioning a very important article of female dress, viz., the “strophium.” It was the same as the Greek “strophion,” and seems to have been of universal use. It was a broad band, supposed to have been made of kid leather, and was wound round the waist to give support, and to improve what dressmakers call the figure. It was put on over the inner tunic, and therefore corresponds exactly with the modern corset. It does not appear that either the Greek or Roman ladies attached any value to a thin waist, and this strophium was worn for comfort and not in compliance with the fashion.

The Romans (I am still speaking of the Augustan age) wore in time of war the “sagum.” This was a cloak made of thick woollen material, and fastened in front or on the shoulder with a brooch. It was, in fact, identical with some forms of the Greek chlamys. The “paludamentum” was the same kind of garment, made of finer wool, and used by the officers. The sagum and paludamentum were not exclusively military, as in time of war it was the custom for civilians to throw aside their togas and assume this war-like garb. The “lacerna” was very commonly worn by the Roman citizens either simply over the tunic, or in cold weather over the togas as well. It was very much the same kind as the sagum, and worn in the same way. It was almost always of a dark color. The “pœnula” was a circular cloak, with a hole in the middle to put the head through. It was slit open in front from the bottom, about half-way up, so as to give a little freedom to the arms. It was made of thick cloth, and generally had a hood. It was a garment essentially for bad weather, and must have greatly resembled our Inverness capes, or rather what is called a “poncho.”

The want of head-coverings amongst the higher classes of both the ancient Greeks and Romans has always struck me as being very singular. The Etruscans, like the semi-oriental peoples of Asia Minor, had a great variety of head-gear.

Caps of all shapes, more or less richly ornamented, were common amongst the Etruscans; but the Roman citizens (at least the upper ten thousand) seem to have had nothing to protect the head from the sun’s rays. We all know that habit will do a great deal; our Bluecoat boys do not suffer by going about bareheaded; but I cannot help thinking that an elderly Roman senator must occasionally have found the want of a hat on his way to the forum.