In the case above alluded to, not only were some four hundred of the devoted race robbed and killed, but the mob, satiated with savagery, determined to wind up their well-spent evening with a frolic. Accordingly they turned out of their beds all the Jews, of various ages and both sexes, and compelled them to walk the streets throughout the entire night, with nothing on but their “bed-gowns.” This was scant dress enough in those times, and there was no active police to afford the victims protection. I notice this incident, because it comes fairly under the head of costume. I think, moreover, that all the police in the city at the present time would be puzzled what to do, were the last night of an election, returning “Sir Solomon” at the head of the poll, to be signalled out by a riot, the climax of which presented all the Levys, Goldschmidts, Isaacs, and Marx, of “Simmery Axe,”—wives and husbands, sons and daughters,—compulsorily parading through Cheapside in their night-gear. Between the blushes of Miss Tryphena Levy, and the indignation of Mr. Penuel Isaacs her admirer, the gallant and loud-laughing Division X. would hardly know which victim to succour first. Such a _cortège_ however would probably bring into fashion the “_bonnets de nuit à la Juive_.” Our gallant knights of old thought it no degradation to receive clothes at the hands of the king. When Henry IV. dubbed some four dozen the day before his coronation, he made presents to all of long green coats, with tight sleeves, furred, and verdant hoods: the cavaliers must have looked like cucumbers. The sumptuary laws of this reign had this additional severity in them, that they decreed imprisonment during the King’s pleasure against any tailor who should dare to make for a commoner a costume above his degree. The tailors, like wise men, did not ask their customers whether they were gentle or simple; and burghers dressed as before, more splendidly than barons. There was this difference between the two wretched monarchs, John and Richard III. John was curious about his wife’s dress, and careless touching his own; whereas Richard (who was not half so bad as history and Mr. C. Kean represent him) was perhaps the most superbly royal dandy that ever sat on an English throne: George IV. was the mere _Dandini_ to that _Prince Ramiro_. Henry VII., again, was utterly void of taste, and seems to have wanted a nurse more than a valet. The author of the ‘Boke of Kervynge’ says to the “proper officer” of this king, in a sort of advice to servants, “Warme your soveregne his petticotte, his doublet, and his stomacher, and then put on hys hozen, and then hys schose or slyppers; then stryten up hys hozen mannerly, tye them up, and lace his doublet hole by hole.” We have an illustration of the national feeling with regard to dress in Henry VIII.’s time, in the story of Drake, the cordwainer.