Two more wedding dresses….
the artist Gustave Courbet, 1819-1877
The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith
published 1766
We all had tremendous fun on the blog recently talking
about Harriet
Vane’s wedding dress, in Dorothy L Sayers’ Busman’s Honeymoon, and Jane
Eyre’s wedding dress in the book by Charlotte Bronte.
These brought to mind two more, very different, wedding
dresses to discuss…
The first one, above, is extremely creepy
(and not actually related to books): I was tempted to include it when I did so
many posts
on mourning last year, but it didn’t quite fit. I saw this picture in
an exhibition once, and just stood in front of it filled with horror but unable
to take my eyes off it. It is by Gustave Courbet, and I can’t better this
description I found on a website
devoted to the artist:
“When this large unfinished canvas first came to public attention in the 1920s, it bore the title La Toilette de la Mariee, Dressing the Bride. Later studies, based on documents and on the painting itself, have persuasively demonstrated that the scene is not one of preparation for a marriage but for a wake. Crucial to this radical change in interpretation was the radiographic examination of the central figure, the young woman seated in the chair being tended by her companions. This revealed a nude figure, both arms hanging down, her head leaning against her left shoulder. The awkwardness of the overpainting makes it highly probable that this change was made not by the artist but by another hand at a later date, to permit the painting to be given a more cheerful theme for the sake of the market. That the painting should be concerned with the rituals of death rather than of marriage is also borne out by some of the activities portrayed, such as washing the young woman's feet and the concentration of the group in the background on their prayerbooks.”
I have not been able to get this image out of my mind in the
years since I saw it – what a strange story and really quite horrible.
So now to the second one, somewhat more cheery.
We had been discussing the way the idea of wedding clothes
changed – starting out with ust wearing your best dress, or having something made that would be
useful afterwards. This turned slowly into the idea of having a special,
one-day dress, in white.
Chrissie Poulson (who
else?) directed me to this picture, by William Mulready, called Choosing the
Wedding Gown. Isn’t it lovely?
The picture is owned by the V&A Museum in London, and
again I am going to quote from their most helpful description:
Oil paintings such as this
with subjects taken from popular literature steadily replaced commissions for
history paintings in the early 19th century. The public and most collectors of
modern works started to prefer lighter and sometimes more sentimental themes.
The subject is taken from the first page of Oliver Goldsmith's novel 'The Vicar
of Wakefield': 'I had scarce taken orders a year before I began to think
seriously of matrimony, and chose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for
a fine glossy surface, but for such qualities as would wear well.'
Mulready had already provided
a frontispiece for an 1843 edition of the novel - the composition on which this
painting is based. It was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1846 and was an
immense success.
The vicar’s wife, Mrs Primrose, is going to need those qualities for the events that will unfold in her husband’s story. The Vicar of Wakefield was an immensely popular, best-selling book in its time - and it’s like the Book of Job, though not as poetical.
It’s an entertaining read, telling a strange story which is
both melodramatic and satirical, and often very funny. A summary might read: Everything goes nicely
for the vicar for a while, and then that changes dramatically and everything
goes badly wrong.
The final chapters, in which an absolute farrago of events
are explained and switched round, seems to prefigure the current era of soap
operas – the UK stalwart East Enders is just celebrating its 40-year
anniversary, and the lists of events in the cheery accompanying articles are
similar to this book. Abduction, fake marriage, bankruptcy, attacks, injuries, deaths,
fake deaths, burning down the house, prison…
In the final pages, covering an hour or so, everyone assembles and fortunes are recovered, moved round, lost again, dead people come to life, betrothals are switched, prisoners freed, marriages established. It’s like the end of days, and is quite hilarious and hard to keep track off.
I wonder does anyone read The Vicar of Wakefield anymore? – it’s one of the books Jo March likes in Little Women, and is also mentioned in Jane Austen's Emma.
So - two very contrasting views of wedding preparations.
The first painting reminded me of maidens’ garlands (also known as virgin’s crowns) which were specially woven garlands (sometimes including paper gloves, poems and other things) placed on the coffin of young (usually), chaste, unmarried women, then hung in the church. There are some at St Stephen’s, near Robin Hood’s Bay, and I once saw one in a church near Barrow in Furness, but can’t remember which one. They are faded and rather ghostly, but utterly fascinating. The ‘crants’ and ‘strewments’ of Ophelia’s funeral in Hamlet were a maiden’s garland.
ReplyDeleteThat was me.
DeleteOh my goodness, that is strange and, again, a bit creepy - I'd never heard of that, thanks for sharing.
DeleteVery different stories of weddings indeed, Moira! I'm really glad you've been focusing on weddings this way. Weddings and wedding gowns/dresses say so much about culture that they're fascinating in and of themselves.
ReplyDeleteThanks Margot, I am fascinated by them, and always happy to do another post. although when I got married I wore quite a simple dress, and didnt' want anything too fancy. Fictional ones are quite different...
DeleteThat Courbet is indeed both creepy and captivating! My beloved Mary Burchell has one called The Wedding Dress. I see I gave it five stars and the plot involves the heroine working at Florian's, the French fashion designer you appreciated but I don't recall the details and it is probably hard to find. If I could switch jobs and get a month of vacation in the middle I could organize all the books in the attic and find them when I need them. Oh well.
ReplyDeleteI haven't seen that one, and yes I did love Florians. I can't see it on a quick search - but my goodness she wrote a lot didn't she? 😊
DeleteThe first one is a very strange story and picture, and a bit nightmarish! But by a coincidence, Goldsmith was the subject of this week's In Our Time on Radio 4, and they did discuss The Vicar of Wakefield, which I haven't read.
ReplyDeleteDidn't Victorian ladies have their wedding dresses altered and perhaps dyed, to be worn as evening gowns afterwards? I think this happens in Edith Wharton. Quite a sensible thing to do, I suppose.
Oh interesting, maybe I should try to listen to that.
DeleteYes I think Victorian ladies did - there just wasn't the same idea as there is now, of its being a one-day dress...
White was by no means the obligatory colour for a wedding dress in the 19th century. In a letter to Ellen Nussey in 1849, discussing the upcoming marriage of Ellen’s sister Anne, Charlotte Brontë wrote: ‘When you marry – I will give you your choice of two costumes. Silver-grey and white – or dove-colour and pale pink: but for Anne I should say some shade of violet would be preferable’ (Letters II:233). Nobody wore their wedding dress just once, and since neither colour nor cut was in any way different from any other best dress or ball gown - depending on your station in life - there was no need for altering or dying. Queen Victoria - who did wear white - used hers as long as she could until she was just too fat and then she had the lace decorations taken off and reused. For her diamond jubilee she wore the veil from her wedding.
DeleteThat letter of C.B.'s is a great find, Birgitta. I do notice that all of Charlotte's suggestions are light colors, at least. As you say, a best dress, not a workaday garment, if it could be managed. What do we make of the Queen-Empress of worldwide dominions determined to reuse her old garments as long as she could?
DeleteI’m sure I’ve read that in the latter half of the 19th century, when it was usual for dresses to be made in two parts (bodice and skirt) many middle-class wedding dresses were made with two bodices - one modest long-sleeved and high-necked version for the wedding service and a second short-sleeved décolleté bodice for evening wear with the same skirt afterward.
DeleteSovay
I was sure Charlotte Brontë was married in a brown dress but just checked and found I was wrong - she chose white. Dress in my head was her going-away dress (which still survives, unlike the wedding dress, and is brown now but faded from lavender).
DeleteUnexpected to find Queen Victoria so frugal! Though transferring lace from dress to dress would surely be the norm in the days when lace was hand-made and hugely expensive.
Sovay
Thanks all for great contributions. The Charlotte Bronte lette very interesting. And what a practical idea to have alternate bodices for your skirt.
DeleteMaybe Queen Victoria was sentimentally attached to her wedding dress - she very much loved Albert...
It wasn't just wedding dresses that were made with two bodices, it was a general custom in order to get more wear out of a dress, since fabrics were expensive (and seamstresses badly paid), and so much more material was needed for the skirt.
DeleteAs for white wedding dresses, it is often claimed that this became the norm after Queen Victoria's wedding in 1840, but this is not quite true. White was generally a high status colour at a time when doing laundry was extremely cumbersome and some fabrics could not be washed at all - silk foremost among them if I remember correctly. So a white silk dress for an important occasion like your first ball or your wedding was the ultimate status symbol. In Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s 1864 novel "The Doctor’s Wife", we are told that the young and pretty governess protagonist Isabel Sleaford, after having accepted the village doctor’s proposal, ‘amused herself by planning her wedding-dress, and changed her mind very often as to the colour and material’. In the end Isabel marries in a dark brown silk, chosen by her husband for durability, as it is to remain her best dress for the foreseeable future.
Charlotte Brontë apparently felt some apprehension about her white wedding dress, because she made a great song and dance about it in a letter written just before the wedding, where she talks about a shopping trip to buy clothes. She chose material for three dresses, one of which was the going away dress in lavender and silver shot silk (which must have been stunning). This is what she wrote:
Of the third – the wedding dress – I wholly decline the responsibility. It
must be charged upon a sort of friendly compulsion or over-persuasion.
Nothing would satisfy some of my friends but white which I told you I
would not wear. Accordingly they dressed me in white by way of trial –
vowed away their consciences that nothing had ever suited me so well – and
white I had to buy and did buy to my own amazement – but I took care to
get it in a cheap material – there were some insinuations about silk, tulle and
I don’t know what – but I stuck convulsively to muslin – plain book muslin
with a tuck or two. Also the white veil – I took care should be a matter of 5s
being simply of tulle with little tucks. If I must make a fool of myself – it
shall be on an economical plan. Now I have told you all. (Letters III:266)
Sorry about going on to such a great length about this, but it happens to be one of my hobby-horses...
Don't say sorry! Fascinating details and wonderful history...
DeleteI read The Vicar of Wakefield a couple of years ago and you've described it perfectly. It's an absolute hoot
ReplyDeleteThank you! It is more fun than one might be expecting I think...
DeleteOh yes, I picked up The Vicar of Wakefield at a used book sale during the pandemic, and enjoyed it enormously! When I was a teenager I used to try to find and read all the books mentioned in my favorite books. I remember I read the Pickwick Papers because it was mentioned in Little Women, and I couldn't understand it at all, haha! That would be another good blog idea, "Books in Books."
ReplyDeleteBooks in Books would be fun - real books and imaginary books …
DeleteThis is meant to be: I am actually preparing such a post right now, where I explain that I think it's an idea that is in the air, as it came to me from various directions...
DeleteI can’t think the repaint helped to sell the Courbet - central figure may not be dead any longer but she doesn’t look like a young woman filled with happy anticipation of her wedding day.
ReplyDeleteI remember reading The Vicar of Wakefield in my first year at secondary school but not since - must look out for a copy.
Sovay
When I saw it in a gallery, they explained that that big table in the background is for her to be laid out on. No none of it cheers a person up...
DeleteThat was quite an adventurous choice at school - were you around 12?
I haven't read The Vicar of Wakefield. It sounds like a terrific if somewhat bonkers read. Chrissie
ReplyDeleteThat is an excellent description!
DeleteI would've been a young teen when I read the last (regular*) book in the Laura Ingalls WIlder "Little House" series. In this scene, she and her betrothed have changed the date of their wedding, and stop snickering, it's not for the cliched reason:
ReplyDeleteIt was not until suppertime that Laura found courage to say that she and Almanzo had planned to be married so soon.
“We can’t possibly get you a wedding dress made,” Ma objected.
“We can finish the black cashmere and I will wear that,” Laura answered. [n.b.: This is in August. Earlier the text describes yards and yards of "sooty" black cashmere.]
“I do not like to think of your being married in black,” said Ma. “You know they say, ‘Married in black, you’ll wish yourself back.’ ”
“It will be new. I will wear my old sage-green poke bonnet with the blue silk lining, and borrow your little square gold pin with the strawberry in it, so I’ll be wearing something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue,” Laura said cheerfully.
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* I don't think the young couple ever "wished themselves back," but their early married life was hard indeed, with storms and fire and crop losses and debt and the death of an infant and diphtheria and more. There's a reason the children's series ended here and the few later writings aren't polished nor considered part of the canon.
And oh, yes, this is commenter "Trollopian."
Thanks, that's fascinating and unexpected. LIW wasn't part of my own childhood reading - though my daughter liked them - but I did read a fascinating account of how her family edited her writings after she was dead.
DeleteOh yes, it was much sanitized both to make it suitable for children (editing out many of the grimmer realities though retaining some then-acceptable tropes about Native Americans) and to advance her daughter and editor's Rose Wilder Lane's nutty libertarian agenda. The TV series finished the job. It's cloying and unwatchable. Showing my politics here, but even as a child reader I marveled at the lack of a social safety net. (Was I precocious?) There was no government insurance against crop failures, no help for the starving town in the blizzard winter, nothing at all to protect Ma and her girls if Pa had died or lost his health. Just a hearty go-it-alone pioneer ethic. Bah. --Trollopian
DeleteI like your severe line and early realization of what's wrong with the world!
Delete'nothing at all to protect Ma and her girls if Pa had died or lost his health' has a weird echo in Pride & Prejudice, though the situations are very different...
There's a book, I think based on fact, where the father of the grim pioneer family digs a grave every autumn, because one of the children is sure to die over the winter and the ground will be too hard for digging then. It has stuck in my mind ever since amid the other hard times.
The Long Winter is terrifying - they all come so close to starvation. But Little Town on the Prairie and These Happy Golden Years have some incredibly detailed dress descriptions. The brown poplin, the pink lawn, Mary's going-to-college dress, Nellie Olson's polonaise with lace jabot... And despite living in the middle of nowhere they're very keen to be in fashion - there's a debate about whether the fashion for hoopskirts is changing back East, and whether anyone has the latest Godey's Ladies Book to provide guidance.
DeleteI'm increasingly thinking I need to get going on these books - blogposts ahoy...
Delete