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diff --git a/10115-h/10115-h.htm b/10115-h/10115-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e79633 --- /dev/null +++ b/10115-h/10115-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12598 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Two Centuries of Costume in America, Vol. 1 (1620-1820), by Alice Morse Earle</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +span.figleft { float: left; margin: 0 0.4em 0 0; line-height: .8 } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10115 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>TWO CENTURIES OF COSTUME IN AMERICA<br/> +MDCXX-MDCCCXX</h1> + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="no-break">ALICE MORSE EARLE</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF “SUN-DIALS AND ROSES OF YESTERDAY” “OLD TIME GARDENS,” ETC.</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>VOLUME I</h2> + +<h4>Nineteen Hundred and Three</h4> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<a name="Madam_Padishal_and_Child."></a> +<img src="images/423.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Madam Padishal and Child" /> +<p class="caption">Madam Padishal and Child. +</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>To George P. Brett</i> +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“An honest Stationer (or Publisher) is he, that exercizeth his Mystery +(whether it be in printing, bynding or selling of Bookes) with more respect to +the glory of God & the publike aduantage than to his owne Commodity & +is both an ornament & a profitable member in a ciuill Commonwealth.... If +he be a Printer he makes conscience to exemplefy his Coppy fayrely & truly. +If he be a Booke-bynder, he is no meere Bookeseller (that is) one who selleth +meerely ynck & paper bundled up together for his owne aduantage only: but +he is a Chapman of Arts, of wisdome, & of much experience for a little +money.... The reputation of Schollers is as deare unto him as his owne: For, he +acknowledgeth that from them his Mystery had both begining and means of +continuance. He heartely loues & seekes the Prosperity of his owne +Corporation: Yet he would not iniure the Uniuersityes to advantage it. In a +word, he is such a man that the State ought to cherish him; Schollers to loue +him; good Customers to frequent his shopp; and the whole Company of Stationers +to pray for him.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—GEORGE WITHER, 1625. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3>VOL. I</h3> + +<p> +<a href="#chap01">I. APPAREL OF THE PURITAN AND PILGRIM FATHERS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap02">II. DRESS OF THE NEW ENGLAND MOTHERS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap03">III. ATTIRE OF VIRGINIA DAMES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap04">IV. A VAIN PURITAN GRANDMOTHER</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap05">V. THE EVOLUTION OF COATS AND WAISTCOATS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap06">VI. RUFFS AND BANDS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap07">VII. CAPS AND BEAVERS IN COLONIAL DAYS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap08">VIII. THE VENERABLE HOOD</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap09">IX. CLOAKS AND THEIR COUSINS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap10">X. THE DRESS OF OLD-TIME CHILDREN</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap11">XI. PERUKES AND PERIWIGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap12">XII. THE BEARD</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap13">XIII. PATTENS, CLOGS, AND GOLOE-SHOES</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#chap14">XIV. BATTS AND BROAGS, BOOTS AND SHOES</a> +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME I</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#Madam_Padishal_and_Child.">MADAM PADISHAL AND CHILD</a> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Frontispiece</i> +</p> + +<p> +This fine presentation of the dress of a gentlewoman and infant child, in the +middle of the seventeenth century, hung in old Plymouth homes in the Thomas and +Stevenson families till it came by inheritance to the present owner, Mrs. +Greely Stevenson Curtis of Boston, Mass. The artist is unknown. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_John_Endicott">JOHN ENDICOTT</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Dorchester, Eng., 1589. Died in Boston, Mass., 1665. He emigrated to +America in 1628; became governor of the colony in 1644, and was major-general +of the colonial troops. He hated Indians, the Church of Rome, and Quakers. He +wears a velvet skull-cap, and a finger-ring, which is somewhat unusual; a +square band; a richly fringed and embroidered glove; and a “stiletto” beard. +This portrait is in the Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_Edward_Winslow.">EDWARD WINSLOW</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in England, 1595; died at sea, 1655. One of the founders of the Plymouth +colony in 1620; and governor of that colony in 1633, 1636, 1644. This portrait +is dated 1651. It is in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_John_Winthrop.">JOHN WINTHROP</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in England, 1588; died in Boston, 1649. Educated at Trinity College, +Cambridge; admitted to the Inner Temple, 1628. Made governor of Massachusetts +Bay Colony in 1629. Arrived in Salem, 1630. His portrait by Van Dyck and a fine +miniature exist. The latter is owned by American Antiquarian Society, +Worcester, Mass. This picture is copied from a very rare engraving from the +miniature, which is finer and even more thoughtful in expression than the +portrait. Both have the lace-edged ruff, but the shape of the dress is +indistinct. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_Simon_Bradstreet.">SIMON BRADSTREET</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in England, 1603; died in Salem, Mass., 1697. He was governor of the +colony when he was ninety years old. The Labadists, who visited him, wrote: “He +is an old man, quiet and grave; dressed in black silk, but not sumptuously.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Sir_Richard_Saltonstall.">SIR RICHARD SALTONSTALL</a> +</p> + +<p> +A mayor of London who came to Salem among the first settlers. The New England +families of his name are all descended from him. He wears buff-coat and +trooping scarf. This portrait was painted by Rembrandt. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Sir_Walter_Raleigh.">SIR WALTER RALEIGH</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Devonshire, Eng., 1552; executed in London, 1618. A courtier, poet, +historian, nobleman, soldier, explorer, and colonizer. He was the favorite of +Elizabeth; the colonizer of Virginia; the hero of the Armada; the victim of +King James. In this portrait he wears a slashed jerkin; a lace ruff; a broad +trooping scarf with great lace shoulder-knot; a jewelled sword-belt; full, +embroidered breeches; lace-edged garters, and vast shoe-roses, which combine to +form a confused dress. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Sir_Walter_Raleigh_and_Son.">SIR WALTER RALEIGH AND SON</a> +</p> + +<p> +This print was owned by the author for many years, with the written endorsement +by some unknown hand, <i>Martin Frobisher and Son</i>. I am glad to learn that +it is from a painting by Zucchero of Raleigh and his son, and is owned at +Wickham Court, in Kent, Eng., by the descendant of one of Raleigh’s companions +in his explorations. The child’s dress is less fantastic than other portraits +of English children of the same date. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ROBERT_DEVEREUX">ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an old print. A general of Cromwell’s army. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Cromwell_dissolving_Parliament.">OLIVER CROMWELL DISSOLVING +PARLIAMENT</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an old Dutch print. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Sir_William_Waller.">SIR WILLIAM WALLER</a> +</p> + +<p> +A general in Cromwell’s army. Born, 1597; died, 1668. He served in the Thirty +Years’ War. This portrait is in the National Portrait Gallery. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#TherightHonourableFerdinandLordFairfax">LORD FAIRFAX</a> +</p> + +<p> +A general in Cromwell’s army. From an old print. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Alderman_Abell_and_Richard_Kilvert">ALDERMAN ABELL AND RICHARD +KILVERT</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an old print. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Reverend_John_Cotton.">REV. JOHN COTTON, D.D.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Derby, Eng., 1585; died at Boston, Mass., in 1652. A Puritan clergyman +who settled in Boston in 1633. He drew up for the colonists, at the request of +the General Court, an abstract of the laws of Moses entitled <i>Moses His +Judicials</i>, which was of greatest influence in the formation of the laws of +the colony. This portrait is owned by Robert C. Winthrop, Esq. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Reverend_Cotton_Mather.">REV. COTTON MATHER, D.D.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Boston, Mass., 1683; died in Boston, Mass., 1728. A clergyman, author, +and scholar. His book, <i>Magnalia Christi Americana</i>, an ecclesiastical +history of New England, is of much value, though most trying. He took an active +and now much-abhorred part in the Salem witchcraft. This portrait is owned by +the American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#SlashedSleevestempCharlesI">SLASHED SLEEVES</a> +</p> + +<p> +From portraits <i>temp</i>. Charles I. The first is from a Van Dyck portrait of +the Earl of Stanhope, and has a rich, lace-edged cuff. The second, with a +graceful lawn undersleeve, is from a Van Dyck of Lucius Gary, Viscount +Falkland. The third is from a painting by Mytens of the Duke of Hamilton. The +fourth, by Van Dyck, is from one of Lord Villiers, Viscount Grandison. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._William_Clark.">MRS. KATHERINE CLARK</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1602; died, 1671. An English gentlewoman renowned in her day for her +piety and charity. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lady_Mary_Armine.">LADY MARY ARMINE</a> +</p> + +<p> +An English lady of great piety, whose gifts to Christianize the Indians make +her name appear in the early history of Massachusetts. Her black domino and +frontlet are of interest. This portrait was painted about 1650. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Tub-preacher.">THE TUB-PREACHER</a> +</p> + +<p> +An old print of a Quaker meeting. Probably by Marcel Lawson. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Old_Venice_Point_Lace.">VENICE POINT LACE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Mrs. Robert Fulton Crary of Poughkeepsie, N.Y. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">REBECCA RAWSON</a> +</p> + +<p> +The daughter of Edward Rawson, Secretary of State. Born in Boston in 1656; +married in 1679 to an adventurer, Thomas Rumsey, who called himself Sir Thomas +Hale. She died at sea, in 1692. This portrait is owned by New England Historic +Genealogical Society. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Elizabeth_Paddy_Wensley.">ELIZABETH PADDY</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Plymouth, Mass., in 1641. Daughter of William Paddy; she married John +Wensley of Plymouth. Their daughter Sarah married Dr. Isaac Winslow. This +portrait is in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">MRS. SIMEON STODDARD</a> +</p> + +<p> +A wealthy Boston gentlewoman. This portrait was painted in the latter half of +the seventeenth century. It is owned by the Massachusetts Historical Society. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Ancient_Black_Lace.">ANCIENT BLACK LACE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Mrs. Robert Fulton Crary, Poughkeepsie, N.Y. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Virago-sleeve.">VIRAGO-SLEEVE</a> +</p> + +<p> +From a French portrait. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#NinondelEnclos">NINON DE L’ENCLOS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Paris, 1615; died in 1705. Her dress has a slashed virago-sleeve and +lace whisk. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lady_Catharina_Howard.">LADY CATHERINE HOWARD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Grandchild of the Earl of Arundel. Aged thirteen years. Drawn in 1646 by W. +Hollar. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Costumes_of_Englishwomen_of_the_Seventeenth_Century.">COSTUMES OF +ENGLISHWOMEN OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY</a> +</p> + +<p> +Plates from <i>Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus, or Several Habits of +Englishwomen</i>, 1640. By Wenceslaus Hollar, an engraver of much note and much +performance; born at Prague, 1607; died in England, 1677. This book contains +twenty-six plates illustrating women’s dress in all ranks of life with absolute +fidelity. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Livingstone.">GERTRUDE SCHUYLER LIVINGSTONE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Second wife and widow of Robert Livingstone. The curiously plaited widow’s cap +can be seen under her hood. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Magdalen_Beekman.">MRS. MAGDALEN BEEKMAN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Died in New York in 1730. Widow of Gerardus Beekman, who died in 1723. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lady_Anne_Clifford.">LADY ANNE CLIFFORD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1590. Daughter of George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. Painted in 1603. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lady_Herrman.">LADY HERRMAN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Of Bohemia Manor, Maryland. Wife of a pioneer settler. From <i>Some Colonial +Mansions</i>. Published by Henry T. Coates & Co. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Elizabeth_Cromwell.">ELIZABETH CROMWELL</a> +</p> + +<p> +Mother of Oliver Cromwell. She died at Whitehall in 1654, aged 90 years. This +portrait is at Hinchinbrook, and is owned by the Earl of Sandwich. It was +painted by Robert Walker. Her dress is described as “a green velvet cardinal, +trimmed with gold lace.” Her hood is white satin. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Pocahontas.">POCAHONTAS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Daughter of Powhatan, and wife of Mr. Thomas Rolfe. Born 1593; died 1619; aged +twenty-one when this was painted. The portrait is owned by a member of the +Rolfe family. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Duchess_of_Buckingham_and_her_Two_Children.">DUCHESS OF BUCKINGHAM +AND CHILDREN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Painted in 1626 by Gerard Honthorst. In the original the Duke of Buckingham is +also upon the canvas. He was George Villiers, the “Steenie” of James I, who was +assassinated by John Felton. The duchess was the daughter of the Earl of +Rutland. The little daughter was afterwards Duchess of Richmond and Lenox. The +baby was George, the second Duke of Buckingham, poet, politician, courtier, the +friend of Charles II. The picture is now in the National Portrait Gallery. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#AWomansDoubletMrsAnneTurner">A WOMAN’S DOUBLET</a> +</p> + +<p> +Worn by the infamous Mrs. Anne Turner. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#A_Puritan_Dame.">A PURITAN DAME</a> +</p> + +<p> +Plate from <i>Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Penelope_Winslow.">PENELOPE WINSLOW</a> +</p> + +<p> +Painted in 1651. Dress dull olive; mantle bright red; pearl necklace, ear-rings +and pearl bandeau in hair. The hair is curled as the hair in portraits of Queen +Henrietta Maria. In Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Gold-fringed_Gloves_of_Governor_Leverett.">GOLD-FRINGED GLOVES OF +GOVERNOR LEVERETT</a> +</p> + +<p> +In Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Embroidered_Petticoat_Band.">EMBROIDERED PETTICOAT-BAND, 1750</a> +</p> + +<p> +Bright-colored crewels on linen. Owned by the Misses Manning of Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Blue_Brocade_Gown_and_Quilted_Satin_Petticoat.">BLUE DAMASK GOWN AND +QUILTED SATIN PETTICOAT</a> +</p> + +<p> +These were owned by Mrs. James Lovell, who was born 1735; died, 1817. Through +her only daughter, Mrs. Pickard, who died in 1812, they came to her only child, +Mary Pickard (Mrs. Henry Ware, Jr.), whose heirs now own them. They are in the +keeping of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#A_Plain_Jerkin.">A PLAIN JERKIN</a> +</p> + +<p> +This portrait is of Martin Frobisher, hero of the Armada; explorer in 1576, +1577, and 1578 for the Northwestern Passage, and discoverer of Frobisher’s Bay. +He died in 1594. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#A_Doublet.">CLOTH DOUBLET</a> +</p> + +<p> +This portrait is of Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire. Owned by the Duke of +Bedford. It shows a plain cloth doublet with double row of turreted welts at +the shoulder. Horace Walpole says of this portrait, “He is quite in the style +of Queen Elizabeth’s lovers; red-bearded, and not comely.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#JAMES_DUKE_OF_YORK">JAMES, DUKE OF YORK</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1633. Afterwards James II of England. This scene in a tennis-court was +painted about 1643. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#An_Embroidered_Jerkin.">EMBROIDERED JERKIN</a> +</p> + +<p> +This portrait is of George Carew, Earl of Totnes. It was painted by Zucchero, +and is owned by the Earl of Verulam. He wears a rich jerkin with four laps on +each side below the belt; it is embroidered in sprigs, and guarded on the +seams. The sleeves are detached. He wears also a rich sword-belt and ruff. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#John_Lilburne.">JOHN LILBURNE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Greenwich, Eng., in 1614; died in 1659. A Puritan soldier, politician, +and pamphleteer. He was fined, whipped, pilloried, tried for treason, sedition, +controversy, libel. He was imprisoned in the Tower, Newgate, Tyburn, and the +Castle. He was a Puritan till he turned Quaker. His sprawling boots, dangling +knee-points, and silly little short doublet form a foolish dress. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Colonel_William_Legge.">COLONEL WILLIAM LEGGE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in 1609. Died in 1672. He was a stanch Royalist. His portrait is by Jacob +Huysmans, and is in the National Portrait Gallery. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#205">SIR THOMAS ORCHARD KNIGHT, 1646</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an old print indorsed “S Glover ad vivum delineavit 1646.” He is in +characteristic court-dress, with slashed sleeves, laced cloak, laced garters, +and shoe-roses. His hair and beard are like those of Charles II. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_English_Antick.">THE ENGLISH ANTICK</a> +</p> + +<p> +From a broadside of 1646. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#George_I.">GEORGE I OF ENGLAND</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Hanover, 1660. Died in Hanover, 1727. Crowned King of England in 1714. +This portrait is by Sir Godfrey Kneller, and is in the National Portrait +Gallery. It is remarkable for its ribbons and curious shoes. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Three_Cassock_Sleeves_and_a_Buff-coat_Sleeve.">THREE CASSOCK SLEEVES +AND A BUFF-COAT SLEEVE</a> +</p> + +<p> +<i>Temp</i>. Charles I. The first sleeve is from a portrait of Lord Bedford. +The second, with shoulder-knot of ribbon, was worn by Algernon Sidney; the +third is from a Van Dyck portrait of Viscount Grandison; the fourth, the sleeve +of a curiously slashed buff-coat worn by Sir Philip Sidney. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#HenryBennetEarlofArlington">HENRY BENNET, EARL OF ARLINGTON</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1618; died, 1685. From the original by Sir Peter Lely. This is asserted +to be the costume chosen by Charles II in 1661 “to wear forever.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Funeral_Procession.">FIGURES FROM FUNERAL PROCESSION OF THE DUKE OF +ALBEMARLE IN 1670</a> +</p> + +<p> +These drawings of “Gentlemen,” “Earls,” “Clergymen,” “Physicians,” and “Poor +Men” are by F. Sanford, Lancaster Herald, and are from his engraving of the +Funeral Procession of George Monk, Duke of Albemarle. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Earl_of_Southampton.">EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, HENRY WRIOTHESLEY.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1573. Died in The Netherlands in 1624. He was the friend of Shakespere, +and governor of the Virginia Company. This portrait is by Mierevelt. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#A_Bowdoin_Portrait">A BOWDOIN PORTRAIT</a> +</p> + +<p> +This fine portrait is by a master’s hand. The name of the subject is unknown. +The initials would indicate that he was a Bowdoin, or a Baudouine, which was +the name of the original emigrant. It has been owned by the Bowdoin family +until it was presented to Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me., where it now hangs +in the Walker Art Building. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#William_Pyncheon.">WILLIAM PYNCHEON</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1590; died, 1670. This portrait was painted in 1657. It is in an unusual +dress, with the only double row of buttons I have seen on a portrait of that +date. It also shows no hair under the close cap. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Reverend_Jonathan_Edwards.">JONATHAN EDWARDS, D.D.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, Windsor, Conn., 1703. Died, Princeton, N.J., 1758. A theologian, +metaphysician, missionary, author, and president of Princeton University. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Captain_George_Curwen.">GEORGE CURWEN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in England, 1610; died in Salem, 1685. He came to Salem in 1638, where he +was the most prominent merchant, and commanded a troop of horse, whereby he +acquired his title of Captain. He is in military dress. Portrait owned by Essex +Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lace_Gorget_and_Cane">WALKING-STICK AND LACE FRILL, 1660</a> +</p> + +<p> +These articles are in the Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_Coddington.">WILLIAM CODDINGTON</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Leicestershire, Eng., 1601; died in Rhode Island, 1678. One of the +founders of the Rhode Island Colony, and governor for many years. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Thomas_Fayerweather.">THOMAS FAYERWEATHER</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1692; died, 1733, in Boston. Married, in 1718, Hannah Waldo, sister of +Brigadier-general Samuel Waldo. This portrait is by Smybcrt. It is owned by his +descendants, Miss Elizabeth L. Bond and Miss Catherine Harris Bond, of +Cambridge, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#KingCarterinYouthbySirGodfreyKneller">“KING” CARTER IN YOUTH</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#City_Flat-cap">CITY FLAT-CAP</a> +</p> + +<p> +Worn by “Bilious” Bale, who died in 1563. His square beard, coif, and citizen’s +flat-cap were worn by Englishmen till 1620. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#King_James_I_of_England.">KING JAMES I OF ENGLAND</a> +</p> + +<p> +This portrait was painted before he was king of England. It is now in the +National Portrait Gallery. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#FulkeGrevilleLordBrooke">FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE</a> +</p> + +<p> +In doublet, with curious slashed tabs or bands at the waist, forming a roll +like a woman’s farthingale. The hat, with jewelled hat-band, is of a singular +and ugly shape. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#JamesDouglasEarlofMorton">JAMES DOUGLAS, EARL OF MORTON</a> +</p> + +<p> +His hat, band, and jerkin are unusual. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Elihu_Yale.">ELIHU YALE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Boston, Mass., in 1648. Died in England in 1721. He founded Yale +College, now Yale University. This portrait is owned by Yale University, New +Haven, Conn. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Thomas_Cecil">THOMAS CECIL, FIRST EARL OF EXETER</a> +</p> + +<p> +Died in 1621. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Cornelius_Steinwyck.">CORNELIUS STEINWYCK</a> +</p> + +<p> +The wealthiest merchant of New Amsterdam in the seventeenth century. This +portrait is owned by the New York Historical Society. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Hat_with_a_Glove_as_a_Favor.">HAT WITH GLOVE AS A FAVOR</a> +</p> + +<p> +From portrait of George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. He died in 1605. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Gulielma_Penn.">GULIELMA SPRINGETT PENN</a> +</p> + +<p> +First wife of William Penn. Born, 1644; died, 1694. The original painting is on +glass. Owned by the heirs of Henry Swan, Dorking, Eng. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Hannah_Callowhill_Penn.">HANNAH CALLOWHILL PENN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Second wife of William Penn; from a portrait now in Blackwell Hall, County +Durham, Eng. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Madame_de_Miramion.">MADAME DE MIRAMION</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1629; died in Paris, 1696. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Strawberry_Girl.">THE STRAWBERRY GIRL</a> +</p> + +<p> +From Tempest’s <i>Cries of London</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Black_Silk_Hood.">OPERA HOOD, OR CARDINAL, OF BLACK SILK</a> +</p> + +<p> +It is now in Boston Museum of Fine Arts. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Quilted_Hood.">QUILTED HOOD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Miss Mary Atkinson of Doylestown, Pa. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Pink_Silk_Hood.">PINK SILK HOOD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Miss Alice Browne of Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Pug_Hood.">PUG HOOD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Miss Alice Browne of Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Scarlet_Broadcloth_Hooded_Cloak.">SCARLET CLOAK</a> +</p> + +<p> +This fine broadcloth cloak and hood were worn by Judge Curwen. They are in +perfect preservation, owing, in later years, to the excellent care given them +by their present owner, Miss Bessie Curwen, of Salem, Mass., a descendant of +the original owner. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Judge_Stoughton.">JUDGE STOUGHTON</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#WomansCloakFromHogarth">WOMAN’S CLOAK</a> +</p> + +<p> +From Hogarth. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#A_Capuchin._From_Hogarth.">A CAPUCHIN</a> +</p> + +<p> +From Hogarth. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Lady_Caroline_Montagu.">LADY CAROLINE MONTAGU</a> +</p> + +<p> +Daughter of Duke of Buccleuch. Painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1776. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#John_Quincy.">JOHN QUINCY</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1686. This portrait is owned by Brooks Adams, Esq., Boston, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#MissCampion1667">Miss CAMPION</a> +</p> + +<p> +From Andrew W. Tuer’s <i>History of the Hornbook</i>. This portrait has hung +for two centuries in an Essex manor-house. Its date, 1661, is but nine years +earlier than the portraits of the Gibbes children, and the dress is the same. +The cavalier hat and cuffs are the only varying detail. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#InfantsCap">INFANT’S CAP</a> +</p> + +<p> +Tambour work, 1790. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Eleanor_Foster._1755.">ELEANOR FOSTER</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1746. She married Dr. Nathaniel Coffin, of Portland, Me., and became the +mother of the beautiful Martha, who married Richard C. Derby. This portrait was +painted in 1755. It is owned by Mrs. Greely Stevenson Curtis of Boston, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#311">WILLIAM, PRINCE OF ORANGE</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an old print. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Theodore_Sedgwick_and_Daughter.">MRS. THEODORE S. SEDGWICK AND +DAUGHTER.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sedgwick was Pamela Dwight. This portrait was painted by Ralph Earle, and +exhibits one of his peculiarities. The home of the subject of the portrait is +shown through an open window, though the immediate surroundings are a room +within the house. The child is Catherine M. Sedgwick, the poet. This painting +is owned in Stockbridge by members of the family. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Infant_Child_of_Francis_Hopkinson">INFANT CHILD OF FRANCIS HOPKINSON, +THE SIGNER</a> +</p> + +<p> +A drawing in crayon by the child’s father. The child carries a coral and bells. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#MarySeton1763">MARY SETON</a> +</p> + +<p> +1763. Died in 1800, aged forty. Married John Wilkes of New York. White frock +and blue scarf. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Bowdoin_Children.">THE BOWDOIN CHILDREN</a> +</p> + +<p> +Lady Temple and Governor James Bowdoin in childhood. The artist of this +pleasing portrait is unknown. I think it was painted by Blackburn. It is now in +the Walker Art Gallery, at Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Miss_Lydia_Robinson">Miss LYDIA ROBINSON</a> +</p> + +<p> +Aged twelve years, daughter of Colonel James Robinson, Salem, Mass. Painted by +M. Corné in 1808. Owned by the Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Knitted_Flaxen_Mittens.">KNITTED FLAXEN MITTENS</a> +</p> + +<p> +These are knitted upon finest wire needles, of linen thread, which had been +spun, and the flax raised and prepared by the knitter. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Elizabeth_Lux_Russell_and_Daughter">MRS. ELIZABETH (LUX) RUSSELL +AND DAUGHTER.</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Christening_Shirt_and_Mitts_of_Governor_Bradford">CHRISTENING SHIRT +AND MITTS OF GOVERNOR BRADFORD.</a> +</p> + +<p> +White linen with pinched sleeves and chaney ruffles and fingertips. Owned by +Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Flanders_Lace_Mitts.">FLANDERS LACE MITTS</a> +</p> + +<p> +These infant’s mitts were worn in the sixteenth century, and came to Salem with +the first emigrants. Owned by Essex Institute, Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#InfantsAdjustableCap">INFANT’S ADJUSTABLE CAP</a> +</p> + +<p> +This has curious shirring-strings to make it fit heads of various sizes. It is +home spun and woven, and the lace edging is home knit. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Rev._J.P._Dabney_when_a_Child.">REV. JOHN P. DABNEY, WHEN A CHILD IN +1806</a> +</p> + +<p> +This portrait of a Salem minister in childhood is in jacket and trousers, with +openwork collar and ruffles. It is now owned by the Essex Institute, Salem, +Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Robert_Gibbes.">ROBERT GIBBES</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1665. This portrait is dated 1670. It is owned by Miss Sarah B. Hager of +Kendal Green, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Nankeen_Breeches_with_Silver_Buttons.">NANKEEN BREECHES, WITH SILVER +BUTTONS. 1790</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Ralph_Izard_when_a_Little_Boy._1750.">RALPH IZARD, WHEN A LITTLE +BOY</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Charleston, S. C., 1742; died in 1804. Painted in 1750. He was United +States Senator 1789-1795. This debonair little figure in blue velvet, +silk-embroidered waistcoat, silken hose, buckled shoes, and black hat, +gold-laced, is a miniature courtier. The portrait is now owned by William E. +Huger, Esq., of Charleston, S.C. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_and_Reverend_Gurdon_Saltonstall.">GOVERNOR AND REVEREND +GURDON SALTONSTALL</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in 1666; died in 1724. Governor of Connecticut, 1708-24. He was also +ordained a minister of the church at New London. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mayor_Rip_Van_Dam.">MAYOR RIP VAN DAM</a> +</p> + +<p> +Mayor of New York in 1710. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Abraham_De_Peyster.">JUDGE ABRAHAM DE PEYSTER OF NEW YORK</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Governor_De_Bienville.">GOVERNOR DE BIENVILLE, JEAN BAPTISTE +LEMOINE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Montreal, Can., 1680. Died in 1768. French Governor of Louisiana for +many years. He founded New Orleans. The original is in Longeuil, Can. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Daniel_Waldo.">DANIEL WALDO</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Boston, 1724; died in 1808. Married Rebecca Salisbury. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Reverend_John_Marsh.">REV. JOHN MARSH, HARTFORD, CONN</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#John_Adams_in_Youth.">JOHN ADAMS IN YOUTH</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Braintree, Mass., 1735; died at Quincy, Mass., 1826. Second President +of the United States, 1797-1801. He was a member of Congress, signer of +Declaration of Independence, Commissioner to France, Ambassador to The +Netherlands, Peace Commissioner to Great Britain, Minister to Court of St. +James. This portrait in youth is in a wig. Throughout life he wore his hair +bushed out at the ears. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#JonathanEdwards2nd">JONATHAN EDWARDS, D.D.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in 1745; died in 1801. He was a son of the great Jonathan Edwards, and was +President of Union College, Schenectady, 1799-1801. This portrait shows the +fashion of dressing the hair when wigs and powder had been banished and the +hair hung lank and long in the neck. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Patrick_Henry.">PATRICK HENRY</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in Virginia, 1736; died in Charlotte County, Va., in 1799. An orator, +patriot, and a leader in the American Revolution. He organized the Committees +of Correspondence, was a member of Continental Congress, 1774, of the Virginia +Convention, 1775, and was governor of Virginia for several terms. This portrait +shows him in lawyer’s close wig and robe. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#KingCarterDied1732">“KING” CARTER</a> +</p> + +<p> +Died, 1732. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Judge_Benjamin_Lynde.">JUDGE BENJAMIN LYNDE, OF SALEM AND BOSTON, +MASS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Died, 1745. Painted by Smybert. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#John_Rutledge.">JOHN RUTLEDGE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, Charleston, S.C., 1739; died, 1800. He was member of Congress, governor +of South Carolina, chief justice of Supreme Court. His hair is tied in cue. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#CampaignRamilliesBobandPigtailWigs">CAMPAIGN, RAMILLIES, BOB, AND +PIGTAIL WIGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Rev._William_Welsteed.">REV. WILLIAM WELSTEED</a> +</p> + +<p> +From an engraving by Copley, his only engraving. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Thomas_Hopkinson.">THOMAS HOPKINSON</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in London, 1709. Came to America in 1731. Married Mary Johnson in 1736. +Made Judge of the Admiralty in 1741. Died in 1751. He was the father of Francis +the Signer. This portrait is believed to be by Sir Godfrey Kneller. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Reverend_Dr._Barnard">REV. DR. BARNARD</a> +</p> + +<p> +A Connecticut clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Andrew_Ellicott.">ANDREW ELLICOTT</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1754; died, 1820. A Maryland gentleman of wealth and position. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#HerbertWestphalingBishopofHereford">HERBERT WESTPHALING</a> +</p> + +<p> +Bishop of Hereford, Eng. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Herald_Vandum.">HERALD CORNELIUS VANDUM.</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born, 1483; died, 1577, aged ninety-four years. Yeoman of the Guard and usher +to Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary, and Elizabeth. His beard is unique. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Scotch_Beard.">SCOTCH BEARD</a> +</p> + +<p> +Worn by Alexander Ross, 1655. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Dr._William_Slater._Cathedral_Beard.">DR. WILLIAM SLATER</a> +</p> + +<p> +Cathedral beard. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Dr._John_Dee._1600.">DR. JOHN DEE</a> +</p> + +<p> +Born in London, 1527; died, 1608. An English mathematician, astrologer, +physician, author, and magician. He wrote seventy-nine books, mostly on magic. +His “pique-a-devant” beard might well “a man’s eye out-pike.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Iron_and_Leather_Pattens._1760.">IRON AND LEATHER PATTENS, 1760</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by author. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#OakIronandLeatherClogs1790">OAK, IRON, AND LEATHER CLOGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +In Museum of Bucks County Historical Society, Penn. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#English_Clogs.">ENGLISH CLOGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ChopinesSeventeenthCentury">CHOPINES</a> +</p> + +<p> +Drawing from Chopines in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. The tallest chopine had +a sole about nine inches thick. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#BridesClogsofBrocadeandSoleLeather">WEDDING CLOGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +These clogs are of silk brocade, and were made to match brocade slippers. The +one with pointed toe would fit the brocaded shoes of the year 1760. The other +has with it a high-heeled, black satin slipper of the year 1780, to show how +they were worn. They forced a curious shuffling step. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ClogsofPennsylvaniaDutch">CLOGS OF PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH</a> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ChildrensClogs1730">CHILD’S CLOGS</a> +</p> + +<p> +About 1780. Owned by Bucks County Historical Society. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Copley_Family_Picture.">COPLEY FAMILY PICTURE</a> +</p> + +<p> +This group, consisting of the artist, John Singleton Copley, his wife, who was +formerly a young widow, Susannah Farnham; his wife’s father, Richard Clarke, a +most respected Boston merchant who was wealthy until ruined by the War of the +Revolution; and the four little Copley children. Elizabeth is between four and +five; John Singleton, Jr., is the boy of three, who afterwards became Lord +Lyndhurst; Mary is aged two, and an infant is in the grandfather’s arms. Copley +was born in 1737, and must have been about thirty-seven when this was painted +in 1775. It is deemed by many his masterpiece. The portrait is owned by Mr. +Amory, but is now in the custody of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. It is most +pronounced, almost startling, in color, every tint being absolutely frank. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Wedding_Slippers_and_Brocade._1712.">WEDDING SLIPPERS AND BROCADE +STRIP, 1712</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Mrs. Thomas Robinson Harris, of Scarboro on the Hudson, N.Y. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Jack-boots._Owned_by_Lord_Fairfax_of_Virginia.">JACK-BOOTS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by Lord Fairfax of Virginia. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Joshua_Warner.">JOSHUA WARNER</a> +</p> + +<p> +A Portsmouth gentleman. This portrait is now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Shoe_and_Knee_Buckles.">SHOE AND KNEE BUCKLES</a> +</p> + +<p> +They are shoe-buckles, breeches-buckles, garter-buckles, stock-buckles. Some +are cut silver and gold; others are cut steel; some are paste. Some of these +were owned by Dr. Edward Holyoke, of Salem, and are now owned by Miss Susan W. +Osgood, of Salem, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Wedding_Slippers.">WEDDING SLIPPERS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Worn in 1760 by granddaughter of Governor Simon Bradstreet. Owned by Miss Mary +S. Cleveland, of Salem, Mass. Their make and finish are curious; they have +paste buckles. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Mrs._Abigail_Bromfield_Rogers.">ABIGAIL BROMFIELD ROGERS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Painted by Copley in Europe. Owned by Miss Annette Rogers, of Boston, Mass. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#MrsCarrollsSlippers">SLIPPERS</a> +</p> + +<p> +Worn by Mrs. Carroll with the brocade silk sacque. They are embroidered in the +colors of the brocade. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#White_Kid_Slippers._1815.">WHITE KID SLIPPERS, 1810</a> +</p> + +<p> +Owned by author. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>APPAREL OF THE PURITAN AND PILGRIM FATHERS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes<br/> +Which now would render men like upright apes<br/> +Was comelier wear, our wiser fathers thought<br/> +Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“New England’s Crisis,” BENJAMIN TOMPSON, 1675.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“I am neither Niggard nor Cynic to the due Bravery of the true +Gentry.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“The simple Cobbler of Agawam,” J. WARD, 1713.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“Never was it happier in England than when an Englishman was known abroad by +his own cloth; and contented himself at home with his fine russet carsey hosen, +and a warm slop; his coat, gown, and cloak of brown, blue or putre, with some +pretty furnishings of velvet or fur, and a doublet of sad-tawnie or black +velvet or comely silk, without such cuts and gawrish colours as are worn in +these dayes by those who think themselves the gayest men when they have most +diversities of jagges and changes of colours.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Chronicles,” HOLINSHED, 1578.<br/> +<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>APPAREL OF THE PURITAN AND PILGRIM FATHERS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="95" height="92" src="images/initiali.jpg" alt="I" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +t is difficult to discover the reasons, to trace the influences which have +resulted in the production in the modern mind of that composite figure which +serves to the everyday reader, the heedless observer, as the counterfeit +presentment of the New England colonist,—the Boston Puritan or Plymouth +Pilgrim. We have a very respectable notion, a fairly true picture, of Dutch +patroon, Pennsylvania Quaker, and Virginia planter; but we see a very unreal +New Englishman. This “gray old Gospeller, sour as midwinter,” appears with +goodwife or dame in the hastily drawn illustrations of our daily press; we find +him outlined with greater care but equal inaccuracy in our choicer periodical +literature; we have him depicted by artists in our handsome books and on the +walls of our art museums; he is cut in stone and cast in bronze for our halls +and parks; he is dressed by actors for a part in some historical play; he is +furbished up with conglomerate and makeshift garments by enthusiastic and +confident young folk in tableau and fancy-dress party; he is richly and amply +attired by portly, self-satisfied members of our patriotic-hereditary +societies; we constantly see these figures garbed in semblance in some details, +yet never in verisimilitude as a whole figure. +</p> + +<p> +We are wont to think of our Puritan forbears, indeed we are determined to think +of them, garbed in sombre sad-colored garments, in a life devoid of color, +warmth, or fragrance. But sad color was not dismal and dull save in name; it +was brown in tone, and brown is warm, and being a primitive color is, like many +primitive things, cheerful. Old England was garbed in hearty honest russet, +even in the days of our colonization. Read the list of the garments of any +master of the manor, of the honest English yeoman, of our own sturdy English +emigrants from manor and farm in Suffolk and Essex. What did they wear across +seas? What did they wear in the New World? What they wore in England, namely: +Doublets of leathers, all brown in tint; breeches of various tanned skins and +hides; untanned leather shoes; jerkins of “filomot” or “phillymort” (feuille +morte), dead-leaf color; buff-coats of fine buff leather; tawny camlet cloaks +and jackets of “du Boys” (which was wood color); russet hose; horseman’s coats +of tan-colored linsey-woolsey or homespun ginger-lyne or brown perpetuana; +fawn-colored mandillions and deer-colored cassocks—all brown; and sometimes a +hat of natural beaver. Here is a “falding” doublet of “treen color”—and what is +treen but wooden and wood color is brown again. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fitting dress for their conditions of life. The colonists lived close +to nature—they touched the beginnings of things; and we are close to nature +when all dress in russet. The homely “butternuts” of the Kentucky mountains +express this; so too does khaki, a good, simple native dye and stuff; so +eagerly welcomed, so closely cherished, as all good and primitive things should +be. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_John_Endicott"></a> +<img src="images/020.jpg" width="379" height="453" alt="[Illustration: Governor +John Endicott]" /> +<p class="caption">Governor John Endicott +</p></div> + +<p> +So when I think of my sturdy Puritan forbears in the summer planting of Salem +and of Boston, I see them in “honest russet kersey”; gay too with the bright +stamell-red of their waistcoats and the grain-red linings of mandillions; +scarlet-capped are they, and enlivened with many a great scarlet-hooded cloak. +I see them in this attire on shipboard, where they were greeted off Salem with +“a smell from the shore like the smell of a garden”; I see them landing in +happy June amid “sweet wild strawberries and fair single roses.” I see them +walking along the little lanes and half-streets in which for many years +bayberry and sweet-fern lingered in dusty fragrant clumps by the roadside. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Scented with Cædar and Sweet Fern<br/> +From Heats reflection dry,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +wrote of that welcoming shore one colonist who came on the first ship, and +noted in rhyme what he found and saw and felt and smelt. And I see the +forefathers standing under the hot little cedar trees of the Massachusetts +coast, not sober in sad color, but cheery in russet and scarlet; and sweetbrier +and strawberries, bayberry and cedar, smell sweetly and glow genially in that +summer sunlight which shines down on us through all these two centuries. +</p> + +<p> +We have ample sources from which to learn precisely what was worn by these +first colonists—men and women—gentle and simple. We have minute “Lists of +Apparell” furnished by the Colonization Companies to the male colonists; we +have also ample lists of apparel supplied to individual emigrants of varied +degree; we have inventories in detail of the personal estates of all those who +died in the colonies even in the earliest years—inventories wherein even a +half-worn pair of gloves is gravely set down, appraised in value, sworn to, and +entered in the town records; we have wills giving equal minuteness; we have +even the articles of dress themselves preserved from moth and rust and mildew; +we have private letters asking that supplies of clothing be sent across +seas—clothing substantial and clothing fashionable; we have ships’ bills of +lading showing that these orders were carried out; we have curiously minute +private letters giving quaint descriptions and hints of new and modish wearing +apparel; we have sumptuary laws telling what articles of clothing must not be +worn by those of mean estate; we have court records showing trials under these +laws; we have ministers’ sermons denouncing excessive details of fashion, +enumerating and almost describing the offences; and we have also a goodly +number of portraits of men and a few of women. I give in this chapter excellent +portraits of the first governors, Endicott, Winthrop, Bradstreet, Winslow; and +others could be added. Having all these, do we need fashion-plates or magazines +of the modes? We have also for the early years great instruction through +comparison and inference in knowing the English fashions of those dates as +revealed through inventories, compotuses, accounts, diaries, letters, +portraits, prints, carvings, and effigies; and American fashions varied little +from English ones. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_Edward_Winslow."></a> +<img src="images/022.jpg" width="370" height="466" alt="[Illustration: Governor +Edward Winslow]" /> +<p class="caption">Governor Edward Winslow. +</p></div> + +<p> +It is impossible to disassociate the history of costume from the general +history of the country where such dress is worn. Nor could any one write upon +dress with discrimination and balance unless he knew thoroughly the dress of +all countries and likewise the history of all countries. Of the special +country, he must know more than general history, for the relations of small +things to great things are too close. Influences apparently remote prove vital. +At no time was history told in dress, and at no period was dress influenced by +historical events more than during the seventeenth century and in the dress of +English-speaking folk. The writer on dress should know the temperament and +character of the dress wearer; this was of special bearing in the seventeenth +century. It would be thought by any one ignorant of the character of the first +Puritan settlers, and indifferent to or ignorant of historical facts, that in a +new world with all the hardships, restraints, lacks, and inconveniences, no +one, even the vainest woman, would think much upon dress, save that it should +be warm, comfortable, ample, and durable. But, in truth, such was not the case. +Even in the first years the settlers paid close attention to their attire, to +its richness, its elegance, its modishness, and watched narrowly also the +attire of their neighbors, not only from a distinct liking for dress, but from +a careful regard of social distinctions and from a regard for the proprieties +and relations of life. Dress was a badge of rank, of social standing and +dignity; and class distinctions were just as zealously guarded in America, the +land of liberty, as in England. The Puritan church preached simplicity of +dress; but the church attendants never followed that preaching. All believed, +too, that dress had a moral effect, as it certainly does; that to dress orderly +and well and convenable to the existing fashions helped to preserve the morals +of the individual and general welfare of the community. Eagerly did the +settlers seek every year, every season, by every incoming ship, by every +traveller, to learn the changes of fashions in Europe. The first native-born +poet, Benjamin Tompson, is quoted in the heading of this chapter in a wail over +thus following new fashions, a wail for the “good old times,” as has been the +cry of “old fogy” poets and philosophers since the days of the ancient +classics. +</p> + +<p> +We have ample proof of the love of dignity, of form, of state, which dominated +even in the first struggling days; we can see the governor of Virginia when he +landed, turning out his entire force in most formal attire and with full +company of forty halberdiers in scarlet cloaks to attend in imposing procession +the church services in the poor little church edifice—this when the settlement +at Jamestown was scarce more than an encampment. +</p> + +<p> +We can read the words of Winthrop, the governor of Massachusetts, in which he +recounts his mortification at the undignified condition of affairs when the +governor of the French province, the courtly La Tour, landed unexpectedly in +Boston and caught the governor picnicking peacefully with his family on an +island in the harbor, with no attendants, no soldiers, no dignitaries. Nor was +there any force in the fort, and therefore no salute could be given to the +distinguished visitors; and still more mortifying was the sole announcement of +this important arrival through the hurried sail across the bay, and the running +to the governor of a badly scared woman neighbor. We see Winthrop trying to +recover his dignity in La Tour’s eyes (and in his own) by bourgeoning +throughout the remainder of the French governor’s stay with an imposing guard +of soldiers in formal attendance at every step he took abroad; ordering them to +wear, I am sure, their very fullest stuffed doublets and shiniest armor, while +he displayed his best black velvet suit of garments. Fortunately for New +England’s appearance, Winthrop was a man of such aristocratic bearing and +feature that no dress or lack of dress could lower his dignity. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_John_Winthrop."></a> +<img src="images/026.jpg" alt="Governor John Winthrop." /> +<p class="caption">Governor John Winthrop. +</p></div> + +<p> +Our forbears did not change their dress by emigrating; they may have worn +heavier clothing in New England, more furs, stronger shoes, but I cannot find +that they adopted simpler or less costly clothing; any change that may have +been made through Puritan belief and teaching had been made in England. All the +colonists +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“ ... studied after nyce array,<br/> +And made greet cost in clothing.” +</p> + +<p> +Many persons preferred to keep their property in the form of what they quaintly +called “duds.” The fashion did not wear out more apparel than the man; for +clothing, no matter what its cut, was worn as long as it lasted, doing service +frequently through three generations. For instance, we find Mrs. Epes, of +Ipswich, Massachusetts, when she was over fifty years old, receiving this +bequest by will: “If she desire to have the suit of damask which was the Lady +Cheynies her grandmother, let her have it upon appraisement.” I have traced a +certain flowered satin gown and “manto” in four wills; a dame to her daughter; +she to her sister; then to the child of the last-named who was a granddaughter +of the first owner. And it was a proud possession to the last. The fashions and +shapes then did not change yearly. The Boston gentlewoman of 1660 would not +have been ill dressed or out of the mode in the dress worn by her grandmother +when she landed in 1625. +</p> + +<p> +Petty details were altered in woman’s dress—though but slightly; the change of +a cap, a band, a scarf, a ruffle, meant much to the wearer, though it seems +unimportant to us to-day. Men’s dress, we know from portraits, was unaltered +for a time save in neckwear and hair-dressing, both being of such importance in +costume that they must be written upon at length. +</p> + +<p> +Let us fix in our minds the limit of reign of each ruler during the early years +of colonization, and the dates of settlement of each colony. When Elizabeth +died in 1603, the Brownist Puritans or Separatists were well established in +Holland; they had been there twenty years. They were dissatisfied with their +Dutch home, however, and had had internal quarrels—one, of petty cause, namely, +a “topish Hatt,” a “Schowish Hood,” a “garish spitz-fashioned Stomacher,” the +vain garments of one woman; but the strife over these “abhominations” lasted +eleven years. +</p> + +<p> +James I was king when the Pilgrims came to America in 1620; but Charles I was +on the throne in 1630 when John Winthrop arrived with his band of friends and +followers and settled in Salem and Boston. +</p> + +<p> +The settlement of Portsmouth and Dover in New Hampshire was in 1623, and in +Maine the same year. The settlements of the Dutch in New Netherland were in +1614; while Virginia, named for Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, and discovered in +her day, was settled first of all at Jamestown in 1607. The Plymouth colony was +poor. It came poor from Holland, and grew poorer through various misfortunes +and set-backs—one being the condition of the land near Plymouth. The +Massachusetts Bay Company was different. It came with properties estimated to +be worth a million dollars, and it had prospered wonderfully after an opening +year of want and distress. The relative social condition and means of the +settlers of Jamestown, of Plymouth, of Boston, were carefully investigated from +English sources by a thoughtful and fair authority, the historian Green. He +says of the Boston settlers in his <i>Short History of the English People</i>:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Those Massachusetts settlers were not like the earlier colonists of the South; +broken men, adventurers, bankrupts, criminals; or simply poor men and artisans +like the Pilgrim Fathers of the <i>Mayflower</i>. They were in great part men +of the professional and middle classes, some of them men of large landed +estate, some zealous clergymen, some shrewd London lawyers or young scholars +from Oxford. The bulk were God-fearing farmers from Lincolnshire and the +Eastern counties.”<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A full comprehension of these differences in the colonies will make us +understand certain conditions, certain surprises, as to dress; for instance, +why so little of the extreme Puritan is found in the dress of the first Boston +colonists. +</p> + +<p> +There lived in England, near the close of Elizabeth’s reign, a Puritan named +Philip Stubbes, to whom we are infinitely indebted for our knowledge of English +dress of his times. It was also the dress of the colonists; for details of +attire, especially of men’s wear, had not changed to any extent since the years +in which and of which Philip Stubbes wrote. +</p> + +<p> +He published in 1586 a book called <i>An Anatomie of Abuses</i>, in which he +described in full the excesses of England in his day. He wrote with spirited, +vivid pen, and in plain speech, leaving nothing unspoken lest it offend, and he +used strong, racy English words and sentences. In his later editions he even +took pains to change certain “strange, inkhorn terms” or complicate words of +his first writing into simpler ones. Thus he changed <i>preter time</i> to +<i>former ages; auditory</i> to <i>hearers; prostrated</i> to <i>humbled; +consummate</i> to <i>ended</i>; and of course this was to the book’s advantage. +Unusual words still linger, however, but we must believe they are not +intentionally “outlandish” as was the term of the day for such words. +</p> + +<p> +The attitude of Stubbes toward dress and dress wearers is of great interest, +for he was certainly one of the most severe, most determined, most +conscientious of Puritans; yet his hatred of “corruptions desiring reformation” +did not lead him to a hatred of dress in itself. He is careful to state in +detail in the body of his book and in his preface that his attack is not upon +the dress of people of wealth and station; that he approves of rich dress for +the rich. His hatred is for the pretentious dress of the many men of low birth +or of mean estate who lavish their all in dress ill suited to their station; +and also his reproof is for swindling in dress materials and dress-making; +against false weights and measures, adulterations and profits; in short, +against abuses, not uses. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_Simon_Bradstreet."></a> +<img src="images/030.jpg" alt="Governor Simon Bradstreet." /> +<p class="caption">Governor Simon Bradstreet. +</p></div> + +<p> +His words run thus explicitly:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Whereas I have spoken of the excesse in apparell, and of the Abuse of the same +as wel in Men as in Women, generally I would not be so understood as though my +speaches extended to any either noble honorable or worshipful; for I am farre +from once thinking that any kind of sumptuous or gorgeous Attire is not to be +worn of them; as I suppose them rather Ornaments in them than otherwise. And +therefore when I speak of excesse of Apparel my meaning is of the inferiour +sorte only who for the most parte do farre surpasse either noble honorable or +worshipful, ruffling in Silks Velvets, Satens, Damaske, Taffeties, Gold Silver +and what not; these bee the Abuses I speak of, these bee the Evills that I +lament, and these bee the Persons my wordes doe concern.”<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +There was ample room for reformation from Stubbes’s point of view. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“There is such a confuse mingle mangle of apparell and such preponderous excess +thereof, as every one is permitted to flaunt it out in what apparell he has +himself or can get by anie kind of means. So that it is verie hard to know who +is noble, who is worshipful, who is a gentleman, who is not; for you shall have +those who are neither of the nobilytie, gentilitie, nor yeomanrie goe daylie in +silks velvets satens damasks taffeties notwithstanding they be base by byrth, +meane by estate and servyle by calling. This a great confusion, a general +disorder. God bee mercyfull unto us.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This regard of dress was, I take it, the regard of the Puritan reformer in +general; it was only excess in dress that was hated. This was certainly the +estimate of the best of the Puritans, and it was certainly the belief of the +New England Puritan. It would be thought, and was thought by some men, that in +the New World liberty of religious belief and liberty of dress would be given +to all. Not at all!—the Puritan magistrates at once set to work to show, by +means of sumptuary laws, rules of town settlement, and laws as to Sunday +observance and religious services, that nothing of the kind was expected or +intended, or would be permitted willingly. No religious sects and denominations +were welcome save the Puritans and allied forms—Brownists, Presbyterians, +Congregationalists. For a time none other were permitted to hold services; no +one could wear rich dress save gentlefolk, and folk of wealth or some +distinction—as Stubbes said, “by being in some sort of office” +</p> + +<p> +We shall find in the early pages of this book frequent references to Stubbes’s +descriptions of articles of dress, but his own life has some bearing on his +utterances; so let me bear testimony as to his character and to the absolute +truth of his descriptions. He was held up in his own day to contempt by that +miserable Thomas Nashe who plagiarized his title and helped his own dull book +into popularity by calling it <i>The Anatomie of Absurdities</i>; and who +further ran on against him in a still duller book, <i>An Almand for a +Parrat</i>. He called Stubbes “A MarPrelate Zealot and Hypocrite” and Stubbes +has been held up by others as a morose man having no family ties and no social +instincts. He was in reality the tenderest of husbands to a modest, gentle, +pious girl whom he married when she was but fourteen, and with whom he lived in +ideal happiness until her death in child-birth when eighteen years old. He bore +testimony to his happiness and her goodness in a loving but sad and trying book +“intituled” <i>A Christiall Glasse for Christian Women</i>. It is a record of a +life which was indeed pure as crystal; a life so retiring, so quiet, so +composed, so unvarying, a life so remote from any gentlewoman’s life to day +that it seems of another ether, another planet, as well as of another century. +But it is useful for us to know it, notwithstanding its background of gloomy +religionism and its air of unreality; for it helps us to understand the +character of Puritan women and of Philip Stubbes. This fair young wife died in +an ecstasy, her voice triumphant, her face radiant with visions of another and +a glorious life. And yet she was not wholly happy in death; for she had a +Puritan conscience, and she thought she <i>must</i> have offended God in some +way. She had to search far indeed for the offence; and this was it—it would be +absurd if it were not so true and so deep in its sentiment of regret. She and +her husband had set their hearts too much in affection upon a little dog that +they had loved well, and she found now that “it was a vanitye”; and she +repented of it, and bade them bear the dog from her bedside. Knowing Stubbes’s +love for this little dog (and knowing it must have been a spaniel, for they +were then being well known and beloved and were called “Spaniel-gentles or +comforters”—a wonderfully appropriate name), I do not much mind the fierce +words with which he stigmatizes the vanity and extravagance of women. I have a +strong belief too that if we knew the dress of his child-wife, we would find +that he liked her bravely even richly attired, and that he acquired his +wonderful mastery of every term and detail of women’s dress, every term of +description, through a very uxorious regard of his wife’s apparel. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Sir_Richard_Saltonstall."></a> +<img src="images/034.jpg" alt="Sir Richard Saltonstall." /> +<p class="caption">Sir Richard Saltonstall. +</p></div> + +<p> +Of the absolute truth of every word in Stubbes’s accounts we have ample +corroborative proof. He wrote in real earnest, in true zeal, for the reform of +the foolery and extravagance he saw around him, not against imaginary evils. +There is ample proof in the writings of his contemporaries—in Shakespere’s +comparisons, in Harrison’s sensible <i>Description of England</i>, in Tom +Coryat’s <i>Crudities</i>—and oddities—of the existence of this foolishness and +extravagance. There is likewise ample proof in the sumptuary laws of +Elizabeth’s day. +</p> + +<p> +It would have been the last thing the solemn Stubbes could have liked or have +imagined, that he should have afforded important help to future writers upon +costume, yet such is the case. For he described the dress of English men and +women with as much precision as a modern reporter of the modes. No casual +survey of dress could have furnished to him the detail of his description. It +required much examination and inquiry, especially as to the minutiae of women’s +dress. Therefore when I read his bitter pages (if I can forget the little pet +spaniel) I have always a comic picture in my mind of a sour, morose, shocked +old Puritan, “a meer, bitter, narrow-sould Puritan” clad in cloak and doublet, +with great horn spectacles on nose, and ample note-book, penner, and ink-horn +in hand, agonizingly though eagerly surveying the figure of one of his +fashion-clad women neighbors, walking around her slowly, asking as he walked +the name of this jupe, the price of that pinner, the stuff of this sleeve, the +cut of this cap, groaning as he wrote it all down, yet never turning to squire +or knight till every detail of her extravagance and “greet cost” is recorded. +In spite of all his moralizing his quill pen had too sharp a point, his +scowling forehead and fierce eyes too keen a power of vision ever to render to +us a dull page; even the author of <i>Wimples and Crisping Pins</i> might envy +his powers of perception and description. +</p> + +<p> +The bravery of the Jacobean gallant did not differ in the main from his dress +under Elizabeth; but in details he found some extravagances. The love-locks +became more prominent, and shoe-roses and garters both grew in size. Pomanders +were carried by men and women, and “casting-bottles.” Gloves and pockets were +perfumed. As musk was the favorite scent this perfume-wearing is not +over-alluring. As a preventive of the plague all perfumes were valued. +</p> + +<p> +Since a hatred and revolt against this excess was one of the conditions which +positively led to the formation of the Puritan political party if not of the +Separatist religious faith, and as a consequence to the settlement of the +English colonies in America, let us recount the conditions of dress in England +when America was settled. Let us regard first the dress of a courtier whose +name is connected closely and warmly in history and romance with the +colonization of America; a man who was hated by the Pilgrim and Puritan fathers +but whose dress in some degree and likeness, though modified and simplified, +must have been worn by the first emigrants to Virginia across seas—let us look +at the portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh. He was a hero and a scholar, but he was +also a courtier; and of a court, too, where every court-attendant had to +bethink himself much and ever of dress, for dress occupied vastly the thought +and almost wholly the public conversation of his queen and her successor. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Sir_Walter_Raleigh."></a> +<img src="images/037.jpg" alt="Sir Walter Raleigh." /> +<p class="caption">Sir Walter Raleigh. +</p></div> + +<p> +To understand Raleigh’s dress, you must know the man and his life; to +comprehend its absurdities and forgive its follies and see whence it +originated, you must know Elizabeth and her dress; you must see her with +“oblong face, eyes small, yet black; her nose a little hooked, her lips narrow, +her teeth black; false hair and that red,”—these are the striking and plain +words of the German ambassador to her court. You must look at this queen with +her colorless meagre person lost in a dress monstrous in size, yet hung, even +in its enormous expanse of many square yards, with crowded ornaments, tags, +jewels, laces, embroideries, gimp, feathers, knobs, knots, and aglets, with +these bedizened rankly, embellished richly. You must see her talking in public +of buskins and gowns, love-locks and virginals, anything but matters of +seriousness or of state; you must note her at a formal ceremonial tickling +handsome Dudley in the neck; watch her dancing, “most high and disposedly” when +in great age; you must see her giving Essex a hearty boxing of the ear; hear +her swearing at her ministers. You must remember, too, her parents, her +heritage. From King Henry VIII came her love of popularity, her great activity, +her extraordinary self-confidence, her indomitable will, her outbursts of +anger, her cruelty, just as came her harsh, mannish voice. From her mother, +Anne Boleyn, came her sensuous love of pleasure, of dress, of flattery, of +gayety and laughter. Her nature came from her mother, her temper from her +father. The familiarity with Robert Dudley was but a piece with her boisterous +romps in her girlhood, and her flap in the face of young Talbot when he saw her +“unready in my night-stuff.” But she had more in her than came from Henry and +Anne; she had her own individuality, which made her as hard as steel, made her +resolute, made her live frugally and work hard, and, above all, made her know +her limitations. The woman, be she queen or the plainest mortal, who can +estimate accurately her own limitations, who is proof against enthusiasm, proof +against ambition, and, at a climax, proof against flattery, who knows what she +can <i>not</i> do, in that very thing finds success. Elizabeth was and ever +will be a wonderful character-study; I never weary of reading or thinking of +her. +</p> + +<p> +The settlement of Massachusetts was under James I; but costume varied little, +save that it became more cumbersome. This may be attributed directly to the +cowardice of the king, who wore quilted and padded—dagger-proof—clothing; and +thus gave to his courtiers an example of stuffing and padding which exceeded +even that of the men of Elizabeth’s day. “A great, round, abominable breech,” +did the satirists call it. Stays had to be worn beneath the long-waisted, +peascod-bellied, stuffed doublet to keep it in shape; thus a man’s attire had +scarcely a single natural outline. +</p> + +<p> +We have this description of Raleigh, courtier and “servant” of Elizabeth and +victim of James, given by a contemporary, Aubrey:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“He looked like a Knave with his gogling eyes. He could transform himself into +any shape. He was a tall, handsome, bold man; but his naeve was that he was +damnably proud. A good piece of him is in a white satin doublet all embroidered +with rich pearls, and a mighty told me that the true pearls were nigh as big as +the painted ones. He had a most remarkable aspect, an exceeding high forehead, +long faced, and sour eie-lidded, a kind of pigge-eie.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +We leave the choice of belief between one sentence of this personal +description, that he was handsome, and the later plain-spoken details to the +judgment of the reader. Certainly both statements cannot be true. As I look at +his portrait, the “good piece of him” <a href="#Sir_Walter_Raleigh.">here</a>, +I wholly disbelieve the former. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Sir_Walter_Raleigh_and_Son."></a> +<img src="images/040.jpg" alt="Sir Walter Raleigh and Son." /> +<p class="caption">Sir Walter Raleigh and Son. +</p></div> + +<p> +His laced-in, stiffened waist, his absurd breeches, his ruffs and sashes and +knots, his great shoe-roses, his jewelled hatband, make this a fantastic +picture, one of little dignity, though of vast cost. The jewels on his shoes +were said to have cost thirty thousand pounds; and the perfect pearls in his +ear, as seen in another portrait, must have been an inch and a half long. He +had doublets entirely covered with a pattern of jewels. In another portrait (<a +href="#Sir_Walter_Raleigh_and_Son.">here</a>) his little son, poor child, +stands by his side in similar stiff attire. The famous portrait of Sir Philip +Sidney and his brother is equally comic in its absurdity of costume for young +lads. +</p> + +<p> +Read these words descriptive of another courtier, of the reign of James; his +favorite, the Duke of Buckingham:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“With great buttons of diamonds, and with diamond hat bands, cockades and +ear-rings, yoked with great and manifold knots of pearls. At his going over to +Paris in 1625 he had twenty-seven suits of clothes made the richest that +embroidery, gems, lace, silk, velvet, gold and stones could contribute; one of +which was a white uncut velvet set all over suit and cloak with diamonds valued +at £14,000 besides a great feather stuck all over with diamonds, as were +also his sword, girdle, hat-band and spurs.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +These were all courtiers, but we should in general think of an English merchant +as dressed richly but plainly; yet here is the dress of Marmaduke Rawdon, a +merchant of that day:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The apparell he rid in, with his chaine of gold and hat band was vallued in a +thousand Spanish ducats; being two hundred and seventy and five pounds +sterling. His hatband was of esmeralds set in gold; his suite was of a fine +cloth trim’d with a small silke and gold fringe; the buttons of his suite fine +gold—goldsmith’s work; his rapier and dagger richly hatcht with gold.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The white velvet dress of Buckingham showed one of the extreme fashions of the +day, the wearing of pure white. Horace Walpole had a full-length painting of +Lord Falkland all in white save his black gloves. Another of Sir Godfrey Hart, +1600, is all in white save scarlet heels to the shoes. These scarlet heels were +worn long in every court. Who will ever forget their clatter in the pages of +Saint Simon, as they ran in frantic haste through hall and corridor—in terror, +in cupidity, in satisfaction, in zeal to curry favor, in desire to herald the +news, in hope to obtain office, in every mean and detestable spirit—ran from +the bedside of the dying king? We can still hear, after two centuries, the +noisy, heartless tapping of those hurrying red heels. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="ROBERT_DEVEREUX"></a> +<img src="images/043.jpg" alt="Robert Devereux Earle of Essex His Excellency +& Generall of y° Army. Pub April 1. 1799 by W Richardson York House +N° 31 Strand" /> +<p class="caption">Robert Devereux +</p></div> + +<p> +Look at the portrait of another courtier, Sir Robert Dudley, who died in 1639; +not the Robert Dudley who was tickled in the neck by Queen Elizabeth while he +was being dubbed earl; not the Dudley who murdered Amy Robsart, but his +disowned son by a noble lady whom he secretly married and dishonored. This son +was a brave sailor and a learned man. He wrote the <i>Arcana del Mare</i>, and +he was a sportsman; “the first of all that taught a dog to sit in order to +catch partridges.” His portrait shows clumsy armor and showy rings, a great +jewel and a vast tie of gauze ribbon on one arm; on the other a cord with many +aglets; he wears marvellously embroidered, slashed, and bombasted breeches, +tight hose, a heavily jewelled, broad belt; and a richly fringed scarf over one +shoulder, and ridiculous garters at his calf. It is so absurd, so vain a dress +one cannot wonder that sensible gentlemen turned away in disgust to so-called +Puritan plainness, even if it went to the extreme of Puritan ugliness. +</p> + +<p> +But in truth the eccentrics and extremes of Puritan dress were adopted by +zealots; the best of that dress only was worn by the best men of the party. All +Puritans were not like Philip Stubbes, the moralist; nor did all Royalists +dress like Buckingham, the courtier. +</p> + +<p> +I have spoken of the influence of the word “sad-color.” I believe that our +notion of the gloom of Puritan dress, of the dress certainly of the New England +colonist, comes to us through it, for the term was certainly much used. A +Puritan lover in Dorchester, Massachusetts, in 1645, wrote to his lass that he +had chosen for her a sad-colored gown. Winthrop wrote, “Bring the coarsest +woolen cloth, so it be not flocks, and of sad colours and some red;” and he +ordered a “grave gown” for his wife, “not black, but sad-colour.” But while +sad-colored meant a quiet tint, it did not mean either a dull stone color or a +dingy grayish brown—nor even a dark brown. We read distinctly in an English +list of dyes of the year 1638 of these tints in these words, “Sadd-colours the +following; liver colour, De Boys, tawney, russet, purple, French green, +ginger-lyne, deere colour, orange colour.” Of these nine tints, five, namely, +“De Boys,” tawny, russet, ginger-lyne, and deer color, were all browns. Other +colors in this list of dyes were called “light colours” and “graine colours.” +Light colors were named plainly as those which are now termed by shopmen +“evening shades”; that is, pale blue, pink, lemon, sulphur, lavender, pale +green, ecru, and cream color. Grain colors were shades of scarlet, and were +worn as much as russet. When dress in sad colors ranged from purple and French +green through the various tints of brown to orange, it was certainly not a +<i>dull</i>-colored dress. +</p> + +<p> +Let us see precisely what were the colors of the apparel of the first +colonists. Let us read the details of russet and scarlet. We find them in +<i>The Record of the Governor and Company of the Massachusetts Bay in New +England</i>, one of the incontrovertible sources which are a delight to every +true historian. These records are in the handwriting of the first secretary, +Washburn, and contain lists of the articles sent on the ships <i>Talbot, +George, Lion’s Whelp, Four Sisters</i>, and <i>Mayflower</i> for the use of the +plantation at Naumkeag (Salem) and later at Boston. They give the amount of +iron, coal, and bricks sent as ballast; the red lead, sail-cloth, and copper; +and in 1629, at some month and day previous to 16th of March, give the order +for the “Apparell for 100 men.” We learn that each colonist had this attire:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“4 Pair Shoes.<br/> +2 Pair Irish Stockings about 13d. a pair.<br/> +1 Pair knit Stockings about 2s. 4d. a pair.<br/> +1 Pair Norwich Garters about 5s. a dozen.<br/> +4 Shirts.<br/> +2 Suits of Doublet and Hose; of leather lined with oiled skin leather, the hose +and doublet with hooks and eyes.<br/> +1 Suit of Northern Dussens or Hampshire Kerseys lined, the hose with skins, the +doublet with linen of Guildford or Gedleyman serges, 2s. 10d. a yard, 4-1/2 to +5 yards a suit.<br/> +4 Bands.<br/> +2 Plain falling bands.<br/> +1 Standing band.<br/> +1 Waistcoat of green cotton bound about with red tape.<br/> +1 Leather Girdle.<br/> +2 Monmouth Cap, about 2s. apiece.<br/> +1 Black Hat lined at the brim with leather.<br/> +5 Red knit caps milled; about 5d. apiece.<br/> +2 Dozen Hooks and eyes and small hooks and eyes for mandillions.<br/> +1 Pair Calfs Leather gloves (and some odd pairs of knit and sheeps leather +gloves).<br/> +A number of Ells Sheer Linen for Handkerchiefs.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +On March 16th was added to this list a mandillion lined with cotton at 12d. a +yard. Also breeches and waistcoats; a leather suit of doublet and breeches of +oiled leather; a pair of breeches of leather, “the drawers to serve to wear +with both their other suits.” There was also full, yes, generous for the day, +provision of rugs, bedticks, bolsters, mats, blankets, and sheets for the +berths, and table linen. There were fifty beds; evidently two men occupied each +bed. Folk, even of wealth and refinement, were not at all sensitive as to their +mode of sleeping or their bedfellows. The pages of Pepys’s <i>Diary</i> give +ample examples of this carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +Arms and armor were also furnished, as will be explained in a later chapter. +</p> + +<p> +A private letter written by an engineer, one Master Graves, the following year +(1630), giving a list of “such needful things as every planter ought to +provide,” affords a more curt and much less expensive list, though this has +three full suits, two being of wool stuffs:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“1 Monmouth Cap.<br/> +3 Falling Bands.<br/> +3 Shirts.<br/> +1 Waistcoat.<br/> +1 Suit Canvass.<br/> +1 Suit Frieze.<br/> +1 Suit of Cloth.<br/> +3 Pair of Stockings.<br/> +4 Pair of Shoes.<br/> +Armour complete.<br/> +Sword &; Belt.”<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The underclothing in this outfit seems very scanty. +</p> + +<p> +I am sure that to some of the emigrants on these ships either outfit afforded +an ampler wardrobe than they had known theretofore in England, though English +folk of that day were well dressed. With a little consideration we can see that +the Massachusetts Bay apparel was adequate for all occasions, but it was far +different from a man’s dress to-day. The colonist “hadn’t a coat to his back”; +nor had he a pair of trousers. Some had not even a pair of breeches. It was a +time when great changes in dress were taking place. The ancient gown had just +been abandoned for doublet and long hose, which were still in high esteem, +especially among “the elder sort,” with garters or points for the knees. These +doublets were both of leather and wool. And there were also doublets to be worn +by younger men with breeches and stockings. +</p> + +<p> +When doublet and hose were worn, the latter were, of course, the long, +Florentine hose, somewhat like our modern tights. +</p> + +<p> +The jerkin of other lists varied little from the doublet; both were often +sleeveless, and the cassock in turn was different only in being longer; +buff-coat and horseman’s coat were slightly changed. The evolution of doublet, +jerkin, and cassock into a man’s coat is a long enough story for a special +chapter, and one which took place just while America was being settled. Let me +explain here that, while the general arrangement of this book is naturally +chronological, we halt upon our progress at times, to review a certain aspect +of dress, as, for instance, the riding-dress of women, or the dress of the +Quakers, or to review the description of certain details of dress in a +consecutive account. We thus run on ahead of our story sometimes; and other +times, topics have to be resumed and reviewed near the close of the book. +</p> + +<p> +The breeches worn by the early planters were fulled at the waist and knee, +after the Dutch fashion, somewhat like our modern knickerbockers or the English +bag-breeches. +</p> + +<p> +The four pairs of shoes furnished to the colonists were the best. In another +entry the specifications of their make are given thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Welt Neats Leather shoes crossed on the out-side with a seam. To be +substantial good over-leather of the best, and two soles; the under sole of +Neats-leather, the outer sole of tallowed backs.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +They were to be of ample size, some thirteen inches long; each reference to +them insisted upon good quality. +</p> + +<p> +There is plentiful head-gear named in these inventories,—six caps and a hat for +each man, at a time when Englishmen thought much and deeply upon what they wore +to cover their heads, and at a time when hats were very costly. I give due +honor to those hats in an entire chapter, as I do to the ruffs and bands +supplied in such adequate and dignified numbers. There was an unusually liberal +supply of shirts, and there were drawers which are believed to have been +draw-strings for the breeches. +</p> + +<p> +In <i>New England’s First Fruits</i> we read instructions to bring over “good +Irish stockings, which if they are good are much more serviceable than knit +ones.” There appears to have been much variety in shape as well as in material. +John Usher, writing in 1675 to England, says, “your sherrups stockings and your +turn down stocking are not salable here.” Nevertheless, stirrup stockings and +socks were advertised in the Boston News Letter as late as January 30, 1731. +Stirrup-hose are described in 1658 as being very wide at the top—two yards +wide—and edged with points or eyelet holes by which they were made fast to the +girdle or bag-breeches. Sometimes they were allowed to bag down over the +garter. They are said to have been worn on horseback to protect the other +garments. +</p> + +<p> +Stockings at that time were made of cotton and woollen cloth more than they +were knitted. Calico stockings are found in inventories, and often stockings as +well as hose with calico linings. In the clothing of William Wright of +Plymouth, at his death in 1633, were +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“2 Pair Old Knit Stockins.<br/> +2 Pair Old Yrish Stockins.<br/> +2 Pair Cloth Stockins.<br/> +2 Pair Wadmoll Stockins.<br/> +4 Pair Linnen Stockins,” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +which would indicate that Goodman Wright had stockings for all weathers, or, as +said a list of that day, “of all denominations.” He had also two pair of +boot-hose and two pair of boot-briches; evidently he was a seafaring man. I +must note that he had more ample underclothing than many “plain citizens,” +having cotton drawers and linen drawers and dimity waistcoats. +</p> + +<p> +That petty details of propriety and dignity of dress were not forgotten; that +the articles serving to such dignity were furnished to the colonists, and the +use of these articles was expected of them, is shown by the supply of such +additions to dress as Norwich garters. Garters had been a decorative and +elegant ornament to dress, as may be seen by glancing at the portraits of Sir +Walter Raleigh, Sir Robert Orchard, and the <i>English Antick</i>, in this +book. And they might well have been decried as offensive luxuries unmeet for +any Puritan and unnecessary for any colonist; yet here they are. The settlers +in one of the closely following ships had points for the knee as well as +garters. +</p> + +<p> +From all this cheerful and ample dress, this might well be a Cavalier +emigration; in truth, the apparel supplied as an outfit to the Virginia +planters (who are generally supposed to be far more given over to rich dress) +is not as full nor as costly as this apparel of Massachusetts Bay. In this as +in every comparison I make, I find little to indicate any difference between +Puritan and Cavalier in quantity of garments, in quality, or cost—or, indeed, +in form. The differences in England were much exaggerated in print; in America +they often existed wholly in men’s notions of what a Puritan must be. +</p> + +<p> +At first the English Puritan reformers made marked alterations in dress; and +there were also distinct changes in the soldiers of Cromwell’s army, but in +neither case did rigid reforms prove permanent, nor were they ever as great or +as sweeping as the changes which came to the Cavalier dress. Many of the +extremes preached in Elizabeth’s day had disappeared before New England was +settled; they had been abandoned as unwise or unnecessary; others had been +adopted by Cavaliers, so that equalized all differences. I find it difficult to +pick out with accuracy Puritan or Cavalier in any picture of a large gathering. +Let us glance at the Puritan Roundhead, at Cromwell himself. His picture is +given <a href="#Cromwell_dissolving_Parliament.">here</a>, cut from a famous +print of his day, which represents Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament. He +and his three friends, all Puritan leaders, are dressed in clothes as +distinctly Cavalier as the attire of the king himself. The graceful hats with +sweeping ostrich feathers are precisely like the Cavalier hats still preserved +in England; like one in the South Kensington Museum. Cromwell’s wide boots and +his short cape all have a Cavalier aspect. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Cromwell_dissolving_Parliament."></a> +<img src="images/052.jpg" alt="Cromwell dissolving Parliament. Be gone you +rogues/You have Sate long enough." /> +<p class="caption">Cromwell dissolving Parliament. +</p></div> + +<p> +While Cromwell was steadily working for power, the fashion of plain attire was +being more talked about than at any other time; so he appeared in studiously +simple dress—the plainest apparel, indeed, of any man prominent in affairs in +English history. This is a description of his appearance at a time before his +name was in all Englishmen’s mouths. It was written by Sir Philip Warwick:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The first time I ever took notice of him (Cromwell) was in the beginning of +Parliament, November, 1640. I came into the house one morning, well-clad, and +perceived a gentleman speaking whom I knew not, very ordinary apparelled, for +it was a plain cloth suit which seemed to have been made by an ill country +tailor. His linen was plain and not very clean, and I remember a speck or two +of blood upon his band which was not much larger than his collar; his hat was +without a hat-band; his stature was of good size; his sword stuck close to his +side.”<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Lowell has written of what he terms verbal magic; the power of certain words +and sentences, apparently simple, and without any recognizable quality, which +will, nevertheless, fix themselves in our memory, or will picture a scene to us +which we can never forget. This description of Cromwell has this magic. There +is no apparent reason why these plain, commonplace words should fix in my mind +this simple, rough-hewn form; yet I never can think of Cromwell otherwise than +in this attire, and whatever portrait I see of him, I instinctively look for +the spot of blood on his band. I know of his rich dress after he was in power; +of that splendid purple velvet suit in which he lay majestic in death; but they +never seem to me to be Cromwell—he wears forever an ill-cut, clumsy cloth suit, +a close sword, and rumpled linen. +</p> + +<p> +The noble portraits of Cromwell by the miniaturist, Samuel Cooper, especially +the one which is at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, are held to be the truest +likenesses. They show a narrow band, but the hair curls softly on the +shoulders. The wonderful portrait of the Puritan General Ireton, in the +National Portrait Gallery, has beautiful, long hair, and a velvet suit much +slashed, and with many loops and buttons at the slashes. He wears mustache and +imperial. We expect we may find that friend of Puritanism, Lucius Carey, Lord +Falkland, in rich dress; and we find him in the richest of dress; namely, a +doublet made, as to its body and large full sleeves, wholly of bands an inch or +two wide of embroidery and gold lace, opening like long slashes from throat to +waist, and from arm-scye to wrist over fine white lawn, and with extra slashes +at various spots, with the full white lawn of his “habit-shirt” pulled out in +pretty puffs. His hair is long and curling. General Waller of Cromwell’s army, +here shown, is the very figure of a Cavalier, as handsome a face, with as +flowing hair and careful mustache, as the Duke of Buckingham, or Mr. Endymion +Porter,—that courtier of courtiers,—gentleman of the bed-chamber to Charles I. +Cornet Joyce, the sturdy personal custodian of the king in captivity, came the +closest to being a Roundhead; but even his hair covers his ear and hangs over +his collar—it would be deemed over-long to-day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Sir_William_Waller."></a> +<img src="images/054.jpg" alt="Sir William Waller." /> +<p class="caption">Sir William Waller. +</p></div> + +<p> +Here is Lord Fairfax in plain buff coat slightly laced and slashed with white +satin. Fanshawe dressed—so his wife tells us—in “phillamot brocade with 9 Laces +every one as broad as my hand, a little gold and silver lace between and both +of curious workmanship.” And his suit was gay with scarlet knots of ribbon; and +his legs were cased in white silk hose over scarlet ones; and he wore black +shoes with scarlet shoe strings and scarlet roses and garters; and his gloves +were trimmed with scarlet ribbon—a fine “gaybeseen”—to use Chaucer’s words. +</p> + +<p> +Surprising to all must be the portrait of that Puritan figurehead, the Earl of +Leicester; for he wears an affected double-peaked beard, a great ruff, +feathered hat, richly jewelled hatband and collar, and an ear-ring. Shown <a +href="#ROBERT_DEVEREUX">here</a> is the dress he wore when masquerading in +Holland as general during the Netherland insurrection against Philip II. +</p> + +<p> +It is strange to find even writers of intelligence calling Winthrop and +Endicott Roundheads. A recent magazine article calls Myles Standish a Roundhead +captain. That term was not invented till a score of years after Myles Standish +landed at Plymouth. A political song printed in 1641 is entitled <i>The +Character of a Roundhead</i>. It begins:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“What creature’s this with his short hairs<br/> +His little band and huge long ears<br/> + That this new faith hath founded?<br/> +<br/> +“The Puritans were never such,<br/> +The saints themselves had ne’er as much.<br/> + Oh, such a knave’s a Roundhead.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="TherightHonourableFerdinandLordFairfax"></a> +<img src="images/056.jpg" alt="The right Honourable Ferdinand Lord Fairfax." /> +<p class="caption">The right Honourable Ferdinand—Lord Fairfax. +</p></div> + +<p> +Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson was the wife of a Puritan gentleman, who was colonel in +Cromwell’s army, and one of the regicide judges. She wrote a history of her +husband’s life, which is one of the most valuable sources of information of the +period wherein he lived, the day when Cromwell and Hampden acted, when Laud and +Strafford suffered. In this history she tells explicitly of the early use of +the word Roundhead:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The name of Roundhead coming so opportunely, I shall make a little digression +to show how it came up: When Puritanism grew a faction, the Zealots +distinguished themselves by several affectations of habit, looks and words, +which had it been a real forsaking of vanity would have been most commendable. +Among other affected habits, few of the Puritans, what degree soever they were, +wore their hair long enough to cover their ears; and the ministers and many +others cut it close around their heads with so many little peaks—as was +something ridiculous to behold. From this custom that name of Roundhead became +the scornful term given to the whole Parliament Party, whose army indeed +marched out as if they had only been sent out till their hair was grown. Two or +three years later any stranger that had seen them would have inquired the +meaning of that name.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +It is a pleasure to point out Colonel Hutchinson as a Puritan, though there was +little in his dress to indicate the significance of such a name for him, and +certainly he was not a Roundhead, with his light brown hair “softer than the +finest silk and curling in great loose rings at the ends—a very fine, thick-set +head of hair.” He loved dancing, fencing, shooting, and hawking; he was a +charming musician; he had judgment in painting, sculpture, architecture, and +the “liberal arts.” He delighted in books and in gardening and in all rarities; +in fact, he seemed to care for everything that was “lovely and of good report.” +“He was wonderfully neat, cleanly and genteel in his habit, and had a very good +fancy in it, but he left off very early the wearing of anything very costly, +yet in his plainest habit appeared very much a gentleman.” Such dress was the +<i>best</i> of Puritan dress; just as he was the best type of a Puritan. He was +cheerful, witty, happy, eager, earnest, vivacious—a bit quick in temper, but +kind, generous, and good. He was, in truth, what is best of all,—a noble, +consistent, Christian gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Those who have not acquired from accurate modern portrayal and representation +their whole notion of the dress of the early colonists have, I find, a figure +in their mind’s eye something like that of Matthew Hopkins the witch-finder. +Hogarth’s illustrations of Hudibras give similar Puritans. Others have figures, +dull and plainly dressed, from the pictures in some book of saints and martyrs +of the Puritan church, such as were found in many an old New England home. +<i>My</i> Puritan is reproduced <a +href="#Alderman_Abell_and_Richard_Kilvert">here</a>. I have found in later +years that this Alderman Abel of my old print was quite a character in English +history; having been given with Cousin Kilvert the monopoly of the sale of +wines at retail, one of those vastly lucrative privileges which brought forth +the bitterest denunciations from Sir John Eliot, who regarded them as an +infamous imposition upon the English people. The site of Abel’s house had once +belonged to Cardinal Wolsey; and it was popularly believed that Abel found and +used treasure of the cardinal which had been hidden in his cellar. He was +called the “Main Projector and Patentee for the Raising of Wines.” +Unfortunately for my theory that Abel was a typical Puritan, he was under the +protection of King Charles I; and Cromwell’s Parliament put an end to his +monopoly in 1641, and his dress was simply that of any dull, uninteresting, +commonplace, and common Englishman of his day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Alderman_Abell_and_Richard_Kilvert"></a> +<img src="images/059.jpg" alt="Alderman Abell and Richard Kilvert, the two +maine Projectors for Wine, 1641." /> +<p class="caption">Mr. Alderman Abell and Richard Kilvert, the two maine +Projectors for Wine, 1641. +</p></div> + +<p> +Another New England man who is constantly called a Roundhead is Cotton Mather; +with equal inconsequence and inaccuracy he is often referred to, and often +stigmatized, as “the typical Puritan colonist,” a narrow, bigoted Gospeller. I +have open before me an editorial from a reputable newspaper which speaks of +Cotton Mather dressed in dingy, skimped, sad-colored garments “shivering in the +icy air of Plymouth as he uncovered his close-clipped Round-head when he landed +on the Rock from the <i>Mayflower</i>.” He was in fact born in America; he was +not a Plymouth man, and did not die till more than a century after the landing +of the <i>Mayflower</i>, and, of course, he was not a Roundhead. Another +drawing of Cotton Mather, in a respectable magazine, depicts him with clipped +hair, emaciated, clad in clumsy garments, mean and haggard in countenance, +raising a bundle of rods over a cowering Indian child. Now, Cotton Mather was +distinctly handsome, as may be seen from his picture <a +href="#Reverend_Cotton_Mather.">here</a>, which displays plainly the full, +sensual features of the Cotton family, shown in John Cotton’s portrait. And the +Roundhead is in an elegant, richly curled periwig, such as was fashionable a +hundred years after the <i>Mayflower</i>. And though he had the tormenting +Puritan conscience he was not wholly a Puritan, for the world, the flesh, and +the devil were strong in him. He was much more gentle and tender than men of +that day were in general; especially with all children, white and Indian, and +was most conscientious in his relations both to Indians and negroes. And in +those days of universal whippings by English and American schoolmasters and +parents, he spoke in no uncertain voice his horror and disapproval of the rod +for children, and never countenanced or permitted any whippings. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Reverend_John_Cotton."></a> +<img src="images/060.jpg" alt="Reverend John Cotton." /> +<p class="caption">Reverend John Cotton. +</p></div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="Reverend_Cotton_Mather."></a> +<img src="images/061.jpg" alt="Reverend Cotton Mather." /> +<p class="caption">Reverend Cotton Mather. +</p></div> + +<p> +There was certainly great diversity in dress among those who called themselves +Puritans. Some amusing stories are told of that strange, restless, brilliant +creature, the major-general of Cromwell’s army,—Harrison. When the +first-accredited ambassador sent by any great nation to the new republic came +to London, there was naturally some stir as to the wisdom of certain details of +demeanor and dress. It was a ticklish time. The new Commonwealth must command +due honor, and the day before the audience a group of Parliament gentlemen, +among them Colonel Hutchinson and one who was afterwards the Earl of Warwick, +were seated together when Harrison came in and spoke of the coming audience, +and admonished them all—and Hutchinson in particular, “who was in a habit +pretty rich but grave and none other than he usually wore”—that, now nations +sent to them, they must “shine in wisdom and piety, not in gold and silver and +worldly bravery which did not become saints.” And he asked them not to appear +before the ambassador in “gorgeous habits.” So the colonel—though he was not +“convinced of any misbecoming bravery in a suit of sad-coloured cloth trimmed +with gold and with silver points and buttons”—still conformed to his comrade’s +opinion, and appeared as did all the other gentlemen in solemn, handsome black. +When who should come in, “all in red and gold-a,”—in scarlet coat and cloak +laden with gold and silver, “the coat so covered with clinquant one could +scarcely discern the ground,” and in this gorgeous and glittering habit seat +himself alone just under the speaker’s chair and receive the specially low +respects and salutes of all in the ambassador’s train,—who should thus blazon +and brazon and bourgeon forth but Harrison! I presume, though Hutchinson was a +Puritan and a saint, he was a bit chagrined at his black suit of garments, and +a bit angered at being thus decoyed; and it touched Madam Hutchinson deeply. +</p> + +<p> +But Hutchinson had his turn to wear gay clothes. A great funeral was to be +given to Ireton, who was his distant kinsman; yet Cromwell, from jealousy, sent +no bidding or mourning suit to him. A general invitation and notice was given +to the whole assembly, and on the hour of the funeral, within the great, gloomy +state-chamber, hung in funereal black, and filled with men in trappings of woe, +covered with great black cloaks with long, weeping hatbands drooping to the +ground, in strode Hutchinson; this time he was in scarlet and cliquante, “such +as he usually wore,”—so wrote his wife,—astonishing the eyes of all, especially +the diplomats and ambassadors who were present, who probably deemed him of so +great station as to be exempt from wearing black. The master of ceremonies +timidly regretted to him, in hesitating words, that no mourning had been +sent—it had been in some way overlooked; the General could not, thus unsuitably +dressed, follow the coffin in the funeral procession—it would not look well; +the master of ceremonies would be rebuked—all which proved he did not know +Hutchinson, for follow he could, and would, and did, in this rich dress. And he +walked through the streets and stood in the Abbey, with his scarlet cloak +flaunting and fluttering like a gay tropical bird in the midst of a slowly +flying, sagging flock of depressed black crows,—you have seen their dragging, +heavy flight,—and was looked upon with admiration and love by the people as a +splendid and soldierly figure. +</p> + +<p> +We must not forget that the years which saw the settlement of Salem and Boston +were not under the riot of dress countenanced by James. Charles I was then on +the throne; and the rich and beautiful dress worn by that king had already +taken shape. +</p> + +<p> +There has been an endeavor made to attribute this dress to the stimulus, to the +influence, of Puritan feeling. Possibly some of the reaction against the +absurdities of Elizabeth and James may have helped in the establishment of this +costume; but I think the excellent taste of Charles and especially of his +queen, Henrietta Maria, who succeeded in making women’s dress wholly beautiful, +may be thanked largely for it. And we may be grateful to the painter Van Dyck; +for he had not only great taste as to dress, and genius in presenting his taste +to the public, but he had a singular appreciation of the pictorial quality of +dress and a power of making dress appropriate to the wearer. And he fully +understood its value in indicating character. +</p> + +<p> +Since Van Dyck formed and painted these fine and elegant modes, they are known +by his name,—it is the Van Dyck costume. We have ample exposition of it, for +his portraits are many. It is told that he painted forty portraits of the king +and thirty of the queen, and many of the royal children. There are nine +portraits by his hand of the Earl of Strafford, the king’s friend. He painted +the Earl of Arundel seven times. Venetia, Lady Digby, had four portraits in one +year. He painted all persons of fashion, many of distinction and dignity, and +some with no special reason for consideration or portrayal. +</p> + +<p> +The Van Dyck dress is a gallant dress, one fitted for a court, not for everyday +life, nor for a strenuous life, though men of such aims wore it. The absurdity +of Elizabeth’s day is lacking; the richness remains. It is a dress distinctly +expressive of dignity. The doublet is of some rich, silken stuff, usually satin +or velvet. The sleeves are loose and graceful; at one time they were slashed +liberally to show the fine, full, linen shirt-sleeve. Here are a number of +slashed sleeves, from portraits of the day, painted by Van Dyck. The cuffs of +the doublet are often turned back deeply to show embroidered shirt cuffs or +lace ruffles, or even linen undersleeves. The collar of the doublet was wholly +covered with a band or collar of rich lace and lawn, or all lace; this usually +with the pointed edges now termed Vandykes. Band strings of ribbon or +“snake-bone” were worn. These often had jewelled tassels. Rich tassels of pearl +were the favorite. A short cloak was thrown gracefully on one shoulder or hung +at the back. Knee-breeches edged with points or fringes or ribbons met the tops +of wide, high boots of Spanish leather, which often also turned over with +ruffles of leather or lace. Within-doors silken hose and shoes with rich +shoe-roses of lace or ribbon were worn. A great hat, broad-leafed, often of +Flemish beaver, had a splendid feather and jewelled hatband. A rich sword-belt +and gauntleted and fringed gloves were added. A peaked beard with small +upturned mustache formed a triangle, with the mouth in the centre, as in the +portrait of General Waller. The hair curled loosely in the neck, and was +rarely, I think, powdered. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="SlashedSleevestempCharlesI"></a> +<img src="images/066.jpg" alt="Slashed Sleeves" /> +<p class="caption">Slashed Sleeves, <i>temp</i>. Charles I. +</p></div> + +<p> +Other great painters besides Van Dyck were fortunately in England at the time +this dress was worn, and the king was a patron and appreciator of art. Hence +they were encouraged in their work; and every form and detail of this beautiful +costume is fully depicted for us. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>DRESS OF THE NEW ENGLAND MOTHERS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Nowe my deare hearte let me parlye a little with thee about trifles, for +when I am present with thee, my speeche is preiudiced by thy presence which +drawes my mind from itselfe; I suppose now, upon thy unkles cominge there wilbe +advisinge &; counsellinge of all hands; and amongst many I know there wilbe +some, that wilbe provokinge thee, in these indifferent things, as matter of +apparell, fashions and other circumstances; I hould it a rule of Christian +wisdome in all things to follow the soberest examples; I confesse that there be +some ornaments which for Virgins and Knights Daughters &;c may be comly and +tollerrable which yet in soe great a change as thine is, may well admitt a +change allso; I will medle with noe particulars neither doe I thinke it shall +be needfull; thine own wisdome and godliness shall teach thee sufficiently what +to doe in such things. I knowe thou wilt not grieve me for trifles. Let me +intreate thee (my sweet Love) to take all in good part.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—JOHN WINTHROP TO MARGARET TYNDALE, 1616. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>DRESS OF THE NEW ENGLAND MOTHERS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="95" height="92" src="images/initiali.jpg" alt="I" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +have expressed a doubt that the dress of Cavalier and Puritan varied as much as +has been popularly believed; I feel sure that the dress of Puritan women did +not differ from the attire of women of quiet life who remained in the Church of +England; nor did it vary materially either in form or quality from the attire +of the sensible followers of court life. It simply did not extend to the +extreme of the mode in gay color, extravagance, or grotesqueness. In the first +severity of revolt over the dissoluteness of English life which had shown so +plainly in the extravagance and absurdity of English court dress, many persons +of deep thought (especially men), both of the Church of England and of the +Puritan faith, expressed their feeling by a change in their dress. Doubtless +also in some the extremity of feeling extended to fanaticism. It is always thus +in reforms; the slow start becomes suddenly a violent rush which needs to be +retarded and moderated, and it always is moderated. I have referred to one +exhibition of bigotry in regard to dress which is found in the annals of +Puritanism; it is detailed in the censure and attempt at restraint of the dress +of Madam Johnson, the wife of the Rev. Francis Johnson, the pastor of the +exiles to Holland. +</p> + +<p> +There is a tradition that Parson Johnson was one of the Marprelate brotherhood, +who certainly deserved the imprisonment they received, were it only for their +ill-spelling and ill-use of their native tongue. The Marprelate pamphlet before +me as I write had an author who could not even spell the titles of the prelates +it assailed; but called them “parsones, fyckers and currats,” the latter two +names being intended for vicars and curates. The story of Madam Johnson’s +revolt, and her triumph, is preserved to us in such real and earnest language, +and was such a vital thing to the actors in the little play, that it seems +almost irreverent to regard it as a farce, yet none to-day could read of it +without a sense of absurdity, and we may as well laugh frankly and freely at +the episode. +</p> + +<p> +When the protagonist of this Puritan comedy entered the stage, she was a +widow—Tomison or Thomasine Boyes, a “warm” widow, as the saying of the day ran, +that is, warm with a comfortable legacy of ready money. She was a young widow, +and she was handsome. At any rate, it was brought up against her when events +came to a climax; it was testified in the church examination or trial that “men +called her a bouncing girl,” as if she could help that! Husband Boyes had been +a haberdasher, and I fancy she got both her finery and her love of finery in +his shop. And it was told with all the petty terms of scandal-mongering that +might be heard in a small shop in a small English town to-day; it was told very +gravely that the “clarkes in the shop” compared her for her pride in apparel to +the wife of the Bishop of London, and it was affirmed that she stood “gazing, +braving, and vaunting in shop doores.” +</p> + +<p> +Now this special complaint against the Widow Boyes, that she stood braving and +vaunting in shop doors, was not a far-fetched attack brought as a novelty of +tantalizing annoyance; it touches in her what was one of the light carriages of +the day, which were so detestable to sober and thoughtful folk, an odious +custom specified by Stubbes in his <i>Anatomy of Abuses</i>. He writes thus of +London women, the wives of merchants:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Othersome spend the greater part of the daie in sittyng at the doore, to shewe +their braveries, to make knowen their beauties, to behold the passers by; to +view the coast, to see fashions, and to acquaint themselves of the bravest +fellows—for, if not for these causes, I know no other causes why they should +sitt at their doores—as many doe from Morning till Noon, from Noon till Night.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Other writers give other reasons for this “vaunting.” We learn that “merchants’ +wives had seats built a purpose” to sit in, in order to lure customers. Marston +in <i>The Dutch Courtesan</i> says:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“His wife’s a proper woman—that she is! She has been as proper a woman as any +in the Chepe. She paints now, and yet she keeps her husband’s old customers to +him still. In troth, a fine-fac’d wife in a wainscot-carved seat, is a worthy +ornament to any tradesman’s shop. And an attractive one I’le warrant.”<br/> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This handsome, buxom, bouncing widow fell in love with Pastor Johnson, and he +with her, while he was “a prisoner in the Clink,” he having been thrown therein +by the Archbishop of Canterbury for his persistent preaching of Puritanism. +Many of his friends “thought this not a good match” for him at any time; and +all deemed it ill advised for a man in prison to pledge himself in matrimony to +any one. And soon zealous and meddlesome Brother George Johnson took a hand in +advice and counsel, with as high a hand as if Francis had been a child instead +of a man of thirty-two, and a man of experience as well, and likewise older +than George. +</p> + +<p> +George at first opened warily, saying in his letters that “he was very loth to +contrary his brother;” still Brother Francis must be sensible that this widow +was noted for her pride and vanity, her light and garish dress, and that it +would give great offence to all Puritans if he married her, and “it (the vanity +and extravagance, etc.) should not be refrained.” There was then some apparent +concession and yielding on the widow’s part, for George for a time “sett down +satysfyed”; when suddenly, to his “great grief” and discomfiture, he found that +his brother had been “inveigled and overcarried,” and the sly twain had been +married secretly in prison. +</p> + +<p> +It must be remembered that this was in the last years of Elizabeth’s reign, in +1596, when the laws were rigid in attempts at limitation of dress, as I shall +note later in this chapter. But there were certain privileges of large estate, +even if the owner were of mean birth; and Madam Johnson certainly had money +enough to warrant her costly apparel, and in ready cash also, from Husband +Boyes. But in the first good temper and general good will of the honeymoon she +“obeyed”; she promised to dress as became her husband’s condition, which would +naturally mean much simpler attire. He was soon in very bad case for having +married without permission of the archbishop, and was still more closely +confined within-walls; but even while he lingered in prison, Brother George saw +with anguish that the bride’s short obedience had ended. She appeared in “more +garish and proud apparell” than he had ever before seen upon the +widow,—naturally enough for a bride,—even the bride of a bridegroom in prison; +but he “dealt with her that she would refrain”—poor, simple man! She dallied +on, tantalizing him and daring him, and she was very “bold in inviting proof,” +but never quitting her bridal finery for one moment; so George read to her with +emphasis, as a final and unconquerable weapon, that favorite wail of all men +who would check or reprove an extravagant woman, namely, Isaiah iii, 16 <i>et +seq</i>., the chapter called by Mercy Warren +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“... An antiquated page<br/> +That taught us the threatenings of an Hebrew sage<br/> +Gainst wimples, mantles, curls and crisping pins.” +</p> + +<p> +I wonder how many Puritan parsons have preached fatuously upon those verses! +how many defiant women have had them read to them—and how many meek ones! I +knew a deacon’s wife in Worcester, some years ago, who asked for a new pair of +India-rubber overshoes, and in pious response her frugal partner slapped open +the great Bible at this favorite third chapter of the lamenting and threatening +prophet, and roared out to his poor little wife, sitting meekly before him in +calico gown and checked apron, the lesson of the haughty daughters of Zion +walking with stretched-forth necks and tinkling feet; of their chains and +bracelets and mufflers; their bonnets and rings and rich jewels; their mantles +and wimples and crisping-pins; their fair hoods and veils—oh, how she must have +longed for an Oriental husband! +</p> + +<p> +Petulant with his new sister-in-law’s successful evasions of his readings, his +letters, and his advice, his instructions, his pleadings, his commands, and +“full of sauce and zeal” like Elnathan, George Johnson, in emulation of the +prophet Isaiah, made a list of the offences of this London “daughter of Zion,” +wrote them out, and presented them to the congregation. She wore “3, 4, or even +5 gold rings at one time” Then likewise “her Busks and ye Whalebones at her +Brest were soe manifest that many of ye Saints were greeved thereby.” She was +asked to “pull off her Excessive Deal of Lace.” And she was fairly implored to +“exchange ye Schowish Hatt for a sober Taffety or Felt.” She was ordered +severely “to discontinue Whalebones,” and to “quit ye great starcht Ruffs, ye +Muske, and ye Rings.” And not to wear her bodice tied to her petticoat “as men +do their doublets to their hose contrary to I Thessalonians, V, 22.” And a +certain stomacher or neckerchief he plainly called “abominable and loathsome.” +A “schowish Velvet Hood,” such as only “the richest, finest and proudest sort +should use,” was likewise beyond endurance, almost beyond forgiveness, and +other “gawrish gear gave him grave greevance.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._William_Clark."></a> +<img src="images/075.jpg" alt="Mrs. William Clark." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. William Clark. +</p></div> + +<p> +But here the young husband interfered, as it was high time he should; and he +called his brother “fantasticall, fond, ignorant, anabaptisticall and such +like,” though what the poor Anabaptists had to do with such dress quarrels I +know not. George’s cautious reference in his letter to the third verse of the +third chapter of Jeremiah made the parson call it “the Abhominablest Letter +ever was written.” George, a bit frightened, answered pacificatorily that he +noted of late that “the excessive lace upon the sleeve of her dress had a Cover +drawn upon it;” that the stomacher was not “so gawrish, so low, and so +spitz-fashioned as it was wont to be”; nor was her hat “so topishly set,”—and +he expressed pious gladness at the happy change, “hoping more would +follow,”—and for a time all did seem subdued. But soon another meddlesome young +man became “greeved” (did ever any one hear of such a set of silly, grieving +fellows?); and seeing “how heavily the young gentleman took it,” stupid George +must interfere again, to be met this time very boldly by the bouncing girl +herself, who, he writes sadly, answered him in a tone “very peert and coppet.” +“Coppet” is a delightful old word which all our dictionaries have missed; it +signifies impudent, saucy, or, to be precise, “sassy,” which we all know has a +shade more of meaning. “Peert and coppet” is a delightful characterization. +George refused to give the sad young complainer’s name, who must have been well +ashamed of himself by this time, and was then reproached with being a +“forestaller,” a “picker,” and a “quarrelous meddler”—and with truth. +</p> + +<p> +During the action of this farce, all had gone from London into exile in +Holland. Then came the sudden trip to Newfoundland and the disastrous and +speedy return to Holland again. And through the misfortunes and the exiles, the +company drew more closely together, and gentle words prevailed; George was +“sorie if he had overcarried himself”; Madam “was sure if it were to do now, +she would not so wear it.” Still, she did not offer her martinet of a +brother-in-law a room to lodge in in her house, though she had many rooms +unused, and he needed shelter, whereat he whimpered much; and soon he was +charging her again “with Muske as a sin” (musk was at that time in the very +height of fashion in France) and cavilling at her unbearable “topish hat.” Then +came long argument and sparring for months over “topishness,” which seems to +have been deemed a most offensive term. They told its nature and being; they +brought in Greek derivatives, and the pastor produced a syllogism upon the +word. And they declared that the hat in itself was not topish, but only became +so when she wore it, she being the wife of a preacher; and they disputed over +velvet and vanity; they bickered over topishness and lightness; they wrangled +about lawn coives and busks in a way that was sad to read. The pastor argued +soundly, logically, that both coives and busks might be lawfully used; whereat +one of his flock, Christopher Dickens, rose up promptly in dire fright and +dread of future extravagance among the women-saints in the line of topish hats +and coives and busks, and he “begged them not to speak so, and <i>so loud</i>, +lest it should bring <i>many inconveniences among their wives</i>.” Finally the +topish head-gear was demanded in court, which the parson declared was +“offensive”; and so they bickered on till a most unseemly hour, till <i>ten +o’clock at night</i>, as “was proved by the watchman and rattleman coming +about.” Naturally they wished to go to bed at an early hour, for religious +services began at nine; one of the complaints against the topish bride was that +she was a “slug-a-bed,” flippantly refused to rise and have her house ordered +and ready for the nine o’clock public service. The meetings were then held in +the parson’s house, and held every day; which may have been one reason why the +settlement grew poorer. It matters little what was said, or how it ended, since +it did not disrupt and disband the Holland Pilgrims. For eleven years this +stupid wrangling lasted; and it seemed imminent that the settlement would +finish with a separation, and a return of many to England. Slight events have +great power—this topish hat of a vain and pretty, a peert and coppet young +Puritan bride came near to hindering and changing the colonization of America. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lady_Mary_Armine."></a> +<img src="images/078.jpg" alt="Lady Mary Armine." /> +<p class="caption">Lady Mary Armine. +</p></div> + +<p> +I have related this episode at some length because its recounting makes us +enter into the spirit of the first Separatist settlers. It shows us too that +dress conquered zeal; it could not be “forborne” by entreaty, by reproof, by +discipline, by threats, by example. An influence, or perhaps I should term it +an echo, of this long quarrel is seen plainly by the thoughtful mind in the +sumptuary laws of the New World. Some of the articles of dress so dreaded, so +discussed in Holland, still threatened the peace of Puritanical husbands in New +England; they still dreaded many inconveniences. In 1634, the general court of +Massachusetts issued this edict:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“That no person, man or woman, shall hereafter make or buy any Apparell, either +Woolen, or Silk, or Linen, with any Lace on it, Silver, Gold, or Thread, under +the penalty of forfeiture of said clothes. Also that no person either man or +woman, shall make or buy any Slashed Clothes, other than one Slash in each +Sleeve and another in the Back. Also all Cut-works, embroideries, or Needlework +Caps, Bands or Rails, are forbidden hereafter to be made and worn under the +aforesaid Penalty; also all gold or silver Girdles Hat bands, Belts, Ruffs, +Beaver hats are prohibited to be bought and worn hereafter.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Fines were stated, also the amount of estate which released the dress-wearer +from restriction. Liberty was given to all to wear out the apparel which they +had on hand except “immoderate great sleeves, slashed apparell, immoderate +great rails, and long wings”—these being beyond endurance. +</p> + +<p> +In 1639 “immoderate great breeches, knots of riban, broad shoulder bands and +rayles, silk roses, double ruffles and capes” were forbidden to folk of low +estate. Soon the court expressed its “utter detestation and dislike,” that men +and women of “mean condition, education and calling” should take upon +themselves “the garb of gentlemen” by wearing gold and silver lace, buttons and +points at the knee, or “walk in great boots,” or women of the same low rank to +wear silk or tiffany hoods or scarfs. There were likewise orders that no short +sleeves should be worn “whereby the nakedness of the arms may be discovered”; +women’s sleeves were not to be more than half an ell wide; long hair and +immodest laying out of the hair and wearing borders of hair were abhorrent. +Poor folk must not appear with “naked breasts and arms; or as it were pinioned +with superstitious ribbons on hair and apparell.” Tailors who made garments for +servants or children, richer than the garments of the parents or masters of +these juniors, were to be fined. Similar laws were passed in Connecticut and +Virginia. I know of no one being “psented” under these laws in Virginia, but in +Connecticut and Massachusetts both men and women were fined. In 1676, in +Northampton, thirty-six young women at one time were brought up for overdress +chiefly in hoods; and an amusing entry in the court record is that one of them, +Hannah Lyman, appeared in the very hood for which she was fined; and was +thereupon censured for “wearing silk in a fflonting manner, in an offensive +way, not only before but when she stood Psented. Not only in Ordinary but +Extraordinary times.” These girls were all fined; but six years later, when a +stern magistrate attempted a similar persecution, the indictments were quashed. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_Tub-preacher."></a> +<img src="images/081.jpg" alt="The Tub-preacher." /> +<p class="caption">The Tub-preacher. +</p></div> + +<p> +It is not unusual to find the careless observer or the superficial reader—and +writer—commenting upon the sumptuary laws of the New World as if they were +extraordinary and peculiar. There appeared in a recent American magazine a long +rehearsal of the unheard-of presumption of Puritan magistrates in their +prohibition of certain articles of dress. This writer was evidently wholly +ignorant of the existence of similar laws in England, and even of like laws in +Virginia, but railed against Winthrop and Endicott as monsters of Puritanical +arrogance and impudence. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, however, such laws had existed not only in France and England, but +since the days of the old Locrian legislation, when it was ordered that no +woman should go attended with more than one maid in the street “unless she were +drunk.” Ancient Rome and Sparta were surrounded by dress restrictions which +were broken just as were similar ones in more modern times. The Roman could +wear a robe but of a single color; he could wear in embroideries not more than +half an ounce of gold; and, with what seems churlishness he was forbidden to +ride in a carriage. At that time, just as in later days, dress was made to +emphasize class distinction, and the clergy joined with the magistrates in +denouncing extravagant dress in both men and women. The chronicles of the monks +are ever chiding men for their peaked shoes, deep sleeves and curled locks like +women, and Savonarola outdid them all in severity. The English kings and +queens, jealous of the rich dress of their opulent subjects, multiplied +restrictions, and some very curious anecdotes exist of the calm assumption by +both Elizabeth and Mary to their own wardrobe of the rich finery of some lady +at the court who displayed some new and too becoming fancy. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Old_Venice_Point_Lace."></a> +<img src="images/083.jpg" alt="Old Venice Point Lace." /> +<p class="caption">Old Venice Point Lace. +</p></div> + +<p> +Adam Smith declared it “an act of highest impertinence and presumption for +kings and rulers to pretend to watch over the earnings and expenditure of +private persons,” nevertheless this public interference lingered long, +especially under monarchies. +</p> + +<p> +These sumptuary laws of New England followed in spirit and letter similar laws +in England. Winthrop had seen the many apprentices who ran through London +streets, dressed under laws as full of details of dress as is a modern journal +of the modes. For instance, the apprentice’s head-covering must be a small, +flat, round cap, called often a bonnet—a hat like a pie-dish. The facing of the +hat could not exceed three inches in breadth in the head; nor could the hat +with band and facing cost over five shillings. His band or collar could have no +lace edge; it must be of linen not over five shillings an ell in price; and +could have no other work or ornament save “a plain hem and one stitch”—which +was a hemstitch. If he wore a ruff, it must not be over three inches wide +before it was gathered and set into the “stock.” The collar of his doublet +could have neither “point, well-bone or plait,” but must be made “close and +comely.” The stuff of his doublet and breeches could not cost over two +shillings and sixpence a yard. It could be either cloth, kersey, fustian, +sackcloth, canvas, or “English stuff”; or leather could be used. The breeches +were generally of the shape known as “round slops.” His stockings could be knit +or of cloth; but his shoes could have no polonia heels. His hair was to be cut +close, with no “tuft or lock.” +</p> + +<p> +Queen Elizabeth stood no nonsense in these things; finding that London +’prentices had adopted a certain white stitching for their collars, she put a +stop to this mild finery by ordering the first transgressor to be whipped +publicly in the hall of his company. These same laws, tinkered and altered to +suit occasions, appear for many years in English records, for years after New +England’s sumptuary laws were silenced. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding Hannah Lyman and the thirty-six vain Northampton girls, we do +not on the whole hear great complaint of extravagance in dress or deportment. +At any rate none were called bouncing girls. The portraits of men or women +certainly show no restraint as to richness in dress. Their sumptuary laws were +of less use to their day than to ours, for they do reveal to us what articles +of dress our forbears wore. +</p> + +<p> +While the Massachusetts magistrates were fussing a little over woman’s dress, +the parsons, as a whole, were remarkably silent. Of course two or three of them +could not refrain from announcing a text from Isaiah iii, 16 <i>et seq</i>., +and enlarging upon the well-worn wimples and nose jewels, and bells on their +feet, which were as much out of fashion in Massachusetts then as now. It is +such a well-rounded, ringing, colorful arraignment of woman’s follies you +couldn’t expect a parson to give it up. Every evil predicted of the prophet was +laid at the door of these demure Puritan dames,—fire and war, and caterpillars, +and even baldness, which last was really unjust. Solomon Stoddard preached on +the “Intolerable Pride in the Plantations in Clothes and Hair,” that his +parishioners “drew iniquity with a cord of vanity and sin with a cart-rope.” +The apostle Paul also furnished ample texts for the Puritan preacher. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Rebecca_Rawson."></a> +<img src="images/086.jpg" alt="Rebecca Rawson." /> +<p class="caption">Rebecca Rawson. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the eleventh chapter of Corinthians wise Paul delivered some sentences of +exhortation, of reproof, of warning to Corinthian women which I presume he +understood and perhaps Corinthian dames did, but which have been a dire puzzle +since to parsons and male members of their congregations. (I cannot think that +women ever bothered much about his words.) For instance, Archbishop Latimer, in +one of the cheerful, slangy rallies to his hearers which he called sermons, +quotes Paul’s sentence that a woman ought to have a power on her head, and +construes positively that a power is a French hood. This is certainly a +somewhat surprising notion, but I presume he knew. However, Roger Williams +deemed a power a veil; and being somewhat dictatorial in his words, albeit the +tenderest of creatures in his heart, he bade Salem women come to meeting in a +veil, telling them they should come like Sarah of old, wearing this veil as a +token of submission to their husbands. The text saith this exactly, “A woman +ought to have power on her head because of the angels,” which seems to me one +of those convenient sayings of Paul and others which can be twisted to many, to +any meanings, even to Latimer’s French hood. Old John Cotton, of course, found +ample Scripture to prove Salem women should not wear veils, and so here in this +New World, as in the Holland sojourn, the head-covering of the mothers rent in +twain the meetings of the fathers, while the women wore veils or no veils, +French hoods or beaver hats, in despite of Paul’s opinions and their husbands’ +constructions of his opinions. +</p> + +<p> +An excellent description of the Puritan women of a dissenting congregation is +in <i>Hudibras Redivivus;</i> it reads:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The good old dames among the rest<br/> +Were all most primitively drest<br/> +In stiffen-bodyed russet gowns<br/> +And on their heads old steeple crowns<br/> +With pristine pinners next their faces<br/> +Edged round with ancient scallop-laces,<br/> +Such as, my antiquary says,<br/> +Were worn in old Queen Bess’s days,<br/> +In ruffs; and fifty other ways<br/> +Their wrinkled necks were covered o’er<br/> +With whisks of lawn by granmarms wore.” +</p> + +<p> +The “old steeple crowns” over “pristine pinners” were not peculiar to the +Puritans. There was a time, in the first years of the seventeenth century, when +many Englishwomen wore steeple-crowned hats with costly hatbands. We find them +in pictures of women of the court, as well as upon the heads of Puritans. I +have a dozen prints and portraits of Englishwomen in rich dress with these +hats. The Quaker Tub-preacher, shown <a href="#The_Tub-preacher.">here</a>, +wears one. Perhaps the best known example to Americans may be seen in the +portrait of Pocahontas <a href="#Pocahontas.">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +Authentic portraits of American women who came in the <i>Mayflower</i> or in +the first ships to the Massachusetts Bay settlement, there are none to my +knowledge. Some exist which are doubtless of that day, but cannot be certified. +One preserved in Connecticut in the family of Governor Eaton shows a brown old +canvas like a Rembrandt. The subject is believed to be of the Yale family, and +the chief and most distinct feature of dress is the ruff. +</p> + +<p> +It was a time of change both of men’s and women’s neckwear. A few older women +clung to the ruffs of their youth; younger women wore bands, falling-bands, +falls, rebatoes, falling-whisks and whisks, the “fifty other ways” which could +be counted everywhere. Carlyle says:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“There are various traceable small threads of relation, interesting +reciprocities and mutabilities connecting the poor young Infant, New England, +with its old Puritan mother and her affairs, which ought to be disentangled, to +be made conspicuous by the Infant herself now she has grown big.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +These traceable threads of relation are ever of romantic interest to me, and +even when I refer to the dress of English folk I linger with pleasure with +those whose lives were connected even by the smallest thread with the Infant, +New England. One such thread of connection was in the life of Lady Mary Armine; +so I choose to give her picture <a href="#Lady_Mary_Armine.">here</a>, to +illustrate the dress, if not of a New Englander, yet of one of New England’s +closest friends. She was a noble, high-minded English gentlewoman, who gave +“even to her dying day” to the conversion of poor tawny heathen of New England. +A churchwoman by open profession, she was a Puritan in her sympathies, as were +many of England’s best hearts and souls who never left the Church of England. +She gave in one gift £500 to families of ministers who had been driven +from their pulpits in England. The Nipmuck schools at Natick and Hassamanesit +(near Grafton) were founded under her patronage. The life of this “Truly +Honourable, Very Aged and Singularly Pious Lady who dyed 1675,” was written as +a “pattern to Ladies.” Her long prosy epitaph, after enumerating the virtues of +many of the name of Mary, concludes thus:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The Army of such Ladies so Divine<br/> +This Lady said ‘I’ll follow, they Ar-mine.’<br/> +Lady Elect! in whom there did combine<br/> +So many Maries, might well say All Ar-mine.” +</p> + +<p> +A pun was a Puritan’s one jocularity; and he would pun even in an epitaph. +</p> + +<p> +It will be seen that Lady Mary Armine wears the straight collar or band, and +the black French hood which was the forerunner, then the rival, and at last the +survivor of the “sugar-loaf” beaver or felt hat,—a hood with a history, which +will have a chapter for the telling thereof. Lady Mary wears a peaked widow’s +cap under her hood; this also is a detail of much interest. +</p> + +<p> +Another portrait of this date is of Mrs. Clark (see <a +href="#Mrs._William_Clark.">here</a>). This has two singular details; namely, a +thumb-ring, which was frequently owned but infrequently painted, and a singular +bracelet, which is accurately described in the verse of Herrick, written at +that date:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I saw about her spotless wrist<br/> +Of blackest silk a curious twist<br/> +Which circumvolving gently there<br/> +Enthralled her arm as prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +I may say in passing that I have seen in portraits knots of narrow ribbon on +the wrists, both of men and women, and I am sure they had some mourning +significance, as did the knot of black on the left arm of the queen of King +James of England. +</p> + +<p> +We have in the portrait shown as a frontispiece an excellent presentment of the +dress of the Puritan woman of refinement; the dress worn by the wives of +Winthrop, Endicott, Leverett, Dudley, Saltonstall, and other gentlemen of Salem +and Boston and Plymouth. We have also the dress worn by her little child about +a year old. This portrait is of Madam Padishal. She was a Plymouth woman; and +we know from the inventories of estates that there were not so many richly +dressed women in Plymouth as in Boston and Salem. This dress of Madam +Padishal’s is certainly much richer than the ordinary attire of Plymouth dames +of that generation. +</p> + +<p> +This portrait has been preserved in Plymouth in the family of Judge Thomas, +from whom it descended to the present owner. Madam Padishal was young and +handsome when this portrait was painted. Her black velvet gown is shaped just +like the gown of Madam Rawson (shown <a href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">here</a>), of +Madam Stoddard (shown <a href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>), both Boston +women; and of the English ladies of her times. It is much richer than that of +Lady Mary Armine or Mrs. Clark. +</p> + +<p> +The gown of Madam Padishal is varied pleasingly from that of Lady Mary Armine, +in that the body is low-necked, and the lace whisk is worn over the bare neck. +The pearl necklace and ear-rings likewise show a more frivolous spirit than +that of the English dame. +</p> + +<p> +Another Plymouth portrait of very rich dress, that of Elizabeth Paddy, Mrs. +John Wensley, faces this page. The dress in this is a golden-brown brocade +under-petticoat and satin overdress. The stiff, busked stays are equal to Queen +Elizabeth’s. Revers at the edge of overdress and on the virago sleeves are now +of flame color, a Spanish pink, but were originally scarlet, I am sure. The +narrow stomacher is a beaded galloon with bright spangles and bugles. On the +hair there shows above the ears a curious ornament which resembles a band of +this galloon. There are traces of a similar ornament in Madam Rawson’s portrait +(<a href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">here</a>); and Madam Stoddard’s (<a +href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>) has some ornament over the ears. This +may have been a modification of a contemporary Dutch head-jewel. The pattern of +the lace of Elizabeth Paddy’s whisk is most distinct; it was a good costly +Flemish parchment lace like Mrs. Padishal’s. She carries a fan, and wears +rings, a pearl necklace, and ear-rings. I may say here that I have never seen +other jewels than these,—a few rings, and necklace and ear-rings of pearl. +Other necklaces seem never to have been worn. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Elizabeth_Paddy_Wensley."></a> +<img src="images/093.jpg" alt="Elizabeth Paddy Wensley." /> +<p class="caption">Elizabeth Paddy Wensley. +</p></div> + +<p> +We cannot always trust that all the jewels seen in these portraits were real, +or that the sitter owned as many as represented. A bill is in existence where a +painter charged ten shillings extra for bestowing a gold and pearl necklace +upon his complaisant subject. In this case, however, the extra charge was to +pay for the gold paint or gold-leaf used for gilding the painted necklace. In +the amusing letters of Lady Sussex to Lord Verney are many relating to her +portrait by Van Dyck. She consented to the painting very unwillingly, saying, +“it is money ill bestowed.” She writes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Put Sr Vandyke in remembrance to do my pictuer well. I have seen sables with +the clasp of them set with diamonds—if those I am pictured in were done so, I +think it would look very well in the pictuer. If Sr Vandyke thinks it would do +well I pray desier him to do all the clawes so. I do not mene the end of the +tales but only the end of the other peces, they call them clawes I think.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This gives a glimpse of a richness of detail in dress even beyond our own day, +and one which I commend to some New York dame of vast wealth, to have the claws +of her sables set with diamonds. She writes later in two letters of some weeks’ +difference in date:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I am glad you have prefalede with Sr Vandyke to make my pictuer leaner, for +truly it was too fat. If he made it farer it will bee to my credit. I am glad +you have made Sr Vandyke mind my dress.” ... +</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I am glad you have got home my pictuer, but I doubt he has made it lener or +farer, but too rich in jewels, I am sure; but ’tis no great matter for another +age to thinke mee richer than I was. I wish it could be mended in the face for +sure ’tis very ugly. The pictuer is very ill-favourede, makes me quite out of +love with myselfe, the face is so bigg and so fat it pleases mee not at all. It +looks like one of the Windes puffinge—(but truly I think it is lyke the +original).” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +I am struck by a likeness in workmanship in the portraits of these two Plymouth +dames, and the portrait of Madam Stoddard (<a +href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>), and succeeding illustrations of the +Gibbes children. I do wish I knew whether these were painted by Tom Child—a +painter-stainer and limner referred to by Judge Samuel Sewall in his Diary, who +was living in Boston at that time. Perhaps we may find something, some day, to +tell us this. I feel sure these were all painted in America, especially the +portraits of the Gibbes children. A great many coats-of-arms were made in +Boston at this time, and I expect the painter-stainer made them. All painting +then was called coloring. A man would say in 1700, “Archer has set us a fine +example of expense; he has colored his house, and has even laid one room in +oils; he had the painter-stainer from Boston to do it—the man who limns faces, +and does pieces, and tricks coats.” This was absolutely correct English, but we +would hardly know that the man meant: “Archer has been extravagant enough; he +has painted his house, and even painted the woodwork of one room. He had the +artist from Boston to do the work—the painter of faces and full-lengths, who +makes coats-of-arms.” +</p> + +<p> +It is hard to associate the very melancholy countenance shown <a +href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">here</a> with a tradition of youth and beauty. Had the +portrait been painted after a romance of sorrow came to this young maid, +Rebecca Rawson, we could understand her expression; but it was painted when she +was young and beautiful, so beautiful that she caught the eye and the wandering +affections of a wandering gentleman, who announced himself as the son of one +nobleman and kinsman of many others, and persuaded this daughter of Secretary +Edward Rawson to marry him, which she did in the presence of forty witnesses. +This young married pair then went to London, where the husband deserted +Rebecca, who found to her horror that she was not his wife, as he had at least +one English wife living. Alone and proud, Rebecca Rawson supported herself and +her child by painting on glass; and when at last she set out to return to her +childhood’s home, her life was lost at sea by shipwreck. +</p> + +<p> +The portrait of another Boston woman of distinction, Mrs. Simeon Stoddard, is +given <a href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>. I will attempt to explain who +Mrs. Simeon Stoddard was. She was Mr. Stoddard’s third widow and the third +widow also of Peter Sergeant, builder of the Province House. Mr. Sergeant’s +second wife had been married twice before she married him, and Simeon +Stoddard’s father had four wives, all having been widows when he married them. +Lastly, our Mrs. Simeon Stoddard, triumphing over death and this gallimaufry of +Boston widows, took a fourth husband, the richest merchant in town, Samuel +Shrimpton. Having had in all four husbands of wealth, and with them and their +accumulation of widows there must have been as a widow’s mite an immense +increment and inheritance of clothing (for clothing we know was a valued +bequest), it is natural that we find her very richly dressed and with a +distinctly haughty look upon her handsome face as becomes a conqueror both of +men and widows. +</p> + +<p> +The straight, lace collar, such as is worn by Madam Padishal and shown in all +portraits of this date, is, I believe, a whisk. +</p> + +<p> +The whisk was a very interesting and to us a puzzling article of attire, +through the lack of precise description. It was at first called the +falling-whisk, and is believed to have been simply the handsome, lace-edged, +stiff, standing collar turned down over the shoulders. This collar had been +both worn with the ruff and worn after it, and had been called a fall. +Quicherat tells that the “whisk” came into universal use in 1644, when very +low-necked gowns were worn, and that it was simply a kerchief or fichu to cover +the neck. +</p> + +<p> +We have a few side-lights to help us, as to the shape of the whisk, in the form +of advertisements of lost whisks. In one case (1662) it is “a cambric whisk +with Flanders lace, about a quarter of a yard broad, and a lace turning up +about an inch broad, with a stock in the neck and a strap hanging down before.” +And in 1664 “A Tiffany Whisk with a great Lace down and a little one up, of +large Flowers, and open work; with a Roul for the Head and Peak.” The roll and +peak were part of a cap. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard."></a> +<img src="images/098.jpg" alt="Mrs. Simeon Stoddard." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Simeon Stoddard. +</p></div> + +<p> +These portraits show whisks in slightly varying forms. We have the “broad Lace +lying down” in the handsome band at the shoulder; the “little lace standing up” +was a narrow lace edging the whisk at the throat or just above the broad lace. +Sometimes the whisk was wholly of mull or lawn. The whisk was at first wholly a +part of woman’s attire, then for a time it was worn, in modified form, by men. +</p> + +<p> +Madam Pepys had a white whisk in 1660 and then a “noble lace whisk.” The same +year she bought hers in London, Governor Berkeley paid half a pound for a +tiffany whisk in Virginia. Many American women, probably all well-dressed +women, had them. They are also seen on French portraits of the day. One of +Madam de Maintenon shows precisely the same whisk as this of Madam Padishal’s, +tied in front with tiny knots of ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +It will be noted that Madam Padishal has black lace frills about the upper +portion of the sleeve, at the arm-scye. English portraits previous to the year +1660 seldom show black lace, and portraits are not many of the succeeding forty +years which have black lace, so in this American portrait this detail is +unusual. The wearing of black lace came into a short popularity in the year +1660, through compliment to the Spanish court upon the marriage of the young +French king, Louis XIV, with the Infanta. The English court followed promptly. +Pepys gloried in “our Mistress Stewart in black and white lace.” It interests +me to see how quickly American women had the very latest court fashions and +wore them even in uncourtlike America; such distinct novelties as black lace. +Contemporary descriptions of dress are silent as to it by the year 1700, and it +disappears from portraits until a century later, when we have pretty black lace +collars, capes and fichus, as may be seen on the portraits of Mrs. Sedgwick, +Mrs. Waldo, and others later in this book. These first black laces of 1660 are +Bayeux laces, which are precisely like our Chantilly laces of to-day. This +ancient piece of black lace has been carefully preserved in an old New York +family. A portrait of the year 1690 has a black lace frill like the Maltese +laces of to-day, with the same guipure pattern. But such laces were not made in +Malta until after 1833. So it must have been a guipure lace of the kind known +in England as parchment lace. This was made in the environs of Paris, but was +seldom black, so this was a rare bit. It was sometimes made of gold and silver +thread. Parchment lace was a favorite lace of Mary, Queen of Scots, and through +her good offices was peddled in England by French lace-makers. The black moiré +hoods of Italian women sometimes had a narrow edge of black lace, and a little +was brought to England on French hoods, but as a whole black lace was seldom +seen or known. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Ancient_Black_Lace."></a> +<img src="images/100.jpg" alt="Ancient Black Lace." /> +<p class="caption">Ancient Black Lace. +</p></div> + +<p> +An evidence of the widespread extent of fashions even in that day, a proof that +English and French women and American women (when American women there were +other than the native squaws) all dressed alike, is found in comparing +portraits. An interesting one from the James Jackson Jarvis Collection is now +in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. It is of an unknown woman and by an unknown +artist, and is simply labelled “Of the School of Susteman.” But this unknown +Frenchwoman has a dress as precisely like Madam Padishal’s and Madam Stoddard’s +as are Doucet’s models of to-day like each other. All have the whisk of rich +straight-edged lace, and the tiny knots of velvet ribbon. All have the sleeve +knots, but the French portrait is gay in narrow red and buff ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless many have formed their notion of Puritan dress from the imaginary +pictures of several popular modern artists. It can plainly be seen by any one +who examines the portraits in this book that they are little like these modern +representations. The single figures called “Priscilla” and “Rose Standish” are +well known. The former is the better in costume, and could the close dark cloth +or velvet hood with turned-back band, and plain linen edge displayed beneath, +be exchanged for the horseshoe shaped French hood which was then and many years +later the universal head-wear, the verisimilitude would be increased. This hood +is shown on the portraits of Madam Rawson, Madam Stoddard, Mistress Paddy, and +others in this book. Rose Standish’s cap is a very pretty one, much prettier +than the French hood, but I do not find it like any cap in English portraits of +that day. Nor have I seen her picturesque sash. I do not deny the existence in +portraits of 1620 of this cap and sash; I simply say that I have never found +them myself in the hundreds of English portraits, effigies, etc., that I have +examined. +</p> + +<p> +It will be noted that the women in the modern pictures all wear aprons. I think +this is correct as they are drawn in their everyday dress, but it will be noted +that none of these portraits display an apron; nor was an apron part of any +rich dress in the seventeenth century. The reign of the apron had been in the +sixteenth century, and it came in again with Anne. Of course every woman in +Massachusetts used aprons. +</p> + +<p> +Early inventories of the effects of emigrant dames contain many an item of +those housewifely garments. Jane Humphreys, of Dorchester, Massachusetts, had +in her good wardrobe, in 1668, “2 Blew aprons, A White Holland Apron with a +Small Lace at the bottom. A White Holland Apron with two breathes in it. My +best white apron. My greene apron.” +</p> + +<p> +In the pictures, <i>The Return of the Mayflower</i> and <i>The Pilgrim +Exiles</i>, the masculine dress therein displayed is very close to that of the +real men of the times. The great power of these pictures is, after all, not in +the dress, but in the expression of the faces. The artist has portrayed the +very spirit of pure religious feeling, self-denial, home-longing, and sadness +of exile which we know must have been imprinted on those faces. +</p> + +<p> +The lack of likeness in the women’s dress is more through difference of figure +and carriage and an indescribable cut of the garments than in detail, except in +one adjunct, the sleeve, which is wholly unlike the seventeenth-century sleeve +in these portraits. I have ever deemed the sleeve an important part both of a +man’s coat and a woman’s gown. The tailor in the old play, <i>The Maid of the +Mill</i>, says, “O Sleeve! O Sleeve! I’ll study all night, madam, to magnify +your sleeves!” By its inelegant shape a garment may be ruined. By its grace it +accents the beauty of other portions of the apparel. In these pictures of +Puritan attire, it has proved able to make or mar the likeness to the real +dress. It is now a component part of both outer and inner garment. It was +formerly extraneous. +</p> + +<p> +In the reign of Henry VIII, the sleeve was generally a separate article of +dress and the most gorgeous and richly ornamented portion of the dress. Outer +and inner sleeves were worn by both men and women, for their doublets were +sleeveless. Elizabeth gradually banished the outer hanging sleeve, though she +retained the detached sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Sleeves had grown gravely offensive to Puritans; the slashing was excessive. A +Massachusetts statute of 1634 specifies that “No man or woman shall make or buy +any slashed clothes other than one slash in each sleeve and another in the +back. Men and women shall have liberty to wear out such apparell as they now +are provided of except the immoderate great sleeves and slashed apparel.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Virago-sleeve."></a> +<img src="images/104.jpg" alt="Virago-sleeve." /> +<p class="caption">Virago-sleeve. +</p></div> + +<p> +Size and slashes were both held to be a waste of good cloth. “Immoderate great +sleeves” could never be the simple coat sleeve with cuff in which our modern +artists are given to depicting Virginian and New England dames. Doubtless the +general shape of the dress was simple enough, but the sleeve was the only part +which was not close and plain and unornamented. I have found no close coat +sleeves with cuffs upon any old American portraits. I recall none on English +portraits. You may see them, though rarely, in England under hanging sleeves +upon figures which have proved valuable conservators of fashion, albeit sombre +of design and rigid of form, namely, effigies in stone or metal upon old tombs; +these not after the year 1620, though these are really a small “leg-of-mutton” +sleeve being gathered into the arm-scye. A beautiful brass in a church on the +Isle of Wight is dated 1615. This has long, hanging sleeves edged with leaflike +points of cut-work; cuffs of similar work turn back from the wrists of the +undersleeves. A <i>Satyr</i> by Fitzgeffrey, published the same year, complains +that the wrists of women and men are clogged with bush-points, ribbons, or +rebato-twists. “Double cufts” is an entry in a Plymouth inventory—which +explains itself. In the hundreds of inventories I have investigated I have +never seen half a dozen entries of cuffs. The two or three I have found have +been specified as “lace cuffs.” +</p> + +<p> +George Fox, the founder of Quakerism, wrote with a vivid pen; one of his own +followers said with severity, “He paints high.” Some of his denunciations of +the dress of his day afford a very good notion of the peculiarities of +contemporary costume; though he may be read with this caution in mind. He +writes deploringly of women’s sleeves (in the year 1654); it will be noted that +he refers to double cuffs:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The women having their cuffs double under and above, like a butcher with his +white sleeves, their ribands tied about their hands, and three or four gold +laces about their clothes.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="NinondelEnclos"></a> +<img src="images/106.jpg" alt="Ninon de l’Enclos." /> +<p class="caption">Ninon de l’Enclos. +</p></div> + +<p> +There were three generations of English heralds named Holme, all genealogists, +and all artists; they have added much to our knowledge of old English dress. +Randle Holme, the Chester herald, lived in the reign of Charles II, and +increased a collection of manuscript begun by his grandfather and now forming +part of the Harleian Collection in the British Museum. He wrote also the +<i>Academy of Armoury</i>, published in 1688, and made a vast number of +drawings for it, as well as for his other works. His note-books of drawings are +preserved. In one of them he gives drawings of the sleeve which is found on +every seventeenth-century portrait of American women which I have ever seen. He +calls this a virago-sleeve. It was worn in Queen Elizabeth’s day, but was a +French fashion. It is gathered very full in the shoulder and again at the +wrist, or at the forearm. At intervals between, it is drawn in by +gathering-strings of narrow ribbons, or ferret, which are tied in a pretty knot +or rose on the upper part of the sleeve. One from a French portrait is given <a +href="#Virago-sleeve.">here</a>. Madam Ninon de l’Enclos also wears one. This +gathering may be at the elbow, forming thus two puffs, or there may be several +such drawing-strings. I have seen a virago-sleeve with five puffs. It is a fine +decorative sleeve, not always shapely, perhaps, but affording in the pretty +knots of ribbon some relief to the severity of the rest of the dress. +</p> + +<p> +Stubbes wrote, “Some have sleeves cut up the arm, drawn out with sundry +colours, pointed with silk ribbands, and very gallantly tied with love knotts.” +It was at first a convention of fashion, and it lingered long in some +modification, that wherever there was a slash there was a knot of ribbon or a +bunch of tags or aglets. This in its origin was really that the slash might be +tied together. Ribbon knots were much worn; the early days of the great court +of Louis XIV saw an infinite use of ribbons for men and women. When, in the +closing years of the century, rows of these knots were placed on either side of +the stiff busk with bars of ribbon forming a stomacher, they were called +<i>echelles</i>, ladders. <i>The Ladies’ Dictionary</i> (1694) says they were +“much in request.” +</p> + +<p> +This virago-sleeve was worn by women of all ages and by children, both boys and +girls. A virago-sleeve is worn by Rebecca Rawson (<a +href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">here</a>), and by Mrs. Simeon Stoddard (<a +href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>), by Madam Padishal and by her little +girl, and by the Gibbes child shown later in the book. +</p> + +<p> +A carved figure of Anne Stotevill (1631) is in Westminster Abbey. Her dress is +a rich gown slightly open in front at the foot. It has ornamental hooks, or +frogs, with a button at each end—these are in groups of three, from chin to +toe. Four groups of three frogs each, on both sides, make twenty-four, thus +giving forty-eight buttons. A stiff ruff is at the neck, and similar smaller +ones at the wrist. She wears a French hood with a loose scarf over it. She has +a very graceful virago-sleeve with handsome knots of ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +It is certain that men’s sleeves and women’s sleeves kept ever close company. +Neither followed the other; they walked abreast. If a woman’s sleeves were +broad and scalloped, so was the man’s. If the man had a tight and narrow +sleeve, so did his wife. When women had virago-sleeves, so did men. Even in the +nineteenth century, at the first coming of leg-of-mutton sleeves in 1830 <i>et +seq</i>., dandies’ sleeves were gathered full at the armhole. In the second +reign of these vast sleeves a few years ago, man had emancipated himself from +the reign of woman’s fashions, and his sleeves remained severely plain. +</p> + +<p> +Small invoices of fashionable clothing were constantly being sent across seas. +There were sent to and from England and other countries “ventures,” which were +either small lots of goods sent on speculation to be sold in the New World, or +a small sum given by a private individual as a “venture,” with instructions to +purchase abroad anything of interest or value that was salable. To take charge +of these petty commercial transactions, there existed an officer, now obsolete, +known as a supercargo. It is told that one Providence ship went out with the +ventures of one hundred and fifty neighbors on board—that is, one hundred and +fifty persons had some money or property at stake on the trip. Three hundred +ventures were placed with another supercargo. Sometimes women sent sage from +their gardens, or ginseng if they could get it. A bunch of sage paid in China +for a porcelain tea-set. Along the coast, women ventured food-supplies,—cheese, +eggs, butter, dried apples, pickles, even hard gingerbread; another sent a +barrel of cider vinegar. Clothes in small lots were constantly being bought and +sold on a venture. From London, in November, 1667, Walter Banesely sent as a +venture to William Pitkin in Hartford these articles of clothing with their +prices:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>£</td><td>s.</td></tr> +<tr><td> “1 Paire Pinck Colour’d mens hose</td><td>1</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>10 Paire Mens Silke Hose, 17s per pair</td><td>8</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>10 Paire Womens Silke Hose, 16s per pair</td><td>1</td><td> 12</td></tr> +<tr><td> 10 Paire Womens Green Hose</td><td>6</td><td> 10</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Pinck Colour’d Stomacher made of Knotts</td><td>3</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Pinck Colour’d Wastcote</td></tr> <tr><td>A Black Sute of Padisuay. Hatt,</td></tr> +<tr><td>Hatt band, Shoo knots &; trunk.</td></tr> +<tr><td> The wastcote and stomacher are a</td></tr> +<tr><td> Venture of my wife’s; the Silke Stockens mine own.”</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +There remains another means of information of the dress of Puritan women in +what was the nearest approach to a collection of fashion-plates which the times +afforded. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lady_Catharina_Howard."></a> +<img src="images/110.jpg" alt="Lady Catharina Howard." /> +<p class="caption">Lady Catharina Howard. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the year 1640 a collection of twenty-six pictures of Englishwomen was issued +by one Wenceslas Hollar, an engraver and drawing-master, with this title, +<i>Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus. The severall Habits of Englishwomen, from the +Nobilitie to the Country Woman As they are in these Times.</i> These bear the +same relation to portraits showing what was really worn, as do fashion-plates +to photographs. They give us the shapes of gowns, bonnets, etc., yet are not +precisely the real thing. The value of this special set is found in three +points: First, the drawings confirm the testimony of Lely, Van Dyck, and other +artists; they prove how slightly Van Dyck idealized the costume of his sitters. +Second, they give representations of folk in the lower walks of life; such folk +were not of course depicted in portraits. Third, the drawings are full length, +which the portraits are not. Four of these drawings are reduced and shown <a +href="#Costumes_of_Englishwomen_of_the_Seventeenth_Century.">here</a>. I give +<a href="#A_Puritan_Dame.">here</a> the one entitled <i>The Puritan Woman</i>, +though it is one of the most disappointing in the whole collection. It is such +a negative presentation; so little marked detail or even associated evidence is +gained from it. I had a baffled thought after examining it that I knew less of +Puritan dress than without it. I see that they gather up their gowns for +walking after a mode known in later years as washerwoman style. And by that +very gathering up we lose what the drawing might have told us; namely, how the +gowns were shaped in the back; how attached to the waist or bodice; and how the +bodice was shaped at the waist, whether it had a straight belt, whether it was +pointed, whether slashed in tabs or laps like a samare. The sleeve, too, is +concealed, and the kerchief hides everything else. We know these kerchiefs were +worn among the “fifty other ways,” for some portraits have them; but the whisk +was far more common. Lady Catharina Howard, aged eleven in the year 1646, was +drawn by Hollar in a kerchief. +</p> + +<p> +There had been some change in the names of women’s attire in twenty years, +since 1600, when the catalogue of the Queen’s wardrobe was made. Exclusive of +the Coronation, Garter, Parliament, and mourning robes, it ran thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Robes.<br/> +Petticoats.<br/> +French gowns. <br/> +Cloaks.<br/> +Round gowns. <br/> +Safeguards.<br/> +Loose gowns.<br/> +Jupes.<br/> +Kirtles.<br/> +Doublets.<br/> +Foreparts.<br/> +Lap mantles.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In her New Year’s gifts were also, “strayt-bodyed gowns, trayn-gowns, +waist-robes, night rayls, shoulder cloaks, inner sleeves, round kirtles.” She +also had nightgowns and jackets, and underwear, hose, and various forms of +foot-gear. Many of these garments never came to America. Some came under new +names. Many quickly disappeared from wardrobes. I never read in early American +inventories of robes, either French robes or plain robes. Round gowns, loose +gowns, petticoats, cloaks, safeguards, lap mantles, sleeves, nightgowns, +nightrails, and night-jackets continued in wear. +</p> + +<p> +I have never found the word forepart in this distinctive signification nor the +word kirtle; though our modern writers of historical novels are most liberal of +kirtles to their heroines. It is a pretty, quaint name, and ought to have +lingered with us; but “what a deformed thief this Fashion is”—it will not leave +with us garment or name that we like simply because it pleases us. +</p> + +<p> +Doublets were worn by women. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The Women also have doublets and Jerkins as men have, buttoned up the brest, +and made with Wings, Welts and Pinions on shoulder points as men’s apparell is +for all the world, &; though this be a kind of attire appropriate only to +Man yet they blush not to wear it.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Anne Hibbins, the <i>witch</i>, had a black satin doublet among other +substantial attire. +</p> + +<p> +A fellow-barrister of Governor John Winthrop, Sergeant Erasmus Earle, a most +uxorious husband, was writing love-letters to his wife Frances, who lived out +of London, at the same time that Winthrop was writing to Margaret Winthrop. +Earle was much concerned over a certain doublet he had ordered for his wife. He +had bought the blue bayes for this garment in two pieces, and he could not +decide whether the shorter piece should go into the sleeve or the body, whether +it should have skirts or not. If it did not, then he had bought too much silver +lace, which troubled him sorely. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret Winthrop had better instincts; to her husband’s query as to sending +trimming for her doublet and gown, she answers, “<i>When I see the cloth</i> I +will send word what trimming will serve;” and she writes to London, insisting +on “the civilest fashion now in use,” and for Sister Downing, who is still in +England, to give Tailor Smith directions “that he may make it the better.” Mr. +Smith sent scissors and a hundred needles and the like homely gifts across seas +as “tokens” to various members of the Winthrop household, showing his friendly +intimacy with them all. For many years after America was settled we find no +evidence that women’s garments were ever made by mantua-makers. All the bills +which exist are from tailors. One of William Sweatland for work done for +Jonathan Corwin of Salem is in the library of the American Antiquarian +Society:— +</p> + +<table> +<tr><td></td><td>£</td><td>s.</td><td>d.</td></tr> +<tr><td>“Sept. 29, 1679. To plaiting a gown for Mrs.</td><td></td><td>3</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing a Childs Coat</td><td></td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing a Scarlet petticoat with Silver Lace for Mrs.</td><td></td><td>9</td></tr> +<tr><td>For new makeing a plush somar for Mrs.</td><td></td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Dec. 22, 1679. For makeing a somar for your Maide</td><td></td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mar. 10, 1679. To a yard of Callico</td><td></td><td>2</td></tr> +<tr><td>To 1 Douzen and 1/2 of silver buttons</td><td></td><td>1</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>To Thread</td><td></td><td></td><td>4</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing a broad cloth hatte</td><td></td><td>14</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing a haire Camcottcoat</td><td></td><td>9</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing new halfsleeves to a silk Coascett</td><td></td><td>1</td></tr> +<tr><td>March 25. To altering and fitting a paire of Stays for Mrs</td><td></td><td>1</td></tr> +<tr><td>Ap. 2, 1680, to makeing a Gowne for ye Maide</td><td></td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>May 20. For removing buttons of yr coat.</td><td></td><td></td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Juli 25, 1630. For makeing two Hatts and Jacketts for your two sonnes</td><td></td><td>19</td></tr> +<tr><td>Aug. 14. To makeing a white Scarsonnett plaited Gowne for Mrs</td><td></td><td>8</td></tr> +<tr><td>To makeing a black broad cloth Coat for yourselfe</td><td></td><td>9</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sept. 3, 1868. To makeing a Silke Laced Gowne for Mrs</td><td>1</td><td>8</td></tr> +<tr><td>Oct. 7, 1860, to makeing a Young Childs Coate</td><td></td><td>4</td></tr> +<tr><td>To faceing your Owne Coat Sleeves</td><td></td><td>1</td></tr> +<tr><td>To new plaiting a petty Coat for Mrs</td><td></td><td>1</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Nov. 7. To makeing a black broad Cloth Gowne for Mrs</td><td></td><td>18</td></tr> +<tr><td>Feb. 26, 1680-1. To Searing a Petty Coat for Mrs</td><td></td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>—-</td><td>—-</td><td>—-</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>Sum is, £;8</td><td> 4s.</td><td>10d.</td><td>”</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +From many bills and inventories we learn that the time of the settlement of +Plymouth and Boston reached a transitional period in women’s dress as it did in +men’s. Mrs. Winthrop had doublets as had Governor Winthrop, but I think her +daughter wore gowns when her sons wore coats. The doublet for a woman was +shaped like that of a man, and was of double thickness like a man’s. It might +be sleeveless, with a row of welts or wings around the armhole; or if it had +sleeves the welts, or a roll or cap, still remained. The trimming of the +arm-scye was universal, both for men and women. A fuller description of the +doublet than has ever before been written will be given in the chapter upon the +Evolution of the Coat. The “somar” which is the samare, named also in the bill +of the Salem tailor, seems to have been a Dutch garment, and was so much worn +in New York that I prefer to write of it in the following chapter. We are then +left with the gown; the gown which took definite shape in Elizabeth’s day. Of +course no one could describe it like Stubbes. I frankly confess my inability to +approach him. Read his words, so concise yet full of color and conveying +detail; I protest it is wonderful. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Their Gowns be no less famous, some of silk velvet grogram taffety fine cloth +of forty shillings a yard. But if the whole gown be not silke or velvet then +the same shall be layed with lace two or three fingers broade all over the +gowne or the most parte. Or if not so (as Lace is not fine enough sometimes) +then it must be garded with great gardes of costly Lace, and as these gowns be +of sundry colours so they be of divers fashions changing with the Moon. Some +with sleeves hanging down to their skirts, trayling on the ground, and cast +over the shoulders like a cow’s tayle. These have sleeves much shorter, cut up +the arme, and pointed with Silke-ribons very gallantly tyed with true loves +knottes—(for soe they call them). Some have capes fastened down to the middist +of their backs, faced with velvet or else with some fine wrought silk Taffeetie +at the least, and fringed about Bravely, and (to sum up all in a word) some are +pleated and ryveled down the back wonderfully with more knacks than I can +declare.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The guards of lace a finger broad laid on over the seams of the gown are +described by Pepys in his day. He had some of these guards of gold lace taken +from the seams of one of his wife’s old gowns to overlay the seams of one of +his own cassocks and rig it up for wear, just as he took his wife’s old muff, +like a thrifty husband, and bought her a new muff, like a kind one. Not such a +domestic frugalist was he, though, as his contemporary, the great political +economist, Dudley North, Baron Guildford, Lord Sheriff of London, who loved to +sit with his wife ripping off the old guards of lace from her gown, “unpicking” +her gown, he called it, and was not at all secret about it. Both men walked +abroad to survey the gems and guards worn by their neighbors’ wives, and to +bring home word of new stuffs, new trimmings, to their own wives. Really a +seventeenth-century husband was not so bad. Note in my <i>Life of Margaret +Winthrop</i> how Winthrop’s fellow-barrister, Sergeant Erasmus Earle, bought +camlet and lace, and patterns for doublets for his wife Frances Fontayne, and +ran from London clothier to London mantua-maker, and then to London haberdasher +and London tailor, to learn the newest weaves of cloth, the newest drawing in +of the sleeves. I know no nineteenth-century husband of that name who would +hunt materials and sleeve patterns, and buy doublet laces and find gown-guards +for his wife. And then the gown sleeves! What a description by Stubbes of the +virago-sleeve “tied in and knotted with silk ribbons in love-knots!” It is all +wonderful to read. +</p> + +<p> +We learn from these tailors’ bills that tailors’ work embraced far more +articles than to-day; in the <i>Orbis Sensualium Pictus</i>, 1659, a tailor’s +shop has hanging upon the wall woollen hats, breeches, waistcoats, jackets, +women’s cloaks, and petticoats. There are also either long hose or lasts for +stretching hose, for they made stockings, leggins, gaiters, buskins; also a +number of boxes which look like muff-boxes. One tailor at work is seated upon a +platform raised about a foot from the floor. His seat is a curious bench with +two legs about two feet long and two about one foot long. The base of the two +long legs are on the floor, the other two set upon the platform. The tailor’s +feet are on the platform, thus his work is held well up before his face. +Sometimes his legs are crossed upon the platform in front of him. The platform +was necessary, or, at any rate, advisable for another reason. The habits of +Englishmen at that time, their manners and customs, I mean, were not tidy; and +floors were very dirty. Any garment resting on the floor would have been too +soiled for a gentleman’s wear before it was donned at all. +</p> + +<p> +I have discovered one thing about old-time tailors,—they were just as trying as +their successors, and had as many tricks of trade. A writer in 1582 says, “If a +tailor makes your gown too little, he covers his fault with a broad stomacher; +if too great, with a number of pleats; if too short, with a fine guard; if too +long with a false gathering.” +</p> + +<p> +In several of the household accounts of colonial dames which I have examined I +have found the prices and items very confusing and irregular when compared with +tailors’ bills and descriptive notes and letters accompanying them. And in one +case I was fain to believe that the lady’s account-book had been kept upon the +plan devised by the simple Mrs. Pepys,—a plan which did anger her spouse Samuel +“most mightily.” He was filled with admiration of her household-lists—her +kitchen accounts. He admired in the modern sense of the word “admire”; then he +admired in the old-time meaning—of suspicious wonder. For albeit she could do +through his strenuous teaching but simple sums in “Arithmetique,” had never +even attempted long division, yet she always rendered to her husband perfectly +balanced accounts, month after month. At last, to his angry queries, she +whimpered that “whenever she doe misse a sum of money, she do add some sums to +other things,” till she made it perfectly correct in her book—a piece of such +simple duplicity that I wonder her husband had not suspected it months before. +And she also revealed to him that she “would lay aside money for a necklace” by +pretending to pay more for household supplies than she really had, and then +tying up the extra amount in a stocking foot. He writes, “I find she is very +cunning and when she makes least show hath her wits at work; and <i>so</i> to +my office to my accounts.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Costumes_of_Englishwomen_of_the_Seventeenth_Century."></a> +<img src="images/119.jpg" alt="Costumes of Englishwomen of the Seventeenth +Century." /> +<p class="caption">Costumes of Englishwomen of the Seventeenth Century. +</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>ATTIRE OF VIRGINIA DAMES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“Two things I love, two usuall thinges they are:<br/> +The Firste, New-fashioned cloaths I love to wear,<br/> +Newe Tires, newe Ruffes; aye, and newe Gestures too<br/> +In all newe Fashions I do love to goe.<br/> + The Second Thing I love is this, I weene<br/> + To ride aboute to have those Newe Cloaths scene.<br/> +<br/> +“At every Gossipping I am at still<br/> +And ever wilbe—maye I have my will.<br/> +For at ones own Home, praie—who is’t can see<br/> +How fyne in new-found fashioned Tyres we bee?<br/> +Vnless our Husbands—Faith! but very fewe!—<br/> +And whoo’d goe gaie, to please a Husband’s view?<br/> + Alas! wee wives doe take but small Delight<br/> + If none (besides our husbands) see that Sight”<br/> +<br/> +—“The Gossipping Wives Complaint,” 1611 (circa). +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>ATTIRE OF VIRGINIA DAMES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="95" height="92" src="images/initiali.jpg" alt="I" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +t is a matter of deep regret that no “Lists of Apparel” were made out for the +women emigrants in any of the colonies. Doubtless many came who had a distinct +allotment of clothing, among them the redemptioners. We know one case, that of +the “Casket Girls,” of Louisiana, where a group of “virtuous, modest, +well-carriaged young maids” each had a casket or box of clothing supplied to +her as part of her payment for emigration. I wish we had these lists, not that +I should deem them of great value or accuracy in one respect since they would +have been made out naturally by men, but because I should like to read the +struggles of the average shipping-clerk or supercargo, or even shipping-master +or company’s president, over the items of women’s dress. One reason why the +lists we have in the court records are so wildly spelled and often vague is, I +am sure, because the recording-clerks were always men. Such hopeless puzzles as +droll or drowlas, cale or caul or kail, chatto or shadow, shabbaroon or +chaperone, have come to us through these poor struggling gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +There are not to my knowledge any portraits in existence of the wives of the +first Dutch settlers of New Netherland. They would have been dressed, I am +sure, in the full dress of Holland vrouws. We can turn to the court records of +New Netherland to learn the exact item of the dress of the settlers. Let me +give in full this inventory of an exceptionally rich and varied wardrobe of +Madam Jacob de Lange of New Amsterdam, 1662:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>£;</td><td> s.</td><td>d.</td></tr> +<tr><td>One under petticoat with a body of red bay</td><td>1</td><td>7</td></tr> +<tr><td>One under petticoat, scarlet</td><td>1</td><td>15</td></tr> +<tr><td>One petticoat, red cloth with black lace</td><td>2</td><td>15</td></tr> +<tr><td>One striped stuff petticoat with black lace</td><td>2</td><td>8</td></tr> +<tr><td>Two colored drugget petticoats with gray linings</td><td>1</td><td>2</td></tr> +<tr><td>Two colored drugget petticoats with white linings</td><td></td><td>18</td></tr> +<tr><td>One colored drugget petticoat with pointed lace</td><td></td><td>8</td></tr> +<tr><td>One black silk petticoat with ash gray silk lining</td><td>1</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>One potto-foo silk petticoat with black silk lining</td><td>2</td><td>15</td></tr> +<tr><td>One potto-foo silk petticoat with taffeta lining</td><td>1</td><td>13</td></tr> +<tr><td>One silk potoso-a-samare with lace</td><td>3</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td>One tartanel samare with tucker</td><td>1</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>One black silk crape samare with tucker</td><td>1</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>Three flowered calico samares</td><td>2</td><td>17</td></tr> +<tr><td>Three calico nightgowns, one flowered, two red</td><td></td><td>7</td></tr> +<tr><td>One silk waistcoat, one calico waistcoa.</td><td></td><td>14</td></tr> +<tr><td>One pair of bodices</td><td></td><td>4</td></tr> +<tr><td>Five pair white cotton stockings</td><td></td><td>9</td></tr> +<tr><td>Three black love-hoods</td><td></td><td>5</td></tr> +<tr><td>One white love-hood</td><td></td><td>2</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Two pair sleeves with great lace</td><td>1</td><td>3</td></tr> +<tr><td>Four cornet caps with lace</td><td>3</td></tr> +<tr><td>One black silk rain cloth cap</td><td></td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>One black plush mask</td><td></td><td>1</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Four yellow lace drowlas</td><td></td><td>2</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +This is a most interesting list of garments. The sleeves with great lace must +from their price have been very rich articles of dress. The yellow lace +drowlas, since there were four of them (and no other neckerchiefs, such as +gorgets, piccadillies, or whisks are named), must have been neckwear of some +form. I suspect they are the lace drowls or drolls to which I refer in a +succeeding chapter on A Vain Puritan Grandmother. The rain cloth cap of black +silk is curious also, being intended to wear over another cap or a love-hood. +The cornet caps with lace are a Dutch fashion. The “lace” was in the form of +lappets or pinners which flapped down at the side of the face over the ears and +almost over the cheeks. Evelyn speaks of a woman in “a cornet with the upper +pinner dangling about her cheeks like hound’s ears.” Cotgrave tells in rather +vague definition that a cornet is “a fashion of Shadow or Boone Grace used in +old time and to this day by old women.” It was not like a bongrace, nor like +the cap I always have termed a shadow, but it had two points like broad horns +or ears with lace or gauze spread over both and hanging from these horns. +Cornets and corneted caps are often in Dutch inventories in early New York. And +they can be seen in old Dutch pictures. They were one of the few distinctly +Dutch modes that lingered in New Netherland; but by the third generation from +the settlement they had disappeared. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Livingstone."></a> +<img src="images/124.jpg" alt="Mrs. Livingstone." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Livingstone. +</p></div> + +<p> +What the words “potto-foo” and “potoso-a-samare” mean I cannot decipher. I have +tried to find Dutch words allied in sound but in vain. I believe the samare was +a Dutch fashion. We rarely find samares worn in Virginia and Maryland, but the +name frequently occurs in the first Dutch inventories in New Netherland and +occasionally in the Connecticut valley, where there were a few Dutch settlers; +occasionally also in Plymouth, whose first settlers had been for a number of +years under Dutch influences in Holland; and rarely in Salem and Boston, whose +planters also had felt Dutch influences through the settling in Essex and +Suffolk of opulent Flemish and Dutch “clothiers”—cloth-workers. These Dutchmen +had married Englishwomen, and their presence in English homes was distinctly +shown by the use then and to the present day of Dutch words, Dutch articles of +dress, furniture, and food. From these Dutch-settled shires of Essex and +Suffolk came John Winthrop and all the so-called Bay Emigration. +</p> + +<p> +I am convinced that a samare was a certain garment which I have seen in French, +Dutch, and English portraits of the day. It is a tight-fitting jacket or waist +or bodice—call it what you will; its skirt or portion below the belt-line is +four to eight inches deep, cut up in tabs or oblong flaps, four on each side. +These slits are to the belt line. It is, to explain further, a basque, +tight-fitting or with the waist laid in plaits, and with the basque skirt cut +in eight tabs. These laps or tabs set out rather stiffly and squarely over the +full-gathered petticoats of the day. +</p> + +<p> +I turn to a Dutch dictionary for a definition of the word “samare,” though my +Dutch dictionary being of the date 1735 is too recent a publication to be of +much value. In it a samare is defined simply as a woman’s gown. Randle Holme +says, rather vaguely, that it is a short jacket for women’s wear with four +side-laps, reaching to the knees. In this rich wardrobe of the widow De Lange, +twelve petticoats are enumerated and no overdress-jacket or doublet of any kind +except those samares. Their price shows that they were not a small garment. One +“silk potoso-a-samare with lace” was worth £;3. One “tartanel samare with +tucker” was worth £;1 10s. One “black silk crape samare with tucker” was +worth £;1 10s., and three “flowered calico” samares were worth £;2 +10s. They were evidently of varying weights for summer and winter wear, and +were worn over the rich petticoat. +</p> + +<p> +The bill of the Salem tailor, William Sweatland (1679), shows that he charged +9s. for making a scarlet petticoat with silver lace; for making a black +broadcloth gown 18s.; while “new-makeing a plush somar for Mistress.” (which +was making over) was 6s.; “making a somar for your Maide” was 10s., which was +the same price he charged for making a gown for the maid. +</p> + +<p> +The colors in the Dutch gowns were uniformly gay. Madam Cornelia de Vos in a +green cloth petticoat, a red and blue “Haarlamer” waistcoat, a pair of red and +yellow sleeves, a white cornet cap, green stockings with crimson clocks, and a +purple “Pooyse” apron was a blooming flower-bed of color. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Magdalen_Beekman."></a> +<img src="images/127.jpg" alt="Mrs. Magdalen Beekman." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Magdalen Beekman. +</p></div> + +<p> +I fear we have unconsciously formed our mental pictures of our Dutch +forefathers through the vivid descriptions of Washington Irving. We certainly +cannot improve upon his account of the Dutch housewife of New Amsterdam:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scrupulously pomatumed +back from their foreheads with a candle, and covered with a little cap of +quilted calico, which fitted exactly to their heads. Their petticoats of +linsey-woolsey were striped with a variety of gorgeous dyes, though I must +confess those gallant garments were rather short, scarce reaching below the +knee; but then they made up in the number, which generally equalled that of the +gentlemen’s small-clothes; and what is still more praise-worthy, they were all +of their own manufacture,—of which circumstance, as may well be supposed, they +were not a little vain.<br/> +<br/> +“Those were the honest days, in which every woman stayed at home, read the +Bible, and wore pockets,—ay, and that, too, of a goodly size, fashioned with +patchwork into many curious devices, and ostentatiously worn on the outside. +These, in fact, were convenient receptacles where all good housewives carefully +stored away such things as they wished to have at hand; by which means they +often came to be incredibly crammed.<br/> +<br/> +“Besides these notable pockets, they likewise wore scissors and pincushions +suspended from their girdles by red ribbons, or, among the more opulent and +showy classes, by brass and even silver chains, indubitable tokens of thrifty +housewives and industrious spinsters. I cannot say much in vindication of the +shortness of the petticoats; it doubtless was introduced for the purpose of +giving the stockings a chance to be seen, which were generally of blue worsted, +with magnificent red clocks; or perhaps to display a well-turned ankle and a +neat though serviceable foot, set off by a high-heeled leathern shoe, with a +large and splendid silver buckle.<br/> +<br/> +“There was a secret charm in those petticoats, which no doubt entered into the +consideration of the prudent gallants. The wardrobe of a lady was in those days +her only fortune; and she who had a good stock of petticoats and stockings was +as absolutely an heiress as is a Kamtschatka damsel with a store of bear-skins, +or a Lapland belle with plenty of reindeer.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A Boston lady, Madam Knights, visiting New York in 1704, wrote also with clear +pen:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The English go very fashionable in their dress. But the Dutch, especially the +middling sort, differ from our women, in their habitt go loose, wear French +muches which are like a Capp and headband in one, leaving their ears bare, +which are sett out with jewells of a large size and many in number; and their +fingers hoop’t with rings, some with large stones in them of many Coullers, as +were their pendants in their ears, which you should see very old women wear as +well as Young.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The jewels of one settler of New Amsterdam were unusually rich (in 1650), and +were enumerated thus:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td> £;</td><td> s.</td><td>d.</td></tr> +<tr><td> One embroidered purse with silver bugle and chain to the girdle and silver hook and eye</td><td>1</td><td>4</td></tr> +<tr><td> One pair black pendants, gold nocks</td><td></td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td> One gold boat, wherein thirteen diamonds &; one white coral chain</td><td> 16</td></tr> +<tr><td> One pair gold stucks or pendants each with ten diamonds</td><td>25</td></tr> +<tr><td> Two diamond rings</td><td> 24</td></tr> +<tr><td> One gold ring with clasp beck</td><td></td><td>12</td></tr> +<tr><td> One gold ring or hoop bound round with diamonds</td><td>2</td><td> 10</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +These jewels were owned by the wife of an English-born citizen; but some of the +Dutch dames had handsome jewels, especially rich chatelaines with their +equipages and etuis with rich and useful articles in variety. When we read of +such articles, we find it difficult to credit the words of an English clergyman +who visited Albany about the year 1700; namely, that he found the Dutch women +of best Albany families going about their homes in summer time and doing their +household work while barefooted. +</p> + +<p> +Many conditions existed in Maryland which were found nowhere else in the +colonies. These were chiefly topographical. The bay and its many and +accommodative tide-water estuaries gave the planters the means, not only of +easy, cheap, and speedy communication with each other, but with the whole +world. It was a freedom of intercourse not given to any other +<i>agricultural</i> community in the whole world. It was said that every +planter had salt water within a rifle-shot of his front gate—therefore the +world was open to him. The tide is never strong enough on this shore to hinder +a sailboat nor is the current of the rivers perceptible. The crop of the +settlers was wholly tobacco—indeed, all the processes of government, of +society, of domestic life, began and ended with tobacco. It was a wonderfully +lucrative crop, but it was an unhappy one for any colony; for the tobacco ships +arrived in fleets only in May and June, when the crops were ready for market. +The ships could come in anywhere by tide-water. Hence there were two or three +months of intense excitement, or jollity, lavishness, extravagance, when these +ships were in; a regular Bartholomew Fair of disorder, coarse wit, and rough +fun; and the rest of the year there was nothing; no business, no money, no fun. +Often the planter found himself after a month of June gambling and fun with +three years’ crops pledged in advance to his creditors. The factor then played +his part; took a mortgage, perhaps, on both crops and plantation; and +invariably ended in owning everything. A striking but coarse picture of the +traffic and its evils is given in <i>The Sot-weed Factor</i>, a poem of the +day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lady_Anne_Clifford."></a> +<img src="images/131.jpg" alt="Lady Anne Clifford." /> +<p class="caption">Lady Anne Clifford. +</p></div> + +<p> +Land and living were cheap in this tobacco land, but labor was needed for the +sudden crops; so negro slaves were bought, and warm invitations were sent back +to England for all and every kind of labor. Convicts were welcomed, +redemptioners were eagerly sought for; and the scrupulous laws which were made +for their protection were blazoned in England. Many laborers were “crimped,” +too, in England, and brought of course, willy-nilly, to Maryland. Landlords +were even granted lands in proportion to their number of servants; a hundred +acres per capita was the allowance. It can readily be seen that an ambitious or +unscrupulous planter would gather in in some way as many heads as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Maryland under the Baltimores was the only colony that then admitted +convicts—that is, admitted them openly and legally. She even greeted them +warmly, eager for the labor of their hands, which was often skilled labor; +welcomed them for their wits, albeit these had often been ill applied; welcomed +them for their manners, often amply refined; welcomed them for their +possibilities of rehabilitation of morals and behavior. +</p> + +<p> +The kidnapped servants did not fare badly. Many examples are known where they +worked on until they had acquired ample means; still the literature of the day +is full of complaints such as this in <i>The Sot-weed Factor</i>:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Not then a slave; for twice two years<br/> +My clothes were fashionably new.<br/> +Nor were my shifts of linen blue.<br/> +But Things are Changed. Now at the Hoe<br/> +I daily work; and Barefoot go.<br/> +In weeding Corn, or feeding Swine<br/> +I spend my melancholy time.” +</p> + +<p> +Cheap ballads were sold in England warning English maidens against kidnapping. +</p> + +<p> +In the collection of Old Black Letter Ballads in the British Museum is one +entitled <i>The Trappan’d Maiden or the Distressed Damsel</i>. Its date is +believed to be 1670. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The Girl was cunningly trappan’d<br/> +Sent to Virginny from England.<br/> +Where she doth Hardship undergo;<br/> +There is no cure, it must be so;<br/> +But if she lives to cross the Main<br/> +She vows she’ll ne’er go there again.<br/> + Give ear unto a Maid<br/> + That lately was betray’d<br/> + And sent unto Virginny O.<br/> + In brief I shall declare<br/> + What I have suffered there<br/> + When that I was weary, O.<br/> + The cloathes that I brought in<br/> + They are worn so thin<br/> + In the Land of Virginny O.<br/> + Which makes me for to say<br/> + Alas! and well-a-day<br/> + When that I was weary, O.” +</p> + +<p> +The indentured servant, the redemptioner, or free-willer saw before him, at the +close of his seven years term, a home in a teeming land; he would own fifty +acres of that land with three barrels, an axe, a gun, and a hoe—truly, the +world was his. He would have also a suit of kersey, strong hose, a shirt, +French fall shoes, and a good hat,—a Monmouth cap,—a suit worthy any man. +Abigail had an equal start, a petticoat and waistcoat of strong wool, a +perpetuana or callimaneo, two blue aprons, two linen caps, a pair of new shoes, +two pairs of new stockings and a smock, and three barrels of Indian corn. +</p> + +<p> +We find that many of these redemptioners became soldiers in the colonial wars, +often distinguished for bravery. This was through a law passed by the British +government that all who enlisted in military service in the colonies were +released by that act from further bondage. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lady_Herrman."></a> +<img src="images/134.jpg" alt="Lady Herrman." /> +<p class="caption">Lady Herrman. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the year 1659, on an autumn day, two white men with an Indian guide paddled +swiftly over the waters of Chesapeake Bay on business of much import. They had +come from Manhattan, and bore despatches from Governor Stuyvesant to the +governor of Maryland, relating to the ever troublesome query of those days, +namely, the exact placing of boundary lines. One of these men was Augustine +Herrman, a man of parts, who had been ambassador to Rhode Island, a ship-owner, +and man of executive ability, which was proven by his offer to Lord Baltimore +to draw a map of Maryland and the surrounding country in exchange for a tract +of land at the head of the bay. He was a land-surveyor, and drew an excellent +map; and he received the four thousand acres afterwards known as Bohemia Manor. +His portrait and that of his wife exist; they are wretched daubs, as were many +of the portraits of the day, but, nevertheless, her dress is plainly revealed +by it. You can see a copy of it <a href="#Lady_Herrman.">here</a>. The +overdress, pleated body, and upper sleeve are green. The little lace collar is +drawn up with a tiny ribbon just as we see collars to-day. Her hair is +simplicity itself. The full undersleeves and heavy ear-rings give a little +richness to the dress, which is not English nor is it Dutch. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to know the items of the dress of the early Virginian settlers, +where any court records exist. Many, of course, have perished in the terrible +devastations of two long wars; but wherever they have escaped destruction all +the records of church and town in the various counties of Virginia have been +carefully transcribed and certified, and are open to consultation in the +Virginia State Library at Richmond, where many of the originals are also +preserved. Many have also been printed. Mr. Bruce, in his fine book, <i>The +Economic History of Virginia in the Seventeenth Century</i>, has given frequent +extracts from these certified records. From them and from the originals I gain +much knowledge of the dress of the planters at that time. It varied little from +dress in the New England colonies save that Virginians were richer than New +Englanders, and so had more costly apparel. Almost nothing was manufactured in +Virginia. The plainest and simplest articles of dress, save those of homespun +stuffs, were ordered from England, as well as richer garments. We see even in +George Washington’s day, until he was prevented by war, that he sent frequent +orders, wherein elaborately detailed attire was ordered with the pettiest +articles for household and plantation use. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Elizabeth_Cromwell."></a> +<img src="images/136.jpg" alt="Elizabeth Cromwell." /> +<p class="caption">Elizabeth Cromwell. +</p></div> + +<p> +Mrs. Francis Pritchard of Lancaster, Virginia (in 1660), we find had a +representative wardrobe. She owned an olive-colored silk petticoat, another of +silk tabby, and one of flowered tabby, one of velvet, and one of white striped +dimity. Her printed calico gown was lined with blue silk, thus proving how much +calico was valued. Other bodices were a striped dimity jacket and a black silk +waistcoat. To wear with these were a pair of scarlet sleeves and other sleeves +of ruffled holland. Five aprons, various neckwear of Flanders lace, and several +rich handkerchiefs completed a gay costume to which green silk stockings gave +an additional touch of color. Green was distinctly the favorite color for hose +among all the early settlers; and nearly all the inventories in Virginia have +that entry. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Sarah Willoughby of Lower Norfolk, Virginia, had at the same date a like +gay wardrobe, valued, however, at but £;14. Petticoats of calico, striped +linen, India silk, worsted prunella, and red, blue, and black silk were +accompanied with scarlet waistcoats with silver lace, a white knit waistcoat, a +“pair of red paragon bodices,” and another pair of sky-colored satin bodices. +She had also a striped stuff jacket, a worsted prunella mantle, and a black +silk gown. There were distinctions in the shape of the outer garments—mantles, +jackets, and gowns. Hoods, aprons, and bands completed her comfortable attire. +</p> + +<p> +Though so much of the clothing of the Virginia planters was made in England, +there was certain work done by home tailors; such work as repairs, alterations, +making children’s common clothing, and the like, also the clothing of upper +servants. Often the tailor himself was a bond-servant. Thus, Luke Mathews, a +tailor from Hereford, England, was bound to Thomas Landon for a term of two +years from the day he landed. He was to have sixpence a day while working for +the Landon family, but when working for other persons half of whatever he +earned. In the Lancaster County records is a tailor’s account (one Noah Rogers) +from the year 1690 to 1709; it was paid, of course, in tobacco. We may set the +tobacco as worth about twopence a pound. It will be thus seen from the +following items that prices in Virginia were higher than in New England:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>Pounds</td></tr> +<tr><td>For making seven womens’ Jacketts</td><td>70</td></tr> +<tr><td>For making a Coat for y’r Wife</td><td>60</td></tr> +<tr><td>For altering a Plush Britches</td><td>20</td></tr> +<tr><td>For Y’r Wife &; Daughturs Jackett</td><td>30</td></tr> +<tr><td>For y’r Britches</td><td>20</td></tr> +<tr><td>Coat</td><td>40</td></tr> +<tr><td>Y’r Boys Jacketts</td><td>20</td></tr> +<tr><td>Y’r Sons britches</td><td>25</td></tr> +<tr><td>Y’r Eldest Sons Ticking Suite</td><td>60</td></tr> +<tr><td>To making I Dimity Waistcoat, Serge suite 2 Cotton</td></tr> +<tr><td> Waistcoats and y’r Dimity Coat</td><td>185</td></tr> +<tr><td>For a pr of buff Gloves</td><td>100</td></tr> +<tr><td>For I Neck Cloth</td><td>12</td></tr> +<tr><td>A pr of Stockings</td><td>120</td></tr> +<tr><td>A pr Callimmaneo britches</td><td>60</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +Another bill of the year 1643 reads:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>Pounds</td></tr> +<tr><td>To making a suit with buttons to it</td><td>80</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 ell canvas</td><td>30</td></tr> +<tr><td>for dimothy linings</td><td>30</td></tr> +<tr><td>for buttons &; silke</td><td>50</td></tr> +<tr><td>for points</td><td>50</td></tr> +<tr><td>for taffeta</td><td>58</td></tr> +<tr><td>for belly pieces</td><td>40</td></tr> +<tr><td>for hooks &; eies</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td>for ribbonin for pockets</td><td>20</td></tr> +<tr><td>for stiffinin for a collar</td><td>10</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>—-</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>Sum 378</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +The extraordinary prices of one hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco for making +a pair of stockings, and one hundred for a pair of gloves, when making a coat +was but forty, must remain a seventeenth-century puzzle. This coat was probably +a petticoat. It is curious, too, to find a tailor making gloves and stockings +at any price. I think both buff gloves and stockings were of leather. Perhaps +he charged thus broadly because it was “not in his line.” Work in leather was +always well paid. We find tailors making leather breeches and leather drawers; +the latter could not be the garments thus named to-day. Tailors became +prosperous and well-to-do, perhaps because they worked in winter when other +Virginia tradesfolk were idle; and they acquired large tracts of land. +</p> + +<p> +The conditions of settlement of Virginia were somewhat different from those of +the planting of New England. We find the land of many Massachusetts towns +wholly taken up by a group of settlers who emigrated together from the Old +World and gathered into a town together in the New. It was like the transferal +of a neighborhood. It brought about many happy results of mutual helpfulness +and interdependence. From it arose that system of domestic service in which the +children of friends rendered helpful duty in other households and were called +help. Nothing of the kind existed in Virginia. There was far less neighborhood +life. Plantations were isolated. Lines of demarcation in domestic service were +much more definite where black life slaves and white bond-servants for a term +of years performed all household service. For the daughter of one Virginia +household to “help” in the work in another household was unknown. Each system +had its benefits; each had its drawbacks. Neither has wholly survived; but +something better has been evolved, in spite of our lamentations for the good +old times. +</p> + +<p> +Life is better ordered, but it is not so picturesque as when negro servants +swarmed in the kitchen, and German, Scotch, and Irish redemptioners served in +varied callings. There was vast variety of attire to be found on the Virginia +and Maryland plantations and in the few towns of these colonies. The black +slaves wore homespun cloths and homespun stuff, crocus and Virginia cloth; and +the women were happy if they could crown their simple attire with gay turbans. +Indians stalked up to the plantation doors, halted in silence, and added their +gay dress of the wild woods. German sectaries and mystics fared on garbed in +their simple peasant dress. Irish sturdy beggars idled and fiddled through +existence, in dress of shabby gentility, with always a wig. “Wild-Irish” came +in brogues and Irish trousers. Sailors and pirates came ashore gayly dressed in +varied costume, with gay sashes full of pistols and cutlasses, swaggering from +wharf to plantation. Queer details of dress had all these varied souls; some +have lingered to puzzle us. +</p> + +<p> +A year ago I had sent to me, by a descendant of an old Virginia family, a +photograph of a curious gold medal or disk, a family relic which was evidently +a token of some importance, since it bore tiny holes and had marks of having +been affixed as an insignia. Though I could decipher the bold initials, cut in +openwork, I could judge little by the colorless photograph, and finally with +due misgivings and great precautions in careful packing, insurance, etc., the +priceless family relic was intrusted to an express company for transmission to +my inspection. Glad indeed was I that the owner had not presented it in person; +for the decoration of honor, the insignia of rank, the trophy of prowess in war +or emblem of conquest in love, was the pauper’s badge of a Maryland or Virginia +parish. It was not a pleasant task to write back the mortifying news; but I am +proud of the letter which I composed; no one could have done the deed better. +</p> + +<p> +There was an old law in Virginia which ran thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Every person who shall receive relief from the parish and be sent to the said +alms-house, shall, upon the shoulder of the right sleeve of his uppermost +garment in an open and visible manner, wear a badge with the name of the parish +to which he or she belongs, cut in red, blue or green cloth, as the vestry or +church wardens shall direct. And if any poor person shall neglect or refuse to +wear such badge, such offense may be punished either by ordering his or her +allowance to be abridged, suspended or withdrawn, or the offender to be whipped +not exceeding five lashes for one offense; and if any person not entitled to +relief as aforesaid, shall presume to wear such badge, he or she shall be +whipped for every such offense.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This law did not mean the full name of the parish, but significant initials. +Sometimes the initials “P P” were employed, standing for public pauper. In +other counties a metal badge was ordered, often cast in pewter. In one case a +die-cutter was made by which an oblong brass badge could be cut, and stamps of +letters to stamp the badges accompanied it. Sometimes these badges were three +inches long. +</p> + +<p> +The expression, “the badge of poverty,” became a literal one when all persons +receiving parochial relief had to wear a large Roman “P” with the initial of +their parish set on the right sleeve of the uppermost garment in an open and +visible manner. Likewise all pensioners were ordered to wear their badges “so +they may be seen.” A pauper who refused to do this might be whipped and +imprisoned for twenty-one days. Moreover, if the parish beadle neglected to spy +out that the badge was missing from some poor pensioner, he had to pay half a +crown himself. This legality was necessitated by actions like that of the +English goody, who, when ordered to wear this pauper’s badge, demurely fastened +it to her flannel petticoat. For this law, like all the early Virginia +statutes, was simply a transcript of English laws. In New York, for some years +in the eighteenth century, the parish poor—there were no paupers—were ordered +to wear these badges. +</p> + +<p> +This mode of stigmatizing offenders as well as paupers was in force in the +earlier days of all the colonies. Its existence in New England has been +immortalized in <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>. I have given in my book, <i>Curious +Punishments of By-gone Days</i>, many examples of the wearing of significant +letters by criminals in various New England towns, in Plymouth, Salem, Taunton, +Boston, Hartford, New London, also in New York. It offered a singular and +striking detail of costume to see William Bacon in Boston, and Robert Coles in +Roxbury, wearing “hanged about their necks on their outerd garment a D made of +Ridd cloth sett on white.” A Boston woman wore a great “B,” not for Boston, but +for blasphemy. John Davis wore a “V” for viciousness. Others were forced to +wear for years a heavy cord around the neck, signifying that the offender lived +under the shadow of the gallows and its rope. +</p> + +<p> +But return we to the metal badge which has caused this diversion to so gloomy a +subject as crime and punishment. It was simply an oblong plate about three and +one-half inches long, of humble metal—pinchbeck, or alchemy—but plated heavily +with gold, therefore readily mistaken for solid gold; upon it the telltale +initials “P P” had been stamped with a die, while smaller letters read “St. J. +Psh.” These confirmed my immediate suspicions, for I had seen an order of +relief for a stricken wanderer—an order for two weeks’ relief, where the +wardens of “St. J. Psh.” ordered the sheriff to send the pauper on—to make him +“move along” to some other parish. This gold badge was not unlike the metal +badges worn on the left arm by “Bedlam beggars,” the licensed beggars of +Bethlehem Hospital, the half-cured patients of that asylum for lunatics. +</p> + +<p> +The owner of this badge with ancient letters had not idly accepted them, or +jumped at the conclusion that it was a decoration of honor for his ancestor. He +had searched its history long, and he had found in Hall’s <i>Chronicles of the +Pageants and Progress of the English Kings</i> ample reference to similar +letters, but not as pauper’s badges. Indeed, like many another well-read and +intelligent person, he had never heard of pauper’s badges. He read:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“In this garden was the King and five with him apparyelled in garments of +purpull satyn, every edge garnished with frysed golde and every garment full of +posyes made of letters of fine gold, of bullion as thick as might be. And six +Ladyes wore rochettes rouled with crymosyn velvet and set with lettres like +Carettes. And after the Kyng and his compaignions had daunsed, he appointed the +Ladies, Gentlewomen, and Ambassadours to take the lettres off their garments in +token of liberalyte. Which thing the common people perceiving, ranne to them +and stripped them. And at this banket a shypman of London caught certayn +lettres which he sould to a goldsmith for £;3. 14s. 8d.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +All this was pleasing to the vanity of our friend, who fancied his letters as +having taken part in a like pageant; perhaps as a gift of the king himself. We +must remember that he believed his badge of pure gold. He did not know it was a +base metal, plated. He proudly pictured his forbears taking part in some kingly +pageant. He scorned so modern and commonplace a possibility as a society like +Knights of the Golden Horseshoe, which was formed of Virginian gentlefolk. +</p> + +<p> +It plainly was a relic of some romance, and in the strangely picturesque events +of the early years in this New World need not, though a pauper’s badge, have +been a badge of dishonor. What strange event or happening, or scene had it +overlooked? Why had it been covered with its golden sheet? Was it in defiance +or in satire, in remorse, or in revenge, or in humble and grateful recognition +of some strange and protecting Providence? We shall never know. It was +certainly not an agreeable discovery, to think that your great-grandmother or +grandfather had probably been branded as a public pauper; but there were +strange exiles and strange paupers in those days, exiles through political +parties, through the disfavor of kings, through religious conviction, and the +pauper of the golden badge, the pauper of “St. J. Psh.,” may have ended his +days as vestryman of that very church. Certain it was, that no ordinary pauper +would have, or could have, thus preserved it; and from similar reverses and +glorifying equally base objects came the subjects of half the crests of English +heraldry. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Pocahontas."></a> +<img src="images/146.jpg" alt="Pocahontas." /> +<p class="caption">Pocahontas. +</p></div> + +<p> +The likeness of Pocahontas (<a href="#Pocahontas.">here</a>) is dated 1616. It +is in the dress of a well-to-do Englishwoman, a woman of importance and means. +This portrait has been a shock to many who idealized the Indian princess as +“that sweet American girl” as Thackeray called her. Especially is it +disagreeable in many of the common prints from it. One flippant young friend, +the wife of an army officer, who had been stationed in the far West, said of +it, in disgust, remembering her frontier residence, “With a man’s hat on! just +like every old Indian squaw!” This hat is certainly displeasing, but it was not +worn through Indian taste; it was an English fashion, seen on women of wealth +as well as of the plainer sort. I have a score of prints and photographs of +English portraits, wherein this mannish hat is shown. In the original of this +portrait of Pocahontas, the heavy, sombre effect is much lightened by the gold +hatband. These rich hatbands were one of the articles of dress prohibited as +vain and extravagant by the Massachusetts magistrates. They were costly +luxuries. We find them named and valued in many inventories in all the +colonies, and John Pory, secretary of the Virginia colony, wrote about that +time to a friend in England a sentence which has given, I think to all who read +it, an exaggerated notion of the dress of Virginians:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Our cowekeeper here of James citty on Sundays goes accoutred all in ffreshe +fflaminge silke, and a wife of one that had in England professed the blacke +arte not of a Scholler but of a Collier weares her rough beaver hatt with a +faire perle hatband, and a silken sute there to correspond.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Corroborative evidence of the richness and great cost of these hatbands is +found in a letter of Susan Moseley to Governor Yardley of Virginia, telling of +the exchange of a hatband and jewel for four young cows, one older cow and four +oxen, on account of her “great want of cattle.” She writes on “this Last July +1650, at Elizabeth River in Virginia”:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I had rayther your wife should weare them then any gentle woman I yet know in +ye country; but good Sir have <i>no</i> scruple concerninge their rightnesse, +for I went my selfe from Rotterdam to ye haugh (The Hague) to inquire of ye +gould smiths and found y’t they weare all Right, therefore thats without +question, and for ye hat band y’t alone coste five hundred gilders as my +husband knows verry well and will tell you soe when he sees you; for ye Juell +and ye ringe they weare made for me at Rotterdam and I paid in good rex dollars +sixty gilders for ye Juell and fivety and two gilders for ye ringe, which comes +to in English monny eleaven poundes fower shillings. I have sent the sute and +Ringe by your servant, and I wish Mrs. Yeardley health and prosperity to weare +them in, and give you both thanks for your kind token. When my husband comes +home we will see to gett ye Cattell home, in ye meantime I present my Love and +service to your selfe &; wife, and commit you all to God, and remaine,<br/> +<br/> + “Your friend and servant,<br/> +<br/> + “SUSAN MOSELEY.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The purchasing value of five hundred guilders, the cost of the hatband, would +be equal to-day to nearly a thousand dollars. +</p> + +<p> +In the portrait of Pocahontas in the original, there is also much liveliness of +color, a rich scarlet with heavy braidings; these all lessen somewhat the +forbidding presence of the stiff hat. She carries a fan of ostrich feathers, +such as are depicted in portraits of Queen Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +These feather fans had little looking-glasses of silvered glass or polished +steel set at the base of the feathers. Euphues says, “The glasses you carry in +fans of feathers show you to be lighter than feathers; the new-found glass +chains that you wear about your necks, argue you to be more brittle than +glass.” +</p> + +<p> +These fans were, in the queen’s hands, as large as hand fire-screens; many were +given to her as New Year’s gifts or other tokens, one by Sir Francis Drake. +This makes me believe that they were a fashion taken from the North American +Indians and eagerly adopted in England; where, for two centuries, everything +related to the red-men of the New World was seized upon with avidity—except +their costume. +</p> + +<p> +The hat worn by Pocahontas, or a lower crowned form of it, is seen in the +Hollar drawing of Puritan women (<a +href="#Costumes_of_Englishwomen_of_the_Seventeenth_Century.">here</a>), where +it seems specially ugly and ineffective, and on the Quaker Tub-preacher. It +lingered for many years, perched on top of French hoods, close caps, kerchiefs, +and other variety of head-gear worn by women of all ranks; never elegant, never +becoming. I can think of no reason for its long existence and dominance save +its costliness. It was not imitated, so it kept its place as long as the supply +of beaver was ample. This hat was also durable. A good beaver hat was not for a +year nor even for a generation. It lasted easily half a century. But we all +know that the beaver disappeared suddenly from our forests; and as a sequence +the beaver hat was no longer available for common wear. It still held its place +as a splendid, feather-trimmed, rich article of dress, a hat for dress wear, +and it was then comely and becoming. Within a few years, through national and +state protection, the beaver, most interesting of wild creatures, has increased +and multiplied in North America until it has become in certain localities a +serious pest to lumbermen. We must revive the fashion of real beaver hats—that +will speedily exterminate the race. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Duchess_of_Buckingham_and_her_Two_Children."></a> +<img src="images/150.jpg" alt="Duchess of Buckingham and her Two Children." /> +<p class="caption">Duchess of Buckingham and her Two Children. +</p></div> + +<p> +It always has seemed strange to me that, in the prodigious interest felt in +England for the American Indian, an interest shown in the thronging, gaping +sight-seers that surrounded every taciturn red-man who visited the Old World, +no fashions of ornament or dress were copied as gay, novel, or becoming. The +Indian afforded startling detail to interest the most jaded fashion-seeker. The +<i>Works of Captain John Smith</i>, Strachey’s <i>Historie of Travaile into +Virginia</i>, the works of Roger Williams, of John Josselyn, the letters of +various missionaries, give full accounts of their brilliant attire; and many of +these works were illustrated. The beautiful mantles of the Virginia squaws, +made of carefully dressed skins, were tastefully fringed and embroidered with +tiny white beads and minute disks of copper, like spangles, which, with the +buff of the dressed skin, made a charming color-study—copper and buff—picked +out with white. Sometimes small brilliant shells or feathers were added to the +fringes. An Indian princess, writes one chronicler, wore a fair white deerskin +with a frontal of white coral and pendants of “great but imperfect-colored and +worse-drilled pearls”—our modern baroque pearls. A chain of linked copper +encircled her neck; and her maid brought to her a mantle called a “puttawas” of +glossy blue feathers sewed so thickly and evenly that it seemed like heavy +purple satin. +</p> + +<p> +A traveller wrote thus of an Indian squaw and brave:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“His wife was very well favored, of medium stature and very bashful. She had on +her back a long cloak of leather, with the fur side next to her body. About her +forehead she had a band of white coral. In her ears she had bracelets of pearls +hanging down to her waist. The rest of her women of the better sort had +pendants of copper hanging in either ear, and some of the children of the +King’s brother and other noblemen, had five or six in either ear. He himself +had upon his head a broad plate of gold or copper, for being unpolished we knew +not which metal it might be, neither would he by any means suffer us to take it +off his head. His apparel was like his wife’s, only the women wear their hair +long on both sides of the head, and the men on but one side. They are of color +yellowish, and their hair black for the most part, and yet we saw children who +had very fine auburn and chestnut colored hair.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +John Josselyn wrote of tawny beauties:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They are girt about the middle with a Zone wrought with Blue and White Beads +into Pretty Works. Of these Beads they have Bracelets for the Neck and Arms, +and Links to hang in their Ears, and a Fair Table curiously made up with Beads +Likewise to wear before their Breast. Their Hair they combe backward, and tye +it up short with a Border about two Handsfull broad, wrought in works as the +Other with their Beads.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Powhatan’s “Habit” still exists. It is in England, in the Tradescant Collection +which formed the nucleus of the Ashmolean Collection. It was probably presented +by Captain John Smith himself. It is made of two deerskins ornamented with +“roanoke” shell-work, about seven feet long by five feet wide. Roanoke is akin +to wampum, but this is made of West Indian shells. The figures are circles, a +crude human figure and two mythical composite animals. He also wore fine +mantles of raccoon skins. A conjurer’s dress was simply a girdle with a single +deerskin, while a great blackbird with outstretched wings was fastened to one +ear—a striking ornament. I am always delighted to read such proof as this of a +fact that I have ever known, namely, that the American Indian is the most +accomplished, the most telling <i>poseur</i> the world has ever known. The ear +of the Indian man and woman was pierced along the entire outer edge and filled +with long drops, a fringe of coral, gold, and pearl. The wives of Powhatan wore +triple strings of great pearls close around their throats, and a long string +over one shoulder, while their mantles were draped to show their full handsome +neck and arms. Altogether, with their carefully dressed hair, they would have +made in full dress a fine show in a modern opera-box, and, indeed, the Indian +squaws did cause vast exhibition of curiosity and delight when they visited +London and were taken sight-seeing and sight-seen. +</p> + +<p> +As early as 1629 an Indian chief with his wife and son came from Nova Scotia to +England. Lord Poulet paid them much attention in Somersetshire, and Lady Poulet +took Lady Squaw up to London and gave her a necklace and a diamond, which I +suppose she wore with her blue and white beads. +</p> + +<p> +Be the story of the saving of John Smith by Pocahontas a myth or the truth, it +forever lives a beautiful and tender reality in the hearts of American +children. Pocahontas was not the only Indian squaw who played a kindly part in +the first colonization of this country. There were many, though their deeds and +names are forgotten; and there was one Indian woman whose influence was much +greater and more prolonged than was that of Pocahontas, and was haloed with +many years of exciting adventure as well as romance. Let me recount a few +details of her life, that you may wonder with me that the only trace of Indian +life marked indelibly on England was found on the swinging signs of inns known +by the name of “The Bell Savage,” “La Belle Sauvage,” and even “The Savage and +Bell.” +</p> + +<p> +This second Indian squaw was a South Carolina neighbor of our beloved +Pocahontas; she had not, alas, the lovely disposition and noble character of +Powhatan’s daughter. She was systematically and constitutionally mischievous, +like a rogue elephant, so I call her a rogue squaw. Her name was +Coosaponakasee. The name is too long and too hard to say with frequency, so we +will do as did her English friends and foes—call her Mary. Indeed, she was +baptized Mary, for she was a half-breed, and her white father had her reared +like a Christian, had her educated like an English girl as far as could be done +in the little primitive settlement of Ponpon, South Carolina. It will be shown +that the attempt was not over-successful. +</p> + +<p> +She was a princess, the niece of crafty old Brim, the king of two powerful +tribes of Georgia Indians, the Creeks and Uchees. In 1715, when she was about +fifteen years old, a fierce Indian war broke out in the early spring, and at +the defeat of the Indians she promptly left her school and her church and went +out into the wilds, a savage among savages, preferring defeat and a wild summer +in the woods with her own people to decorous victory within doors with her +fellow Christians. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="AWomansDoubletMrsAnneTurner"></a> +<img src="images/155.jpg" alt="A Woman’s Doublet." /> +<p class="caption">A Woman’s Doublet. Mrs. Anne Turner. +</p></div> + +<p> +The following year an Englishman, Colonel John Musgrove, accompanied by his +son, went out as a mediator to the Creek Indians to secure their friendship, or +at any rate their neutrality. The young squaw, Mary, served as interpreter, and +the younger English pacificator promptly proved his amicable disposition by +falling in love with her. He did what was more unusual, he married her; and +soon they set up a large trading-house on the Savannah River, where they +prospered beyond belief. On the arrival of the shipload of emigrants sent out +by the Trustees of Georgia the English found Mary Musgrove and her husband +already carrying on a large trade, in securing and transacting which she had +served as interpreter. When Oglethorpe landed, he at once went to her, and +asked permission to settle near her trading-station. She welcomed him, helped +him, interpreted for him, and kept things in general running smoothly in the +settlement between the English and the Indians. The two became close friends, +and as long as generous but confiding Oglethorpe remained, all went well in the +settlement; but in time he returned to England, giving her a handsome diamond +ring in token of his esteem. Her husband died soon after and she removed to a +new station called Mount Venture. Oglethorpe shortly wrote of her:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I find that there is the utmost endeavour by the Spaniards to destroy her +because she is of consequence and in the King’s interests; therefor it is the +business of the King’s friends to support her; besides which I shall always be +desirous to serve her out of the friendship she has shown me as well as the +colony.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In a letter of John Wesley’s written to Lady Oglethorpe, and now preserved in +the Georgia Historical Society, he refers frequently to Mary Musgrove, saying:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I had with me an interpreter the half-breed, Mary Musgrove, and daily had +meetings for instruction and prayer. One woman was baptized. She was of them +who came out of great tribulation, her husband and all her three children +having been drowned four days before in crossing the Ogeechee River. Her +happiness in the gospel caused me to feel that, like Job, the widow’s heart had +been caused to sing for joy. She was married again the day following her +baptism. I suggested longer days of mourning. She replied that her first +husband was surely dead; and that his successor was of much substance, owning a +cornfield and gun. I doubt the interpreter Mary Musgrove, that she is yet in +the valley and shadow of darkness.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +One can picture the excitement of the Choctaw squaw to lose her husband and +children, and to get another husband and religion in a week’s time. Her reply +that her husband “was surely dead” bears a close resemblance to the hackneyed +story of the response to a charivari query of the Dutch bridegroom who had been +a widower but a week, “Ain’t my vife as deadt as she ever vill be?” +</p> + +<p> +Her usefulness continued. If a “talk” were had with the Indians in Savannah, +Fredonia, or any other settlement, Mary had to be sent for; if Indian warriors +had to be hired, to keep an army against the Spanish or marauding Indians, Mary +obtained them from her own people. If land were bought of the Indians, Mary +made the trade. She soon married Captain Matthews, who had been sent out with a +small English troop to protect her trading-post; he also speedily died, leaving +her free, after alliances with trade and war, to find a third husband in +ecclesiastical circles, in the person of one Chaplain Bosomworth, a parson of +much pomposity and ambition, and of liberal education without a liberal brain. +He had had a goodly grant of lands to prompt and encourage him in his +missionary endeavors; and he was under the direction and protection of the +Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. His mission was to convert the +Indians, and he began by marrying one; he then proceeded to break the law by +bringing in the first load of negro slaves in that colony, a trade which was +positively prohibited by the conditions and laws of the colony. When his +illegal traffic was stopped, he got his wife to send in back claims to the +colony of Georgia for $25,000 as interpreter, mediator, agent, etc., for the +English. She had already been paid about a thousand dollars. This demand being +promptly refused, the hitherto pacific and friendly Mary, edged on by that +sorry specimen of a parson, her husband, began a series of annoying and +extraordinary capers. She declared herself empress of Georgia, and after +sending her half-brother, a full-blooded Indian, as an advance-courier, she +came with a body of Indians to Savannah. The Rev. Thomas Bosomworth, decked in +full canonical robes, headed the Indians by the side of his empress wife, +dressed in Indian costume; and an imposing procession they made, with plenty of +theatrical color. At first the desperate colonists thought of seizing Mary and +shipping her off to England to Oglethorpe, but this notion was abandoned. As +the English soldiers were very few at that special time, and the Indian +warriors many, we can well believe that the colonists were well scared, the +more so that when the Indians were asked the reason of their visit, “their +answers were very trifling and very dark.” So a feast was offered them, but +Mary and her brother refused to come and to eat; and the dinner was scarcely +under way when more armed Indians appeared from all quarters in the streets, +running up and down in an uproar, and the town was in great confusion. The +alarm drums were beaten, and it was reported that the Indians had cut off the +head of the president as they sat together at the feast. Every man in the +colony turned out in full arms for duty, the women and children gathered in +groups in their homes in unspeakable terror. Then the president and his +assistants who had been at the dinner, and who had gone unarmed to show their +friendly intent, did what they should have done in the beginning, seized that +disreputable specimen of an English missionary, the Rev. Mr. Bosomworth, and +put him in prison; and we wonder they kept their hands off him as long as they +did. Still trying to settle the matter without bloodshed, the president asked +the Indian chiefs to adjourn to his house “to drink a glass of wine and talk +the matter over.” Into this conference came Mary, bereft of her husband, raging +like a madwoman, threatening the lives of the magistrates, swearing she would +annihilate the colony. “A fig for your general,” screamed she, “you own not a +foot of land in this colony. The whole earth is mine.” Whereupon the Empress of +Georgia, too, was placed under military guard. +</p> + +<p> +Then a harassing week of apprehension ensued; the Indians were fed, and +parleyed with, and reasoned with, and explained to. At last Mary’s brother +Malatche, at a conference, presented as a final demand a paper setting forth +plainly the claims of the Indians. The sequel of this presentation is almost +comic. The paper was so evidently the production of Bosomworth, and so wholly +for his own personal benefit and not for that of the Indians, and the +astonishment of the president and his council was so great at his vast and open +assumption, that the Indians were bewildered in turn by the strange and +unexpected manner of the white men upon reading the paper; and childishly +begged to have the paper back again “to give to him who made it.” A plain +exposition of Bosomworth’s greed and craft followed, and all seemed amicably +explained and settled, and the Creeks offered to smoke the pipe of peace; when +in came Mary, having escaped her guards, full of rum and of rancor. The +president said to her in a low voice that unless she ceased brawling and +quarrelling he would at once put her into close confinement; she turned in a +rage to her brother, and translated the threat. He and every Indian in the room +sprang to their feet, drew tomahawks, and for a short time a complete massacre +was imminent. Then the captain of the guard, Captain Noble Jones, who had +chafed under all this explaining diplomacy, lost his much-tried patience, and +like a brave and fearless English soldier ordered the Indians to surrender +arms. Though far greater in number than the English, they yielded to his +intrepidity and wrath; and the following night and day they sneaked out of the +town, as ordered, by twos and threes. +</p> + +<p> +For one month this fright and commotion and expense had existed; and at last +wholly alone were left the two contemptible malcontents and instigators of it +all. Mr. and Mrs. Bosomworth thereafter ate very humble pie; he begged sorely +and cried tearfully to be forgiven; and he wailed so deeply and promised so +broadly that at last the two were publicly pardoned. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, after all, they had their own way; for they soon went to London and cut an +infinitely fine figure there. Mary was the top of the mode, and there +Bosomworth managed to get for his wife lands and coin to the amount of about a +hundred thousand dollars. +</p> + +<p> +The prosperous twain returned to America in triumph, and built a curious and +large house on an island they had acquired; in it the Empress did not long +reign; at her death the Rev. Mr. Bosomworth married his chambermaid. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the sorry tale of the Indian squaw and the English parson, a tale the +more despicable because, though she had been reared in English ways, baptized +in the English faith, had been the friend of English men and women, and married +three English husbands; yet when fifty years old she returned at vicious +suggestion with promptitude and fierceness to violent savage ways, to incite a +massacre of her friends. And that suggestion came not from her barbarian kin, +but from an English gentleman—a Christian priest. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A VAIN PURITAN GRANDMOTHER</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>“Things farre-fetched and deare-bought are good for Ladies.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Arte of English Poesie,” G. PUTTENHAM, 1589.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“I honour a Woman that can honour herself with her Attire. A good Text +deserves a Fair Margent.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“The Simple Cobbler of Agawam,” J. WARD, 1713. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A VAIN PURITAN GRANDMOTHER</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="95" src="images/initialt.jpg" alt="T" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +here was a certain family prominent in affairs in the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries, with members resident in England, New England, and the +Barbadoes. They were gentlefolk—and gentle folk; they were of birth and +breeding; and they were kindly, tender, affectionate to one another. They were +given to much letter-writing, and better still to much letter-keeping. Knowing +the quality of their letters, I cannot wonder at either habit; for the +prevalence of the letter-keeping was due, I am sure, to the perfection of the +writing. Their letters were ever lively in diction, direct and lucid in +description, and widely varied in interest; therefore they were well worthy of +preservation, simply for the owner’s re-reading. They have proved so for all +who have brushed the dust from the packages and deciphered the faded words. +Moreover, these letters are among the few family letters of our two centuries +which convey, either to the original reader or to his successor of to-day, +anything that could, by most generous construction or fullest imagination, be +deemed equivalent to what we now term News. +</p> + +<p> +Of course their epistles contained many moral reflections and ample religious +allusions and aspirations; and they even transcribed to each other, in full, +long Biblical quotations with as much exactness and length as if each deemed +his correspondent a benighted heathen, with no Bible to consult, instead of +being an equally pious kinsman with a Bible in every room of his house. +</p> + +<p> +Their name was Hall. The heads of the family in early colonial days were the +merchants John Hall and Hugh Hall; these surnames have continued in the family +till the present time, as has the cunning of hand and wit of brain in +letter-writing, even into the seventh and eighth generation, as I can +abundantly testify from my own private correspondence. I have quoted freely in +several of my books from old family letters and business letter-books of the +Hall family. Many of these letters have been intrusted to me from the family +archives; others, especially the business letters, have found their way, +through devious paths, to our several historical societies; where they have +been lost in oblivion, hidden through churlishness, displayed in pride, or +offered in helpfulness, as suited the various humors of their custodians. To +the safe, wise, and generous guardianship of the American Antiquarian Society +fell a collection of letters of the years 1663 to 1684, written from London by +the merchant John Hall to his mother, Madam Rebekah Symonds, who, after a +fourth matrimonial venture,—successful, as were all her marriages,—was living, +in what must have seemed painful seclusion to any Londoner, in the struggling +little New England hamlet of Ipswich, Massachusetts. +</p> + +<p> +I wish to note as a light-giving fact in regard to these letters that the Halls +were as happy in marrying as in letter-writing, and as assiduous. They married +early; they married late. And by each marriage increased wonderfully either the +number of descendants, or of influential family connections, who were often +also business associates. +</p> + +<p> +Madam Symonds had four excellent husbands, more than her share of good fortune. +She married Henry Byley in 1636; John Hall in 1641; William Worcester in 1650; +and Deputy Governor Symonds in 1663. She was, therefore, in 1664, scarcely more +than a bride (if one may be so termed for the fourth time), when many costly +garments were sent to her by her devoted and loving son, John Hall; she was +then about forty-eight years of age. Her husband, Governor Symonds, was a +gentle and noble old Puritan gentleman, a New Englishman of the best type; a +Christian of missionary spirit who wrote that he “could go singing to his +grave” if he felt sure that the poor benighted Indians were won to Christ. His +stepson, John Hall, never failed in respectful and affectionate messages to him +and sedately appropriate gifts, such as “men’s knives.” Governor Symonds had +two sons and six married daughters by two—or three—previous marriages. He died +in Boston in 1678. +</p> + +<p> +A triangle of mutual helpfulness and prosperity was formed by England, New +England, and the Barbadoes in this widespread relationship of the Hall family +in matrimony, business, kin, and friendly allies. England sent to the Barbadoes +English trading-stuffs and judiciously cheap and attractive trinkets. The +islands sent to New England sugar and molasses, and also the young children +born in the islands, to be educated in Boston schools ere they went to English +universities, or were presented in the English court and London society. There +was one school in Boston established expressly for the children of the +Barbadoes planters. You may read in a later chapter upon the dress of old-time +children of some naughty grandchildren of John Hall who were sent to this +Boston school and to the care of another oft-married grandmother. In this +triangle, New England returned to the Barbadoes non-perishable and most +lucrative rum and salt codfish—codfish for the many fast-days of the Roman +Catholic Church; New England rum to exchange with profit for slaves, coffee, +and sugar. The Barbadoes and New England sent good, solid Spanish coin to +England, both for investment and domestic purchases; and England sent to New +England what is of value to us in this book—the latest fashions. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="A_Puritan_Dame."></a> +<img src="images/166.jpg" alt="A Puritan Dame." /> +<p class="caption">A Puritan Dame. +</p></div> + +<p> +When I ponder on the conditions of life in Ipswich at the time these letters +were written—the few good houses, the small amount of tilled land, the entire +lack of all the elegancies of social life; when I think upon the proximity and +ferocity of the Indian tribes and the ever present terror of their invasion; +when I picture the gloom, the dread, the oppression of the vast, close-lying, +primeval forest,—then the rich articles of dress and elaborate explanation of +the modes despatched by John Hall to his mother would seem more than +incongruous, they would be ridiculous, did I not know what a factor dress was +in public life in that day. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Madam Symonds dreaded deeply lest The Plague be sent to her in her fine +garments from London; and her dutiful son wrote her to have no fear, that he +bought her finery himself, in safe shops, from reliable dealers, and kept all +for a month in his own home where none had been infected. But she must have had +fear of disaster and death more intimately menacing to her home than was The +Plague. +</p> + +<p> +She had seen the career of genial Master Rowlandson, a neighbor’s son, full of +naughtiness, fun, and life. While an undergraduate at Harvard College he had +written in doggerel what was termed pompously a “scandalous libell,” and he had +pinned it on the door of Ipswich Meeting-house, along with the tax-collector’s +and road-mender’s notices and the announcement of intending marriages, and the +grinning wolves’ heads brought for reward. For this prank he had been soundly +whipped by the college president on the College Green; but it did not prevent +his graduating with honor at the head of his class. He was valedictorian, +class-orator, class-poet—in fact, I may say that he had full honors. (I have to +add also that in his case honors were easy; for his class, of the year 1652, +had but one graduate, himself.) The gay, mischievous boy had become a faithful, +zealous, noble preacher to the Puritan church in the neighboring town of +Lancaster; and in one cruel night, in 1676, his home was destroyed, the whole +town made desolate, his parishioners slaughtered, and his wife, Esther +Rowlandson, carried off by the savage red-men, from whom she was bravely +rescued by my far-off grandfather, John Hoar. Read the thrilling story of her +“captivation” and rescue, and then think of Madam Symonds’s finery in her gilt +trunk in the near-by town. For four years the valley of the +Nashua—blood-stained, fire-blackened—lay desolate and unsettled before Madam +Symonds’s eyes; then settlers slowly crept in. But for fifty years Ipswich was +not deemed a safe home nor free from dread of cruel Indians; “Lovewell’s War” +dragged on in 1726. But mantuas and masks, whisks and drolls, were just as +eagerly sought by the governor’s wife as if Esther Rowlandson’s capture had +been a dream. +</p> + +<p> +There was a soured, abusive, intolerant old fellow in New England in the year +1700, a “vituperative epithetizer,” ready to throw mud on everything around him +(though not working—to my knowledge—in cleaning out any mud-holes). He was not +abusive because he was a Puritan, but because “it was his nature to.” He styled +himself a “Simple Cobbler,” and he announced himself “willing to Mend his +Native Country, lamentably tattered both in the upper Leather and in the Sole, +with all the Honest Stitches he can take,” but he took out his aid in loud +hammering of his lapstone and noisy protesting against all other footwear than +his own. I fancy he thought himself another Stubbes. I know of no whole soles +he set, nor any holes he mended, and his “Simple” ideas are so involved in +expression, in such twisted sentences, and with such “strange Ink-pot termes” +and so many Latin quotations and derivatives, that I doubt if many sensible +folk knew what he meant, even in his own day. His words have none of the +directness, the force, the interest that have the writings of old Stubbes. Such +words as nugiperous, perquisquilian, ill-shapen-shotten, nudistertian, +futulous, overturcased, quaematry, surquedryes, prodromie, would seem to apply +ill to woman’s attire; they really fall wide of the mark if intended as +weapons, but it was to such vain dames as the governor’s wife that the Simple +Cobbler applied them. Some of the ministers of the colony, terrified by the +Indian outbreaks, gloomily held the vanity and extravagance of dames and +goodwives as responsible for them all. Others, with broader minds, could +discern that both the open and the subtle influence of good clothes was needed +in the new community. They gave an air of cheerfulness, of substance, of +stability, which is of importance in any new venture. For the governor’s wife +to dress richly and in the best London modes added lustre to the governor’s +office. And when the excitement had quieted and the sullen Indian sachem and +his tawny braves stalked through the little town in their gay, barbaric +trappings, they were sensible that Madam Symonds’s embroidered satin manteau +was rich and costly, even if they did not know what we know, that it was the +top of the mode. +</p> + +<p> +Governor Symonds’s home in Ipswich was on the ground where the old seminary +building now stands; but the happy married pair spent much of the time at his +farm-house on Argilla Farm, on Heart-Break Hill, by Labor-in-vain Creek, which +was also in Ipswich County. This lonely farm, so sad in name, was the only +dwelling-place in that region; it was so remote that when Indian assault was +daily feared, the general court voted to station there a guard of soldiers at +public expense because the governor was “so much in the country’s service.” He +says distinctly, however, concerning the bargain in the purchase of Argilla +Farm, that his wife was well content with it. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Penelope_Winslow."></a> +<img src="images/171.jpg" alt="Penelope Winslow." /> +<p class="caption">Penelope Winslow. +</p></div> + +<p> +There were also intimate personal considerations which would apparently render +so luxurious a wardrobe unnecessary and unsuitable. The age and health of the +wearer might generally be held to be sufficient reason for indifference to such +costly, delicate, and gay finery. When Madam Symonds was fifty-eight years old, +in 1674, her son wrote, “Oh, Good Mother, grieved am I to learn that Craziness +creeps upon you, yet am I glad that you have Faith to look beyond this Life.” +Craziness had originally no meaning of infirmity of mind; it meant feebleness, +weakness of body. Her letters evidently informed him of failing health, but +even that did not hinder the export of London finery. +</p> + +<p> +Governor Symonds’s estate at his death was under £;3000, and Argilla Farm +was valued only at £;150; yet Madam had a “Manto” which is marked +distinctly in her son’s own handwriting as costing £;30. She had money of +her own, and estates in England, of which John Hall kept an account, and with +the income of which he made these purchases. This manteau was of flowered +satin, and had silver clasps and a rich pair of embroidered satin sleeves to +wear with it; it was evidently like a sleeveless cape. We must always remember +that seventeenth-century accounts must be multiplied by five to give +twentieth-century values. Even this valuation is inadequate. Therefore the +£;30 paid for the manteau would to-day be £;150; $800 would nearly +represent the original value. As it was sent in early autumn it was evidently a +winter garment, and it must have been furred with sable to be so costly. +</p> + +<p> +In the early inventories of all the colonies “a pair of sleeves” is a frequent +item, and to my delight—when so seldom color is given—I have more than once a +pair of green sleeves. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Thy gown was of the grassy green<br/> + Thy sleeves of satin hanging by,<br/> + Which made thee be our harvest queen<br/> + And yet thou wouldst not love me.<br/> + Green sleeves was all my joy,<br/> + Green sleeves was my delight,<br/> + Green sleeves was my Heart of Gold,<br/> + And who but Lady Green-sleeves!” +</p> + +<p> +Let me recount some of “My Good Son’s labors of love and pride in London shops” +for his vain old mother. She had written in the year 1675 for lawn whisks, but +he is quick to respond that she has made a very countrified mistake. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Lawn whisks is not now worn either by Gentil or simple, young or old. Instead +whereof I have bought a shape and ruffles, what is now the ware of the bravest +as well as the young ones. Such as goe not with naked neckes, wear a black +whisk over it. Therefore I have not only bought a plain one you sent for, but +also a Lustre one, such as are most in fashion.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +John Hall’s “lustre for whisks” was of course lustring, or lutestring, a soft +half-lustred pure silk fabric which was worn constantly for two centuries. He +sent his mother many yards of it for her wear. +</p> + +<p> +We have ample proof that these black whisks were in general wear in England. In +an account-book of Sarah Fell of Swarthmoor Hall in 1673, are these items: “a +black alamode whiske for Sister Rachel; a round whiske for Susanna; a little +black whiske for myself.” This English Quaker sends also a colored stuff manteo +to her sister; scores of English inventories of women’s wardrobes contain +precisely similar items to those bought by Son Hall. And it is a tribute to the +devotion of American women to the rigid laws of fashion, even in that early +day, to find that all whisks, save black whisks and lustring ones, disappear at +this date from colonial inventories of effects. +</p> + +<p> +She wrote to him for a “side of plum colored leather” for her shoes. This was a +matter of much concern to him, not at all because this leather was a bit gay or +extravagant, or frail wear for an elderly grandmother, but because it was not +the very latest thing in leather. He writes anxiously:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Secondly you sent for Damson-Coloured Spanish Leather for Womans Shoes. But +there is noe Spanish Leather of that Colour; and Turkey Leather is coloured on +the grain side only, both of which are out of use for Women’s Shoes. Therefore +I bought a Skin of Leather that is all the mode for Women’s Shoes. All that I +fear is, that it is too thick. But my Coz. Eppes told me yt such thin ones as +are here generally used, would by rain and snow in N. England presently be +rendered of noe service and therefore persuaded me to send this, which is +stronger than ordinary. And if the Shoemaker fit it well, may not be uneasy.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Perhaps his anxious offices and advices in regard to fans show more curiously +than other quotations, the insistent attitude of the New England mind in regard +to the latest fashions. I cannot to-day conceive why any woman, young or old, +could have been at all concerned in Ipswich in 1675 as to which sort of fan she +carried, or what was carried in London, yet good Son John writes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“As to the feathered fan, I should also have found it in my heart to let it +alone, because none but very grave persons (and of them very few) use it. That +now ’tis grown almost as obsolete as Russets and more rare to be seen than a +yellow Hood. But the Thing being Civil and not very dear, Remembering that in +the years 64 and 68, if I mistake not, you had Two Fans sent, I have bought one +now on purpose for you, and I hope you will be pleased.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Evidently the screen-fan of Pocahontas’s day was no longer a novelty. His +mother had had far more fans that he remembered. In 1664 two “Tortis shell +fanns” had gone across seas; one had cost five shillings, the other ten +shillings. The following year came a black feather fan with silver handle, and +two tortoise-shell fans; in 1666 two more tortoise-shell fans; in 1688 another +feather fan, and so on. These many fans may have been disposed of as gifts to +others, but the entire trend of the son’s letters, as well as his express +directions, would show that all these articles were for his mother’s personal +use. When finery was sent for madam’s daughter, it was so specified; in 1675, +when the daughter became a bride, Brother John sent her her wedding gloves, +ever a gift of sentiment. A pair of wedding gloves of that date lies now before +me. They are mitts rather than gloves, being fingerless. They are of white kid, +and are twenty-two inches long. They are very wide at the top, and have three +drawing-strings with gilt tassels; these are run in welts about two inches +apart, and were evidently drawn into puffs above the elbow when worn. A full +edging of white Swiss lace and a pretty design of dots made in gold thread on +the back of the hand, form altogether a very costly, elegant, and decorative +article of dress. I should fancy they cost several pounds. Men’s gloves were +equally rich. Here are the gold-fringed gloves of Governor Leverett worn in +1640. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Gold-fringed_Gloves_of_Governor_Leverett."></a> +<img src="images/176.jpg" alt="Gold-fringed Gloves of Governor Leverett." /> +<p class="caption">Gold-fringed Gloves of Governor Leverett. +</p></div> + +<p> +Of course the only head-gear of Madam Symonds for outdoor wear was a hood. Hats +were falling in disfavor. I shall tell in a special chapter of the dominance at +this date and the importance of the French hood. Its heavy black folds are +shown in the portraits of Rebecca Rawson (<a href="#Rebecca_Rawson.">here</a>), +of Madam Simeon Stoddard (<a href="#Mrs._Simeon_Stoddard.">here</a>), and on +other heads in this book. Such a hood probably covered Madam Symonds’s head +heavily and fully, whene’er she walked abroad; certainly it did when she rode a +pillion-back. She had other fashionable hoods—all the fashionable hoods, in +fact, that were worn in England at that time; hoods of lustring, of tiffany, of +“bird’s-eye”—precisely the same as had Madam Pepys, and one of spotted gauze, +the last a pretty vanity for summer wear. We may remember, in fact, that Madam +Symonds was a contemporary—across-seas—of Madam Pepys, and wore the same +garments; only she apparently had richer and more varied garments than did that +beautiful young woman whose husband was in the immediate employ of the king. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Abbott was the agent in Boston through whom this London finery and +flummery was delivered to Madam Symonds in safety; and it is an amusing +side-light upon social life in the colony to know that in 1675 Abbott’s wife +was “presented before the court” for wearing a silk hood above her station, and +her husband paid the fine. Knowing womankind, and knowing the skill and cunning +in needlework of women of that day, I cannot resist building up a little +imaginative story around this “presentment” and fine. I believe that the pretty +young woman could not put aside the fascination of all the beautiful London +hoods consigned to her husband for the old lady at Ipswich; I suspect she tried +all the finery on, and that she copied one hood for herself so successfully and +with such telling effect that its air of high fashion at once caught the eye +and met with the reproof of the severe Boston magistrates. She was the last +woman, I believe, to be fined under the colonial sumptuary laws of +Massachusetts. +</p> + +<p> +The colors of Madam Symonds’s garments were seldom given, but I doubt that they +were “sad-coloured” or “grave of colour” as we find Governor Winthrop’s orders +for his wife. One lustring hood was brown; and frequently green ribbons were +sent; also many yards of scarlet and pink gauze, which seem the very essence of +juvenility. Her son writes a list of gifts to her and the members of her family +from his own people:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“A light violet-colored Petti-Coat is my wife’s token to you. The Petti-Coat +was bought for my wife’s mother and scarcely worn. This my wife humbly presents +to you, requesting your acceptance of it, for your own wearing, as being Grave +and suitable for a Person of Quality.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Even a half-worn petticoat was a considerable gift; for petticoats were both +costly and of infinite needlework. Even the wealthiest folk esteemed a gift of +partly worn clothing, when materials were so rich. Letters of deep gratitude +were sent in thanks. +</p> + +<p> +The variety of stuffs used in them was great. Some of these are wholly +obsolete; even the meaning of their names is lost. In an inventory of 1644, of +a citizen of Plymouth there was, for instance, “a petticoate of phillip &; +cheny” worth £;1. Much of the value of these petticoats was in the +handwork bestowed upon them; they were both embroidered and elaborately +quilted. About 1730, in the Van Cortlandt family, a woman was paid at one time +£;2 5s. for quilting, a large amount for that day. Often we find items of +fifteen or twenty shillings for quilting a petticoat. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Embroidered_Petticoat_Band."></a> +<img src="images/179.jpg" alt="Embroidered Petticoat Band." /> +<p class="caption">Embroidered Petticoat Band. +</p></div> + +<p> +The handsomest petticoats were of quilted silk or satin. No pattern was so +elaborate, no amount of work so large, that it could dismay the heart or tire +the fingers of an eighteenth-century needlewoman. One yellow satin petticoat +has a lining of stout linen. These are quilted together in an exquisite +irregular design of interlacing ribbons, slender vines, and long, narrow +leaves, all stuffed with white cord. Though the general effect of this pattern +is very regular, an examination shows it is not a set design, but must have +been drawn as well as worked by the maker. Another petticoat has a curious +design made with two shades of blue silk cord sewed on in a pattern. Another of +infinite work has a design outlined in tiny rolls of satin. +</p> + +<p> +These petticoats had many flat trimmings; laces of silver, gold, or silk thread +were used, galloons and orrice. Tufts of fringed silk were dotted in clusters +and made into fly-fringe. Bridget Neal, writing in 1685 to her sister, says:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I am told las is yused on petit-coats. Three fringes is much yused, but they +are not set on the petcot strait, but in waves; it does not look well, unless +all the fringes yused that fashion is the plane twisted fring not very deep. I +hear some has nine fringes sett in this fashion.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Anxiety to please his honored mother, and desire that she should be dressed in +the top of the mode, show in every letter of John Hall:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I bought your muffs of my Coz. Jno. Rolfe who tells me they are worth more +money than I gave for them. You desired yours Modish yet Long; but here with us +they are now much shorter. These were made a Purpose for you. As to yr Silk +Flowered Manto, I hope it may please you; Tis not the Mode to lyne you now at +all; but if you like to have it soe, any silke will serve, and may be done at +yr pleasure.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In 1663 Pepys notes (with his customary delight at a new fashion, mingled with +fear that thereby he might be led into more expense) that ladies at the play +put on “vizards which hid the whole face, and had become a great fashion; and +<i>so</i> to the Exchange to buy a Vizard for my wife.” Soon he added a French +mask, which led to some unpleasant encounters for Mrs. Pepys with dissolute +courtiers on the street. The plays in London were then so bold and so bad that +we cannot wonder at the masks of the play-goers. The masks concealed constant +blushes; but wearers and hearers did not stay away, for neither eyes nor ears +were covered by the mask. Busino tells of a woman at the theatre all in yellow +and scarlet, with two masks and three pairs of gloves, worn one pair over the +other. Suddenly out came disappointing Queen Anne with her royal command that +the plays be refined and reformed, and then masks were abandoned. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Blue_Brocade_Gown_and_Quilted_Satin_Petticoat."></a> +<img src="images/182.jpg" alt="Blue Brocade Gown and Quilted Satin Petticoat." +/> +<p class="caption">Blue Brocade Gown and Quilted Satin Petticoat. +</p></div> + +<p> +Masks were in those years in constant wear in the French court and society, as +a protection to the complexion when walking or riding. Sometimes plain glass +was fitted in the eye-holes. French masks had wires which fastened behind the +ears, or a mouthpiece of silver; or they had an ingenious and simple stay in +the form of two strings at the corners of the mouth-opening of the mask. These +strings ended in a silver button or glass bead. With a bead held firmly in +either corner of her mouth, the mask-wearer could talk. These vizards are seen +in old English wood-cuts, often hanging by the side, fastened to the belt with +a small cord or chain. They brought forth the bitter denunciations of the old +Puritan Stubbes. He writes in his <i>Anatomie of Abuses</i>:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“When they vse to ride abroad, they haue visors made of ueluet (or in my +iudgment they may rather be called inuisories) wherewith they couer all their +faces, hauing holes made in them agaynst their eies, whereout they looke. So +that if a man that knew not their guise before, shoulde chaunce to meete one of +theme, he would thinke he mette a monster or a deuill; for face he can see +none, but two broad holes against their eyes with glasses in them.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Masks were certainly worn to a considerable extent in America. As early as +1645, masks were forbidden in Plymouth, Massachusetts, “for improper purposes.” +When you think of the Plymouth of that year, its few houses and inhabitants, +its desperate struggle to hold its place at all as a community, the narrow +means of its citizens, the comparatively scant wardrobes of the wives and +daughters, this restriction as to mask-wearing seems a grim jest. They were for +sale in Salem and Boston, black velvet masks worth two shillings each; but +these towns were more flourishing than Plymouth. And New York dames had them, +and the planters’ wives of Virginia and South Carolina. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose Madam Symonds wore her mask when she mounted on a pillion behind some +strong young lad, and rode out to Argilla Farm. +</p> + +<p> +A few years later than the dates when Madam Symonds was ordering these +fashionable articles of dress from England a rhyming catalogue of a lady’s +toilet was written by John Evelyn and entitled, <i>Mundus Muliebris or a Voyage +to Mary-Land</i>; it might be a list of Madam Symonds’s wardrobe. Some of the +lines run:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“One gown of rich black silk, which odd is<br/> +Without one coloured embroidered boddice.<br/> +Three manteaux, nor can Madam less<br/> +Provision have for due undress.<br/> +Of under-boddice three neat pair<br/> +Embroidered, and of shoes as fair;<br/> +Short under petticoats, pure fine,<br/> +Some of Japan stuff, some of Chine,<br/> +With knee-high galoon bottomed;<br/> +Another quilted white and red,<br/> +With a broad Flanders lace below.<br/> +Three night gowns of rich Indian stuff;<br/> +Four cushion-cloths are scarce enough.<br/> +A manteau girdle, ruby buckle,<br/> +And brilliant diamond ring for knuckle.<br/> +Fans painted and perfumed three;<br/> +Three muffs of ermine, sable, grey.” +</p> + +<p> +Other articles of personal and household comfort were gathered in London shops +by her dutiful son and sent to Madam Symonds. The list is full of interest, and +helps to fill out the picture of daily life. He despatched to her cloves, +nutmegs, spices, eringo roots, “coronation” and stock-gilly-flower seed, “colly +flower seed,” hearth brushes (these came every year), silver whistles and +several pomanders and pomander-beads, bouquet-glasses (which could hardly have +been the bosom bottles which were worn later), necklaces, amber beads, many and +varied pins, needles, silk lacings, kid gloves, silver ink-boxes, sealing-wax, +gilt trunks, fancy boxes, painted desks, tape, ferret, bobbin, bone lace, +calico, gimp, many yards of ducape, lustring, persian, and other silk +stuffs—all these items of transport show the son’s devoted selection of the +articles his mother wished. Gowns seem never to have been sent, but manteaus, +mantles, and “ferrandine” cloaks appear frequently. Of course there are some +articles which cannot be positively described to-day, such as the “shape, with +ruffles” and “double pleated drolls” and “lace drolls” which appear several +times on the lists. These “drolls” were, I believe, the “drowlas” of Madame de +Lange, in New Amsterdam. “Men’s knives” occasionally were sent, and “women’s +knives” many times. These latter had hafts of ivory, agate, and +“Ellotheropian.” This Ellotheropian or Alleteropeain or Illyteropian stone has +been ever a great puzzle to me until in another letter I chanced to find the +spelling Hellotyropian; then I knew the real word was the Heliotropium of the +ancients, our blood-stone. It was a favorite stone of the day not only for +those fancy-handled knives, but for seals, finger-rings and other forms of +ornament. +</p> + +<p> +A few books were on the list,—a Greek Lexicon ordered as a gift for a student; +a very costly Bible, bound in velvet, with silver clasps, the expense of which +was carefully detailed down to the Indian silk for the inner-end leaves; +“<i>Dod on Commandments</i>—my Ant Jane said you had a fancie for it, and I +have bound it in green plush for you.” Fancy any one having a fancy for Dod on +anything! and fancy Dod in green plush covers! +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE EVOLUTION OF COATS AND WAISTCOATS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>This day the King began to put on his vest; and I did see several persons of +the House of Lords and Commons too, great courtiers who are in it, being a long +cassock close to the body, of long cloth, pinked with white silk under it, and +a coat over it, and the legs ruffled with white ribbon like a pigeon’s leg; and +upon the whole I wish the King may keep it, for it is a very fine and handsome +garment.</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Diary,” SAMUEL PEPYS, October 8, 1666.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>Fashion then was counted a disease and horses died of it.</i><br/> +<br/> +—“The Gulls Hornbook,” ANDREW DEKKER, 1609. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE EVOLUTION OF COATS AND WAISTCOATS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="90" height="87" src="images/initialb.jpg" alt="B" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +oth word and garment—coat—are of curious interest, one as a philological study, +the other as an evolution. A singular transfer of meaning from cot or cote, a +house and shelter, to the word coat, used for a garment, is duplicated in some +degree in chasuble, casule, and cassock; the words body, and bodice; and corse +or corpse, and corselet and corset. The word coat, meaning a garment for men +for covering the upper part of the body, has been in use for centuries; but of +very changeable and confusing usage, for it also constantly meant petticoat. +The garment itself was a puzzle, for many years; most bewildering of all the +attire which was worn by the first colonists was the elusive, coatlike +over-garment called in shipping-lists, tailors’ orders, household inventories, +and other legal and domestic records a doublet, a jerkin, a jacket, a cassock, +a paltock, a coat, a horseman’s coat, an upper-coat, and a buff-coat. All these +garments resembled each other; all closed with a single row of buttons or +points or hooks and eyes. There was not a double-breasted coat in the +<i>Mayflower</i>, nor on any man in any of the colonies for many years; they +hadn’t been invented. Let me attempt to define these several coatlike garments. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="A_Plain_Jerkin."></a> +<img src="images/188.jpg" alt="A Plain Jerkin." /> +<p class="caption">A Plain Jerkin. +</p></div> + +<p> +In 1697 a jerkin was described by Randle Holme as “a kind of jacket or upper +doublet, with four skirts or laps.” These laps were made by slits up from the +hem to the belt-line, and varied in number, but four on each side was a usual +number, or there might be a slit up the back, and one on each hip, which would +afford four laps in all. Mr. Knight, in his notes on Shakespere’s use of the +word, conjectures that the jerkin was generally worn over the doublet; but one +guess is as good as another, and I guess it was not. I agree, however, with his +surmise that the two garments were constantly confounded; in truth it is not a +surmise, it is a fact. Shakespere expressed the situation when he said in +<i>The Two Gentlemen of Verona</i>, “My jerkin is a doublet;” and I fancy there +was slight difference in the garments, save that in the beginning the doublet +was always of two thicknesses, as its name indicates; and it was wadded. +</p> + +<p> +As the jerkin was often minutely slashed, it could scarcely have been wadded; +though it may have had a lining for special display through the slashes. +</p> + +<p> +A jerkin had no skirts in our modern sense of the word,—a piece set on at the +waist-line,—nor could it on that account be what we term a coat, nor was it a +coat, nor was it what the colonists deemed a coat. +</p> + +<p> +The old Dutch word is <i>jurkken</i>, and it was often thus spelt, which has +led some to deem it a Dutch name and article of dress. But then it was also +spelt <i>irkin, ircken, jorken, jorgen, erkyn</i>, and <i>ergoin</i>—which are +not Dutch nor any other tongue. Indeed, under the name <i>ergoin</i> I wonder +that we recognize it or that it knew itself. A jerkin was often of leather like +a buff-coat, but not always so. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Richard Saltonstall wears a buff-coat, with handsome sword-belt, or +trooping-belt, and rich gloves. His portrait is shown <a +href="#Sir_Richard_Saltonstall.">here</a>. As we look at his fine countenance +we think of Hawthorne’s words:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“What dignitary is this crossing to greet the Governor. A stately personage in +velvet cloak—with ample beard and a gold band across his breast. He has the +authoritative port of one who has filled the highest civic position in the +first of cities. Of all men in the world, we should least expect to meet the +Lord Mayor of London—as Sir Richard Saltonstall has been once and again—in a +forest-bordered settlement in the western wilderness.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A fine buff-coat and a buff-coat sleeve are given in the chapter upon Armor. +</p> + +<p> +All the early colonial inventories of wearing-apparel contain doublets. Richard +Sawyer died in 1648 in Windsor, Connecticut; he was a plain average “Goodman +Citizen.” A part of his apparel was thus inventoried:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>£;</td><td> s.</td><td>d.</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 musck-colour’d cloth doublitt &; breeches</td><td>1</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 bucks leather doublitt</td><td></td><td>12</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 calves leather doublitt</td><td></td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 liver-colour’d doublitt &; jacket &; breeches</td><td></td><td>7</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 haire-colour’d doublitt &; jackett &; breeches </td><td></td><td>5</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 paire canvas drawers</td><td></td><td>1</td><td>6</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 olde coate. 1 paire old gray breeches</td><td></td><td>5</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 stuffe jackett</td><td></td><td>2</td><td>6</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +William Kempe of “Duxborrow,” a settler of importance, died in 1641. His +wardrobe was more varied, and ample and rich. He left two buff-coats and +leather doublets with silver buttons; cloth doublets, three horsemen’s coats, +“frize jerkines,” three cassocks, two cloaks. +</p> + +<p> +Of course we turn to Stubbes to see what he can say for or against doublets. +His outcry here is against their size; and those who know the “great +pease-cod-bellied doublets” of Elizabeth’s day will agree with him that they +look as if a man were wholly gone to “gourmandice and gluttonie.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="A_Doublet."></a> +<img src="images/191.jpg" alt="A Doublet." /> +<p class="caption">A Doublet. +</p></div> + +<p> +Stubbes has a very good list of coats and jerkins in which he gives +incidentally an excellent description by which we may know a mandillion:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Their coates and jerkins as they be diuers in colours so be they diuers in +fashions; for some be made with collars, some without, some close to the body, +some loose, which they call mandilians, couering the whole body down to the +thigh, like bags or sacks, that were drawne ouer them, hiding the dimensions +and lineaments of the body. Some are buttoned down the breast, some vnder the +arme, and some down the backe, some with flaps over the brest, some without, +some with great sleeves, some with small, some with none at all, some pleated +and crested behind and curiously gathered and some not.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +An old satirical print, dated 1644, gives drawings of men of all the new +varieties of religious belief and practices which “pestered Christians” at the +beginning of the century. With the exception of the Adamite, whose garb is that +of Adam in the Garden of Eden, all ten wear doublets. These vary slightly, much +less than in Stubbes’s list of jerkins. One is open up the back with buttons +and button-loops. Another has the “four laps on a side,” showing it is a +jerkin. Another is opened on the hips; one is slit at back and hips. All save +one from neck to hem are buttoned in front with a single row of buttons, with +no lapells, collar, or cuffs, and no “flaps,” no ornaments or trimming. A linen +shirt-cuff and a plain band finish sleeves and neck of all save the Arminian, +who wears a small ruff. Not one of these doublets is a graceful or an elegant +garment. All are shapeless and over-plain; and have none of the French +smartness that came from the spreading coat-skirts of men’s later wear. +</p> + +<p> +The welts or wings named in the early sumptuary laws were the pieces of cloth +set at the shoulder over the arm-hole where body and sleeves meet. The welt was +at first a sort of epaulet, but grew longer and often set out, thus deserving +its title of wings. +</p> + +<p> +A dress of the times is thus described:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“His doublet was of a strange cut, the collar of it was up so high and sharp as +it would cut his throat. His wings according to the fashion now were as little +and diminutive as a Puritan’s ruff.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A note to this says that “wings were lateral projections, extending from each +shoulder”—a good round sentence that by itself really means nothing. Ben Jonson +calls them “puff-wings.” +</p> + +<p> +There is one positive rule in the shape of doublets; they were always welted at +the arm-hole. Possibly the sleeves were sometimes sewn in, but even then there +was always a cap, a welt or a hanging sleeve or some edging. In the +illustrations of the <i>Roxburghe Ballads</i> there is not a doublet or jerkin +on man, woman, or child but is thus welted. Some trimming around the arm-hole +was a law. This lasted until the coat was wholly evolved. This had sleeves, and +the shoulder-welt vanished. +</p> + +<p> +These welts were often turreted or cut in squares. You will note this turreted +shoulder in some form on nearly all the doublets given in the portraits +displayed in this book—both on men and women. For doublets were also worn by +women. Stubbes says, “Though this be a kind of attire proper only to a man, yet +they blush not to wear it.” The old print of the infamous Mrs. Turner given <a +href="#AWomansDoubletMrsAnneTurner">here</a> shows her in a doublet. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="JAMES_DUKE_OF_YORK"></a> +<img src="images/194.jpg" alt="The high borne Prince Iames Dvke of Yorke borne +October = the 13.1633" /> +<p class="caption">James, Duke of York. +</p></div> + +<p> +Another author complains:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“If Men get up French standing collars Women will have the French standing +collar too: if Dublets with little thick skirts, so short none are able to sit +upon them, women’s foreparts are thick skirted too.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Children also had doublets and this same shoulder-cap at the arm-hole; their +little doublets were made precisely like those of their parents. Look at the +childish portrait of Lady Arabella Stuart, the portrait with the doll. Her fat +little figure is squeezed in a doublet which has turreted welts like those worn +by Anne Boleyn and by Pocahontas (shown <a href="#Pocahontas.">here</a>). Often +a button was set between each square of the welt, and the sleeve loops or +points could be tied to these buttons and thus hold up the detached +undersleeves. The portrait of Sir Richard Saltonstall vaguely shows these +buttons. Nearly all these garments-jerkins, jackets, doublets, buff-coats, +paltocks, were sleeveless, especially when worn as the uppermost or outer +garment. Holinshed tells of “doublets full of jagges and cuts and sleeves of +sundry colours.” These welts were “embroidered, indented, waved, furred, +chisel-punched, dagged,” as well as turreted. On one sleeve the turreted welt +varied, the middle square or turret was long, the others each two inches +shorter. Thus the sleeve-welt had a “crow-step” shape. A charming doublet +sleeve of Elizabeth’s day displayed a short hanging sleeve that was scarce more +than a hanging welt. This was edged around with crystal balls or buttons. Other +welts were scalloped, with an eyelet-hole in each scallop, like the edge of old +ladies’ flannel petticoats. Othersome welts were a round stuffed roll. This +roll also had its day around the petticoat edge, as may be seen in the +petticoat of the child Henry Gibbes. This roll still appears on Japanese +kimonos. +</p> + +<p> +We are constantly finding complaints of the unsuitably ambitious attire of +laboring folk in such sentences as this:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The plowman, in times past content in russet, must now-a-daies have his +doublett of the fashion with wide cuts; his fine garters of Granada, to meet +his Sis on Sunday. The fair one in russet frock and mockaldo sleeves now sells +a cow against Easter to buy her silken gear.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Velvet jerkins and damask doublets were for men of dignity and estate. Governor +Winthrop had two tufted velvet jerkins. +</p> + +<p> +Jerkins and doublets varied much in shape and detail:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“These doublets were this day short-waisted, anon, long-bellied; +by-and-by-after great-buttoned, straight-after plain-laced, or else your +buttons as strange for smallness as were before for bigness.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="An_Embroidered_Jerkin."></a> +<img src="images/197.jpg" alt="An Embroidered Jerkin." /> +<p class="caption">An Embroidered Jerkin. +</p></div> + +<p> +In Charles II’s time at the May-pole dances still appear the old, welted +doublets. Jack may have worn Cicily’s doublet, and Peg may have borrowed Will’s +for all the difference that can be seen. The man’s doublet did not ever have +long, hanging sleeves, however, in the seventeenth century, while women wore +such sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the sleeves were very large, as in the Bowdoin portrait (<a +href="#A_Bowdoin_Portrait">here</a>). The great puffs were held out by +whalebones and rolls of cotton, and “tiring-sleeves” of wires, a fashion which +has obtained for women at least seven times in the history of English costume. +Gosson describes the vast sleeves of English doublets thus;— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“This Cloth of Price all cut in ragges,<br/> + These monstrous bones that compass arms,<br/> +These buttons, pinches, fringes, jagges,<br/> + With them he (the Devil) weaveth woeful harms.” +</p> + +<p> +We have seen how bitterly the slashing of good cloth exercised good men. The +“cutting in rags” was slashing. +</p> + +<p> +A favorite pattern of slashing is in small, narrow slits as shown in the +portrait <a href="#JamesDouglasEarlofMorton">here</a> of James Douglas. These +jerkins are of leather, and the slashes are of course ornamental, and are also +for health and comfort, as those know who wear chamois jackets with perforated +holes throughout them, or slashes if we choose to call them so. They permit a +circulation of the skin and a natural condition. These jerkins are slashed in +curious little cuts, “carved of very good intail,” as was said of King Henry’s +jerkin, which means, in modern English, cut in very good designs. And I +presume, being of buff leather, the slashes were simply cut, not overcast or +embroidered as were some wool stuffs. +</p> + +<p> +The guard was literally a guard to the seam, a strip of galloon, silk, lace, +velvet, put on over the seam to protect and strengthen it. +</p> + +<p> +The large openings or slashes were called panes. Fynes Mayson says, “Lord +Mountjoy wore jerkins and round hose with laced panes of russet cloth.” The +Swiss dress was painted by Coryat as doublet and hose of panes intermingled of +red and yellow, trimmed with long puffs of blue and yellow rising up between +the panes. It was necessarily a costly dress. Of course this is the same word +with the same meaning as when used in the term a “pane of glass.” +</p> + +<p> +The word “pinches” refers to an elaborate pleating which was worn for years; it +lingered in America till 1750, and we have revived it in what we term +“accordion pleating.” The seventeenth-century pinching was usually applied to +lawn or some washable stuff; and there must have been a pinching, a goffering +machine by which the pinching was done to the washed garment by means of a +heated iron. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="John_Lilburne."></a> +<img src="images/199.jpg" alt="John Lilburne." /> +<p class="caption">John Lilburne. +</p></div> + +<p> +Pinched sleeves, pinched partlets, pinched shirts, pinched wimples, pinched +ruffs, are often referred to, all washable garments. The good wife of Bath wore +a wimple which was “y-pinched full seemly.” Henry VIII wore a pinched +habit-shirt of finest lawn, and his fine, healthy skin glowed pink through the +folds of the lawn after his hearty exercise at tennis and all kinds of athletic +sports, for which he had thrown off his doublet. We are taught to deem him “a +spot of grease and blood on England’s page.” There was more muscle than fat in +him; he could not be restrained from constant, violent, dangerous exercise; +this was one of the causes of the admiration of his subjects. +</p> + +<p> +The pinched partlet made a fine undergarment for the slashed doublet. +</p> + +<p> +So full, so close, were these “pinchings,” that one author complained that men +wearing them could not draw their bowstrings well. It was said that the +“pinched partlet and puffed sleeves” of a courtier would easily make a lad a +doublet and cloak. +</p> + +<p> +In my chapter on Children’s Dress I tell of the pinched shirt worn by Governor +Bradford when an infant, and give an illustration of it. +</p> + +<p> +Aglets or tags were a pretty fashion revived for women’s wear three years ago. +Under Stuart reign, these aglets were of gold or silver, and set with precious +stones such as pear-shaped pearls. For ordinary wear they were of metal, silk, +or leather. They secured from untwisting or ravelling the points which were +worn for over a century; these were ties or laces of ribbon, or woollen yarn or +leather, decorated with tags or aglets at one end. Points were often +home-woven, and were deemed a pretty gift to a friend. They were employed +instead of buttons in securing clothes, and were used by the earliest settlers, +chiefly, I think, as ornaments at the knee or for holding up the stockings in +the place of garters. They were regarded as but foolish vanities, and were one +of the articles of finery tabooed in early sumptuary laws. In 1651 the general +court of Massachusetts expressed its “utter detestation and dislike that men of +meane condition, education and calling should take upon them the garbe of +gentlemen by the wearinge of poynts at the knees.” Fashion was more powerful +than law; the richly trimmed, sashlike garters quickly displaced the modest +points. +</p> + +<p> +The Earl of Southampton, friend of Shakespere and of Virginia, as pictured on a +later page, wears a doublet with agletted points around his belt, by which +breeches and doublet are tied together. This is a striking portrait. The face +is very noble. A similar belt was the favorite wear of Charles I. +</p> + +<p> +Martin Frobisher, the hero of the Armada, wears a jerkin fastened down the +front with buttons and aigletted points. (See <a +href="#A_Plain_Jerkin.">here</a>.) I suppose, when the fronts of the jerkin +were thoroughly joined, each button had a point twisted or tied around it. +Frobisher’s lawn ruff is a modest and becoming one. This portrait in the +original is full length. The remainder of the costume is very plain; it has no +garters, no knee-points, no ribbons, no shoe-roses. The foot-covering is +Turkish slippers precisely like the Oriental slippers which are imported +to-day. +</p> + +<p> +The Earl of Morton (<a href="#JamesDouglasEarlofMorton">here</a>) wore a jerkin +of buff leather curiously pinked and slashed. Fulke Greville’s doublet (<a +href="#FulkeGrevilleLordBrooke">here</a>) has a singular puff around the waist, +like a farthingale.<a href="#A_Doublet.">Here</a> is shown a doublet of the +commonest form; this is worn by Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire. The +portrait is painted by Sir Antonio More—the portrait of one artist by another, +and a very fine one, too. +</p> + +<p> +Another garment, which is constantly named in lists of clothing, was the +cassock. Steevens says a cassock “signifies a horseman’s loose coat, and is +used in that sense by the writers of the age of Shakespere.” It was apparently +a garment much like a doublet or jerkin, and the names were used +interchangeably. I think the cassock was longer than the doublet, and without +“laps.” The straight, long coats shown on the gentlemen in the picture <a +href="#Funeral_Procession.">here</a> were cassocks. The name finally became +applied only to the coat or gown of the clergy. In the will of Robert +Saltonstall, made in 1650, he names a “Plush Cassock,” but cloth cassocks were +the commonest wear. +</p> + +<p> +There were other names for the doublet which are now difficult to place +precisely. In the reign of Henry VIII a law was passed as to men’s wear of +velvet in their sleeveless cotes, jackets, and jupes. This word jupe and its +ally jupon were more frequently heard in women’s lists; but jump, a derivative, +was man’s wear. Randle Holme said: “A jump extendeth to the thighs; is open and +buttoned before, and may have a slit half way behind.” It might be with or +without sleeves—all this being likewise true of the doublet. From this jump +descended the modern jumper and the eighteenth century jumps—what Dr. Johnson +defined in one of his delightsome struggles with the names of women’s attire, +“Jumps: a kind of loose or limber stays worn by sickly ladies.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Colonel_William_Legge."></a> +<img src="images/203.jpg" alt="Colonel William Legge." /> +<p class="caption">Colonel William Legge. +</p></div> + +<p> +Coats were not furnished to the Massachusetts or Plymouth planters, but those +of Piscataquay in New Hampshire had “lined coats,” which were simply doublets +like all the rest. +</p> + +<p> +In 1633 we find that Governor Winthrop had several dozen scarlet coats sent +from England to “the Bay.” The consigner wrote, “I could not find any +Bridgwater cloth but Red; so all the coats sent are red lined with blew, and +lace suitable; which red is the choise color of all.” These coats of double +thickness were evidently doublets. +</p> + +<p> +The word “coat” in the earliest lists must often refer to a waistcoat. I infer +this from the small cost of the garments, the small amount of stuff it took to +make them, and because they were worn with “Vper coats”—upper coats. +Raccoon-skin and deerskin coats were many; these were likewise waistcoats, and +the first lace coats were also waistcoats. Robert Keayne of Boston had costly +lace coats in 1640, which he wore with doublets—these likewise were waistcoats. +</p> + +<p> +As years go on, the use of the word becomes constant. There were “moose-coats” +of mooseskin. Josselyn says mooseskin made excellent coats for martial men. +Then come papous coats and pappous coats. These I inferred—since they were used +in Indian trading—were for pappooses’ wear, pappoose being the Indian word for +child. But I had a painful shock in finding in the <i>Traders’ Table of +Values</i> that “3 Pappous Skins equal 1 Beaver”—so I must not believe that +pappoose here means Indian baby. Match-coats were originally of skins dressed +with the fur on, shaped in a coat like the hunting-shirt. The “Duffield +Match-coat” was made of duffels, a woollen stuff, in the same shape. Duffels +was called match-cloth. The word “coat” here is not really an English word; it +is matchigode, the Chippewa Indian name for this garment. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="205"></a> +<img src="images/205.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="[Illustration: Sir +Thomas Orchard, Knight]" /> +<p class="caption">Sir Thomas Orchard, Knight +</p></div> + +<p> +We have in old-time letters and accounts occasional proof that the coat of the +Puritan fathers was not at all like the shapely coat of our day. We have also +many words to prove that the coat was a doublet which, as old Stubbes said, +could be “pleated, or crested behind and curiously gathered.” +</p> + +<p> +The tailor of the Winthrop family was one John Smith; he made garments for them +all, father, mother, children, and children’s wives, and husband’s sisters, +nieces, cousins, and aunts. He was a good Puritan, and seems to have been much +esteemed by Winthrop. One letter accompanying a coat runs: “Good Mr. Winthrop, +I have, by Mr. Downing’s direction sent you a coat, a sad foulding colour +without lace. For the fittness I am a little vncerteyne, but if it be too bigg +or too little it is esie to amend, vnder the arme to take in or let out the +lyning; the outside may be let out in the gathering or taken in also without +any prejudice.” This instruction would appear to prove not only that the coat +was a doublet, “curiously gathered” but that the “fittness” was more than +“uncerteyne” of the coats of the Fathers. Since even such wildly broad +directions could not “prejudice” the coat, we may assume that Governor Winthrop +was more easily suited as to the cut of his apparel, than would have been Sir +Walter Raleigh or Sir Philip Sidney. +</p> + +<p> +Though Puritan influence on dress simplified much of the flippery and finery of +the days of Elizabeth and James, and the refining elegance of Van Dyck gave +additional simplicity as well as beauty to women’s attire, which it retained +for many years, still there lingered throughout the seventeenth century, ready +to spring into fresh life at a breath of encouragement, many grotesqueries of +fashion in men’s dress which, in the picturesque sneer of the day, were deemed +meet only for “a changeable-silk-gallant.” At the restoration of the crown, +courtiers seemed to love to flaunt frivolity in the faces of the Puritans. +</p> + +<p> +One of these trumperies came through the excessive use of ribbons, a use which +gave much charm to women’s dress, but which ever gave to men’s garments a +finicky look. Beribboned doublets came in the butterfly period, between worm +and chrysalis, between doublet and coat; beribboned breeches were eagerly +adopted. +</p> + +<p> +Shown <a href="#205">here</a> is the copy of an old print, which shows the +dress of an estimable and sensible gentleman, Sir Thomas Orchard, with +ribbon-edged garments and much galloon or laces. It is far too much trimmed to +be rich or elegant. See also <i>The English Antick</i> on this page, from a +rare broadside. His tall hat is beribboned and befeathered; his face is +patched, ribbons knot his love-locks, his breeches are edged with agletted +ribbons, and “on either side are two great bunches of ribbons of several +colors.” Similar knots are at wrists and belt. His boots are fringed with lace, +and so wide that he “straddled as he went along singing.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_English_Antick."></a> +<img src="images/207.jpg" alt="The English Antick." /> +<p class="caption">The English Antick. +</p></div> + +<p> +Ribboned sleeves like those of Colonel Legge, <a +href="#Colonel_William_Legge.">here</a>, were a pretty fashion, but more suited +to women’s wear than to men’s. +</p> + +<p> +George Fox, the founder of Quakerism, tells us what he thought of such attire. +He wrote satirically:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“If one have store of ribands hanging about his waist or his knees and in his +hat; of divers colours red, white black or yellow, O! then he is a brave man. +He hath ribands on his back, belly and knees, and his hair powdered, this is +the array of the world. Are not these that have got ribands hanging about their +arms, hands, back, waist, knees, hats, like fiddlers’ boys? And further if one +get a pair of breeches like a coat and hang them about with points, and tied up +almost to the middle, a pair of double cuffs on his hands, and a feather in his +cap, here is a gentleman!” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +These beribboned garments were a French mode. The breeches were the +“rhingraves” of the French court, which were breeches made wholly of loops of +ribbons—like two ribboned petticoats. They caught the eye of seafaring men; we +know that Jack ashore loves finery. We are told of sea-captains wearing +beribboned breeches as they came into quiet little American ports, and of one +English gallant landing from a ship in sober Boston, wearing breeches made +wholly from waist to knee of overlapping loops of gay varicolored ribbon. It is +recorded that “the boys did wonder and call out thereat,” and they “were chided +therefor.” It is easy to picture the scene: the staring boys, born in Boston, +of Puritan parents, of dignified dress, and more familiar with fringes on the +garments of savage Indians than on the breeches of English gentlemen; we can +see the soberly reproving minister or schoolmaster looking with equal +disapproval on the foppish visitor and the mannerless boys; and the gayly +dressed ship’s captain, armed with self-satisfaction and masculine vanity, +swaggering along the narrow streets of the little town. It mattered not what he +wore or what he did, a seafaring man was welcome. I wonder what the governor +thought of those beribboned breeches! Perhaps he ordered a pair from London for +himself,—of sad-colored ribbons,—offering the color as a compromise for the +over-gayety of the ribbons. Randle Holme gave in 1658 three descriptions of the +first petticoat-breeches, with drawings of each. One had the lining lower than +the breeches, and tied in about the knees; ribbons extended halfway up the +breeches, and ribbons hung out from the doublet all about the waistband. The +second had a single row of pointed ribbons hanging all around the lower edge of +the breeches; these were worn with stirrup-hose two yards wide at the top, tied +by points and eyelet-holes to the breeches. The third had stirrup-hose tied to +the breeches, and another pair of hose over them turned down at the calf of the +leg, and the ribbons edged the stirrup-hose. His drawings of them are foolish +things—not even pretty. He says ribbons were worn first at the knees, then at +the waist at the doublet edge, then around the neck, then on the wrists and +sleeves. These knee-ribbons formed what Dryden called in 1674 “a dangling +knee-fringe.” It is difficult for me to think of Dryden living at that period +of history. He seems to me infinitely modern in comparison with it. Evelyn +describes the wearer of such a suit as “a fine silken thing”; and tells that +the ribbons were of “well-chosen colours of red, orange, and blew, of +well-gummed satin, which augured a happy fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +In 1672 a suit of men’s clothes was made for the beautiful Duchess of +Portsmouth to wear to a masquerade; this was with “Rhingrave breeches and +cannons.” The suit was of dove-colored silk brocade trimmed with scarlet and +silver lace and ribbons. +</p> + +<p> +The ten yards of brocade for this beautiful suit cost £;14. The Rhingrave +breeches were trimmed with thirty-six yards of figured scarlet ribbon and +thirty-six yards of plain satin ribbon and thirty-six of scarlet taffeta +ribbon; this made one hundred and eight yards of ribbon—a great amount—an +unusable amount. I fear the tailor was not honest. There were also as trimmings +twenty-two yards of scarlet and silver vellum lace for guards; six dozen +scarlet and silver vellum buttons, smaller breast buttons, narrow laces for the +waistcoat, and silver twist for buttonholes. The suit was lined with +lutestring. There was a black beaver hat with scarlet and silver edging, and +lace embroidered scarlet stockings, a rich belt and lace garters, and point +lace ruffles for the neck, sleeves, and knees. This suit had an interlining of +scarlet camlet; and lutestring drawers seamed with scarlet and silver lace. The +total bill of £;59 would be represented to-day by $1400,—a goodly +sum,—but it was a goodly suit. There is a portrait of the Duchess of Richmond +in a similar suit, now at Buckingham Palace. Portraits of the Duke of Bedford, +and of George I, painted by Kneller, are almost equally beribboned. The one of +the king is given facing this page to show his ribbons and also the +extraordinary shoes, which were fashionable at this date. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="George_I."></a> +<img src="images/211.jpg" alt="George I." /> +<p class="caption">George I. +</p></div> + +<p> +“Indians gowns,” or banyans, were for a century worn in England and America, +and are of enough importance to receive a separate chapter in this book. The +graceful folds allured all men and all portrait painters, just as the +fashionable new china allured all women. The banyan was not the only Oriental +garment which had become of interest to Englishmen. John Evelyn described in +his <i>Tyrannus or the Mode</i> the “comeliness and usefulnesse” of all Persian +clothing; and he noted with justifiable gratification that the new attire which +had recently been adopted by King Charles II was “a comely dress after ye +Persian mode.” He says modestly, “I do not impute to this my discourse the +change which soone happened; but it was an identity I could not but take notice +of.” +</p> + +<p> +Rugge in his <i>Diurnal</i> describes the novel dress which was assumed by King +Charles and the whole court, due notice of a subject of so much importance +having been given to the council the previous month; and notice of the king’s +determination “never to change it,” which he kept like many another of his +promises and resolutions. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“It is a close coat of cloth pinkt with a white taffety under the cutts. This +in length reached the calf of the leg; and upon that a sercoat cutt at the +breast, which hung loose and shorter than the vest six inches. The breeches the +Spanish cutt; and buskins some of cloth, some of leather but of the same colour +as the vest or garment; of never the like garment since William the Conqueror.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Three_Cassock_Sleeves_and_a_Buff-coat_Sleeve."></a> +<img src="images/213.jpg" alt="Three Cassock Sleeves and a Buff-coat Sleeve." +/> +<p class="caption">Three Cassock Sleeves and a Buff-coat Sleeve. +</p></div> + +<p> +Pepys we have seen further explained that it was all black and white, the black +cassock being close to the body. “The legs ruffled with black ribands like a +pigeon’s leg, and I wish the King may keep it for it is a fine and handsome +garment.” The news which came to the English court a month later that the king +of France had put all his footmen and servants in this same dress as a livery +made Pepys “mightie merry, it being an ingenious kind of affront, and yet makes +me angry,” which is as curious a frame of mind as even curious Pepys could +record. Planché doubts this act of the king of France; but in <i>The Character +of a Trimmer</i> the story is told <i>in extenso</i>—that the “vests were put +on at first by the King to make Englishmen look unlike Frenchmen; but at the +first laughing at it all ran back to the dress of French gentlemen.” The king +had already taken out the white linings as “’tis like a magpie;” and was glad +to quit it I do not doubt. Dr. Holmes—and the rest of us—have looked askance at +the word “vest” as allied in usage to that unutterable contraction, pants. But +here we find that vest is a more classic name than waistcoat for this dull +garment—a garment with too little form or significance to be elegant or +interesting or attractive. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="HenryBennetEarlofArlington"></a> +<img src="images/214.jpg" alt="Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington." /> +<p class="caption">Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington. +</p></div> + +<p> +Though this dress was adopted by the whole court, and though it was an age of +portrait painting,—and surely no more delicate flattery to the king’s taste +could be given than to have one’s portrait painted in the king’s chosen +vestments,—yet but one portrait remains which is stated to display this dress. +This is the portrait of Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington—it is shown on this +page. This was painted by the king’s own painter, Sir Peter Lely. I must say +that I cannot find much resemblance to Pepys’s or Rugge’s description, unless +the word “pinked” means cut out in an all-over pattern like Italian cut-work; +then this inner vest might be of “cloth pinkt with a white taffeta under the +coat.” The surcoat is of black lined with white. Of course the sash is present, +but not in any way distinctive. It was a characteristic act in the Earl to be +painted in this dress, for he was a courtier of courtiers, perhaps the most +rigid follower of court rules in England. He was “by nature of a pleasant and +agreeable humour,” but after a diplomatic journey on the continent he assumed +an absurd formality of manner which was much ridiculed by his contemporaries. +His letters show him to be exceeding nice in his phraseology; and he prided +himself upon being the best-bred man in court. He was a trimmer, “the chief +trickster of the court,” a member of the Cabal, the first <i>a</i> in the word; +and he was heartily hated as well as ridiculed. When a young man he received a +cut on the nose in a skirmish in Ireland; he never let his prowess be +forgotten, but ever after wore a black patch over the scar—it may be seen in +his portrait. When his fellow courtiers wished to gibe at him, they stuck black +patches on their noses and with long white staves strutted around the court in +imitation of his pompous manner. He is a handsome fellow, but too fat—which was +not a curse of his day as of the present. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Funeral_Procession."></a> +<img src="images/216.jpg" alt="Figures from Funeral Procession of the Duke of +Albemarle, 1670." /> +<p class="caption">Figures from Funeral Procession of the Duke of Albemarle, +1670. +</p></div> + +<p> +Of course the king changed his dress many times after this solemn assumption of +a lifelong garment. It was a restless, uncertain, trying time in men’s dress. +They had lost the doublet, and had not found the skirted coat, and stood like +the Englishman of Andrew Borde—ready to take a covering from any nation of the +earth. I wonder the coat ever survived—that it did is proof of an inherent +worth. Knowing the nature of mankind and the modes, the surprise really is that +the descendants of Charles and all English folk are not now wearing shawls or +peplums or anything save a coat and waistcoat. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the sturdy rich members of the governors’ cabinets and the assemblies +and some of our American officers who had been in his Majesty’s army, or had +served a term in the provincial militia, and had had a hot skirmish or two with +marauding Indians on the Connecticut River frontier, and some very worthy +American gentlemen who were not widely renowned either in military or +diplomatic circles and had never worn armor save in the artist’s studio,—these +were all painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller and by Sir Peter Lely, and by lesser +lights in art, dressed in a steel corselet of the artist, and wearing their own +good Flanders necktie and their own full well-buckled wig. There were some +brave soldiers, too, who were thus painted, but there were far more in armor +than had ever smelt smoke of powder. It was a good comfortable fashion for the +busy artist. It must have been much easier when you had painted a certain +corselet a hundred times to paint it again than to have to paint all kinds of +new colors and stuffs. And the portrait in armor was almost always kitcat, and +that disposed of the legs, ever a nuisance in portrait-painting. +</p> + +<p> +While the virago-sleeves were growing more and more ornamental, and engageants +were being more and more worn by women, men’s sleeves assumed a most +interesting form. The long coat, or cassock, had sleeves which were cut off at +the elbow with great cuffs and were worn over enormous ruffled undersleeves; +and they were even cut midway between shoulder and elbow, were slashed and +pointed and beribboned to a wonderful degree. This lasted but a few years, the +years when the cassock was shaping itself definitely into a skirted coat. +Perhaps the height of ornamentation in sleeves was in the closing years of the +reign of Charles II, though fancy sleeves lingered till the time of George I. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Earl_of_Southampton."></a> +<img src="images/219.jpg" alt="Earl of Southampton." /> +<p class="caption">Earl of Southampton. +</p></div> + +<p> +In an account of the funeral of George Monck, the Duke of Albemarle, in the +year 1670, the dress is very carefully drawn of those who walked in the +procession. (Some of them are given <a href="#Funeral_Procession.">here</a>.) +It may be noted, first, that all the hats are lower crowned and straight +crowned, not like a cone or a truncated cone, as crowns had been. The <i>Poor +Men</i> are in robes with beards and flowing natural hair; they wear square +bands, and carry staves. The <i>Clergymen</i> wear trailing surplices; but +these are over a sort of cassock and breeches, and they all have high-heeled +shoes with great roses. They also have their own hair. The <i>Doctors of +Physic</i> are dressed like the <i>Gentlemen and Earls</i>, save that they wear +a rich robe with bands at the upper arm, over the other fine dress. The +gentlemen wear a cassock, or coat, which reaches to the knee; the pockets are +nearly as low as the knee. These cassocks have lapels from neck to hem, with a +long row of gold buttons which are wholly for ornament, the cassock never being +fastened with the buttons. The sleeves reach only to the elbow and turn back in +a spreading cuff; and from the elbow hang heavy ruffles and under-sleeves, some +of rich lace, others of embroidery. The gentlemen and earls wear great wigs. +</p> + +<p> +This coat was called a surcoat or tunic. The under-coat, or waistcoat, was also +called a vest, as by Charles the king. +</p> + +<p> +From this vest, or surcoat, was developed a coat, with skirts, such as had +become, ere the year 1700, the universal wear of English and American men. Its +first form was adopted about at the close of the reign of Charles II. By 1688 +Quaker teachers warned their younger sort against “cross-pockets on men’s +coats, side slopes, over-full skirted coats.” +</p> + +<p> +In an old play a man threatens a country lad, “I’ll make your buttons fly.” The +lad replies, “All my buttons is loops.” Some garments, especially leather ones, +like doublets, which were cumbersome to button, were secured by loops. For +instance, in spatterdashes, a row of holes was set on one side, and of loops on +the other. To fasten them, one must begin at the lower loop, pass this through +the first hole, then put the second loop through that first loop and the second +hole, and so on till the last loop was fastened to the breeches by buckle and +strap or large single button. From these loops were developed frogs and loops. +</p> + +<p> +Major John Pyncheon had, in 1703, a “light coulour’d cape-coat with Frogs on +it.” In the <i>New England Weekly Journal</i> of 1736 “New Fashion’d Frogs” are +named; and later, “Spangled Scalloped &; Brocaded Frogs.” +</p> + +<p> +Though these jerkins and mandillions and doublets which were furnished to the +Bay colonists were fastened with hooks and eyes, buttons were worn also, as old +portraits and old letters prove. John Eliot ordered for traffic with the +Indians, in 1651, three gross of pewter buttons; and Robert Keayne, of Boston, +writing in 1653, said bitterly that a “haynous offence” of his had been selling +buttons at too large profit—that they were gold buttons and he had sold them +for two shillings ninepence a dozen in Boston, when they had cost but two +shillings a dozen in London (which does not seem, in the light of our modern +profits on imported goods, a very “haynous” offence). He also added with +acerbity that “they were never payd for by those that complayned.” +</p> + +<p> +Buttonholes were a matter of ornament more than of use; in fact, they were +never used for closing the garment after coats came to be worn. They were +carefully cut and “laid around” in gay colors, embroidered with silver and gold +thread, bound with vellum, with kid, with velvet. We find in old-time letters +directions about modish buttonholes, and drawings even, in order that the shape +may be exactly as wished. An English contemporary of John Winthrop’s has +tasselled buttonholes on his doublet. +</p> + +<p> +Various are the reasons given for the placing of the two buttons on the back of +a man’s coat. One is that they are a survival of buttons which were used on the +eighteenth-century riding-coat. The coat-tails were thus buttoned up when the +wearer was on horseback. Another is that they were used for looping back the +skirts of the coats; it is said that loops of cord were placed at the corners +of the said skirts. +</p> + +<p> +A curious anecdote about these two buttons on the back of the coat is that a +tribe of North American Indians, deep believers in the value of symbolism, +refused to heed a missionary because he could not explain to them the +significance of these two buttons. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>RUFFS AND BANDS</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +<i>“Fashion has brought in deep ruffs and shallow ruffs, thick ruffs and thin +ruffs, double ruffs and no ruffs. When the Judge of the quick and the dead +shall appear he will not know those who have so defaced the fashion he hath +created.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—Sermon, JOHN KING, Bishop of London, 1590.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +“Now up aloft I mount unto the Ruffe<br/> +Which into foolish Mortals pride doth puffe;<br/> +Yet Ruffe’s antiquitie is here but small—<br/> +Within these eighty Tears not one at all<br/> +For the 8th Henry, as I understand<br/> +Was the first King that ever wore a Band<br/> +And but a Falling Band, plaine with a Hem<br/> +All other people know no use of them.”<br/> +<br/> +—“The Prayse of Clean Linnen,” JOHN TAYLOR, the “Water Poet,” 1640. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>RUFFS AND BANDS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="88" src="images/initialw.jpg" alt="W" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +e have in this poem of the old “Water Poet” a definite statement of the date of +the introduction of ruffs for English wear. We are afforded in the portraiture +given in this book ample proof of the fall of the ruff. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="A_Bowdoin_Portrait"></a> +<img src="images/224.jpg" alt="A Bowdoin Portrait." /> +<p class="caption">A Bowdoin Portrait. +</p></div> + +<p> +Like many of the most striking fashions of olden times, the ruff was Spanish. +French gentlemen had worn frills or ruffs about 1540; soon after, these +appeared in England; by the date of Elizabeth’s accession the ruff had become +the most imposing article of English men’s and women’s dress. It was worn +exclusively by fine folk; for it was too frail and too costly for the common +wear of the common people, though lawn ruffs were seen on many of low degree. A +ruff such as was worn by a courtier contained eighteen or nineteen yards of +fine linen lawn. A quarter of a yard wide was the fashionable width in England. +Ruffs were carefully pleated in triple box-plaits as shown in the Bowdoin +portrait <a href="#A_Bowdoin_Portrait">here</a>. Then they were bound with a +firm neck-binding. +</p> + +<p> +This carefully made ruff was starched with good English or Dutch starch; fluted +with “setting sticks” of wood or bone, to hold each pleat up; then fixed with +struts—also of wood—placed in a manner to hold the pleats firmly apart; and +finally “seared” or goffered with “poking sticks” of iron or steel, which, duly +heated, dried the stiffening starch. To “do up” a formal ruff was a wearisome, +difficult, and costly precess. Women of skill acquired considerable fortunes as +“gofferers.” +</p> + +<p> +Stubbes tells us further of the rich decoration of ruffs with gold, silver, and +silk lace, with needlework, with openwork, and with purled lace. This was in +Elizabeth’s day. John Winthrop’s ruff (<a +href="#Governor_John_Winthrop.">here</a>) is edged with lace; in general a +plain ruff was worn by plain gentlemen; one may be seen on Martin Frobisher (<a +href="#A_Doublet.">here</a>). Rich lace was for the court. Their great cost, +their inconvenience, their artificiality, their size, were sure to make ruffs a +“reason of offence” to reformers. Stubbes gave voice to their complaints in +these words:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They haue great and monstrous ruffes, made either of cambrike, holland, lawne, +or els of some other the finest cloth that can be got for money, whereof some +be a quarter of a yarde deepe, yea, some more, very few lesse, so that they +stande a full quarter of a yearde (and more) from their necks hanging ouer +their shoulder points in steade of a vaile.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Still more violent does he grow over starch:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The one arch or piller whereby his (the Devil’s) kyngdome of great ruffes is +vnderpropped, is a certaine kind of liquid matter, whiche they call starch, +wherein the deuill hath willed them to washe and dive their ruffes well, +whiche, beeying drie, will then stande stiff and inflexible about their +necks.<br/> +<br/> +“The other piller is a certaine device made of wiers, crested for the purpose; +whipped over either with gold thred, silver, or silke, and this he calleth a +supportasse or vnderpropper; this is to bee applied round about their neckes +under the ruffe, upon the out side of the bande, to beare up the whole frame +and bodie of the ruffe, from fallying and hangying doune.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Starch was of various colors. We read of “blue-starch-women,” and of what must +have been especially ugly, “goose-green starch.” Yellow starch was most worn. +It was introduced from France by the notorious Mrs. Turner. (See <a +href="#AWomansDoubletMrsAnneTurner">here</a>.) +</p> + +<p> +Wither wrote thus of the varying modes of dressing the neck:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Some are graced by their Tyres<br/> +As their Quoyfs, their Hats, their Wyres,<br/> +One a Ruff cloth best become;<br/> +Falling bands allureth some;<br/> +And their favours oft we see<br/> +Changèd as their dressings be.” +</p> + +<p> +The transformation of ruff to band can be seen in the painting of King Charles +I. The first Van Dyck portrait of him shows him in a moderate ruff turned over +to lie down like a collar; the lace edge formed itself by the pleats into +points which developed into the lace points characteristic of Van Dyck’s later +pictures and called by his name. +</p> + +<p> +Evelyn, describing a medal of King Charles I struck in 1633, says, “The King +wears a falling band, a new mode which has succeeded the cumbersome ruff; but +neither do the bishops nor the Judges give it up so soon.” Few of the early +colonial portraits show ruffs, though the name appears in many inventories, but +“playne bands” are more frequently named than ruffs. Thus in an Inventory of +William Swift, Plymouth, 1642, he had “2 Ruff Bands and 4 Playne Bands.” The +“playne band” of the Puritans is shown in this portrait of William Pyncheon, +which is dated 1657. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="William_Pyncheon."></a> +<img src="images/228.jpg" alt="William Pyncheon." /> +<p class="caption">William Pyncheon. +</p></div> + +<p> +The first change from the full pleated ruff of the sixteenth century came in +the adoption of a richly laced collar, unpleated, which still stood up behind +the ears at the back of the head. Often it was wired in place with a +supportasse. This was worn by both men and women. You may see one <a +href="#Pocahontas.">here</a>, on the neck of Pocahontas, her portrait painted +in 1616. This collar, called a standing-band, when turned down was known as a +falling-band or a rebato. +</p> + +<p> +The rich lace falling-band continued to be worn until the great flowing wig, +with long, heavy curls, covered the entire shoulders and hid any band; the +floating ends in front were the only part visible. In time they too vanished. +Pepys wrote in 1662, “Put on my new lace band and so neat; am resolved my great +expense shall be lace bands, and it will set off anything else the more.” +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely need to point out the falling-band in its various shapes as worn in +America; they can be found readily in the early pages of this book. It was a +fashion much discussed and at first much disliked; but the ruff had seen its +last day—for men’s wear, when the old fellows who had worn it in the early +years of the seventeenth century dropped off as the century waned. The old +Bowdoin gentleman must have been one of the last to wear this cumbersome though +stately adjunct of dress—save as it was displaced on some formal state occasion +or as part of a uniform or livery. +</p> + +<p> +There is a constant tendency in all times and among all English-speaking folk +to shorten names and titles for colloquial purposes; and soon the falling-band +became the fall. In the <i>Wits’ Recreation</i> are two epigrams which show the +thought of the times:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“WHY WOMEN WEARE A FALL<br/> +<br/> +“A Question ’tis why Women wear a fall?<br/> +And truth it is to Pride they’re given all.<br/> +And <i>Pride</i>, the proverb says, <i>will have a fall</i>.”<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +“ON A LITTLE DIMINUTIVE BAND<br/> +<br/> +“What is the reason of God-dam-me’s band,<br/> +Inch deep? and that his fashion doth not alter,<br/> +God-dam-me saves a labor, understand<br/> +In pulling it off, where he puts on the Halter.” +</p> + +<p> +“God-dam-me” was one of the pleasant epithets which, by scores, were applied to +the Puritans. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Reverend_Jonathan_Edwards."></a> +<img src="images/230.jpg" alt="Reverend Jonathan Edwards." /> +<p class="caption">Reverend Jonathan Edwards. +</p></div> + +<p> +The bands worn by the learned professions, two strips of lawn with squared +ends, were at first the elongated ends of the shirt collar of Jonathan Edwards. +We have them still, to remind us of old fashions; and we have another word and +thing, band-box, which must have been a stern necessity in those days of +starch, and ruff, and band. +</p> + +<p> +It was by no means a convention of dress that “God-dam-me” should wear a small +band. Neither Cromwell nor his followers clung long to plain bands; nor did +they all assume them. It would be wholly impossible to generalize or to +determine the standing of individuals, either in politics or religion, by their +neckwear. I have before me a little group of prints of men of Cromwell’s day, +gathered for extra illustration of a history of Cromwell’s time. Let us glance +at their bands. +</p> + +<p> +First comes Cromwell himself from the Cooper portrait at Cambridge; this +portrait has a plain linen turnover collar, or band, but two to three inches +wide. Then his father is shown in a very broad, square, plain linen collar +extending in front expanse from shoulder seam to shoulder seam. Sir Harry Vane +and Hampden, both Puritans, have narrow collars like Cromwell’s; Pym, an +equally precise sectarian, has a broader one like the father’s, but apparently +of some solid and rich embroidery like cut-work. Edward Hyde, the Earl of +Clarendon, in narrow band, Lucius Cary, Lord Falkland, in band and +band-strings, were members of the Long Parliament, but passed in time to the +Royal Camp. Other portraits of both noblemen are in richly laced bands. The +Earl of Bristol, who was in the same standing, has the widest of lace, Vandyked +collars. John Selden wears the plain band; but here is Strafford, the very +impersonation of all that was hated by Puritans, and yet he wears the simplest +of puritanical bands. William Lenthal, Speaker of the House of Commons, is in a +beautiful Cavalier collar with straight lace edges. There are a score more, +equally indifferent to rule. +</p> + +<p> +There is no doubt, however, that the Puritan regarded his plain band—if he wore +it—with jealous care. Poor Mary Downing, niece of Governor Winthrop, paid +dearly for her careless “searing,” or ironing, of her brother’s bands. Her +stepmother’s severity at her offence brought forth this plaintive letter:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Father, I trust that I have not provoked you to harbour soe ill an opinion of +mee as my mothers lettres do signifie and give me to understand; the ill +opinion and hard pswasion which shee beares of mee, that is to say, that I +should abuse yor goodness, and bee prodigall of yor purse, neglectful of my +brothers bands, and of my slatterishnes and lasines; for my brothers bands I +will not excuse myselfe, but I thinke not worthy soe sharpe a reproofe; for the +rest I must needs excuse, and cleare myselfe if I may bee believed. I doe not +know myselfe guilty of any of them; for myne owne part I doe not desire to be +myne owne judge, but am willinge to bee judged by them with whom I live, and +see my course, whether I bee addicted to such things or noe.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Ruffs and bands were not the only neckwear of the colonists. Very soon there +was a tendency to ornament the band-strings with tassels of silk, with little +tufts of ribbon, with tiny rosettes, with jewels even; and soon a graceful +frill of lace hung where the band was tied together. This may be termed the +beginning of the necktie or cravat; but the article itself enjoyed many names, +and many forms, which in general extended both to men’s and women’s wear. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Captain_George_Curwen."></a> +<img src="images/233.jpg" alt="Captain George Curwen." /> +<p class="caption">Captain George Curwen. +</p></div> + +<p> +Let us turn to the old inventories for the various names of this neckwear. +</p> + +<p> +A Maryland gentleman left by will, with other attire, in 1642, “Nine laced +stripps, two plain stripps, nine quoifes, one call, eight crosse-cloths, a +paire holland sleeves, a paire women’s cuffs, nine plaine neck-cloths, five +laced neck-cloths, two plaine gorgetts, seven laced gorgetts, three old clouts, +five plaine neckhandkerchiefs, two plain shadowes.” +</p> + +<p> +John Taylor, the “Water Poet,” wrote a poem entitled The Needles Excellency. I +quote from the twelfth edition, dated 1640. In the list of garments which we +owe to the needle he names:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Shadows, Shapparoones, Cauls, Bands, Ruffs, Kuffs,<br/> +Kerchiefs, Quoyfes, Chin-clouts, Marry-muffes,<br/> +Cross-cloths, Aprons, Hand-kerchiefs, or Falls.” +</p> + +<p> +His list runs like that of the Maryland planter. The strip was something like +the whisk; indeed, the names seem interchangeable. Bishop Hall in his +<i>Satires</i> writes:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“When a plum’d fan may hide thy chalked face<br/> +And lawny strips thy naked bosom grace.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dr. Smith wrote in 1658 in <i>Penelope and Ulysses</i>:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A stomacher upon her breast so bare<br/> +For strips and gorget were not then the wear.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The gorget was the frill in front; the strip the lace cape or whisk. It will be +noted that nine gorgets are named with these strips. +</p> + +<p> +The gorget when worn by women was enriched with lace and needlework. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“These Holland smocks as white as snow<br/> +And gorgets brave with drawn-work wrought<br/> +A tempting ware they are you know.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Thus runs a poem published in 1596. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Verney writes in 1642 her desire for “gorgetts and eyther cutt or painted +callico to wear under them or what is most in fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +The shadow has been a great stumbling-block to antiquaries. Purchas’s +<i>Pilgrimage</i> is responsible for what is to me a very confusing reference. +It says of a certain savage race:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They have a skin of leather hanging about their necks whenever they sit +bare-headed and bare-footed, with their right arms bare; and a broad Sombrero +or Shadow in their hands to defend them in Summer from the Sunne, in Winter +from the Rain.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This would make a shadow a sort of hand-screen or sunshade; but all other +references seem as if a shadow were a cap. As early as 1580, Richard Fenner’s +Wardship Roll has “Item a Caul and Shadoe 4 shillings.” I think a shadow was a +great cap like a cornet. Cross-cloths were a form of head-dress. I have seen +old portraits with a cap or head-dress formed of crossed bands which I have +supposed were cross-cloths. +</p> + +<p> +Cross-cloths also bore a double meaning; for certainly neck-cloths or +neckerchiefs were sometimes called cross-cloths or cross-clothes. Another name +is the picardill or piccadilly, a French title for a gorget. Fitzgerald, in +1617, wrote of “a spruse coxcomb” that he glanced at his pocket looking-glass +to see:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“How his Band jumpeth with his Peccadilly<br/> +Whether his Band-strings ballance equally.” +</p> + +<p> +Another satirical author could write in 1638 that “pickadillies are now out of +request.” +</p> + +<p> +The portrait of Captain Curwen of Salem (<a +href="#Captain_George_Curwen.">here</a>) is unlike many of his times. Over his +doublet he wears a handsome embroidered shoulder sash called a trooping-scarf; +and his broad lace tie is very unusual for the year 1660. I know few like it +upon American gentlemen in portraits; and I fancy it is a gorget, or a +piccadilly. It is pleasant to know that this handsome piece of lace has been +preserved. It is here shown with his cane. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lace_Gorget_and_Cane"></a> +<img src="images/236.jpg" alt="Lace Gorget and Cane of Captain George Curwen." +/> +<p class="caption">Lace Gorget and Cane of Captain George Curwen. +</p></div> + +<p> +A little negative proof may be given as to one word and article. The gorget is +said to be an adaptation of the wimple. Our writers of historical tales are +very fond of attiring their heroines in wimples and kirtles. Both have a +picturesque, an antique, sound—the wimple is Biblical and Shakesperian, and +therefore ever satisfying to the ear, and to the sight in manuscript. But I +have never seen the word wimple in an inventory, list, invoice, letter, or book +of colonial times, and but once the word kirtle. Likewise are these modern +authors a bit vague as to the manner of garment a wimple is. One fair maid is +described as having her fair form wrapped in a warm wimple. She might as well +be described as wrapped in a warm cravat. For a wimple was simply a small +kerchief or covering for the neck, worn in the thirteenth and fourteenth +centuries. +</p> + +<p> +Another quaint term, already obsolete when the <i>Mayflower</i> sailed, was +partlet. A partlet was an inner kerchief, worn with an open-necked bodice or +doublet. Its trim plaited edge or ruffle seems to have given rise to the +popular name, “Dame Partlet,” for a hen. It appeared in the reign of Henry +VIII; the courtiers imitating the king threw open their garments at the throat, +and further opened them with slashes; hence the use of the partlet, which was a +trim form of underhabit or gorget, worn well up to the throat. An old +dictionary explains that the partlet can be “set on or taken off by itself +without taking off the bodice, as can be pickadillies now-a-days, or men’s +bands.” It adds that women’s neckerchiefs have been called partlets. +</p> + +<p> +In October, 1662, Samuel Pepys wrote in his <i>Diary</i>, “Made myself fine +with Captain Ferrers lace band; being loathe to wear my own new scallop; it is +so fine.” This is one of his several references to this new fashion of band +which both he and his wife adopted. He paid £;3 for his scallop, and 45s. +for one for his wife. He was so satisfied with his elegance in this new +scallop, that like many another lover of dress he determined his chief +extravagance should be for lace. The fashion of scallop-wearing came to +America. For several years the word was used in inventories, then it became as +obsolete as a caul, a shadow, a cornet. +</p> + +<p> +The word “cravat” is not very ancient. Its derivation is said to be from the +Cravates or Croats in the French military service, who adopted such neckwear in +1636. An early use of the word is by Blount in 1656, who called a cravat “a new +fashioned Gorget which Women wear.” +</p> + +<p> +The cravat is a distinct companion of the wig, and was worn whenever and +wherever wigs were donned. +</p> + +<p> +Evelyn gave the year 1666 as the one when vest, cravat, garters, and buckles +came to be the fashion. We could add likewise wigs. Of course all these had +been known before that year, but had not been general wear. +</p> + +<p> +An early example of a cravat is shown in the portrait of old William Stoughton +in my later chapter on Cloaks. His cravat is a distinctly new mode of +neck-dressing, but is found on all American portraits shortly after that date. +One is shown with great exactness in the portrait <a +href="#Governor_Coddington.">here</a>, which is asserted to be that of “the +handsomest man in the Plantations,” William Coddington, Governor of Rhode +Island and Providence Plantations. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_Coddington."></a> +<img src="images/239.jpg" alt="Governor Coddington." /> +<p class="caption">Governor Coddington. +</p></div> + +<p> +He was a precise man, and wearisome in his precision—a bore, even, I fear. His +beauty went for little in his relation of man to man, and, above all, of +colonist to colonist; and poor Governor Winthrop must have been sorely +tormented with his frequent letters, which might have been written from Mars +for all the signs they bore of news of things of this earth. His dress is very +neat and rich—a characteristic dress, I think. It has slightly wrought +buttonholes, plain sleeve ruffles and gloves. His full curled peruke has a mass +of long curls hanging in front of the right shoulder, while the curls on the +left side are six or eight inches shorter. This was the most elegant London +fashion, and extreme fashion too. His neck-scarf or cravat was a characteristic +one. It consisted of a long scarf of soft, fine, sheer, white linen over two +yards long, passed twice or thrice close around the throat and simply lapped +under the chin, not knotted. The upper end hung from twelve to sixteen inches +long. The other and longer end was carried down to a low waistline and tucked +in between the buttons of the waistcoat. Often the free end of this scarf was +trimmed with lace or cut-work; indeed, the whole scarf might be of embroidery +or lace, but the simpler lawn or mull appears to have been in better taste. +This tie is seen in this portrait of Thomas Fayerweather, by Smybert, and in +modified forms on many other pages. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Thomas_Fayerweather."></a> +<img src="images/240.jpg" alt="Thomas Fayerweather." /> +<p class="caption">Thomas Fayerweather. +</p></div> + +<p> +We now find constant references to the Steinkirk, a new cravat. As we see it +frequently stated that the Steinkirk was a black tie, I may state here that all +the Steinkirks I have seen have been white. I know no portraits with black +neck-cloths. I find no allusions in old-time literature or letters to black +Steinkirks. +</p> + +<p> +A Steinkirk was a white cravat, not knotted, but fastened so loosely as to seem +folded rather than tied, twisted sometimes twice or thrice, with one or both +ends passed through a buttonhole of the coat. Ladies wore them, as well as men, +arranged with equal appearance of careless negligence; and the soft diagonal +folds of linen and lace made a pretty finish at the throat, as pretty as any +high neck-dressing could be. These cravats were called Steinkirks after the +battle of Steinkirk, when some of the French princes, not having time to +perform an elaborate toilet before going into action, hurriedly twisted their +lace cravats about their necks and pulled them through a buttonhole, simply to +fix them safely in place. The fashionable world eagerly followed their example. +It is curious that the Steinkirk should have been popular in England, where the +name might rather have been a bitter avoidance. +</p> + +<p> +The battle of Steinkirk took place in 1694. An early English allusion to the +neckwear thus named is in <i>The Relapse</i>, which was acted in 1697. In it +the Semstress says, “I hope your Lordship is pleased with your Steenkirk.” His +Lordship answers with eloquence, “In love with it, stap my vitals! Bring your +bill, you shall be paid tomorrow!” +</p> + +<p> +The Steinkirk, both for men’s and women’s wear, came to America very promptly, +and was soon widely worn. The dashing, handsome figure of young King Carter +gives an illustration of the pretty studied negligence of the Steinkirk. I have +seen a Steinkirk tie on at least twenty portraits of American gentlemen, +magistrates, and officers; some of them were the royal governors, but many were +American born and bred, who never visited Europe, but turned eagerly to English +fashions. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="KingCarterinYouthbySirGodfreyKneller"></a> +<img src="images/242.jpg" alt="“King” Carter in Youth, by Sir Godfrey Kneller." +/> +<p class="caption">“King” Carter in Youth, by Sir Godfrey Kneller. +</p></div> + +<p> +Certain old families have preserved among their ancient treasures a very long +oval brooch with a bar across it from end to end—the longest way of the brooch. +These are set sometimes with topaz or moonstone, garnet, marcasite, +heliotropium, or paste jewels. Many wonder for what purpose these were used. +They were to hold the lace Steinkirk in place, when it was not pulled through +the buttonhole. The bar made it seem like a tongueless buckle—or perhaps it was +like a long, narrow buckle to which a brooch pin had been affixed to keep it +firmly in place. +</p> + +<p> +The cravat, tied and twisted in Steinkirk form, or more simply folded, long +held its place in fashionable dress. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The stock with buckle made of paste<br/> +Has put the cravat out of date,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +wrote Whyte in 1742. +</p> + +<p> +With this quotation we will turn from neckwear until a later period. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>CAPS AND BEAVERS IN COLONIAL DAYS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“So many poynted cappes<br/> +Lased with double flaps<br/> +And soe gay felted cappes<br/> + Saw I never.<br/> +<br/> +“So propre cappes<br/> +So lyttle hattes<br/> +And so false hartes<br/> +Saw I never.”<br/> +</i> <br/> +—“The Maner of the World Nowe-a-dayes,” JOHN SKELTON, 1548.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +“<i>The Turk in linen wraps his head<br/> + The Persian his in lawn, too,<br/> +The Russ with sables furs his cap<br/> + And change will not be drawn to.<br/> +<br/> +“The Spaniard’s constant to his block<br/> + The Frenchman inconstant ever;<br/> +But of all felts that may be felt<br/> + Give me the English beaver.<br/> +<br/> +“The German loves his coney-wool<br/> + The Irishman his shag, too,<br/> +The Welsh his Monmouth loves to wear<br/> + And of the same will brag, too”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“A Challenge for Beauty,” THOMAS HAYWARD +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>CAPS AND BEAVERS IN COLONIAL DAYS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="88" src="images/initiala.jpg" alt="A" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +ny student of English history and letters would know that caps would positively +be part of the outfit of every emigrating Englishman. A cap was, for centuries, +both the enforced and desired headwear of English folk of quiet lives. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="City_Flat-cap"></a> +<img src="images/245.jpg" alt="City Flat-cap worn by “Bilious” Bale." /> +<p class="caption">City Flat-cap worn by “Bilious” Bale. +</p></div> + +<p> +Belgic Britons, Welshmen, Irish, Anglo-Saxons, Danes, and Normans all had worn +caps, as well as ancient Greeks and Romans. These English caps had been of +divers colors and manifold forms, some being grotesque indeed. When we reach +the reign of Henry VIII we are made familiar in the paintings of Holbein with a +certain flat-cap which sometimes had a small jewel or leather or a double fold, +but never varied greatly. This was known as the city flat-cap. +</p> + +<p> +It is shown also in the Holbein portrait of Adam Winthrop, grandfather of +Governor John Winthrop; he was a man of dignity, Master of the Cloth Workers’ +Guild. +</p> + +<p> +The muffin-cap of the boys of Christ’s Hospital is a form of this cap. +</p> + +<p> +This was at first and ever a Londoner’s cap. A poet wrote in 1630:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Flat caps as proper are to city gowns<br/> +As to armour, helmets, or to kings, their crowns.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Winthrop also wears the city gown. +</p> + +<p> +This flat-cap was often of gay colors, scarlet being a favorite hue. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Behold the bonnet upon my head<br/> +A staryng colour of scarlet red<br/> +I promise you a fyne thred<br/> + And a soft wool<br/> + It cost a noble.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +These lines were written for the character “Pride,” in the <i>Interlude of +Nature</i>, before the year 1500. +</p> + +<p> +A statute was passed in 1571, “If any person above six years of age (except +maidens, ladies, gentlemen, nobles, knights, gentlemen of twenty marks by year +in lands, and their heirs, and such as have born office of worship) have not +worn upon the Sunday or holyday (except it be in the time of his travell out of +the city, town or hamlet where he dwelleth) one cap of wool, knit, thicked and +dressed in England, and only dressed and furnished by some of the trade of +cappers, shall be fined £;3 4d. for each day’s transgression.” The caps +thus worn were called Statute caps. +</p> + +<p> +This was, of course, to encourage wool-workers in the pride of the nation. +Winthrop, master of a guild whose existence depended on wool, would, of course, +wear a woollen cap had he not been a Londoner. It was a plain head-covering, +but it was also the one worn by King Edward VI. +</p> + +<p> +There was a formal coif or cap worn by men of dignity; always worn, I think, by +judges and elderly lawyers, ere the assumption of the formal wig. This coif may +be seen on the head of the venerable Dr. Dee, and also on the head of Lord +Burleigh, and of Thomas Cecil, surmounted with the citizen’s flat-cap. One of +these caps in heavy black lustring lingered by chance in my home—worn by some +forgotten ancestor. It had a curious loop, as may be seen on Dr. Dee. This was +not a narrow string for tying the coif on the head; it was a loop. And if there +was any need of fastening the cap on the head, a narrow ribbon or ferret, a +lacing, was put through both loops. +</p> + +<p> +In the inventory of the apparel of the first settlers which I have given in the +early pages of this book, we find that each colonist to the Massachusetts Bay +settlement had one Monmouth cap and five red milled caps. All the lists of +necessary clothing for the planters have as an item, caps; but a well-made, +well-lined hat was also supplied. +</p> + +<p> +Monmouth caps were in general wear in England. Thomas Fuller said, “Caps were +the most ancient, general, warm, and profitable coverings of men’s heads in +this Island.” In making them thousands of people were employed, especially +before the invention of fulling-mills, when caps were wrought, beaten, and +thickened by the hands and feet of men. Cap-making afforded occupation to +fifteen different callings: carders, spinners, knitters, parters of wool, +forcers, thickers, dressers, walkers, dyers, battellers, shearers, pressers, +edgers, liners, and band-makers. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="King_James_I_of_England."></a> +<img src="images/248.jpg" alt="King James I of England." /> +<p class="caption">King James I of England. +</p></div> + +<p> +The Monmouth caps were worth two shillings each, which were furnished to the +Massachusetts colonists. These were much affected by seafaring men. We read, in +<i>A Satyr on Sea Officers</i>, “With Monmouth cap and cutlass at my side, +striding at least a yard at every stride.” “The Ballad of the Caps,” 1656, +gives a wonderful list of caps. Among them are: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +The Monmouth Cap, the Saylors thrum,<br/> +And that wherein the tradesmen come,<br/> +The Physick, Lawe, the Cap divine,<br/> +And that which crowns the Muses nine,<br/> +The Cap that Fools do countenance,<br/> +The goodly Cap of Maintenance,<br/> +And any Cap what e’re it be,<br/> +Is still the sign of some degree.<br/> +<br/> +“The sickly Cap both plaine and wrought,<br/> +The Fuddling-cap however bought,<br/> +The quilted, furred, the velvet, satin,<br/> +For which so many pates learn Latin,<br/> +The Crewel Cap, the Fustian pate,<br/> +The Perriwig, the Cap of Late,<br/> +And any Cap what e’er it be<br/> +Is still the sign of some degree.”<br/> +<br/> +—“Ballad of the Caps,” 1656. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +We seldom have in manuscript or print, in America, titles or names given to +caps or hats, but one occasionally seen is the term “montero-cap,” spelled also +mountero, montiro, montearo; and Washington Irving tells of “the cedar bird +with a little mon-teiro-cap of feathers.” Montero-caps were frequently +recommended to emigrants, and useful dress they were, being a horseman’s or +huntsman’s cap with a simple round crown, and a flap which went around the +sides and back of the cap and which could be worn turned up or brought down +over the back of the neck, the ears and temples, thus making a most protecting +head-covering. They were, in general, dark colored, of substantial woollen +stuff, but Sterne writes in Tristram Shandy of a montero-cap which he describes +as of superfine Spanish cloth, dyed scarlet in the grain, mounted all round +with fur, except four inches in front, which was faced with light blue lightly +embroidered. It is a montero-cap which is seen on the head of Bamfylde Moore +Carew, the “King of the Mumpers,” a most genial English rogue, sneak-thief, and +cheat of the eighteenth century, who spent some of his ill-filled years in the +American colonies, whither he was brought after being trepanned, and where he +had to bear the ignominy of wearing an iron collar welded around his neck. +</p> + +<p> +A montero-cap seems to have been the favorite dress of rogues. In Head’s +<i>English Rogue</i> we read, “Beware of him that rides in a montero-cap and of +him that whispers oft.” The picaro Guzman wore one; and as montero is the +Spanish word for huntsman, Head may have obtained the word from that special +scamp, Guzman, whose life was published in 1633. It is a very ancient name, +being given in Cotgrave as a hood, or as the horseman’s helmet. It is worn +still by Arctic travellers and Alpine climbers. Sets of knitted montero-caps +were presented by the Empress Eugenie to the Arctic expedition of 1875, and the +Jackies dubbed them “Eugenie Wigs.” +</p> + +<p> +Another and widely different class of men wore likewise the montero-cap, the +English and American Quakers. Thomas Ellwood, in the early days of his Quaker +belief, suffered much for his hat, both from his fellow Quakers and his father, +a Church of England man. The Quakers thought his “large Mountier cap of black +velvet, the skirt of which being turned up in Folds looked somewhat above the +common Garb of a Quaker.” A young priest at another time snatched this +montero-cap off because he wore it in the presence of magistrates, and then +Ellwood’s father fell upon it in this wise:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“He could not contain himself but running upon me with both hands, first +violently snatcht off my Hat and threw it away and then giving me some buffets +in the head said Sirrah get you up to your chamber. I had now lost one hat and +had but one more. The next Time my Father saw it on my head he tore it +violently from me and laid it up with the other, I know not where. Wherefore I +put my Mountier Cap which was all I had left to wear on my head, and but a +little while I had that, for when my Father came where I was, I lost that +also.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="FulkeGrevilleLordBrooke"></a> +<img src="images/251.jpg" alt="Fulke Greville (Lord Brooke)." /> +<p class="caption">Fulke Greville (Lord Brooke). +</p></div> + +<p> +Finally the father refused to let him wear his “Hive,” as he called the hat, at +the table while eating, and thereafter Ellwood ate with his father’s servants. +</p> + +<p> +The vogue of beaver hats was an important factor in the settlement of America. +</p> + +<p> +The first Spanish, Dutch, English, and French colonists all came to America to +seek for gold and furs. The Spaniards found gold, the Dutch and French found +furs, but the English who found fish found the greatest wealth of all, for food +is ever more than raiment. +</p> + +<p> +Of the furs the most important and most valuable was beaver. The English sent +some beaver back to Europe; the very first ship to return from Plymouth carried +back two hogsheads. Winslow sent twenty hogsheads as early as 1634, and +Bradford shows that the trade was deemed important. But the wild creatures +speedily retreated. Johnson declares that as early as 1645 the beaver trade had +left the frontier post of Springfield, on the Connecticut River. +</p> + +<p> +From the earliest days both the French and English crown had treated the +fishing and fur industries with unusual discretion, giving a monopoly to the +fur trade and leaving the fisheries free, so the latter constantly increased, +while in New England the fur trade passed over to the Dutch, distinctly to the +advantage of the English, for the lazy trader at a post was neither a good +savage nor a good citizen, while the hardy fishermen and bold sailors of New +England brought wealth to every town. For some years the Dutch appeared to have +the best of it, for they received ten to fifteen thousand beaver skins annually +from New England; and they had trading-posts on Narragansett and Buzzards Bay. +Still the trade drew the Dutch away from agriculture, and the real success of +New Netherland did not come with furs, but with corn. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="JamesDouglasEarlofMorton"></a> +<img src="images/253.jpg" alt="James Douglas (Earl of Morton)." /> +<p class="caption">James Douglas (Earl of Morton). +</p></div> + +<p> +The fur trade was certainly an interesting factor in the growth of the Dutch +settlement. Fort Orange, or Albany, called the <i>Fuyck</i>, was the natural +topographical <i>fuyck</i> or trap-net to catch this trade, and in the very +first season of its settlement fifteen hundred beaver and five hundred otter +skins were despatched to Holland. In 1657 Johannes Dyckman asserted that 40,900 +beaver and otter skins were sent that year from Fort Orange to Fort Amsterdam +(New York City). As these skins were valued at from eight to ten guilders +apiece (about $3.50 and with a purchasing value equal to $20 to-day), it can +readily be seen what a source of wealth seemed opened. The authorities at Fort +Orange, the patroons of Renssalaerwyck and Beverwyck, were not to be permitted +to absorb all this wondrous gain in undisturbed peace. The increment of the +India Company was diverted and hindered in various ways. Unscrupulous and +crafty citizens of Fort Orange (independent <i>handaelers</i> or handlers) and +their thrifty, penny-turning <i>vrouws</i> decoyed the Indian trappers and +hunters into their peaceful, honest kitchens under pretence of kindly Christian +welcome to the peltry-bearing braves; and they filled the guileless savages +with Dutch schnapps, or Barbadoes “kill-devil,” until the befuddled or +half-crazed Indians parted with their precious stores of hard-trapped skins and +threw off their well-perspired and greased beaver coats and exchanged them for +such valuable Dutch wares as knives, scissors, beads, and jews’-harps, or even +a few pints of quickly vanishing rum, instead of solid Dutch guilders or +substantial Dutch blankets. And even before these strategic Dutch citizens +could corral and fleece them, the incoming fur-bearers had to run as +insinuating a gantlet of <i>boschloopers</i>, bush-runners, drummers, or +“broakers,” who sallied out on the narrow Indian paths to buy the coveted furs +even before they were brought into Fort Orange. Much legislation ensued. +Scout-buying was prohibited. Citizens were forbidden “to addresse to speak to +the wilden of trading,” or to entice them to “traffique,” or to harbor them +over night. Indian houses to lodge the trappers were built just outside the +gate, where the dickering would be public. These were built by rates collected +from all “Christian dealers” in furs. +</p> + +<p> +But Indian paths were many, and the water-ways were unpatrolled, and kitchen +doors could be slyly opened in the dusk; so the government, in spite of laws +and shelter-houses, did not get all the beaver skins. Too many were eager for +the lucrative and irregular trade; agricultural pursuits were alarmingly +neglected; other communities became rivals, and the beavers soon were +exterminated from the valley of the Hudson, and by 1660 the Fort Orange trade +was sadly diminished. The governor of Canada had an itching palm, and lured the +Indians—and beaver skins—to Montreal. Thus “impaired by French wiles,” scarce +nine thousand peltries came in 1687 to Fort Orange. With a few fluttering +rallies until Revolutionary times the fur trade of Albany became extinct; it +passed from both Dutch and French, and was dominated by the Hudson Bay Fur +Company. +</p> + +<p> +So clear a description of the fur of the beaver and the use of the pelt was +given by Adriaen van der Donck, who lived at Fort Orange from the year 1641 to +1646, and traded for years with the Indians, that it is well to give his exact +words:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The beaver’s skin is rough but thickly set with fine fur of an ash-gray color +inclining to blue. The outward points also incline to a russet or brown color. +From the fur of the beaver the best hats are made that are worn. They are +called beavers or castoreums from the material of which they are made, and they +are known by this name over all Europe. Outside of the coat of fur many shining +hairs appear called wind-hairs, which are more properly winter-hairs, for they +fall out in summer and appear again in winter. The outer coat is of a +chestnut-brown color, the browner the color the better is the fur. Sometimes it +will be a little reddish.<br/> +<br/> +“When hats are made of the fur, the rough hairs are pulled out for they are +useless. The skins are usually first sent to Russia, where they are highly +valued for their outside shining hair, and on this their greatest +recommendation depends with the Russians. The skins are used there for +mantle-linings and are also cut into strips for borders, as we cut +rabbit-skins. Therefore we call the same peltries. Whoever has there the most +and costliest fur-trimmings is deemed a person of very high rank, as with us +the finest stuffs and gold and silver embroideries are regarded as the +appendages of the great. After the hairs have fallen out, or are worn, and the +peltries become old and dirty and apparently useless, we get the article back, +and convert the fur into hats, before which it cannot be well used for this +purpose, for unless the beaver has been worn, and is greasy and dirty, it will +not felt properly, hence these old peltries are the most valuable. The coats +which the Indians make of beaver-skins and which they have worn for a long time +around their bodies until the skins have become foul with perspiration and +grease are afterwards used by the hatters and make the best hats.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +One notion about beaver must be told. Its great popularity for many years +arose, it is conjectured, from its original use as a cap for curative purposes. +Such a beaver cap would “unfeignedly” recover to a man his hearing, and +stimulate his memory to a wonder, especially if the “oil of castor” was rubbed +in his hair. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Elihu_Yale."></a> +<img src="images/257.jpg" alt="Elihu Yale." /> +<p class="caption">Elihu Yale. +</p></div> + +<p> +The beaver hat was for centuries a choice and costly article of dress; it went +through many bizarre forms. On the head of Henry IV of France and Navarre, as +made known in his portrait, is a hat which effectually destroys all possibility +of dignity. It is a bell-crowned stove-pipe, of the precise shape worn later by +coachmen and by dandies about the years 1820 to 1830. It is worn very much over +one royal ear, like the hat of a well-set-up, self-important coachman of the +palmy days of English coaching, and gives an air of absurd modernity and +cockney importance to the picture of a king of great dignity. The hat worn by +James I, ere he was King of England, is shown <a +href="#King_James_I_of_England.">here</a>. It is funnier than any seen for +years in a comic opera. The hat worn by Francis Bacon is a plain felt, greatly +in contrast with his rich laced triple ruff and cuffs and embroidered garments. +That of Thomas Cecil <a href="#Thomas_Cecil">here</a> varies slightly. +</p> + +<p> +Two very singular shapings of the plain hat may be seen, one <a +href="#FulkeGrevilleLordBrooke">here</a> on the head of Fulke Greville, where +the round-topped, high crown is most disproportionate to the narrow brim. The +second, <a href="#JamesDouglasEarlofMorton">here</a>, shows an extreme +sugar-loaf, almost a pointed crown. +</p> + +<p> +A good hat was very expensive, and important enough to be left among bequests +in a will. They were borrowed and hired for many years, and even down to the +time of Queen Anne we find the rent of a <i>subscription hat</i> to be +£;2 6s. per annum! The hiring out of a hat does not seem strange when +hiring out clothes was a regular business with tailors. The wife of a person of +low estate hired a gown of Queen Elizabeth’s to be married in. Tailor Thomas +Gylles complained of the Yeoman of the queen’s wardrobe for suffering this. He +writes, “The copper cloth of gold gowns which were made last, and another, were +sent into the country for the marriage of Lord Montague.” The bequest of +half-worn garments was highly regarded. On the very day of Darnley’s funeral, +Mary Queen of Scots gave his clothes to Bothwell, who sent them to his tailor +to be refitted. The tailor, bold with the riot and disorder of the time, +returned them with the impudent message that “the duds of dead men were given +to the hangman.” The duds of men who were hanged were given to the hangman +almost as long as hangings took place. A poor New England girl, hanged for the +murder of her child, went to the scaffold in her meanest attire, and taunted +the executioner that he would get but a poor suit of clothes from her. The last +woman hanged in Massachusetts wore a white satin gown, which I expect the +sheriff’s daughter much revelled in the following winter at dancing-parties. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Thomas_Cecil"></a> +<img src="images/259.jpg" alt="Thomas Cecil." /> +<p class="caption">Thomas Cecil. +</p></div> + +<p> +Old Philip Stubbes has given us a wonderful description of English head-gear:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“HATS OF SUNDRIE FATIONS” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Sometymes they vse them sharpe on the Croune, pearking vp like the Spire, or +Shaft of a Steeple, standyng a quarter of a yarde aboue the Croune of their +heades, somemore, some lesse, as please the phantasies of their inconstant +mindes. Othersome be flat and broad on the Crowne, like the battlemetes of a +house. An other sorte haue rounde Crownes, sometymes with one kinde of Band, +sometymes with another, now black, now white, now russet, now red, now grene, +now yellowe, now this, now that, never content with one colour or fashion two +daies to an ende. And thus in vanitie they spend the Lorde his treasure, +consuming their golden yeres and siluer daies in wickednesse and sinne. And as +the fashions bee rare and strange, so is the stuffe whereof their hattes be +made divers also; for some are of Silke, some of Veluet, some of Taffatie, some +of Sarcenet, some of Wooll, and, whiche is more curious, some of a certaine +kinde of fine Haire; these they call Bever hattes, or xx. xxx. or xl. +shillinges price, fetched from beyonde the seas, from whence a greate sorte of +other vanities doe come besides. And so common a thing it is, that euery +seruyngman, countrieman, and other, euen all indefferently, dooe weare of these +hattes. For he is of no account or estimation amongst men if he haue not a +Veluet or Taffatie hatte, and that must be Pincked, and Cunnyngly Carved of the +beste fashion. And good profitable hattes be these, for the longer you weare +them the fewer holes they haue. Besides this, of late there is a new fashion of +wearyng their hattes sprong vp amongst them, which they father vpon a +Frenchman, namely, to weare them with bandes, but how vnsemely (I will not saie +how hassie) a fashion that is let the wise judge; notwithstanding, howeuer it +be, if it please them, it shall not displease me. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“And another sort (as phantasticall as the rest) are content with no kinde of +hat without a greate Bunche of Feathers of diuers and sondrie Colours, peakyng +on top of their heades, not vnlike (I dare not saie) Cockescombes, but as +sternes of pride, and ensignes of vanity. And yet, notwithstanding these +Flutterying Sailes, and Feathered Flagges of defiaunce of Vertue (for so they +be) are so advanced that euery child hath them in his Hat or Cap; many get good +liuing by dying and selling of them, and not a few proue the selues more than +Fooles in wearyng of them.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Notwithstanding this list of Stubbes, it is very curious to note that in +general the shape of the real beaver hat remained the same as long as it was +worn uncocked. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Cornelius_Steinwyck."></a> +<img src="images/261.jpg" alt="Cornelius Steinwyck." /> +<p class="caption">Cornelius Steinwyck. +</p></div> + +<p> +The hat was worn much more constantly within-doors than in the present day. +Pepys states that they were worn in church; even the preacher wore his hat. +Hats were removed in the presence of royalty. An hereditary honor and privilege +granted to one of my ancestors was that he might wear his hat before the king. +</p> + +<p> +It is somewhat difficult to find out the exact date when the wearing of hats by +men within-doors ceased to be fashionable and became distinctly low bred. We +can turn to contemporary art. In 1707 at a grand banquet given in France to the +Spanish Embassy, a ceremonious state affair with the women in magnificent +full-dress, the men seated at the table and in the presence of royalty wore +their cocked hats—so much for courtly France. +</p> + +<p> +This wearing of the hat in church, at table, and elsewhere that seems now +strange to us, was largely as an emblem of dignity and authority. Miss Moore in +the <i>Caldwell Papers</i> writes of her grandfather:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I’ my grandfather’s time, as I have heard him tell, ilka maister of a family +had his ain seat in his ain house; aye, and sat there with his hat on, afore +the best in the land; and had his ain dish, and was aye helpit first and keepit +up his authority as a man should so. Parents were parents then; and bairns +dared not set up their gabs afore them as they do now.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +That the covering of the head in church still has a significance on important +occasions, is shown by a rubric from the “Form and Order” for the Coronation of +King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra; this provides that the king remains +uncovered during the saying of the Litany and the beginning of the Communion +Service, but when the sermon begun that he should put on his “Cap of crimson +velvet turned up with Ermine, and so continue,” to the end of the discourse. +</p> + +<p> +Hatbands were just as important for men’s hats as women’s—especially during the +years of the reign of James I. Endymion Porter had his wife’s diamond necklace +to wear on his hat in Spain. It probably looked like paste beside the +gorgeousness of the Duke of Buckingham, who had “the Mirror of France,” a great +diamond, the finest in England, “to wear alone in your hat with a little blacke +feather,” so the king wrote him. A more curious hat ornament was a glove. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Hat_with_a_Glove_as_a_Favor."></a> +<img src="images/263.jpg" alt="Hat with a Glove as a Favor." /> +<p class="caption">Hat with a Glove as a Favor. +</p></div> + +<p> +This handsome hat is from a portrait of George, Earl of Cumberland. It has a +woman’s glove as a favor. This is said to have been a gift of Queen Elizabeth +after his prowess in a tournament. He always wore this glove on state +occasions. Gloves were worn on a hat in three meanings: as a memorial of a dead +friend, as a favor of a mistress, or as a mark of challenge. A pretty laced or +tasselled handkerchief was also a favor and was worn like a cockade. +</p> + +<p> +An excellent representation of the Cavalier hat may be seen on the figure of +Oliver Cromwell <a href="#Cromwell_dissolving_Parliament.">(here</a>), which +shows him dismissing Parliament. Cornelius Steinwyck’s flat-leafed hat has no +feather. +</p> + +<p> +The steeple-crowned hat of both men and women was in vogue in the second half +of the seventeenth century in both England and America, at the time when the +witchcraft tragedies came to a culmination. The long scarlet cloak was worn at +the same date. It is evident that the conventional witch of to-day, an old +woman in scarlet cloak and steeple-crowned hat, is a relic of that day. Through +the striking circumstances and the striking dress was struck off a figurative +type which is for all time. +</p> + +<p> +William Kempe of “Duxburrow” in 1641 left hats, hat-boxes, rich hatbands, bone +laces, leather hat-cases; also ten “capps.” Hats were also made of cloth. In +the tailor’s bill of work done for Jonathan Corwin of Salem, in 1679, we read +“To making a Broadcloth Hatt 14s. To making 2 hatts &; 2 jackets for your +two sonnes 19s.” In 1672 an association of Massachusetts hatters asked +privileges and protection from the colonial government to aid and encourage +American manufacture, but they were refused until they made better hats. +Shortly after, however, the exportation of raccoon fur to England was +forbidden, or taxed, as it was found to be useful in the home manufacture of +hats. +</p> + +<p> +The eighteenth century saw many and varied forms of the cocked hat; the +nineteenth returned to a straight crown and brim. The description of these will +be given in the due course of the narrative of this book. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE VENERABLE HOOD</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Paul saith, that a woman ought to have a Power on her head. This Power that +some of them have is disguised gear and strange fashions. They must wear French +Hoods—and I cannot tell you—I—what to call it. And when they make them ready +and come to the Covering of their Head they will say, ‘Give me my French Hood, +and Give me my Bonnet or my Cap.’ Now here is a Vengeance-Devil; we must have +our Power from Turkey of Velvet, and gay it must be; far-fetched and +dear-bought; and when it cometh it is a False Sign.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—Sermon, ARCHBISHOP LATIMER, 1549.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“Hoods are the most ancient covering for the head and far more elegant and +useful than the more modern fashion of hats, which present a useless elevation, +and leave the neck and ears completely exposed.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Glossary of Ecclesiastical Ornament and Costume,” PUGIN, 1868. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE VENERABLE HOOD</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="88" src="images/initialw.jpg" alt="W" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +e are told by the great Viollet le Duc that the faces of fifteenth-century +women were of a uniform type. Certainly a uniform head-dress tends to establish +a seeming resemblance of the wearers; the strange, steeple head-dress of that +century might well have that effect; and the “French hood” worn so many years +by English, French, and American women has somewhat the same effect on women’s +countenances; it gives a uniformity of severity. It is difficult for a face to +be pretty and gay under this gloomy hood. This French hood is plainly a +development of the head-rail, which was simply an unshaped oblong strip of +linen or stuff thrown over the head, and with the ends twisted lightly round +the neck or tied loosely under the chin with whatever grace or elegance the +individual wearer possessed. +</p> + +<p> +Varying slightly from reign to reign, yet never greatly changed, this sombre +plain French hood was worn literally for centuries. It was deemed so grave and +dignified a head-covering that, in the reign of Edward III, women of ill +carriage were forbidden the wearing of it. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Gulielma_Penn."></a> +<img src="images/267.jpg" alt="Gulielma Penn." /> +<p class="caption">Gulielma Penn. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the year 1472 “Raye Hoods,” that is, striped hoods, were enjoined in several +English towns as the distinctive wear of women of ill character. And in France +this black hood was under restriction; only ladies of the French court were +permitted to wear velvet hoods, and only women of station and dignity, black +hoods. +</p> + +<p> +This black hood was dignified in allegorical literature as “the venerable +hood,” and was ever chosen by limners to cover the head of any woman of age or +dignity who was to be depicted. +</p> + +<p> +In the <i>Ladies’ Dictionary</i> a hood is defined thus: “A Dutch attire +covering the head, face and all the body.” And the long cloak with this draped +hood, which must have been much like the Shaker cloak of to-day, seems to have +been deemed a Dutch garment. It was warm and comfortable enough to be adopted +readily by the English Pilgrims in Holland. It had come to England, however, in +an earlier century. Of Ellinor Rummin, the alewife, Skelton wrote about the +year 1500:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“A Hake of Lincoln greene<br/> +It had been hers I weene<br/> +More than fortye yeare<br/> +And soe it doth appeare<br/> +And the green bare threds<br/> +Looked like sere wedes<br/> +Withered like hay<br/> +The wool worn awaye<br/> +And yet I dare saye<br/> +She thinketh herself gaye<br/> +Upon a holy day.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +It is impossible to know how old this hood is. When I have fancied I had the +earliest reference that could be found, I would soon come to another a few +years earlier. We know positively from the <i>Lisle Papers</i> that it was worn +in England by the name “French hood” in 1540. Anne Basset, daughter of Lady +Lisle, had come into the household of the queen of Henry VIII, who at the time +was Anne of Cleves. The “French Apparell” which the maid of honor fetched from +Calais was not pleasing to the queen, who promptly ordered the young girl to +wear “a velvet bonnet with a frontlet and edge of pearls.” These bonnets are +familiar to us on the head of Anne’s predecessor, Anne Boleyn. They were worn +even by young children. One is shown <a href="#Lady_Anne_Clifford.">here</a>. +The young lady borrowed a bonnet; and a factor named Husee—the biggest gossip +of his day—promptly chronicles to her mother, “I saw her (Anne Basset) +yesterday in her velvet bonnet that my Lady Sussex had tired her in, and +thought it became her nothing so well as the French hood,—but the Queen’s +pleasure must be done!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Hannah_Callowhill_Penn."></a> +<img src="images/269.jpg" alt="Hannah Callowhill Penn." /> +<p class="caption">Hannah Callowhill Penn. +</p></div> + +<p> +Doubtless some of the Pilgrim Mothers wore bonnets like this one of Anne +Basset’s, especially if the wearer were a widow, when there was also an under +frontlet which was either plain, plaited, or folded, but which came in a +distinct point in the middle of the forehead. +</p> + +<p> +This cap, or bandeau, with point on the forehead, is precisely the widow’s cap +worn by Catherine de Medicis. She was very severe in dress, but she introduced +the wearing of neck-ruffs. She also wore hoods, the favorite head-covering of +all Frenchwomen at that time. This form of head-gear was sometimes called a +widow’s peak, on account of a similar peak of black silk or white being often +worn by widows, apparently of all European nations. Magdalen Beeckman, an +American woman of Dutch descent (<a href="#Mrs._Magdalen_Beekman.">here</a>), +wears one. The name is still applied to a pointed growth of hair on the +forehead. It has also been known as a headdress of Mary Queen of Scots, because +some of her portraits display this pointed outline of head-gear. It continued +until the time of Charles II. It is often found on church brasses, and was +plainly a head-gear of dignity. A modified form is shown in the portrait of +Lady Mary Armine. +</p> + +<p> +Stubbes in his <i>Anatomie of Abuses</i> gives a notion of the importance of +the French hood when he speaks of the straining of all classes for rich attire: +that “every artificer’s wife” will not go without her hat of velvet every day; +“every merchant’s wife and meane gentlewoman” must be in her “French hood”; and +“every poor man’s daughter” in her “taffatie hat or of wool at least.” We have +seen what a fierce controversy burned over Madam Johnson’s “schowish” velvet +hood. +</p> + +<p> +An excellent account of this black hood as worn by the Puritans is given in +rhyme in “Hudibras <i>Redivivus</i>,” a long poem utterly worthless save for +the truthful descriptions of dress; it runs:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The black silk Hood, with formal pride<br/> +First roll’d, beneath the chin was tied<br/> +So close, so very trim and neat,<br/> +So round, so formal, so complete,<br/> +That not one jag of wicked lace<br/> +Or rag of linnen white had place<br/> +Betwixt the black bag and the face,<br/> +Which peep’d from out the sable hood<br/> +Like Luna from a sullen cloud.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was doubtless selected by the women followers of Fox on account of its +ancient record of sobriety and sanctity. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Are the pinch’d cap and formal hood the emblems of sanctity? Does your virtue +consist in your dress, Mrs. Prim?” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +writes Mrs. Centlivre in <i>A Bold Stroke for a Wife</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The black hood was worn long by Quaker women ere they adopted the beaver hat of +the eighteenth century, and the poke-bonnet of the nineteenth century. <a +href="#Hannah_Callowhill_Penn.">Here</a> is given a portrait of Hannah +Callowhill Penn, a Quaker, the second wife of William Penn. She was a sensible +woman brought up in a home where British mercantile thrift vied with Quaker +belief in adherence to sober attire, and her portrait plainly shows her +character. Penn’s young and pretty wife of his youth wears a fashionable +pocket-hoop and rich brocade dress; but she wears likewise the simple black +hood (<a href="#Gulielma_Penn.">here</a>). +</p> + +<p> +The dominance of this black French hood came not, however, through its wear by +sober-faced, discreet English Puritans and Quakers, but through a French +influence, a court influence, the earnestness of its adoption by Madame de +Maintenon, wife of King Louis XIV of France. The whole dress of this strange +ascetic would by preference have been that of a penitent; but the king had a +dislike of anything like mourning, so she wore dresses of some dark color other +than black, generally a dull brown. The conventual aspect of her attire was +added to by this large black hood, which was her constant wear, and is seen in +her portraits. The life at court became melancholy, dejected, filled with icy +reserve. And Madame, whether she rode “shut up in a close chair,” says Duclos, +“to avoid the least breath of air, while the King walked by her side, taking +off his hat each time he stopped to speak to her”; or when she attended +services in the chapel, sitting in a closed gallery; or even in her own sombre +apartments, bending in silence over ecclesiastic needlework,—everywhere, her +narrow, yellow, livid face was shadowed and buried in this black hood. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Madame_de_Miramion."></a> +<img src="images/272.jpg" alt="Madame de Miramion." /> +<p class="caption">Madame de Miramion. +</p></div> + +<p> +Her strange power over the king was in force in 1681, and, until his death in +1715, this sable hood, so unlike the French taste, covered the heads of French +women of all ages and ranks. The genial, almost quizzical countenance of that +noble and charitable woman, Madame de Miramion, wears a like hood. +</p> + +<p> +This French hood is prominent everywhere in book illustrations of the +eighteenth century and even of earlier years. The loosely tied corners and the +sides appear under the straw hats upon many of the figures in Tempest’s +<i>Cryes of London</i>, 1698, such as the Milk woman, the “Newes” woman, etc., +which publication, I may say in passing, is a wonderful source for the student +of everyday costume. I give the Strawberry Girl on this page to show the +ordinary form of the French hood on plain folk. <i>Misson’s Memories</i>, +published also in 1698, it gives the milkmaids on Mayday in like hoods. The +early editions of Hudibras show these hoods, and in Hogarth’s works they may be +seen; not always of black, of course, in later years, but ever of the same +shape. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_Strawberry_Girl."></a> +<img src="images/273.jpg" alt="The Strawberry Girl." /> +<p class="caption">The Strawberry Girl. +</p></div> + +<p> +The hood worn by the Normans was called a chaperon. It was a sort of pointed +bag with an oval opening for the face; sometimes the point was of great length, +and was twisted, folded, knotted. In the Bodleian Library is a drawing of +eleven figures of young lads and girls playing <i>Hoodman-blind</i> or +<i>Blindman’s-buff</i>. The latter name came from the buffet or blow which the +players gave with their twisted chaperon hoods. The blind man simply put his +hood on “hind side afore,” and was effectually blinded. These figures are of +the fifteenth century. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Black_Silk_Hood."></a> +<img src="images/274.jpg" alt="Black Silk Hood." /> +<p class="caption">Black Silk Hood. +</p></div> + +<p> +The wild latitude of spelling often makes it difficult to define an article of +dress. I have before me a letter of the year 1704, written in Boston, asking +that a riding-hood be sent from England of any color save yellow; and one +sentence of the instructions reads thus, “If ’tis velvet let it be a +shabbaroon; if of cloth, a French hood.” I abandoned “shabbaroon” as a wholly +lost word; until Mrs. Gummere announced that the word was chaperon, from the +Norman hood just described. This chaperon is specifically the hood worn by the +Knights of the Garter when in full dress; in general it applies to any ample +hood which completely covers head and face save for eye-holes. Another hood was +the sortie. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Quilted_Hood."></a> +<img src="images/275.jpg" alt="Quilted Hood." /> +<p class="caption">Quilted Hood. +</p></div> + +<p> +The term “coif,” spelt in various ways, quoif, quoiffe, coiffer, ciffer, +quoiffer, has been held to apply to the French hood; but it certainly did not +in America, for I find often in inventories side by side items of black silk +hoods and another of quoifs, which I believe were the white undercaps worn with +the French hood; just as a coif was the close undercap for men’s wear. +</p> + +<p> +Through the two centuries following the assumption of the French hood came a +troop of hoods, though sometimes under other names. In 1664 Pepys tells of his +wife’s yellow bird’s-eye hood, “very fine, to church, as the fashion now is.” +Planché says hoods were not displaced by caps and bonnets till George II’s +time. +</p> + +<p> +In the list of the “wedding apparell” of Madam Phillips, of Boston, are velvet +hoods, love-hoods, and “sneal hoods”; hoods of Persian, of lustring, of gauze; +frequently scarlet hoods are named. In 1712 Richard Hall sent, from Barbadoes +to Boston, a trunk of his deceased wife’s finery to be sold, among which was +“one black Flowered Gauze Hoode,” and he added rather spitefully that he “could +send better but it would be too rich for Boston.” He was a grandson of Madam +Symonds of Ipswich. Furbelowed gauze hoods were then owned by Boston women, and +must have been pretty things. Their delicacy has kept them from being preserved +as have been velvet and Persian hoods. +</p> + +<p> +For the years 1673 to 1721 we have a personal record of domestic life in +Boston, a diary which is the sole storehouse to which we can turn for intimate +knowledge of daily deeds in that little town. A scant record it is, as to +wearing apparel; for the diary-writer, Samuel Sewall, sometime business man, +friend, neighbor, councillor, judge,—and always Puritan,—had not a regard of +dress as had his English contemporary, the gay Samuel Pepys, or even that sober +English gentleman, John Evelyn. In Pepys’s pages we have frequent and +light-giving entries as to dress, interested and interesting entries. In Judge +Sewall’s diary, any references to dress are wholly accidental and not related +as matters of any moment, save one important exception, his attitude toward +wigs and wig-wearing. I could wish Sewall had had a keener eye for dress, for +he wrote in strong, well-ordered English; and when he was deeply moved he wrote +with much color in his pen. The most spirited episodes in the book are the +judge’s remarkable and varied courtships after he was left a widower at the age +of sixty-five, and again when sixty-eight. While thus courting he makes almost +his sole reference to women’s dress,—that Madam Mico when he called came to him +in a splendid dress, and that Madam Winthrop’s dress, <i>after she had refused +him</i>, was “not so clean as sometime it had been.” But an article of his own +dress, nevertheless, formed an important factor in his unsuccessful courtship +of Madam Winthrop—his hood. When all the other widowers of the community, +dignified magistrates, parsons, and men of professions, all bourgeoned out in +stately full-bottomed wigs, what woman would want to have a lover who came +a-courting in a hood? A detachable hood with a cloak, I doubt not he wore, like +the one owned by Judge Curwen, his associate in that terrible tale of Salem’s +bigotry, cruelty, and credulity, the Witchcraft Trial. I cannot fancy Judge +Sewall in a scarlet cloak and hood—a sad-colored one seems more in keeping with +his temperament. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps our old friend, the judge, wore his hood under his hat, as did the +sober citizens in Piers Plowman; and as did judges in England. +</p> + +<p> +It is certain that many men wore hoods; and they wore occasionally a garment +which was really woman’s wear, namely, a “riding hood”; which was also called a +Dutch hood, and was like Elinor Rummin’s hake. This riding-hood was really more +of a cloak than a head-covering, as it often had arm-holes. It might well be +classed with cloaks. I may say here that it is not possible, either by years or +by topics, to isolate completely each chapter of this book from the other. Its +very arrangement, being both by chronology and subject, gives me considerable +liberty, which I now take in this chapter, by retaining the riding-hood among +hoods, simply because of its name. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Pink_Silk_Hood."></a> +<img src="images/278.jpg" alt="Pink Silk Hood." /> +<p class="caption">Pink Silk Hood. +</p></div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Pug_Hood."></a> +<img src="images/279.jpg" alt="Pug Hood." /> +<p class="caption">Pug Hood. +</p></div> + +<p> +On May 6, 1717, the <i>Boston News Letter</i> gave a description of a gayly +attired Indian runaway; she wore off a “red Camblet Ryding Hood fac’d with +blue.” Another servant absconded with an orange-colored riding-hood with +arm-holes. I have an ancient pattern of a riding-hood; it was found in the +bottom of an old hair-covered trunk. It was marked “London Ryding Hood.” With +it were rolled several packages of bits of woollen stuff, one of scarlet +broadcloth, one of blue camlet, plainly labelled “Cuttings from Apphia’s ryding +hood” and “Pieces from Mary’s ryding hood,” showing that they had been placed +there with the pattern when the hood was cut. It is a cape, cut in a deep point +in front and back; the extreme length of the points from the collar being about +twenty-six inches. The hood is precisely like the one on Judge Curwen’s cloak, +like the hoods of Shaker cloaks. As bits of silk are rolled with the wool +pieces, I infer that these riding-hoods were silk lined. +</p> + +<p> +A most romantic name was given to the riding-hood after the battle of Preston +in 1715. The Earl of Nithsdale, after the defeat of the Jacobites, was +imprisoned in the Tower of London under sentence of death. From thence he made +his escape through his wife’s coolness and ingenuity. She visited him dressed +in a large riding-hood which could be drawn closely over her face. He escaped +in her dress and hood, fled to the continent, and lived thirty years in safety +in France. After that dashing rescue, these hoods were known as Nithsdales. The +head-covering portion still resembled the French hood, but the +shoulder-covering portion was circular and ruffled—according to Hogarth. In +Durfey’s <i>Wit and Mirth</i>, 1719, is a spirited song commemorating this +“sacred wife,” who— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“by her Wits immortal pains<br/> +With her quick head has saved his brains.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +One verse runs thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Let Traitors against Kings conspire<br/> +Let secret spies great Statesmen hire,<br/> +Nought shall be by detection got<br/> +If Woman may have leave to plot.<br/> +There’s nothing clos’d with Bars or Locks<br/> +Can hinder Night-rayls, Pinners, Smocks;<br/> +For they will everywhere make good<br/> +As now they’ve done the Riding-hood.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In 1737 “pug hoods” were in fashion. We have no proof of their shape, though I +am told they were the close, plain, silk hood sometimes worn under other hoods. +One is shown <a href="#Pug_Hood.">here</a>. Pumpkin hoods of thickly wadded +wool were prodigiously hot head-coverings; they were crudely pumpkin shaped. +Knitted hoods, under such names as “comforters,” “fascinators,” “rigolettes,” +“nubias,” “opera hoods,” “molly hoods,” are of nineteenth-century invention. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>CLOAKS AND THEIR COUSINS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Within my memory the Ladies covered their lovely Necks with a Cloak, this +was exchanged for the Manteel; this again was succeeded by the Pelorine; the +Pelorine by the Neckatee; the Neckatee by the Capuchin, which hath now stood +its ground for a long time.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Covent Garden Journal,” May 1, 1752.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“Mary Wallace and Clemintina Ferguson Just arrived from the Kingdom of +Ireland intend to follow the business of Mantua making and have furnished +themselves from London in patterns of the following kinds of wear, and have +fixed a correspondence so to have from thence the earliest Fashions in +Miniature. They are at Peter Clarke’s within two doors of William Walton’s, +Esq., in the Fly. Ladies and Gentlemen that employ them may depend on being +expeditiously and reasonably served in making the following Articles, that is +to say—Sacks, Negligees, Negligee-night-gowns, plain-nightgowns, pattanlears, +shepherdesses, Roman cloaks, Cardinals, Capuchins, Dauphinesses, Shades +lorrains, Bonnets and Hives.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“New York Mercury,” May, 1757. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>CLOAKS AND THEIR COUSINS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="86" src="images/initialu.jpg" alt="U" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +nder the general heading of cloaks I intend to write of the various capelike +shoulder-coverings, for both men and women, which were worn in the two +centuries of costume whereof this book treats. Often it is impossible to +determine whether a garment should be classed as a hood or a cloak, for so many +cloaks were made with head-coverings. Both capuchins and cardinals, garments of +popularity for over a century, had hoods, and were worn as head-gear. +</p> + +<p> +There is shown <a href="#Scarlet_Broadcloth_Hooded_Cloak.">here</a> a full, +long cloak of rich scarlet broadcloth, which is the oldest cloak I know. It has +an interesting and romantic history. No relic in Salem is more noteworthy than +this. It has survived since witchcraft days; and with right care, care such as +it receives from its present owner, will last a thousand years. It was worn by +Judge Curwen, one of the judges in those dark hours for Salem; and is still +owned by Miss Bessie Curwen, his descendant. It will be noted that it bears a +close resemblance to the Shaker cloaks of to-day, though the hood is handsomer. +This hood also is detached from the cape. The presiding justice in the Salem +witchcraft trials was William Stoughton, a severe Puritan. In later years Judge +Sewall, his fellow-judge, in an agony of contrition, remorse, self-reproach, +self-abnegation, and exceeding sorrow at those judicial murders, stood in +Boston meeting-house, at a Sabbath service while his pastor read aloud his +confession of his cruel error, his expression of his remorse therefor. A +striking figure is he in our history. No thoughtful person can regard without +emotions of tenderest sympathy and admiration that benignant white-haired head, +with black skullcap, bowed in public disgrace, which was really his honor. But +Judge Stoughton never expressed, in public or private, remorse or even regret. +I doubt if he ever felt either. He plainly deemed his action right. I wish he +could tell us what he thinks of it now. In his portrait here he wears a +skullcap, as does Judge Sewall in his portrait, and a cloak with a cape like +that of his third associate, Judge Curwen. Judge Sewall had both cloak and +hood. Possibly all judges wore them. Judge Stoughton’s cloak has a rich collar +and a curious clasp. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Scarlet_Broadcloth_Hooded_Cloak."></a> +<img src="images/284.jpg" alt="Scarlet Broadcloth Hooded Cloak." /> +<p class="caption">Scarlet Broadcloth Hooded Cloak. +</p></div> + +<p> +Stubbes of course told of the fashion of cloak-wearing:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They have clokes also in nothing discrepant from the rest; of dyverse and +sundry colours, white red tawnie black, green yellow russet purple violet and +an infinyte of other colours. Some of cloth silk velvet taffetie and such like; +some of the Spanish French or Dutch fashion. Some short, scarcely reaching to +the gyrdlestead or waist, some to the knee, and othersome trayling upon the +ground almost like gownes than clokes. These clokes must be garded laced &; +thorouly full, and sometimes so lined as the inner side standeth almost in as +much as the outside. Some have sleeves, othersome have none. Some have hoodes +to pull over the head, some have none. Some are hanged with points and tassels +of gold silver silk, some without all this. But howsoever it bee, the day hath +bene when one might have bought him two Clokes for lesse than now he can have +one of these Clokes made for. They have such store of workmanship bestowed upon +them.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +It is such descriptions as this that make me regard in admiration this ancient +Puritan. Would that I had the power of his pen! Fashion-plates, forsooth! The +<i>Journal of the Modes</i>!—pray, what need have we of any pictures or any +mantua-maker’s words when we can have such a description as this. Why! the man +had a perfect genius for millinery! Had he lived three centuries later, we +might have had Master Stubbes in full control (openly or secretly, according to +his environment) of some dress-making or tailoring establishment <i>pour les +dames</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The lining of these cloaks was often very gay in color and costly; “standing in +as much as the outside.” We find a son of Governor Winthrop writing in 1606:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I desire you to bring me a very good camlet cloake lyned with what you like +except blew. It may be purple or red or striped with those or other colors if +so worn suitable and fashionable.... I would make a hard shift rather than not +have the cloak.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Similar cloaks of scarlet, and of blue lined with scarlet, formed part of the +uniform of soldiers for many years and for many nations. They were certainly +the wear of thrifty comfortable English gentlemen. Did not John Gilpin wear one +on his famous ride? +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“There was all that he might be<br/> + Equipped from head to toe,<br/> +His long red cloak well-brushed and neat<br/> + He manfully did throw.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Scarlet was a most popular color for all articles of dress in the early years +of the eighteenth century. Like the good woman in the Book of Proverbs, both +English and American housewife “clothed her household in scarlet.” Women as +well as men wore these scarlet cloaks. It is curious to learn from Mrs. Gummere +that even Quakers wore scarlet. When Margaret Fell married George Fox, greatest +of Quakers, he bought her a scarlet mantle. And in 1678 he sent her scarlet +cloth for another mantle. There was good reason in the wear of scarlet; it both +was warm and looked warm; and the color was a lasting one. It did not fade like +many of the homemade dyes. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Judge_Stoughton."></a> +<img src="images/287.jpg" alt="Judge Stoughton." /> +<p class="caption">Judge Stoughton. +</p></div> + +<p> +A very interesting study is that of color in wearing apparel. Beginning with +the few crude dyes of mediaeval days, we could trace the history of dyeing, and +the use and invention of new colors and tints. The names of these colors are +delightful; the older quaint titles seem wonderfully significant. We read of +such tints as billymot, phillymurt, or philomot (feuille-mort), murry, +blemmish, gridolin (gris-de-lin or flax blossom), puce colour, foulding colour, +Kendal green, Lincoln green, treen-colour, watchet blue, barry, milly, tuly, +stammel red, Bristol red, zaffer-blue, which was either sapphire-blue or +zaffre-blue, and a score of fanciful names whose signification and +identification were lost with the death of the century. Historical events were +commemorated in new hues; we have the political, diplomatic, and military +history of various countries hinted to us. Great discoveries and inventions +give names to colors. The materials and methods of dyeing, especially domestic +dyes, are most interesting. An allied topic is the significance of colors, the +limitation of their use. For instance, the study of blue would fill a chapter. +The dress of ’prentices and serving-men in Elizabeth’s day was always blue blue +cloaks in winter, blue coats in summer. Blue was not precisely a livery; it was +their color, the badge of their condition in life, as black is now a parson’s. +Different articles of dress clung to certain colors. Green stockings had their +time and season of clothing the sturdy legs of English dames as inevitably as +green stalks filled the fields. Think of the years of domination of the green +apron; of the black hood—it is curious indeed. +</p> + +<p> +In such exhaustive books upon special topics as the <i>History of the Twelve +Great Livery Companies of London</i> we find wonderfully interesting and +significant proof of the power of color; also in many the restrictive sumptuary +laws of the Crown. +</p> + +<p> +It would appear that this long, scarlet cloak never was out of wear for men and +women until the nineteenth century. It was, at times, not the height of the +fashion, but still was worn. Various ancient citizens of Boston, of Salem, are +recalled through letter or traditions as clinging long to this comfortable +cloak. Samuel Adams carried a scarlet cloak with him when he went to +Washington. +</p> + +<p> +I shall tell in a later chapter of my own great-great-grandmother’s wear of a +scarlet cloak until the opening years of the nineteenth century. During and +after the Revolution these cloaks remained in high favor for women. French +officers, writing home to France glowing accounts of the fair Americans, noted +often that the ladies wore scarlet cloaks, and Madame Riedesel asserted that +all gentlewomen in Canada never left the house save in a scarlet silk or cloth +cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman’s long scarlet cloak, almost new with a double cape,” had been one of +the articles feloniously taken from the house of Benjamin Franklin, printer, in +Philadelphia, in 1750. Debby Franklin’s dress, if we can judge from what was +stolen, was a gay revel of color. Among the articles was one gown having a +pattern of “large red roses and other large yellow flowers with blue in some of +the flowers with many green leaves.” +</p> + +<p> +In the <i>Life of Jonathan Trumbull</i> we read that when a collection was +taken in the Lebanon church for the benefit of the soldiers of the Continental +army, when money, jewels, clothing, and food were gathered in a great heap near +the pulpit, Madam Faith Trumbull rose up, threw from her shoulders her splendid +scarlet cloth cloak, a gift from Count Rochambeau, advanced to the altar and +laid the cloak with other offerings of patriotism and generosity. It was used, +we are told, to trim the uniforms of the Continental officers and soldiers. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="WomansCloakFromHogarth"></a> +<img src="images/291.jpg" alt="Woman’s Cloak. From Hogarth." /> +<p class="caption">Woman’s Cloak. From Hogarth. +</p></div> + +<p> +One of the first entries in regard to dress made by Philip Fithian in 1773, +when he went to Virginia as a school-teacher, was that “almost every Lady wears +a Red Cloak; and when they ride out they tye a Red Handkerchief over their Head +&; Face; so when I first came to Virginia, I was distrest whenever I saw a +Lady, for I thought she had the Tooth-Ach!” When the young tutor left his +charge a year later, he wrote a long letter of introduction, instruction, and +advice to his successor; and so much impression had this riding-dress still +upon him that he recounted at length the “Masked Ladies,” as he calls them, +explaining that the whole neck and face was covered, save a narrow slit for the +eyes, as if they had “the Mumps or Tooth-Ach.” It is possible that the insect +torments encountered by the fair riders may have been the reason for this +cloaking and masking. Not only mosquitoes and flies and fleas were abundant, +but Fithian tells of the irritating illness and high fever of the fairest of +his little flock from being bitten with ticks, “which cover her like a distinct +smallpox.” +</p> + +<p> +In seventeenth-century inventories an occasional item is a rocket. I think no +better description of a rocket can be given than that of Celia Fiennes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“You meete all sorts of countrywomen wrapped up in the mantles called West +Country Rockets, a large mantle doubled together, of a sort of serge, some are +linsey-woolsey and a deep fringe or fag at the lower end; these hang down, some +to their feet, some only just below the waist; in the summer they are all in +white garments of this sort, in the winter they are in red ones.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This would seem much like a blanket shawl, but the word was also applied to the +scarlet round cloak. +</p> + +<p> +Another much-used name and cloaklike garment was the roquelaure. A very good +contemporary definition may be copied from <i>A Treatise on the Modes</i>, +1715; it says it is “a short abridgement or compendium of a coat which is +dedicated to the Duke of Roquelaure.” It was simply a shorter cloak than had +been worn, and it was hoodless; for the great curled wigs with heavy locks well +over the shoulders made hoods superfluous; and even impossible, for men’s wear. +It was very speedily taken into favor by women; and soon the advertisements of +lost articles show that it was worn by women universally as by men. In the +<i>Boston News Letter</i>, in 1730, a citizen advertises that he has lost his +“Blue Cloak or Roculo with brass buttons.” This was the first of an ingenious +series of misspellings which produced at times a word almost unrelated to the +original French word. Rocklow, rockolet, roquelo, rochelo, roquello, and even +rotkello have I found. Ashton says that scarlet cloth was the favorite fabric +for roquelaures in England; and he deems the scarlet roclows and rocliers with +gold loops and buttons “exceeding magnifical.” I note in the American +advertisements that the lost roquelaures are of very bright colors; some were +of silk, some of camlet; generally they are simply ‘cloth.’ Many of the +American roquelaures had double capes. I think those handsome, gay cloaks must +have given a very bright, cheerful aspect to the town streets of the middle of +the eighteenth century. +</p> + +<p> +Sir William Pepperell, who was ever a little shaky in his spelling, but +possibly no more so than his neighbors, sent in 1737 from Piscataqua to one +Hooper in England for “A Handsom Rockolet for my daughter of about 15 yrs. old, +or what is ye Most Newest Fashion for one of her age to ware at meeting in ye +Winter Season.” +</p> + +<p> +The capuchin was a hooded cloak named from the hooded garment worn by the +Capuchin monks. The date 1752 given by Fairholt as an early date of its wear is +far wrong. Fielding used the word in <i>Tom Jones</i> in 1749; other English +publications, in 1709; and I find it in the <i>Letters of Madame de Sévigné</i> +as early as 1686. The cardinal, worn at the same date, was originally of +scarlet cloth, and I find was generally of some wool stuff. At one time I felt +sure that cardinal was always the name for the woollen cloak, and capuchin of +the silken one; but now I am a bit uncertain whether this is a rule. Judging +from references in literature and advertisements, the capuchin was a richer +garment than the cardinal. Capuchins were frequently trimmed liberally with +lace, ribbons, and robings; were made of silk with gauze ruffles, or of figured +velvet. One is here shown which is taken from one of Hogarth’s prints. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="A_Capuchin._From_Hogarth."></a> +<img src="images/294.jpg" alt="A Capuchin. From Hogarth." /> +<p class="caption">A Capuchin. From Hogarth. +</p></div> + +<p> +This notice is from the <i>Boston Evening Post</i> of January 13, 1772:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Taken from Concert Hall on Thursday Evening a handsom Crimson Satin Capuchin +trimmed with a rich white Blond Lace with a narrow Blond Lace on the upper edge +Lined with White Sarsnet.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In 1752 capuchins and cardinals were much worn, especially purple ones. The +<i>Connoisseur</i> says all colors were neglected for purple. “In purple we +glowed from hat to shoe. In such request were ribbons and silks of that famous +color that neither milliner mercer nor dyer could meet the demand.” +</p> + +<p> +The names “cardinal” and “capuchin” had been derived from monkish wear, and the +cape, called a pelerine, had an allied derivation; it is said to be derived +from <i>pèlerin</i>—meaning a pilgrim. It was a small cape with longer ends +hanging in front; and was invented as a light, easily adjustable covering for +the ladies’ necks, which had been left so widely and coldly bare by the low-cut +French bodices. It is said that the garment was invented in France in 1671. I +do not find the word in use in America till 1730. Then mantua-makers advertised +that they would make them. Various materials were used, from soft silk and thin +cloth to rich velvet; but silk pelerines were more common. +</p> + +<p> +In 1743, in the <i>Boston News Letter</i>, Henrietta Maria East advertised that +“Ladies may have their Pellerines made” at her mantua-making shop. In 1749 +“pellerines” were advertised for sale in the <i>Boston Gazette</i> and a black +velvet “pellerine” was lost. +</p> + +<p> +In the quotation heading this chapter, manteel, pelerine, and neckatee precede +the capuchin; but in fact the capuchin is as old as the pelerine. Beyond the +fact that all mantua-makers made neckatees, and that they were a small cape, +this garment cannot be described. It required much less stuff than either +capuchin or cardinal. The “manteel” was, of course, as old as the cloak. Elijah +“took his mantle and wrapped it together, and smote the waters.” In the Middle +Ages the mantle was a great piece of cloth in any cloaklike shape, of which the +upper corners were fastened at the neck. Often one of the front edges was +thrown over one shoulder. In the varied forms of spelling and wearing, as +manto, manteau, mantoon, mantelet, and mantilla the foundation is the same. We +have noted the richness and elegance of Madam Symonds’s mantua. We could not +forget the word and its signification while we have so important a use of it in +mantua-maker. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Lady_Caroline_Montagu."></a> +<img src="images/296.jpg" alt="Lady Caroline Montagu." /> +<p class="caption">Lady Caroline Montagu. +</p></div> + +<p> +Dauphiness was the name of a certain style of mantle, which was most popular +about 1750. Harriot Paine had “Dauphiness Mantles” for sale in Boston in 1755. +A rude drawing in an old letter indicates that the “Dauphiness” had a deep +point at the back, and was cut up high at the arm-hole. It was of thin silk, +and was trimmed all around the lower edge with a deep, full frill of the silk, +which at the arm-hole fell over the arm like a short sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Many were the names of those pretty little cloaks and capes which were worn +with the sacque-shaped gowns. The duchess was one; we revived the name for a +similar mantle in 1870. The pelisse was in France the cloak with arm-holes, +shown, <a href="#Lady_Caroline_Montagu.">here</a>, upon one of Sir Joshua +Reynolds’s engaging children. The pelisse in America sometimes had sleeves, I +am sure; and was hardly a cloak. It is difficult to classify some forms which +seem almost jackets. A general distinction may be made not to include sleeved +garments with the cloaks; but several of the manteaus had loose, large, flowing +sleeves, and some like Madam Symonds’s had detached sleeves. It is also +difficult to know whether some of the negligees were cloaks or sacque-like +gowns. And there is the other extreme; some of the smaller, circular +neck-coverings like the van-dykes are not cloaks. They are scarcely capes; they +are merely collars; but there are still others which are a bit bigger and are +certainly capes. And are there not also capes, like the neckatee, which may be +termed cloaks? Material, too, is bewildering; a light gauze thing of ribbons +and furbelows like the Unella is not really a cloak, yet it takes a cloaklike +form. There are no cut and dried rules as to size, form, or weight of these +cloaks, capes, collars, and hoods, so I have formed my own classes and +assignments. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE DRESS OF OLD-TIME CHILDREN</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Rise up to thy Elders, put off thy Hat, make a Leg”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Janua Linguarum,” COMENIUS, 1664.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“Little ones are taught to be proud of their clothes before they can put +them on.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Essay on Human Understanding,” LOCKE, 1687.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“When thou thyself, a watery, pulpy, slobbery Freshman and newcomer on this +Planet, sattest mewling in thy nurse’s arms; sucking thy coral, and looking +forth into the world in the blankest manner, what hadst thou been without thy +blankets and bibs and other nameless hulls?”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Sartor Resartus,” THOMAS CARLYLE, 1836. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE DRESS OF OLD-TIME CHILDREN</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="88" src="images/initialw.jpg" alt="W" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +hen we reflect that in any community the number of “the younger sort” is far +larger than of grown folk, when we know, too, what large families our ancestors +had, in all the colonies, we must deem any picture of social life, any history +of costume, incomplete unless the dress of children is shown. French and +English books upon costume are curiously silent regarding such dress. It might +be alleged as a reason for this singular silence that the dress of young +children was for centuries precisely that of their elders, and needed no +specification. But infants’ dress certainly was widely different, and full of +historic interest, as well as quaint prettiness; and there were certain details +of the dress of older children that were most curious and were wholly unlike +the contemporary garb of their elders; sometimes these details were survivals +of ancient modes for grown folk, sometimes their name was a survival while +their form had changed. +</p> + +<p> +For the dress of children of the early years of colonial life—the seventeenth +century—I have an unusual group of five portraits. One is the little Padishal +child, shown with her mother in the frontispiece, one is Robert Gibbes (shown +<a href="#Robert_Gibbes.">here</a>). The third child is said to be John +Quincy—his picture is opposite this page. The two portraits of Margaret and +Henry Gibbes are owned in Virginia; but are too dimly photographed for +reproduction. The portrait of Robert Gibbes is owned by inheritance by Miss +Sarah B. Hager, of Kendal Green, Massachusetts. It is well preserved, having +hung for over a hundred years on the same wall in the old house. He was four +years old when this portrait was painted. It is marked 1670. John Quincy’s +portrait is marked also plainly as one and a half years old, and with a date +which is a bit dimmed; it is either 1670 or 1690. If it is 1690, the picture +can be that of John Quincy, though he would scarcely be as large as is the +portrayed figure. If the date is 1670, it cannot be John Quincy, for he was +born in 1689. The picture has the same checker-board floor as the three other +Gibbes portraits, four rows of squares wide; and the child’s toes are set at +the same row as are the toes of the shoes in the picture of Robert Gibbes. +</p> + +<p> +The portraits of Henry and Margaret Gibbes are also marked plainly 1670. There +was a fourth Gibbes child, who would have been just the age of the subject of +the Quincy portrait; and it is natural that there should be a suspicion that +this fourth portrait is of the fourth Gibbes child, not of John Quincy. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="John_Quincy."></a> +<img src="images/301.jpg" alt="John Quincy." /> +<p class="caption">John Quincy. +</p></div> + +<p> +Margaret Gibbes was born in 1663. Henry Gibbes was born in 1667. He became a +Congregational minister. His daughter married Nathaniel Appleton, and through +Nathaniel, John, Dr. John S., and John, the portrait, with that of Margaret, +came to the present owner, General John W. S. Appleton, of Charlestown, West +Virginia. +</p> + +<p> +The dress of these five children is of the same rich materials that would be +worn by their mothers. The Padishal child wears black velvet like her mother’s +gown; but her frock is brightened with scarlet points of color. The linings of +the velvet hanging sleeves, the ribbon knots of the white virago-sleeve, the +shoe-tip, the curious cap-tassel, are of bright scarlet. We have noted the +dominance of scarlet in old English costumes. It was evidently the only color +favored for children. The lace cap, the rich lace stomacher, the lace-edged +apron, all are of Flemish lace. Margaret Gibbes wears a frock of similar shape, +and equally rich and dark in color; it is a heavy brocade of blue and red, with +a bit of yellow. Her fine apron, stomacher, and full sleeves are rich in +needlework. Robert Gibbes’s “coat,” as a boy’s dress at that age then was +called, is a striking costume. The inmost sleeves are of white lawn, over them +are sleeves made of strips of galloon of a pattern in yellow, white, scarlet, +and black, with a rolled cuff of red velvet. There is a similar roll around the +hem of the coat. Still further sleeves are hanging sleeves of velvet trimmed +with the galloon. +</p> + +<p> +It will be noted that his hanging sleeve is cut square and trimmed squarely +across the end. It is similar to the sleeves worn at the same time by citizens +of London in their formal “liveryman’s” dress, which had bands like pockets, +that sometimes really were pockets. +</p> + +<p> +His plain, white, hemstitched band would indicate that he was a boy, did not +the swing of his petticoats plainly serve to show it, as do also his brothers’ +“coats.” That child knew well what it was to tread and trip on those hated +petticoats as he went upstairs. I know how he begged for breeches. The apron of +John Quincy varies slightly in shape from that of the other boy, but the +general dress is like, save his pretty, gay, scarlet hood, worn over a white +lace cap. One unique detail of these Gibbes portraits, and the Quincy portrait, +is the shoes. In all four, the shoes are of buff leather, with absolutely +square toes, with a thick, scarlet sole to which the buff-leather upper seems +tacked with a row either of long, thick, white stitches or of heavy +metal-headed nails; these white dots are very ornamental. One pair of the shoes +has great scarlet roses on the instep. The square toe was distinctly a Cavalier +fashion. It is in Miss Campion’s portrait, facing this page, and in the print +of the Prince of Orange <a href="#311">here</a>, and is found in many portraits +of the day. But these American shoes are in the minor details entirely unlike +any English shoes I have seen in any collection elsewhere, and are most +interesting. They were doubtless English in make. +</p> + +<p> +The portrait of John Quincy resembles much in its dress that of Oliver Cromwell +when two years old, the picture now at Chequers Court. Cromwell’s linen collar +is rounded, and a curious ornament is worn in front, as a little girl would +wear a locket. The whole throat and a little of the upper neck is bare. Dark +hair, slightly curled, comes out from the close cap in front of the ears. This +picture of Cromwell distinctly resembles his mother’s portrait. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="MissCampion1667"></a> +<img src="images/304.jpg" alt="Miss Campion, 1667." /> +<p class="caption">Miss Campion, 1667. +</p></div> + +<p> +The quaint tassel or rosette or feather on the cap of the Padishal child was a +fashion of the day. It is seen in many Dutch portraits of children. In a +curious old satirical print of Oliver Cromwell preaching are the figures of two +little children drawn standing by their mother’s side. One child’s back is +turned for our sight, and shows us what might well be the back of the gown of +the Padishal child. The cap has the same ornament on the crown, and the hanging +sleeves—of similar form—have, at intervals of a few inches apart from shoulder +to heel, an outside embellishment of knots of ribbon. There is also a band or +strip of embroidery or passementerie up the back of the gown from skirt-hem to +lace collar, with a row of buttons on the strip. This proves that the dress was +fastened in the back, as the stiff, unbroken, white stomacher also indicates. +The other child is evidently a boy. His gown is long and fur-edged. His cap is +round like a Scotch bonnet, and has also a tuft or rosette at the crown. On +either side hang long strings or ribbon bands reaching from the cap edge to the +knee. +</p> + +<p> +These portraits of these little American children display nothing of that +God-given attribute which we call genius, but they do possess a certain welcome +trait, which is truthfulness; a hard attention to detail, which confers on them +a quality of exactness of likeness of which we are very sensible. We have for +comparison a series of portraits of the same dates, but of English children, +the children of the royal and court families. I give <a +href="#Duchess_of_Buckingham_and_her_Two_Children.">here</a> a part of the +portrait group of the family of the Duke of Buckingham; namely, the Duchess of +Buckingham and her two children, an infant son and a daughter, Mary. She was a +wonderful child, known in the court as “Pretty Moll,” having the beauty of her +father, the “handsomest-bodied” man in court, his vivacity, his vigor, and his +love of dancing, all of which made him the prime favorite both of James and his +son, Charles. +</p> + +<p> +A letter exists written by the duchess to her husband while he was gone to +Spain with his thirty suits of richly embroidered garments of which I have +written in my first chapter. The duchess writes of “Pretty Moll,” who was not a +year old:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“She is very well, I thank God; and when she is set to her feet and held by her +sleeves she will not go softly but stamp, and set one foot before another very +fast, and I think she will run before she can go. She loves dancing extremely; +and when the Saraband is played, she will get her thumb and finger together +offering to snap; and then when “Tom Duff” is sung, she will shake her apron; +and when she hears the tune of the clapping dance my Lady Frances Herbert +taught the Prince, she will clap both her hands together, and on her breast, +and she can tell the tunes as well as any of us can; and as they change tunes +she will change her dancing. I would you were here but to see her, for you +would take much delight in her now she is so full of pretty play and tricks. +Everybody says she grows each day more like you.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Can you not see the engaging little creature, clapping her hands and trying to +step out in a dance? No imaginary description could equal in charm this bit of +real life, this word-picture painted in bright and living colors by a mother’s +love. I give another merry picture of her childhood and widowhood in a later +chapter. Many portraits of “Pretty Moll” were painted by Van Dyck, more than of +any woman in England save the queen. One shows her in the few months that she +was the child-wife of the eldest son of the Earl of Pembroke. She is in the +centre of the great family group. She was married thrice; her favorite choice +of character in which to be painted was Saint Agnes, who died rather than be +married at all. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="InfantsCap"></a> +<img src="images/307.jpg" alt="Infant’s Cap." /> +<p class="caption">Infant’s Cap. +</p></div> + +<p> +Both mother and child in this picture wear a lace cap of unusual shape, rather +broader where turned over at the ear than at the top. It is seen on a few other +portraits of that date, and seems to have come to England with the queen of +James I. It disappeared before the graceful modes of hair-dressing introduced +by Queen Henrietta Maria. +</p> + +<p> +The genius of Van Dyck has preserved for us a wonderful portraiture of children +of this period, the children of King Charles I. The earliest group shows the +king and queen with two children; one a baby in arms with long clothes and +close cap—this might have been painted yesterday. The little prince standing at +his father’s knee is in a dark green frock, much like John Quincy’s, and +apparently no richer. A painting at Windsor shows king and queen with the two +princes, Charles and James; another, also at Windsor, gives the mother with the +two sons. One at Turin gives the two princes with their sister. At Windsor, and +in <i>replica</i> at Berlin, is the famous masterpiece with the five children, +dated 1637. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Eleanor_Foster._1755."></a> +<img src="images/309.jpg" alt="Eleanor Foster. 1755." /> +<p class="caption">Eleanor Foster. 1755. +</p></div> + +<p> +This exquisite group shows Charles, the Prince of Wales (aged seven), with his +arm on the head of a great dog; he is in the full garb of a grown man, a +Cavalier. His suit is red satin; the shoes are white, with red roses. Mary, +demure as in all her portraits, is aged six; she wears virago-sleeves made like +those of Margaret Gibbes, with hanging sleeves over them, a lace stomacher, and +cap, with tufts of scarlet, and hair curled lightly on the forehead, and pulled +out at the side in ringlets, like that of her mother, Henrietta Maria. The Duke +of York, aged two, wears a red dress spotted with yellow, with sleeves +precisely like those of Robert Gibbes; white lace-edged apron, stomacher, and +cap; his hair is in curls. The Princess Elizabeth was aged about two; she is in +blue. Her cap is of wrought and tucked lawn, and she wears either a pearl +ear-ring or a pearl pendant at the corner of the cap just at the ear, and a +string of pearls around her neck. She has a gentle, serious face, one with a +premonitory tinge of sadness. She was the favorite daughter of the king, and +wrote the inexpressibly touching account of his last days in prison. She was +but thirteen, and he said to her the day before his execution, “Sweetheart, you +will forget all this.” “Not while I live,” she answered, with many tears, and +promised to write it down. She lived but a short time, for she was +broken-hearted; she was found dead, with her head lying on the religious book +she had been reading—in which attitude she is carved on her tomb. The baby is +Princess Anne, a fat little thing not a year old; she is naked, save for a +close cap and a little drapery. She died when three and a half years old; died +with these words on her lips, “Lighten Thou mine eyes, O Lord, that I sleep not +the sleep of Death.” It was not Puritan children only at that time who were +filled with deep religious thought, and gave expression to that thought even in +infancy; children of the Church of England and of the Roman Catholic Church +were all widely imbued with religious feeling, and Biblical words were the +familiar speech of the day, of both young and old. It rouses in me strange +emotions when I gaze at this portrait and remember all that came into the lives +of these royal children. They had been happier had they been born, like the +little Gibbes children, in America, and of untitled parents. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="311"></a> +<img src="images/311.jpg" width="405" height="600" alt="[Illustration: William, +Prince of Orange.]" /> +<p class="caption">William, Prince of Orange. +</p></div> + +<p> +At Amsterdam may be seen the portrait of Princess Mary painted with her cousin, +William of Orange, who became her child-husband. She had the happiest life of +any of the five—if she ever could be happy after her father’s tragic death. In +this later portrait she is a little older and sadder and stiffer. Her waist is +more pinched, her shoulders narrower, her face more demure. His likeness is +here given. The only marked difference in the dress of these children from the +dress of the Gibbes children is in the lace; the royal family wear laces with +deeply pointed edges, the point known as a Vandyke. The American children wear +straight-edged laces, as was the general manner of laces of that day. An old +print of the Duke of York when about seven years old is given (<a +href="#JAMES_DUKE_OF_YORK">here</a>). He carries in his hand a quaint racket. +</p> + +<p> +The costume worn by these children is like that of plebeian English children of +the same date. A manuscript drawing of a child of the people in the reign of +Charles I shows a precisely similar dress, save that the child is in +leading-strings held by the mother; and in the belt to which the +leading-strings are attached is thrust a “muckinder” or handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +These leading-strings are seldom used now, but they were for centuries a factor +in a child’s progress. They were a favorite gift to children; and might be a +simple flat strip of strong stuff, or might be richly worked like the +leading-strings which Mary, Queen of Scots embroidered for her little baby, +James. These are three bands of Spanish pink satin ribbon, each about four or +five feet long and over an inch wide. The three are sewed with minute +over-and-over stitches into a flat band about four inches wide, and are +embroidered with initials, emblems of the crown, a verse of a psalm, and a +charming flower and grape design. The gold has tarnished into brown, and the +flower colors are fled; but it is still a beautiful piece of work, speaking +with no uncertain voice of a tender, loving mother and a womanly queen. There +were crewel-worked leading-strings in America. One is prettily lined with +strips of handsome brocade that had been the mother’s wedding petticoat; it is +not an ill rival of the princely leading-strings. +</p> + +<p> +Another little English girl, who was not a princess, but who lived in the years +when ran and played our little American children, was Miss Campion, who “minded +her horn-book”—minded it so well that she has been duly honored as the only +English child ever painted with horn-book in hand. Her petticoat and stomacher, +her apron, and cap and hanging sleeves and square-toed shoes are just like +Margaret Gibbes’s—bought in the same London shops, very likely. +</p> + +<p> +Not only did all these little English and American children dress alike, but so +did French children, and so did Spanish children—only little Spanish girls had +to wear hoops. Hoops were invented in Spain; and proud was the Spanish queen of +them. +</p> + +<p> +Velasquez, contemporary with Van Dyck, painted the Infanta Maria Theresa; the +portrait is now in the Prado at Madrid. She carries a handkerchief as big as a +tablecloth; but above her enormous hoop appears not only the familiar +virago-sleeve, but the straight whisk or collar, just like that of English +children and dames. This child and the Princess Marguerite, by Velasquez, have +the hair parted on one side with the top lock turned aside and tied with a knot +of ribbon precisely as we tie our little daughters’ hair to-day; and as the +bride of Charles II wore her hair when he married her. French children had not +assumed hoops. I have an old French portrait before me of a little demoiselle, +aged five, in a scarlet cloth gown with edgings of a narrow gray gimp or silver +lace. All the sleeves, the slashes, the long, hanging sleeves are thus edged. +She wears a long, narrow, white lawn apron, and her stiff bodice has a +stomacher of lawn. There is a straight white collar tied with tiny bows in +front and white cuffs; a scarlet close cap edged with silver lace completes an +exquisite costume, which is in shape like that of Margaret Gibbes. The garments +of all these children, royal and subject, are too long, of course, for comfort +in walking; too stiff, likewise, for comfort in wearing; too richly laced to be +suitable for everyday wear; too costly, save for folk of wealth; yet +nevertheless so quaint, so becoming, so handsome, so rich, that we reluctantly +turn away from them. +</p> + +<p> +The dress of all young children in families of estate was cumbersome to a +degree. There exists to-day a warrant for the purchase of clothing of Mary +Tudor, sister of Henry VIII, when she was a sportive, wilful, naughty little +child of four. She wore such unwieldy and ugly guise as this: kirtles of tawny +damask and black satin; gowns of green and crimson striped velvet edged with +purple tinsel, which must have been hideous. All were lined with heavy black +buckram. Indeed, the inner portions, the linings of old-time garments, even of +royalty, were far from elegant. I have seen garments worn by grown princesses +of the eighteenth century, whereof the rich brocade bodies were lined with +common, heavy fabric, usually a stiff linen; and the sewing was done with +thread as coarse as shoe-thread, often homespun. This, too, when the sleeve and +neck-ruffles would be of needlework so exquisite that it could not be rivalled +in execution to-day. +</p> + +<p> +Many of the older portraits of children show hanging sleeves. The rich claret +velvet dresses of the Van Cortlandt twins, aged four, had hanging sleeves. This +dress is given in my book, <i>Child Life in Colonial Days</i>, as is that of +Katherine Ten Broeck, another child of Dutch birth living in New York, who also +wore heavy hanging sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +The use of the word hanging sleeves in common speech and in literature is most +interesting. It had a figurative meaning; it symbolized youth and innocence. +This meaning was acquired, of course, from the wear for centuries of hanging +sleeves by little children, both boys and girls. It had a second, a derivative +signification, being constantly employed as a figure of speech to indicate +second childhood; it was used with a wistful tender meaning as an emblem of the +helplessness of feeble old age. The following example shows such an employment +of the term. +</p> + +<p> +In 1720, Judge Samuel Sewall, of Boston, then about seventy-five years of age, +wrote to another old gentleman, whose widowed sister he desired to marry, in +these words:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I remember when I was going from school at Newbury to have sometime met your +sisters Martha and Mary in Hanging Sleeves, coming home from their school in +Chandlers Lane, and have had the pleasure of speaking to them. And I could find +it in my heart now to speak to Mrs. Martha again, now I myself am reduced to +Hanging Sleeves.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +William Byrd, of Westover, in Virginia, in one of his engaging and sprightly +letters written in 1732, pictures the time of the patriarchs when “a man was +reckoned at Years of Discretion at 100; Boys went into Breeches at about 40; +Girles continued in Hanging Sleeves till 50, and plaid with their Babys till +Threescore.” +</p> + +<p> +When Benjamin Franklin was seven years old, he wrote a poem which was sent to +his uncle, a bright old Quaker. This uncle responded in clever lines which +begin thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“’Tis time for me to throw aside my pen<br/> +When Hanging-Sleeves read, write and rhyme like men.<br/> +This forward Spring foretells a plenteous crop<br/> +For if the bud bear grain, what will the top?” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A curious use of the long hanging sleeve was as a pocket; that is, it would +seem curious to us were it not for our acquaintance with the capacity of the +sleeves of our unwelcome friend, Ah Sing. The pocketing sleeve of the time of +Henry III still exists in the heraldic charge known as the manche, borne by the +Hastings and Norton family. This is also called maunch, émanche, and mancheron. +The word “manchette,” an ornamented cuff, retains the meaning of the word, as +does manacle; all are from <i>manus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Hanging sleeves had a time of short popularity for grown folk while Anne Boleyn +was queen of England; for the little finger of her left hand had a double tip, +and the long, graceful sleeves effectually concealed the deformity. +</p> + +<p> +In my book entitled <i>Child Life in Colonial Days</i> I have given over thirty +portraits of American children. These show the changes of fashions, the wear of +children at various periods and ages. Childish dress ever reflected the dress +of their elders, and often closely imitated it. Two very charming costumes are +worn by two little children of the province of South Carolina. The little girl +is but two years old. She is Ellinor Cordes, and was painted about 1740. She is +a lovely little child of French features and French daintiness of dress, albeit +a bright yellow brocaded satin would seem rather gorgeous attire for a girl of +her years. The boy is her kinsman, Daniel Ravenel, and was then about five +years old. He wore what might be termed a frock with spreading petticoats, +which touched the ground; there is a decided boyishness in the tight-fitting, +trim waistcoat with its silver buttons and lace, and the befrogged coat with +broad cuffs and wrist ruffles, and turned-over revers, and narrow linen inner +collar. It is an exceptionally pleasing boy’s dress, for a little boy. +</p> + +<p> +A somewhat similar but more feminine coat is worn by Thomas Aston Coffin; it +opens in front over a white satin petticoat, and it has a low-cut neck and +sleeves shortened to the elbow, and worn over full white undersleeves. Other +portraits by Copley show the same dress of white satin, which boys wore till +six years of age. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Theodore_Sedgwick_and_Daughter."></a> +<img src="images/318.jpg" alt="Mrs. Theodore Sedgwick and Daughter." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Theodore Sedgwick and Daughter. +</p></div> + +<p> +Copley’s portrait of his own children is given on a later page. This family +group always startles all who have seen it only in photographs; for its colors +are so unexpected, so frankly crude and vivid. The individuals are all +charming. The oldest child, the daughter, Elizabeth, stands in the foreground +in a delightful white frock of striped gauze. This is worn over a pink slip, +and the pink tints show in the thinner folds of whiteness; a fine piece of +texture-painting. The gauze sash is tied in a vast knot, and lies out in a +train; this is a more vivid pink, inclining to the tint of the old-rose damask +furniture-covering. She wears a pretty little net and muslin cap with a cap-pin +like a tiny rose. This single figure is not excelled, I think, by any child’s +portrait in foreign galleries, nor is it often equalled. Nor can the exquisite +expression of childish love and confidence seen on the face of the boy, John +Singleton Copley, Junior, who later became Lord Lyndhurst, find a rival in +painting. It is an unspeakably touching portrait to all who have seen upturned +close to their own eyes the trusting and loving face of a beautiful son as he +clung with strong boyish arms and affection to his mother’s neck. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Infant_Child_of_Francis_Hopkinson"></a> +<img src="images/319.jpg" alt="Infant Child of Francis Hopkinson" /> +<p class="caption">Infant Child of Francis Hopkinson, “the Signer.” Painted by +Francis Hopkinson. +</p></div> + +<p> +This little American boy, who became Lord Chancellor of England, wears a +nankeen suit with a lilac-tinted sash. It is his beaver hat with gold hatband +and blue feather that lies on the ground at the feet of the grandfather, +Richard Clarke. The baby, held by the grandfather, wears a coral and bells on a +lilac sash-ribbon; such a coral as we see in many portraits of infants. Another +child in white-embroidered robe and dark yellow sash completes this beautiful +family picture. Its great fault to me is the blue of Mrs. Copley’s gown, which +is as vivid as a peacock’s breast. This painting is deemed Copley’s +masterpiece; but an equal interest is that it is such an absolute and open +expression of Copley’s lovable character and upright life. In it we can read +his affectionate nature, his love of his sweet wife, his happy home-relations, +and his pride in his beautiful children. +</p> + +<p> +There is ample proof, not only in the inventories which chance to be preserved, +but in portraits of the times, that children’s dress in the eighteenth century +was often costly. Of course the children of wealthy parents only would have +their portraits painted; but their dress was as rich as the dress of the +children of the nobility in England at the same time. You can see this in the +colored reproduction of the portraits of Hon. James Bowdoin and his sister, +Augusta, afterwards Lady Temple. That they were good likenesses is proved by +the fact that the faces are strongly like those of the same persons in more +mature years. You find little Augusta changed but slightly in matronhood in the +fine pastel by Copley. In this portrait of the two Bowdoin children, the entire +dress is given. Seldom are the shoes shown. These are interesting, for the +boy’s square-toed black shoes with buckles are wholly unlike his sister’s blue +morocco slippers with turned-up peaks and gilt ornaments from toe to instep, +making a foot-gear much like certain Turkish slippers seen to-day. Her hair has +the bedizenment of beads and feathers, which were worn by young girls for as +many years as their mothers wore the same. The young lad’s dress is precisely +like his father’s. There is much charm in these straight little figures. They +have the aristocratic bearing which is a family trait of all of that kin. I +should not deem Lady Temple ever a beauty, though she was called so by Manasseh +Cutler, a minister who completely yielded to her charms when she was a +grandmother and forty-four. This portrait of brother and sister is, I believe, +by Blackburn. The dress is similar and the date the same as the portrait of the +Misses Royall (one of whom became Lady Pepperell), which is by Blackburn. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="MarySeton1763"></a> +<img src="images/321.jpg" alt="Mary Seton, 1763." /> +<p class="caption">Mary Seton, 1763. +</p></div> + +<p> +The portrait of a charming little American child is shown <a +href="#MarySeton1763">here</a>. This child, in feature, figure, and attitude, +and even in the companionship of the kitten, is a curious replica of a famous +English portrait of “Miss Trimmer.” +</p> + +<p> +I have written at length in Chapter IV of a grandmother in the Hall family and +of the Hall family connection. Let me tell of another grandmother, Madam Lydia +Coleman, the daughter of the old Indian fighter, Captain Joshua Scottow. She, +like Madam Symonds and Madam Stoddard, had had several husbands—Colonel +Benjamin Gibbs, Attorney-General Anthony Checkley, and William Coleman. The +Hall children were her grandchildren; and came to Boston for schooling at one +time. Many letters exist of Hon. Hugh Hall to and from his grandmother, Madam +Coleman. She writes thus.— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“As for Richard since I told him I would write to his Father he is more +orderly, &; he is very hungry, and has grown so much yt all his Clothes is +too Little for him. He loves his book and his play too. I hired him to get a +Chapter of ye Proverbs &; give him a penny every Sabbath day, &; +promised him 5 shillings when he can say them all by heart. I would do my duty +by his soul as well as his body.... He has grown a good boy and minds his +School and Lattin and Dancing. He is a brisk Child &; grows very Cute and +wont wear his new silk coat yt was made for him. He wont wear it every day so +yt I don’t know what to do with it. It wont make him a jackitt. I would have +him a good husbander but he is but a child. For shoes, gloves, hankers &; +stockins, they ask very deare, 8 shillings for a paire &; Richard takes no +care of them. Richard wears out nigh 12 paire of shoes a year. He brought 12 +hankers with him and they have all been lost long ago; and I have bought him 3 +or 4 more at a time. His way is to tie knottys at one end &; beat ye Boys +with them and then to lose them &; he cares not a bit what I will say to +him.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Madam Coleman, after this handful, was given charge of his sister Sarah. When +Missy arrived from the Barbadoes, she was eight years old. She brought with her +a maid. The grandmother wrote back cheerfully to the parents that the child was +well and brisk, as indeed she was. All the very young gentlemen and young +ladies of Boston Brahmin blood paid her visits, and she gave a feast at a +child’s dancing-party with the sweetmeats left over from her sea-store. Her +stay in her grandmother’s household was surprisingly brief. She left unbidden +with her maid, and went to a Mr. Binning’s to board; she sent home word to the +Barbadoes that her grandmother made her drink water with her meals. Her brother +wrote to Madam Coleman:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“We were all persuaded of your tender and hearty affection to my Sister when we +recommended her to your parental care. We are sorry to hear of her Independence +in removing from under the Benign Influences of your Wing &; am surprised +she dare do it without our leave or consent or that Mr. Binning receive her at +his house before he knew how we were affected to it. We shall now desire Mr. +Binning to resign her with her waiting maid to you and in our Letter to him +have strictly ordered her to Return to your House.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +But no brother could control this spirited young damsel. Three months later a +letter from Madam Coleman read thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Sally wont go to school nor to church and wants a nue muff and a great many +other things she don’t need. I tell her fine things are cheaper in Barbadoes. +She is well and brisk, says her Brother has nothing to do with her as long as +her father is alive.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Hugh Hall wrote in return, saying his daughter ought to have one room to sleep +in, and her maid another, that it was not befitting children of their station +to drink water, they should have wine and beer. We cannot wonder that they +dressed like their elders since they were treated like their elders in other +respects. +</p> + +<p> +The dress of very young girls was often extraordinarily rich. We find this +order sent to London in 1739, for finery for Mary Cabell, daughter of Dr. +William Cabell of Virginia, when she was but thirteen years old:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“1 Prayer Book (almost every such inventory had this item).<br/> +1 Red Silk Petticoat.<br/> +1 Very good broad Silver laced hat and hat-band.<br/> +1 Pair Stays 17 inches round the waist.<br/> +2 Pair fine Shoes.<br/> +12 Pair fine Stockings.<br/> +1 Hoop Petticoat.<br/> +1 Pair Ear rings.<br/> +1 Pair Clasps.<br/> +3 Pair Silver Buttons set with Stones.<br/> +1 Suit of Headclothes.<br/> +4 Fine Handkerchiefs and Ruffles suitable.<br/> +A Very handsome Knot and Girdle.<br/> +A Fine Cloak and Short Apron.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_Bowdoin_Children."></a> +<img src="images/325.jpg" alt="The Bowdoin Children." /> +<p class="caption">The Bowdoin Children. Lady Temple and Governor James Bowdoin +in Childhood. +</p></div> + +<p> +I never read such a list as this without picturing the delight of little Mary +Cabell when she opened the box containing all these pretty garments. +</p> + +<p> +The order given by Colonel John Lewis for his young ward of eleven years +old—another Virginia child—reads thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“A cap, ruffle, and tucker, the lace 5s. per yard.<br/> +1 pair White Stays.<br/> +8 pair White kid gloves.<br/> +2 pair Colour’d kid gloves.<br/> +2 pair worsted hose.<br/> +3 pair thread hose.<br/> +1 pair silk shoes laced.<br/> +1 pair morocco shoes.<br/> +4 pair plain Spanish shoes.<br/> +2 pair calf shoes.<br/> +1 Mask.<br/> +1 Fan.<br/> +1 Necklace.<br/> +1 Girdle and Buckle.<br/> +1 Piece fashionable Calico.<br/> +4 yards Ribbon for Knots.<br/> +1 Hoop Coat.<br/> +1 Hat.<br/> +1 1/2 Yard of Cambric.<br/> +A Mantua and Coat of Slite Lustring.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Orders for purchases were regularly despatched to London agent by George +Washington after his marriage. In 1761 he orders a full list of garments for +both his stepchildren. “Miss Custis” was only six years old. These are some of +the items:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“1 Coat made of Fashionable Silk.<br/> +A Fashionable Cap or fillet with Bib apron.<br/> +Ruffles and Tuckers, to be laced.<br/> +4 Fashionable Dresses made of Long Lawn.<br/> +2 Fine Cambrick Frocks.<br/> +A Satin Capuchin, hat, and neckatees.<br/> +A Persian Quilted Coat.<br/> +1 p. Pack Thread Stays.<br/> +4 p. Callimanco Shoes.<br/> +6 p. Leather Shoes.<br/> +2 p. Satin Shoes with flat ties.<br/> +6 p. Fine Cotton Stockings.<br/> +4 p. White Worsted Stockings.<br/> +12 p. Mitts.<br/> +6 p. White Kid Gloves.<br/> +1 p. Silver Shoe Buckles.<br/> +1 p. Neat Sleeve Buttons.<br/> +6 Handsome Egrettes Different Sorts.<br/> +6 Yards Ribbon for Egrettes.<br/> +12 Yards Coarse Green Callimanco.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A Virginia gentleman, Colonel William Fleming, kept for several years a close +account of the money he spent for his little daughters, who were young misses +of ten and eleven in the year 1787. The most expensive single items are +bonnets, each at £;4 10s.; an umbrella, £;2 8s. Cloth cloaks and +saddles and bridles for riding were costly items. Tamboured muslin was at that +time 18s. a yard; durant, 3s. 6d.; lutestring, 12s.; calico, 6s. 3d. Scarlet +cloaks for each girl cost £;2 14s. each. Other dress materials besides +those named above were cambric, linen, cotton, osnaburgs, negro cotton, +book-muslin, ermin, nankeen, persian, Turkey cotton, shalloon, and swanskin. +There were many yards of taste and ribbon, black lace, and edgings, and +gauze—gauze—gauze. A curious item several times appearing is a “paper bonnet,” +not bonnet-paper, which latter was a constant purchase on women’s lists. There +were pen-knives, “scanes of silk,” crooked combs, morocco shoes, “nitting +pins,” constant “sticks of pomatum,” fans, “chanes,” a shawl, a tamboured coat, +gloves, stockings, trunks, bands and clasps, tooth-brushes, silk gloves, +necklaces, “fingered gloves,” silk stockings, handkerchiefs, china teacups and +saucers and silver spoons. All these show a very generous outfit. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1770 a delightful, engaging little child came to Boston from Nova +Scotia to live for a time with her aunt, a Boston gentlewoman, and to attend +Boston schools. For the amusement of her parents so far away, and for practice +in penmanship, she kept during the years 1771 and part of 1772 a diary. She was +but ten years old when she began, but her intelligence and originality make +this diary a valuable record of domestic life in Boston at that date. I have +had the pleasure of publishing her diary with notes under the title, <i>Diary +of Anna Green Winslow, a Boston School Girl, in the Year 1771</i>. I lived so +much with her while transcribing her words that she seems almost like a child +of my own. Like other unusual children she died young—when but nineteen. She +was not so gifted and wonderful and rare a creature as that star among +children, Marjorie Fleming, yet she was in many ways equally interesting; she +was a frank, homely little flower of New England life destined never to grow +old or weary, or tired or sad, but to live forever in eternal, happy childhood, +through the magic living words in the hundred pages of her time-stained diary. +</p> + +<p> +She was of what Dr. Holmes called Boston Brahmin blood, was related to many of +the wealthiest and best families of Boston and vicinity, and knew the best +society. Dress was to her a matter of distinct importance, and her clothes were +carefully fashionable. Her distress over wearing “an old red Domino” was +genuine. We have in her words many references to her garments, and we find her +dress very handsome. This is what she wore at a child’s party:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I was dressed in my yellow coat, black bib &; apron, black feathers on my +head, my past comb &; all my past garnet, marquesett &; jet pins, +together with my silver plume—my loket, rings, black collar round my neck, +black mitts &; yards of blue ribbin (black &; blue is high tast), +striped tucker &; ruffels (not my best) &; my silk shoes completed my +dress.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A few days later she writes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I wore my black bib &; apron, my pompedore shoes, the cap my Aunt Storer +since presented me with (blue ribbins on it) &; a very handsome locket in +the shape of a hart she gave me, the past Pin my Hon’d Papa presented me with +in my cap. My new cloak &; bonnet, my pompedore gloves, &;c. And I +would tell you that <i>for the first time they all on lik’d my dress very +much</i>. My cloak &; bonnett are really very handsome &; so they had +need be. For they cost an amasing sight of money, not quite £;45, tho’ +Aunt Suky said that she suppos’d Aunt Deming would be frighted out of her Wits +at the money it cost. I have got <i>one</i> covering by the cost that is +genteel &; I like it much myself.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +As this was in the times of depreciated values, £;45 was not so large a +sum to expend for a girl’s outdoor garments as at first sight appears. +</p> + +<p> +She gives a very exact account of her successions of head-gear, some being +borrowed finery. She apparently managed to rise entirely above the hated “black +hatt” and red domino, which she patronizingly said would be “Decent for Common +Occations.” She writes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Last Thursday I purchased with my aunt Deming’s leave a very beautiful white +feather hat, that is the outside, which is a bit of white hollowed with the +feathers sew’d on in a most curious manner; white and unsully’d as the falling +snow. As I am, as we say, a Daughter of Liberty I chuse to were as much of our +own manufactory as pocible.... My Aunt says if I behave myself very well +indeed, not else, she will give me a garland of flowers to orniment it, tho’ +she has layd aside the biziness of flower-making.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The dress described and portrayed of these children all seems very mature; but +children were quickly grown up in colonial days. Cotton Mather wrote, “New +English youth are very sharp and early ripe in their capacities.” They married +early; though none of the “child-marriages” of England disfigure the pages of +our history. Sturdy Endicott would not permit the marriage of his ward, Rebecca +Cooper, an “inheritrice,”—though Governor Winthrop wished her for his +nephew,—because the girl was but fifteen. I am surprised at this, for marriages +at fifteen were common enough. My far-away grandmother, Mary Burnet, married +William Browne, when she was fourteen; another grandmother, Mary Philips, +married her cousin at thirteen, and there is every evidence that the match was +arranged with little heed of the girl’s wishes. It was the happiest of +marriages. Boys became men by law when sixteen. Winthrop named his son as +executor of his will when the boy was fourteen—but there were few boys like +that boy. We find that the Virginia tutor who taught in the Carter family just +previous to the war of the Revolution deemed a young lady of thirteen no longer +a child. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Miss_Lydia_Robinson"></a> +<img src="images/331.jpg" alt="Miss Lydia Robinson, aged 12 Years" /> +<p class="caption">Miss Lydia Robinson, aged 12 Years, Daughter of Colonel +James Robinson. Marked “Corné pinxt, Sept. 1805.” +</p></div> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Miss Betsy Lee is about thirteen, a tall, slim, genteel girl. She is very far +from Miss Hale’s taciturnity, yet is by no means disagreeably Forward. She +dances extremely well, and is just beginning to play the Spinet. She is dressed +in a neat Shell Callico Gown, has very light Hair done up with a Feather, and +her whole carriage is Inoffensive, Easy and Graceful.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The christening of an infant was not only a sacrament of the church, and thus +of highest importance, but it was also of secular note. It was a time of great +rejoicing, of good wishes, of gift-making. In mediaeval times, the child was +arrayed by the priest in a white robe which had been anointed with sacred oil, +and called a chrismale, or a chrisom. If the child died within a month, it was +buried in this robe and called a chrisom-child. The robe was also called a +christening palm or pall. When the custom of redressing the child in a robe at +the altar had passed away, the christening palm still was used and was thrown +over the child when it was brought out to receive visitors. This robe was also +termed a bearing-cloth, a christening sheet, and a cade-cloth. +</p> + +<p> +This fine coverlet of state, what we would now call a christening blanket, was +usually made of silk; often it was richly embroidered, sometimes with a text of +Scripture. It was generally lace-bordered, or edged with a narrow, home-woven +silk fringe. The christening-blanket of Governor Bradford of the Plymouth +Colony still is owned by a descendant; it is whole of fabric and unfaded of +dye. It is rich crimson silk, soft of texture, like heavy sarcenet silk, and is +powdered at regular distances about six inches apart with conventional sprays +of flowers, embroidered chiefly in pink and yellow, in minute silk +cross-stitch. Another beautiful silk christening blanket was quilted in an +intricate flower pattern in almost imperceptible stitches. Another of yellow +satin has a design in white floss that gives it the appearance of being trimmed +with white silk lace. Best of all was to embroider the cloth with designs and +initials and emblems and biblical references. A coat-of-arms or crest was very +elegant. The words, “God Bless the Babe,” were not left wholly to the +pincushions which every babe had given him or her, but appeared on the +christening blanket. A curious design shown me was called <i>The Tree of +Knowledge</i>. The figure of a child in cap, apron, bib, and hanging sleeves +stands pointing to a tree upon which grew books as though they were apples. The +open pages of each book-apple is printed with a title, as, <i>The New England +Primer, Lilly’s Grammar, Janeway’s Holy Children, The Prodigal Daughter.</i> +</p> + +<p> +An inventory of the christening garments of a child in the seventeenth century +reads thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“1. A lined white figured satin cap.<br/> +2. A lined white satin cap embroidered in sprays with gold coloured silk.<br/> +3. A white satin palm embroidered in sprays of yellow silk to match. This is 44 +inches by 34 inches in size.<br/> +4. A palm of rich ‘still yellow’ silk lined with white satin. This is 54 inches +by 48 inches in size.<br/> +5. A pair of deep cuffs of white satin, lace trimmed and embroidered.<br/> +6. A pair of linen mittens trimmed with narrow lace, the back of the fingers +outlined with yellow silk figures.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Knitted_Flaxen_Mittens."></a> +<img src="images/334.jpg" alt="Knitted Flaxen Mittens." /> +<p class="caption">Knitted Flaxen Mittens. +</p></div> + +<p> +The satin cuffs were for the wear of the older person who carried the child. +The infant was placed upon the larger palm or cloth, and the smaller one thrown +over him, over his petticoats. The inner cap was very tight to the head. The +outer was embroidered; often it turned back in a band. +</p> + +<p> +There was a significance in the use of yellow; it is the altar color for +certain church festivals, and was proper for the pledging of the child. +</p> + +<p> +All these formalities of christening in the Church of England were not +abandoned by the Separatists. New England children were just as carefully +christened and dressed for christening as any child in the Church of England. +In the reign of James I tiny shirts with little bands or sleeves or cuffs +wrought in silk or in coventry-blue thread were added to the gift of spoons +from the sponsors. I have one of these little coventry-blue embroidered things +with quaint little sleeves; too faded, I regret, to reveal any pattern to the +camera. +</p> + +<p> +The christening shirts and mittens given by the sponsors are said to be a relic +of the ancient custom of presenting white clothes to the neophytes when +converted to Christianity. These “Christening Sets” are preserved in many +families. +</p> + +<p> +Of the dress of infants of colonial times we can judge from the articles of +clothing which have been preserved till this day. These are of course the +better garments worn by babies, not their everyday dress; their simpler attire +has not survived, but their christening robes, their finer shirts and +petticoats and caps remain. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Elizabeth_Lux_Russell_and_Daughter"></a> +<img src="images/336.jpg" alt="Mrs. Elizabeth Lux Russell and Daughter." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Elizabeth Lux Russell and Daughter. +</p></div> + +<p> +Linen formed the chilling substructure of their dress, thin linen, low-necked, +short-sleeved shirts; and linen remained the underwear of infants until thirty +years ago. I do not wonder that these little linen shirts were worn for +centuries. They are infinitely daintier than the finest silk or woollen +underwear that have succeeded them; they are edged with narrowest thread lace, +and hemstitched with tiny rows of stitches or corded with tiny cords, and +sometimes embroidered by hand in minute designs. They were worn by all babies +from the time of James I, never varying one stitch in shape; but I fear this +pretty garment of which our infants were bereft a few years ago will never +crowd out the warm, present-day silk wear. This wholly infantile article of +childish dress had tiny little revers or collarettes or laps made to turn over +outside the robe or slip like a minute bib, and these laps were beautifully +oversewn where the corners joined the shirt, to prevent tearing down at this +seam. These tiny shirts were the dearest little garments ever made or dreamed +of. When a baby had on a fresh, corded slip, low of neck, with short, puffed +sleeve, and the tiny hemstitched laps were turned down outside the neck of the +slip, and the little sleeves were caught up by fine strings of gold-clasped +pink coral, the baby’s dimpled shoulders and round head rose up out of the +little shirt-laps like some darling flower. +</p> + +<p> +I have seen an infant’s shirt and a cap embroidered on the laps with the +coat-of-arms of the Lux and Johnson families and the motto, “God Bless the +Babe;” these delicate garments, the work of fairies, were worn in infancy by +the Revolutionary soldier, Governor Johnson of Virginia. +</p> + +<p> +In the Essex Institute in Salem, Massachusetts, are the baptismal shirt and +mittens of the Pilgrim father, William Bradford, second governor of the +Plymouth colony, who was born in 1590. They are shown <a +href="#Christening_Shirt_and_Mitts_of_Governor_Bradford">here</a>. All are of +firm, close-woven, homespun linen, but the little mittens have been worn at the +ends by the active friction of baby hands, and are patched with red and yellow +figured “chiney” or calico. A similar colored material frills the sleeves and +neck. This may have been part of their ornamentation when first made, but it +looks extraneous. +</p> + +<p> +The sleeves of this shirt are plaited or goffered in a way that seems wholly +lost; this is what I have already described—<i>pinching</i>. I have seen the +sleeve of a child’s dress thus pinched which had been worn by a little girl +aged three. The wrist-cuff measured about five inches around, and was stoutly +corded. Upon ripping the sleeve apart, it was found that the strip of fine mull +which was thus pinched into the sleeve was two yards in length. The cuff flared +slightly, else even this length of sheer lawn could not have been confined at +the wrist. In the so-called “Museum,” gloomily scattered around the famous old +South Church edifice in Boston, are fine examples of this pinched work. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Christening_Shirt_and_Mitts_of_Governor_Bradford"></a> +<img src="images/338.jpg" alt="Christening Shirt and Mitts of Governor +Bradford." /> +<p class="caption">Christening Shirt and Mitts of Governor Bradford. +</p></div> + +<p> +Many of the finest existing specimens of old guipure, Flanders, and needlepoint +laces in England and America are preserved on the ancient shirts, mitts, caps, +and bearing-cloths of infants. Often there is a little padded bib of guipure +lace accompanied with tiny mittens like these. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Flanders_Lace_Mitts."></a> +<img src="images/339.jpg" alt="Flanders Lace Mitts." /> +<p class="caption">Flanders Lace Mitts. +</p></div> + +<p> +This pair was wrought and worn in the sixteenth century, and the stitches and +work are those of the Flanders point laces. I have seen tiny mitts knitted of +silk, of fine linen thread, also made of linen, hem-stitched, or worked in +drawn-work, or embroidered, and one pair of mittens, and the cap that matched +was of tatting-work done in the finest of thread. No needlepoint could be more +beautiful. Some are shown on <a href="#Flanders_Lace_Mitts.">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +Mitts of yellow nankeen or silk, made with long wrists or arms, were also worn +by babies, and must have proved specially irritating to tiny little hands and +arms. These had the seams sewed over and over with colored silks in a curiously +intricate netted stitch. +</p> + +<p> +I have an infant’s cap with two squares of lace set in the crown, one over each +ear. The lace is of a curious design; a conventionalized vase or urn on a +standard. I recognize it as the lace and pattern known as “pot-lace,” made for +centuries at Antwerp, and worn there by old women on their caps with a devotion +to a single pattern that is unparalleled. It was the “flower-pot” symbol of the +Annunciation. The earliest representation of the Angel Gabriel in the +Annunciation showed him with lilies in his hand; then these lilies were set in +a vase. In years the angel has disappeared and then the lilies, and the +lily-pot only remains. It is a whimsical fancy that this symbol of Romanism +should have been carefully transferred to adorn the pate of a child of the +Puritans. The place of the medallion, set over each ear, is so unusual that I +think it must have had some significance. I wonder whether they were ever set +thus in caps of heavy silk or linen to let the child hear more readily, as he +certainly would through the thin lace net. +</p> + +<p> +The word “beguine” meant a nun; and thus derivatively a nun’s close cap. This +was altered in spelling to biggin, and for a time a nun’s plain linen cap was +thus called. By Shakespere’s day biggin had become wholly a term for a child’s +cap. It was a plain phrase and a plain cap of linen. Shakespere calls them +“homely biggens.” +</p> + +<p> +I have seen it stated that the biggin was a night-cap. When Queen Elizabeth +lost her mother, Anne Boleyn, she was but three years old, a neglected little +creature. A lady of the court wrote that the child had “no manner of linen, nor +for-smocks, nor kerchiefs, nor rails, nor body-stitches, nor handkerchiefs, nor +sleeves, nor mufflers, nor biggins.” +</p> + +<p> +In 1636 Mary Dudley, the daughter of Governor John Winthrop, had a little baby. +She did not live in Boston town, therefore her mother had to purchase supplies +for her; and many letters crossed, telling of wants, and their relief. “Holland +for biggins” was eagerly sought. At that date all babies wore caps. I mean +English and French, Dutch and Spanish, all mothers deemed it unwise and almost +improper for a young baby ever to be seen bare-headed. With the imperfect +heating and many draughts in all the houses, this mode of dress may have been +wholly wise and indeed necessary. Every child’s head was covered, as the +pictures of children in this book show, until he or she was several years old. +The finest needlework and lace stitches were lavished on these tiny infants’ +caps, which were not, when thus adorned and ornamented, called biggins. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="InfantsAdjustableCap"></a> +<img src="images/341.jpg" alt="Infant’s Adjustable Cap." /> +<p class="caption">Infant’s Adjustable Cap. +</p></div> + +<p> +A favorite trimming for night-caps and infants’ caps is a sort of quilting in a +leaf and vine pattern, done with a white cord inserted between outer and inner +pieces of linen—a cord stuffing, as it were. It does not seem oversuited for +caps to be worn in bed or by little infants, as the stiff cords must prove a +disagreeable cushion. This work was done as early as the seventeenth century; +but nearly all the pieces preserved were made in the early years of the +nineteenth century in the revival of needlework then so universal. +</p> + +<p> +Often a velvet cap was worn outside the biggin or lace cap. +</p> + +<p> +I have never seen a woollen petticoat that was worn by an infant of +pre-Revolutionary days. I think infants had no woollen petticoats; their +shirts, petticoats, and gowns were of linen or some cotton stuff like dimity. +Warmth of clothing was given by tiny shawls pinned round the shoulders, and +heavier blankets and quilts and shawls in which baby and petticoats were wholly +enveloped. +</p> + +<p> +The baby dresses of olden times are either rather shapeless sacques drawn in at +the neck with narrow cotton ferret or linen bobbin, or little straight-waisted +gowns of state. All were exquisitely made by hand, and usually of fine stuff. +Many are trimmed with fine cording. +</p> + +<p> +It is astounding to note the infinite number of stitches put in garments. An +infant’s slips quilted with a single tiny backstitch in a regular design of +interlaced squares, stars, and rounds. By counting the number of rounds and the +stitches in each, and so on, it has been found that there are 397,000 stitches +in that dress. Think of the time spent even by the quickest sewer over such a +piece of work. +</p> + +<p> +Within a few years we have shortened the long clothes worn by youngest infants; +twenty-five years ago the handsome dress of an infant, such as the +christening-robe, was so long that when the child was held on the arm of its +standing nurse or mother, the edge of the robe barely escaped touching the +ground. Two hundred years ago, a baby’s dress was much shorter. In the family +group of Charles I and Henrietta Maria and their children, in the Copley family +picture, and in the picture of the Cadwalader family, we find the little baby +in scarce “three-quarters length” of robe. With this exception it is +astonishing to find how little infants’ dress has changed during the two +centuries. In 1889, at the Stuart Exhibition, some of the infant dresses of +Charles I were shown. They had been preserved in the family of Sir Thomas +Coventry, Lord Keeper. And Charles II’s baby linen was on view in the New +Gallery in 1901. Both sets had the dainty little shirts, slips, bibs, mitts, +and all the babies’ dress of fifty years ago, and the changes since then have +been few. The “barrow-coat,” a square of flannel wrapped around an infant’s +body below the arms with the part below the feet turned up and pinned, was part +of the old swaddling-clothes; and within ten years it has been largely +abandoned for a flannel petticoat on a band or waist. The bands, or binders, +have always been the same as to-day, and the bibs. The lace cuffs and lace +mittens were left off before the caps. The shirt is the most important change. +</p> + +<p> +Nowadays a little infant wears long clothes till three, four, or even eight +months old; then he is put in short dresses about as long as he is. In colonial +days when a boy was taken from his swaddling-clothes, he was dressed in a short +frock with petticoats and was “coated” or sometimes “short-coated.” When he +left off coats, he donned breeches. In families of sentiment and affection, the +“coating” of a boy was made a little festival. So was also the assumption of +breeches an important event—as it really is, as we all know who have boys. +</p> + +<p> +One of the most charming of all grandmothers’ letters was written by a doting +English grandmother to her son. Lord Chief Justice North, telling of the +“leaving off of coats” of his motherless little son, Francis Guilford, then six +years old. The letter is dated October 10, 1679:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“DEAR SON:<br/> +You cannot beleeve the great concerne that was in the whole family here last +Wednesday, it being the day that the taylor was to helpe to dress little ffrank +in his breeches in order to the making an everyday suit by it. Never had any +bride that was to be drest upon her weding night more handes about her, some +the legs, some the armes, the taylor butt’ning, and others putting on the +sword, and so many lookers on that had I not a ffinger amongst I could not have +seen him. When he was quite drest he acted his part as well as any of them for +he desired he might goe downe to inquire for the little gentleman that was +there the day before in a black coat, and speak to the man to tell the +gentleman when he came from school that there was a gallant with very fine +clothes and a sword to have waited upon him and would come again upon Sunday +next. But this was not all, there was great contrivings while he was dressing +who should have the first salute; but he sayd if old Joan had been here, she +should, but he gave it to me to quiett them all. They were very fitt, +everything, and he looks taller and prettyer than in his coats. Little Charles +rejoyced as much as he did for he jumpt all the while about him and took notice +of everything. I went to Bury, and bot everything for another suitt which will +be finisht on Saturday so the coats are to be quite left off on Sunday. I +consider it is not yett terme time and since you could not have the pleasure of +the first sight, I resolved you should have a full relation from<br/> +<br/> + “Yo’r most Aff’nate Mother<br/> +<br/> + “A. North.<br/> +<br/> +“When he was drest he asked Buckle whether muffs were out of fashion because +they had not sent him one.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This affectionate letter, written to a great and busy statesman, the Lord +Keeper of the Seals, shows how pure and delightful domestic life in England +could be; it shows how beautiful it was after Puritanism perfected the English +home. +</p> + +<p> +In an old family letter dated 1780 I find this sentence:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Mary is most wise with her child, and hath no new-fangledness. She has little +David in what she wore herself, a pudding and pinner.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +For a time these words “pudding and pinner” were a puzzle; and long after +pinner was defined we could not even guess at a pudding. But now I know two +uses of the word “pudding” which are in no dictionary. One is the stuffing of a +man’s great neck-cloth in front, under the chin. The other is a thick roll or +cushion stuffed with wool or some soft filling and furnished with strings. This +pudding was tied round the head of a little child while it was learning to +walk. The head was thus protected from serious bruises or injury. Nollekens +noted with satisfaction such a pudding on the head of an infant, and said: +“That is right. I always wore a pudding, and all children should.” I saw one +upon a child’s head last summer in a New England town; I asked the mother what +it was, and she answered, “A pudding-cap”; that it made children soft (idiotic) +to bump the head frequently. +</p> + +<p> +The word “pinner” has two meanings. The earlier use was precisely that of +pinafore, or pincurtle, or pincloth—a child’s apron. Thus we read in the +Harvard College records, of the expenses of the year 1677, of “Linnen Cloth for +Table Pinners,” which makes us suspect that Harvard students of that day had to +wear bibs at commons. +</p> + +<p> +All children wore aprons, which might be called pinners; these were aprons with +pinned-up bibs; or they might be tiers, which were sleeved aprons covering the +whole waist, sleeves, and skirt, an outer slip, buttoned in the back. +</p> + +<p> +A severe and ancient moralist looked forth from her window in Worcester, one +day last spring, at a band of New England children running to their morning +school. She gazed over her glasses reprovingly, and turned to me with +bitterness: “There they go! <i>Such</i> mothers as they must have! Not a pinner +nor a sleeved tier among ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +The sleeved tier occupied a singular place in childish opinion in my youth; and +I find the same feeling anent it had existed for many generations. It was hated +by all children, regarded as something to be escaped from at the earliest +possible date. You had to wear sleeved tiers as you had to have the mumps. It +was a thing to endure with what childish patience and fortitude you could +command for a short time; but thoughtful, tender parents would not make you +suffer it long. +</p> + +<p> +There were aprons, and aprons. Pinners and tiers were for use, but there were +elegant aprons for ornament. Did not Queen Anne wear one? Even babies wore +them. The little Padishal child has one richly laced. I have seen a beautiful +apron for a little child of three. It was edged with a straight insertion of +Venetian point like that pictured <a href="#Old_Venice_Point_Lace.">here</a>. +It had been made in 1690. Tender affection for a beloved and beautiful little +child preserved it in one trunk in the same attic for sixty-five years; and a +beautiful sympathy for that mother’s long sorrow kept the apron untouched by +young lace-lovers. This lace has white horsehair woven into the edge. +</p> + +<p> +We find George Washington ordering for his little stepdaughter (a well-dressed +child if ever there was one), when she was six years old, “A fashionable cap or +fillet with bib apron.” And a few years later he orders, “Tuckers, Bibs, and +Aprons if Fashionable.” Boys wore aprons as long as they wore coats; aprons +with stomachers or bibs of drawn-work and lace, or of stiffly starched lawn; +aprons just like those of their sisters. It was hard to bear. Hoop-coat, masks, +packthread stays—these seem strange dress for growing girls. +</p> + +<p> +George Washington sent abroad for masks for his wife and his little +stepdaughter, “Miss Custis,” when the little girl was six years old; and +“children’s masks” are often named in bills of sale. Loo-masks were small +half-masks, and were also imported in all sizes. +</p> + +<p> +The face of Mrs. Madison, familiarly known as “Dolly Madison,” wife of +President James Madison, long retained the beauty of youth. Much of this was +surely due to a faithful mother, who, when little Dolly Payne was sent to +school, sewed a sun-bonnet on the child’s head every morning, placed on her +arms and hands long gloves, and made her wear a mask to keep every ray of +sunlight from her face. When masks were so universally worn by women, it is not +strange, after all, that children wore them. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Rev._J.P._Dabney_when_a_Child."></a> +<img src="images/348.jpg" alt="Rev. J.P. Dabney when a Child." /> +<p class="caption">Rev. J.P. Dabney when a Child. +</p></div> + +<p> +I read with horror an advertisement of John McQueen, a New York stay-maker in +1767, that he has children’s packthread stays, children’s bone stays, and “neat +polished steel collars for young Misses so much worn at the boarding schools in +London.” Poor little “young Misses”! +</p> + +<p> +There were also “turned stays, jumps, gazzets, costrells and caushets” (which +were perhaps corsets) to make children appear straight. Costrells and gazzets +we know not to-day. Jumps were feeble stays. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Now a shape in neat stays<br/> +Now a slattern in jumps.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Robert_Gibbes."></a> +<img src="images/349.jpg" alt="Robert Gibbes." /> +<p class="caption">Robert Gibbes. +</p></div> + +<p> +Jumps were allied to jimps, and perhaps to jupe; and I think jumper is a cousin +of a word. One pair of stays I have seen is labelled as having been made for a +boy of five. One of the worst instruments of torture I ever beheld was a pair +of child’s stays worn in 1760. They were made, not of little strips of wood, +but of a large piece of board, front and back, tightly sewed into a buckram +jacket and reënforced across at right angles and diagonally over the hips +(though really there were no hip-places) with bars of whalebone and steel. The +tin corsets I have heard of would not have been half as ill to wear. It is +true, too, that needles were placed in the front of the stays, that the +stay-wearer who “poked her head” would be well pricked. The daughter of General +Nathanael Greene, the Revolutionary patriot, told her grandchildren that she +sat many hours every day in her girlhood, with her feet in stocks and strapped +to a backboard. A friend has a chair of ordinary size, save that the seat is +about four inches wide from the front edge of seat to the back. And the back is +well worn at certain points where a heavy leather strap strapped up the young +girl who was tortured in it for six years of her life. The result of back +board, stocks, steel collar, wooden stays, is shown in such figures as have +Dorothy Q. and her sister Elizabeth. Elizabeth Storer, on page 98 of my +<i>Child Life in Colonial Days</i>, is an extreme example, straight-backed +indeed, but narrow-chested to match. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Holmes wrote in jest, but he wrote in truth, too:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They braced My Aunt against a board<br/> + To make her straight and tall,<br/> + They laced her up, they starved her down,<br/> + To make her light and small.<br/> + They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,<br/> + They screwed it up with pins,<br/> + Oh, never mortal suffered more<br/> + In penance for her sins.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Nankeen_Breeches_with_Silver_Buttons."></a> +<img src="images/351.jpg" alt="Nankeen Breeches with Silver Buttons." /> +<p class="caption">Nankeen Breeches with Silver Buttons. +</p></div> + +<p> +Nankeen was the favorite wear for boys, even before the Revolution. The little +figure of the boy who became Lord Lyndhurst, shown in the Copley family +portrait, is dressed in nankeen; he is the engaging, loving child looking up in +his mother’s face. Nankeen was worn summer and winter by men, and women, and +children. If it were deemed too thin and too damp a wear for delicate children +in extreme winters, then a yellow color in wool was preferred for children’s +dress. I have seen a little pair of breeches of yellow flannel made precisely +like these nankeen breeches on this page. They were worn in 1768. Carlyle in +his <i>Sartor Resartus</i> gives this account of the childhood of the professor +and philosopher of his book:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“My first short clothes were of yellow serge; or rather, I should say, my first +short cloth; for the vesture was one and indivisible, reaching from neck to +ankle; a single body with four limbs; of which fashion how little could I then +divine the architectural, much less the moral significance.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Ralph_Izard_when_a_Little_Boy._1750."></a> +<img src="images/352.jpg" alt="Ralph Izard when a Little Boy. 1750." /> +<p class="caption">Ralph Izard when a Little Boy. 1750. +</p></div> + +<p> +It is a curious coincidence that a great philosopher of our own world wore a +precisely similar dress in his youth. Madam Mary Bradford writes in a private +letter, at the age of one hundred and three, of her life in 1805 in the +household of Rev. Joseph Emerson. Ralph Waldo Emerson was then a little child +of two years, and he and his brother William till several years old were +dressed wholly in yellow flannel, by night and by day. When they put on +trousers, which was at about the age of seven, they wore complete home-made +suits of nankeen. The picture amuses me of the philosophical child, Ralph +Waldo, walking soberly around in ugly yellow flannel, contentedly sucking his +thumb; for Mrs. Bradford records that he was the hardest child to break of +sucking his thumb whom she ever had seen during her long life. I cannot help +wondering whether in their soul-to-soul talks Emerson ever told Carlyle of the +yellow woollen dress of his childhood, and thus gave him the thought of the +child’s dress for his philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately for the children who were our grandparents. French fashions were +not absorbingly the rage in America until after some amelioration of dress had +come to French children. Mercier wrote at length at the close of the eighteenth +century of the abominable artificiality and restraint in dress of French +children; their great wigs, full-skirted coats, immense ruffles, swords on +thigh, and hat in hand. He contrasts them disparagingly with English boys. The +English boy was certainly more robust, but I find no difference in dress. Wigs, +swords, ruffles, may be seen at that time both in English and American +portraits. But an amelioration of dress did come to both English and American +boys through the introduction of pantaloons, and a change to little girls’ +dress through the invention of pantalets, but the changes came first to France, +in spite of Mercier’s animadversions. These changes will be left until the +later pages of this book; for during nearly all the two hundred years of which +I write children’s dress varied little. It followed the changes of the parent’s +dress, and adopted some modes to a degree but never to an extreme. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>PERUKES AND PERIWIGS</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“As to a Periwigg, my best and Greatest Friend begun to find me with Hair +before I was Born, and has continued to do so ever since, and I could not find +it in my Heart to go to another.”<br/> +</i> <br/> +—“Diary,” JUDGE SAMUEL SEWALL, 1718.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>A phrensy or a periwigmanee<br/> +That over-runs his pericranie.</i><br/> +<br/> +—JOHN BYRON, 1730 (circa). +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>PERUKES AND PERIWIGS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="95" src="images/initialt.jpg" alt="T" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +o-day, when every man, save a football player or some eccentric reformer or +religious fanatic, displays in youth a close-cropped head, and when even hoary +age is seldom graced with flowing, silvery locks, when women’s hair is dressed +in simplicity, we can scarcely realize the important and formal part the hair +played in the dress of the eighteenth century. +</p> + +<p> +In the great eagerness shown from earliest colonial days to acquire and +reproduce in the New World every change of mode in the Old, to purchase rich +dress, and to assume novel dress, no article was sought for more speedily and +more anxiously than the wig. It has proved an interesting study to compare the +introduction of wigs in England with the wear of the same form of head-gear in +America. Wigs were not in general use in England when Plymouth and Boston were +settled; though in Elizabeth’s day a “peryuke” had been bought for the court +fool. They were not in universal wear till the close of the seventeenth +century. +</p> + +<p> +The “Wig Mania” arose in France in the reign of Louis XV. In 1656 the king had +forty court perruquiers, who were termed and deemed artists, and had their +academy. The wigs they produced were superb. It is told that one cost +£;200, a sum equal in purchasing power to-day to $5000. The French +statesman and financier, Colbert, aghast at the vast sums spent for foreign +hair, endeavored to introduce a sort of cap to supplant the wig, but fashions +are not made that way. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_and_Reverend_Gurdon_Saltonstall."></a> +<img src="images/356.jpg" alt="Governor and Reverend Gurdon Saltonstall." /> +<p class="caption">Governor and Reverend Gurdon Saltonstall. +</p></div> + +<p> +For information of English manners and customs in that day, I turn (and never +in vain) to those fascinating volumes, the <i>Verney Memoirs</i>. From them I +learn this of early wig-wearing by Englishmen; that Sir Ralph Verney, though in +straitened circumstances during his enforced residence abroad, felt himself +compelled to follow the French mode, which at that period, 1646, had not +reached England. That exemplary gentleman paid twelve livres for a wig, when he +was sadly short of money for household necessaries. It was an elaborate wig, +curled in great rings, with two locks tied with black ribbon, and made without +any parting at the back. This wig was powdered. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Ralph wrote to his wife that a good hair-powder was very difficult to get +and costly, even in France. It was an appreciable addition to the weight of the +wig and to the expense, large quantities being used, sometimes as much as two +pounds at a time. It added not only to the expense, but to the discomfort, +inconvenience, and untidiness of wig-wearing. +</p> + +<p> +Pomatum made of fat, and that sometimes rancid, was used to make the powder +stick; and noxious substances were introduced into the powder, as a certain +kind is mentioned which must not be used alone, for it would produce headache. +</p> + +<p> +Charles II was the earliest king represented on the Great Seal wearing a large +periwig. Dr. Doran assures us that the king did not bring the fashion to +Whitehall. “He forbade,” we are told, “the members of the Universities to wear +periwigs, smoke tobacco, or read their sermons. The members did all three, and +Charles soon found himself doing the first two.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mayor_Rip_Van_Dam."></a> +<img src="images/357.jpg" alt="Mayor Rip Van Dam." /> +<p class="caption">Mayor Rip Van Dam. +</p></div> + +<p> +Pepys’s <i>Diary</i> contains much interesting information concerning the wigs +of this reign. On 2d of November, 1663, he writes: “I heard the Duke say that +he was going to wear a periwig, and says the King also will, never till this +day observed that the King is mighty gray.” It was doubtless this change in the +color of his Majesty’s hair that induced him to assume the head-dress he had +previously so strongly condemned. +</p> + +<p> +The wig he adopted was very voluminous, richly curled, and black. He was very +dark. “Odds fish! but I’m an ugly black fellow!” he said of himself when he +looked at his portrait. Loyal colonists quickly followed royal example and +complexion. We have very good specimens of this curly black wig in many +American portraits. +</p> + +<p> +As might be expected, and as befitted one who delighted to be in fashion, Pepys +adopted this wig. He took time to consider the matter, and had consultations +with Mr. Jervas, his old barber, about the affair. Referring to one of his +visits to his hairdresser, Pepys says:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I did try two or three borders and periwigs, meaning to wear one, and yet I +have no stomach for it; but that the pains of keeping my hair clean is great. +He trimmed me, and at last I parted, but my mind was almost altered from my +first purpose, from the trouble which I foresee in wearing them also.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Weeks passed before he could make up his mind to wear a wig. Mrs. Pepys was +taken to the periwig-maker’s shop to see one, and expressed her satisfaction +with it. We read in April, 1665, of the wig being back at Jervas’s under +repair. Later, under date of September 3d, he writes:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Lord’s day. Up; and put on my coloured silk suit, very fine, and my new +periwig, bought a good while since, but durst not wear, because the plague was +in Westminster when I bought it; and it is a wonder what will be in fashion, +after the plague is done, as to periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy any hair, +for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off the heads of people dead of +the plague.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In 1670, only, five years after this entry of Pepys, we find Governor Barefoot +of New Hampshire wearing a periwig; and in 1675 the court of Massachusetts, in +view of the distresses of the Indian wars, denounced the “manifest pride openly +appearing amongst us in that long hair, like women’s hair is worn by some men, +either their own hair, or others’ hair made into periwigs.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Abraham_De_Peyster."></a> +<img src="images/359.jpg" alt="Abraham De Peyster." /> +<p class="caption">Abraham De Peyster. +</p></div> + +<p> +In 1676 Wait Winthrop sent a wig (price £;3) to his brother in New +London. Mr. Sergeant had brought it from England for his own use; but was +willing to sell it to oblige a friend, who was, I am confident, very devoted to +wig-wearing. The largest wig that I recall upon any colonist’s head is in the +portrait of Governor Fitz-John Winthrop. He is painted in armor; and a great +wig never seems so absurd as when worn with armor. Horace Walpole said, +“Perukes of outrageous length flowing over suits of armour compose wonderful +habits.” An edge of Winthrop’s own dark hair seems to show under the wig front. +I do not know the precise date of this portrait. It was, of course, painted in +England. He served in the Parliamentary army with General Monck; returned to +New England in 1663, and was commander of the New England forces. He spent 1693 +to l697 in England as commissioner. Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfrey Kneller both +were painting in England in those years, and both were constant in painting men +with armor and perukes. This portrait seems like Kneller’s work. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Governor_De_Bienville."></a> +<img src="images/360.jpg" alt="Governor De Bienville." /> +<p class="caption">Governor De Bienville. +</p></div> + +<p> +Another portrait attired also in armor and peruke is of Sir Nathaniel Johnson, +who was appointed governor of South Carolina by the Lords Proprietors in 1702. +The portrait was painted in 1705. It is one of the few of that date which show +a faint mustache; he likewise wears a seal ring with coat-of-arms on the little +finger of his left hand, which was unusual at that day. De Bienville, the +governor of Louisiana, is likewise in wig and armor. In 1682 Thomas Richbell +died in Boston, leaving a very rich and costly wardrobe. He had eight wigs. Of +these, three were small periwigs worth but a pound apiece. In New York, in +Virginia, in all the colonies, these wigs were worn, and were just as large and +costly, as elaborately curled, as heavily powdered, as at the English and +French courts. +</p> + +<p> +Archbishop Tillotson is usually regarded as the first amongst the English +clergy to adopt the wig. He said in one of his sermons:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“I can remember since the wearing of hair below the ears was looked upon as a +sin of the first magnitude, and when ministers generally, whatever their text +was, did either find or make occasion to reprove the great sin of long hair; +and if they saw any one in the congregation guilty in that kind, they would +point him out particularly, and let fly at him with great zeal.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Dr. Tillotson died on November 24, 1694. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Daniel_Waldo."></a> +<img src="images/361.jpg" alt="Daniel Waldo." /> +<p class="caption">Daniel Waldo. +</p></div> + +<p> +Long before that American preachers had felt it necessary to “let fly” also; to +denounce wig-wearing from their pulpits. The question could not be settled, +since the ministers themselves could not agree. John Wilson, the zealous Boston +minister, wore one, and John Cotton (see <a +href="#Reverend_John_Cotton.">here</a>); while Rev. Mr. Noyes preached long and +often against the fashion. John Eliot, the noble preacher and missionary to the +Indians, found time even in the midst of his arduous and incessant duties to +deliver many a blast against “prolix locks,”—“with boiling zeal,” as Cotton +Mather said,—and he labelled them a “luxurious feminine protexity”; but +lamented late in life that “the lust for wigs is become insuperable.” He +thought the horrors in King Philip’s War were a direct punishment from God for +wig-wearing. Increase Mather preached warmly against wigs, calling them “Horrid +Bushes of Vanity,” and saying that “such Apparel is contrary to the light of +Nature, and to express Scripture,” and that “Monstrous Periwigs such as some of +our church members indulge in make them resemble ye locusts that came out of ye +Bottomless Pit.” +</p> + +<p> +Rev. George Weeks preached a sermon on impropriety in clothes. He said in +regard to wig-wearing:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“We have no warrant in the word of God, that I know of, for our wearing of +Periwigs except it be in extraordinary cases. Elisha did not cover his head +with a Perriwigg altho’ it was bald. To see the greater part of Men in some +congregations wearing Perriwiggs is a matter of deep lamentation. For either +all these men had a necessity to cut off their Hair or else not. If they had a +necessity to cut off their Hair then we have reason to take up a lamentation +over the sin of our first Parents which hath occasioned so many Persons in our +Congregation to be sickly, weakly, crazy Persons.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Long “Ruffianly” or “Russianly” (I know not which word is right) hair equally +worried the parsons. President Chauncey of Harvard College preached upon it, +for the college undergraduates were vexingly addicted to prolix locks. Rev. Mr. +Wigglesworth’s sermon on the subject has often been reprinted, and is full of +logical arguments. This offence was named on the list of existing evils which +was made by the general court: that “the men wore long hair like women’s hair.” +Still, the Puritan magistrates, omnipotent as they were in small things, did +riot dare to force the becurled citizens of the little towns to cut their long +love-locks, though they bribed them to do so. A Salem man was, in 1687, fined +l0s. for a misdemeanor, but “in case he shall cutt off his long har of his head +into a sevill (civil?) frame, in the mean time shall have abated 5s. of his +fine.” John Eliot hated long, natural hair as well as false hair. Rev. Cotton +Mather said of him, in a very unpleasant figure of speech, “The hair of them +that professed religion grew too long for him to swallow.” His own hair curled +on his shoulders, and would seem long to us to-day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Reverend_John_Marsh."></a> +<img src="images/363.jpg" alt="Reverend John Marsh." /> +<p class="caption">Reverend John Marsh. +</p></div> + +<p> +A climax of wig-hating was reached by one who has been styled “The Last of the +Puritans”—Judge Samuel Sewall of Boston. Constant references in his diary show +how this hatred influenced his daily life. He despised wigs so long and so +deeply, he thought and talked and prayed upon them, until they became to him of +undue importance; they became godless emblems of iniquity; an unutterable snare +and peril. +</p> + +<p> +We find Sewall copying with evident approval a “scandalous bill” which had been +“posted” on the church in Plymouth in 1701. In this a few lines ran:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> + “Our churches are too genteel.<br/> +Parsons grow trim and trigg<br/> +With wealth, wine, and wigg,<br/> + And their crowns are covered with meal.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="John_Adams_in_Youth."></a> +<img src="images/364.jpg" alt="John Adams in Youth." /> +<p class="caption">John Adams in Youth. +</p></div> + +<p> +Bitter must have been his efforts to reconcile to his conscience the sight of +wigs upon the heads of his parson friends, worn boldly in the pulpit. He would +refrain from attending a church where the parson wore a wig; and his italicized +praise of a dead friend was that he “was a true New-English man and +<i>abominated periwigs</i>.” A Boston wig-maker died a drunkard, and Sewall +took much melancholy satisfaction in dilating upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Cotton Mather and Sewall had many pious differences and personal jealousies. +The parson was a handsome man (see his picture <a +href="#Reverend_Cotton_Mather.">here</a>), and he was a harmlessly and naively +vain man. He quickly adopted a “great bush of vanity”—and a very personable +appearance he makes in it. Soon we find him inveighing at length in the pulpit +against “those who strain at a gnat and swallow a camel, those who were zealous +against an innocent fashion taken up and used by the best of men.” “’Tis +supposed he means wearing a Perriwigg,” writes Sewall after this sermon; “I +expected not to hear a vindication of Perriwiggs in Boston pulpit by Mr. +Mather.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Sewall! his regard of wigs had a severe test when he wooed Madam Winthrop +late in life. She was a rich widow. He had courted her vainly for a second +wife. And now he “yearned for her deeply” for a third wife, so he wrote. And +ere she would consent or even discuss marriage she stipulated two things: one, +that he keep a coach; the other, that he wear a periwig. When all the men of +dignity and office in the colony were bourgeoning out in great flowing perukes, +she was naturally a bit averse to an elderly lover in a skullcap or, as he +often wore, a hood. His love did not make him waver; he stoutly persisted in +his refusal to assume a periwig. +</p> + +<p> +His portrait in a velvet skullcap shows a fringe of white curling hair with a +few forehead locks. I fancy he was bald. Here is his entry with regard to young +Parson Willard’s wig, in the year 1701:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Having last night heard that Josiah Willard had cut off his hair (a very full +head of hair) and put on a wig, I went to him this morning. When I told his +mother what I came about, she called him. Whereupon I inquired of him what +extreme need had forced him to put off his own hair and put on a wig? He +answered, none at all; he said that his hair was straight, and that it parted +behind.<br/> +<br/> +“He seemed to argue that men might as well shave their hair off their head, as +off their face. I answered that boys grew to be men before they had hair on +their faces, and that half of mankind never have any beards. I told him that +God seems to have created our hair as a test, to see whether we can bring our +minds to be content at what he gives us, or whether wewould be our own carvers +and come back to him for nothing more. We might dislike our skin or nails, as +he disliked his hair; but in our case no thanks are due to us that we cut them +not off; for pain and danger restrain us. Your duty, said I, is to teach men +self-denial. I told him, further, that it would be displeasing and burdensome +to good men for him to wear a wig, and they that care not what men think of +them, care not what God thinks of them.<br/> +<br/> +“I told him that he must remember that wigs were condemned by a meeting of +ministers at Northampton. I told him of the solemnity of the covenant which he +and I had lately entered into, which put upon me the duty of discoursing to +him.<br/> +<br/> +“He seemed to say that he would leave off his wig when his hair was grown +again. I spoke to his father of it a day or two afterwards and he thanked me +for reasoning with his son.<br/> +<br/> +“He told me his son had promised to leave off his wig when his hair was grown +to cover his ears. If the father had known of it, he would have forbidden him +to cut off his hair. His mother heard him talk of it, but was afraid to forbid +him for fear he should do it in spite of her, and so be more faulty than if she +had let him go his own way.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="JonathanEdwards2nd"></a> +<img src="images/366.jpg" alt="Jonathan Edwards, 2nd." /> +<p class="caption">Jonathan Edwards, 2nd. +</p></div> + +<p> +Soon nearly every parson in England and every colony wore wigs. John Wesley +alone wore what seems to be his own white hair curled under softly at the ends. +Whitfield is in a portentous wig like the one on Dr. Marsh <a +href="#Reverend_John_Marsh.">(here</a>). +</p> + +<p> +In the time of Queen Anne, wigs had multiplied vastly in variety as they had +increased in size. I have been asked the difference between a peruke and a wig. +Of course both, and the periwig, are simply wigs; but the term “peruke” is in +general applied to a formal, richly curled wig; and the word “periwig” also +conveys the distinction of a formal wig. Of less dignity were riding-wigs, +nightcap wigs, and bag-wigs. Bag-wigs are said to have had their origin among +French servants, who tied up their hair in a black leather bag as a speedy way +of dressing it, and to keep it out of the way when at other and disordering +duties. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Patrick_Henry."></a> +<img src="images/367.jpg" alt="Patrick Henry." /> +<p class="caption">Patrick Henry. +</p></div> + +<p> +In May, 1706, the English, led by Marlborough, gained a great victory on the +battle-field of Ramillies, and that gave the title to a new wig described as +“having a long, gradually diminishing, plaited tail, called the +‘Ramillie-tail,’ which was tied with a great bow at the top and a smaller one +at the bottom.” The hair also bushed out at both sides of the face. The +Ramillies wig shown in Hogarth’s <i>Modern Midnight Conversation</i> hanging +against the wall, is reproduced <a +href="#CampaignRamilliesBobandPigtailWigs">here</a>. This wig was not at first +deemed full-dress. Queen Anne was deeply offended because Lord Bolingbroke, +summoned hurriedly to her, appeared in a Ramillies wig instead of a +full-bottomed peruke. The queen remarked that she supposed next time Lord +Bolingbroke would come in his nightcap. It was the same offending nobleman who +brought in the fashion of the mean little tie-wigs. +</p> + +<p> +It is stated in Read’s <i>Weekly Journal</i> of May 1, 1736, in an account of +the marriage of the Prince of Wales, that the officers of the Horse and Foot +Guards wore Ramillies periwigs when on parade, by his Majesty’s order. We meet +in the reign of George II other forms of wigs and other titles; the most +popular was the pigtail wig. The pigtail of this was worn hanging down the back +or tied up in a knot behind. This pigtail wig, worn for so many years, is shown +<a href="#CampaignRamilliesBobandPigtailWigs">here</a>. It was popular in the +army for sixty years, but in 1804 orders were given for the pigtail to be +reduced to seven inches in length, and finally, in 1808, to be cut off wholly, +to the deep mourning of disciplinarians who deemed a soldier without a pigtail +as hopeless as a Manx cat. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="KingCarterDied1732"></a> +<img src="images/369.jpg" alt="“King” Carter. Died 1732." /> +<p class="caption">“King” Carter. Died 1732. +</p></div> + +<p> +Bob-wigs, minor and major, came in during the reign of George II. The bob-wig +was held to be a direct imitation of the natural hair, though, of course, it +deceived no one; it was used chiefly by poorer folk. The ’prentice minor bob +was close and short, the citizen’s bob major, or Sunday buckle, had several +rows of curls. All these came to America by the hundreds—yes, by the thousands. +Every profession and almost every calling had its peculiar wig. The caricatures +of the period represent full-fledged lawyers with a towering frontlet and a +long bag at the back tied in the middle; while students of the university have +a wig flat on the top, to accommodate their stiff, square-cornered hats, and a +great bag like a lawyer’s wig at the back. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Judge_Benjamin_Lynde."></a> +<img src="images/370.jpg" alt="Judge Benjamin Lynde." /> +<p class="caption">Judge Benjamin Lynde. +</p></div> + +<p> +“When the law lays down its full-bottom’d periwig you will find less wisdom in +bald pates than you are aware of,” says the <i>Choleric Man</i>. This lawyer’s +wig is the only one which has not been changed or abandoned. You may see it +here, on the head of Judge Benjamin Lynde of Salem. He died in 1745. Carlyle +sneers:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Has not your Red hanging-individual a horsehair wig, squirrel-skins, and a +plush-gown—whereby all Mortals know that he is a JUDGE?” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In the reigns of Anne and William and Mary perukes grew so vast and cumbersome +that a wig was invented for travelling and for undress wear, and was called the +“Campaign wig.” It would not seem very simple since it was made full and curled +to the front, and had, so writes a contemporary, Randle Holme, in his +<i>Academy of Armory</i>, 1684, “knots and bobs a-dildo on each side and a +curled forehead.” +</p> + +<p> +A campaign wig from Holme’s drawing is shown <a +href="#CampaignRamilliesBobandPigtailWigs">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +There are constant references in old letters and in early literature in America +which alter much the dates assigned by English authorities on costume: thus, +knowing not of Randle Holme’s drawing, Sydney writes that the name “campaign” +was applied to a wig, the name and fashion of which came to England from France +in 1702. In the Letter-book of William Byrd of Westover, Virginia, in a letter +written in June, 1690, to Perry and Lane, his English factors in London, he +says, “I have by Tonner sent my long Periwig which I desire you to get made +into a Campagne and send mee.” This was twelve years earlier than Sydney’s +date. Fitz-John Winthrop wrote to England in 1695 for “two wiggs one a campane +the other short.” The portrait of Fitz-John Winthrop shows a prodigious +imposing wig, but it has no “knots or bobs a-dildo on each side,” though the +forehead is curled; it is a fine example of a peruke. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot attempt even to name all the wigs, much less can I describe them; +Hawthorne gave “the tie,” the “Brigadier,” the “Major,” the “Ramillies,” the +grave “Full-bottom,” the giddy “Feather-top.” To these and others already named +in this chapter I can add the “Neck-lock,” the “Allonge,” the “Lavant,” the +“Vallancy,” the “Grecian fly wig,” the “Beau-peruke,” the “Long-tail,” the +“Fox-tail,” the “Cut-wig,” the “Scratch,” the “Twist-wig.” +</p> + +<p> +Others named in 1753 in the <i>London Magazine</i> were the “Royal bird,” the +“Rhinoceros,” the “Corded Wolf’s-paw,” “Count Saxe’s mode,” the “She-dragon,” +the “Jansenist,” the “Wild-boar’s-back,” the “Snail-back,” the “Spinach-seed.” +These titles were literal translations of French wig-names. +</p> + +<p> +Another wig-name was the “Gregorian.” We read in <i>The Honest Ghost</i>, 1658, +“Pulling a little down his Gregorian, which was displac’t a little by his +hastie taking off his beaver.” This wig was named from the inventor, one +Gregory, “the famous peruke-maker who is buryed at St. Clements Danes Church.” +In Cotgrave’s <i>Dictionary</i> perukes are called Gregorians. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="John_Rutledge."></a> +<img src="images/372.jpg" alt="John Rutledge." /> +<p class="caption">John Rutledge. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the prologue to <i>Haut Ton</i>, written by George Colman, these wigs are +named:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The Tyburn scratch, thick Club and Temple tyes,<br/> +The Parson’s Feather-top, frizzed, broad and high.<br/> +The coachman’s Cauliflower, built tier on tier.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +There was also the “Minister’s bob,” “Curley roys,” “Airy levants,” and +“I—perukes.” The “Dalmahoy” was a bushy bob-wig. +</p> + +<p> +When Colonel John Carter died, he left to his brother Robert his cane, sword, +and periwig. I believe this to be the very Valiancy periwig which, in all its +snowy whiteness and air of extreme fashion, graces the head of the handsome +young fellow as he is shown <a +href="#KingCarterinYouthbySirGodfreyKneller">here</a>. Even the portrait shares +the fascination which the man is said to have had for every woman. I have a +copy of it now standing on my desk, where I can glance at him as I write; and +pleasant company have I found the gay young Virginian—the best of company. It +is good to have a companion so handsome of feature, so personable of figure, so +laughing, care free, and debonair—isn’t it, King Robert? +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="CampaignRamilliesBobandPigtailWigs"></a> +<img src="images/373.jpg" alt="Campaign, Ramillies, Bob, and Pigtail Wigs." /> +<p class="caption">Campaign, Ramillies, Bob, and Pigtail Wigs. +</p></div> + +<p> +These snowy wigs at a later date were called Adonis wigs. +</p> + +<p> +The cost of a handsome wig would sometimes amount to thirty, forty, and fifty +guineas, though Swift grumbled at paying three guineas, and the exceedingly +correct Mr. Pepys bought wigs at two and three pounds. It is not strange that +they were often stolen. Gay, in his <i>Trivia</i>, thus tells the manner of +their disappearance:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Nor is the flaxen wig with safety worn;<br/> + High on the shoulder, in a basket borne,<br/> + Lurks the sly boy, whose hand to rapine bred,<br/> + Plucks off the curling honors of the head.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In America wigs were deemed rich spoils for the sneak-thief. +</p> + +<p> +There was a vast trade in second-hand wigs. ’Tis said there was in Rosemary +Lane in London a constantly replenished “Wig lottery.” It was, rather, a wig +grab-bag. The wreck of gentility paid his last sixpence for appearances, dipped +a long arm into a hole in a cask, and fished out his wig. It might be +half-decent, or it might be fit only to polish shoes—worse yet, it might have +been used already for that purpose. The lowest depths of everything were found +in London. I doubt if we had any Rosemary Lane wig lotteries in New York, or +Philadelphia, or Boston. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Rev._William_Welsteed."></a> +<img src="images/374.jpg" alt="Rev. William Welsteed." /> +<p class="caption">Rev. William Welsteed. +</p></div> + +<p> +An answer to a query in a modern newspaper gives the word “caxon” as +descriptive of a dress-wig. It was in truth a term for a wig, but it was a cant +term, a slang phrase for the worst possible wig; thus Charles Lamb Wrote:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“He had two wigs both pedantic but of different omen. The one serene, smiling, +fresh-powdered, betokening a mild day. The other an old discoloured, unkempt, +angry caxon denoting frequent and bloody execution.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +All these wigs, even the bob-wig, were openly artificial. The manner of their +make, their bindings, their fastening, as well as their material, completely +destroyed any illusion which could possibly have been entertained as to their +being a luxuriant crop of natural hair. +</p> + +<p> +No one was ashamed of wearing a wig. On the contrary, a person with any sense +of dignity was ashamed of being so unfashionable as to wear his own hair. It +was a glorious time for those to whom Nature had been niggardly. A wig was as +frankly extraneous as a hat. No attempt was made to imitate the roots of the +hairs, or the parting. The hair was attached openly, and bound with a +high-colored, narrow ribbon. Here is an advertisement from the <i>Boston News +Letter</i> of August 14, 1729:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Taken from the shop of Powers Mariott, Barber, a light Flaxen Natural Wigg +parted from the forehead to the Crown. The Narrow Ribband is of a Red Pink +Color, the Caul is in rows of Red, Green and White Ribband.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Another “peruke-maker” lost a Flaxen “Natural” wig bound with peach-colored +ribbon; while in 1755 Barber Coes, of Marblehead, lost “feather-tops” bound +with various ribbons. Some had three colors on one wig—pink, green and purple. +A goat’s-hair wig bound with red and purple, with green ribbons striping the +caul, must have been a pretty and dignified thing on an old gentleman’s head. +One of the most curious materials for a wig was fine wire, of which Wortley +Montague’s wig was made. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Thomas_Hopkinson."></a> +<img src="images/376.jpg" alt="Thomas Hopkinson." /> +<p class="caption">Thomas Hopkinson. +</p></div> + +<p> +We read in many histories of costume, among them Miss Hill’s recent history of +English dress, that Quakers did not wear wigs. This is widely incorrect. Many +Quakers wore most fashionably made wigs. William Penn wrote from England to his +steward, telling him to allow Deputy Governor Lloyd to wear his (Penn’s) wigs. +I suppose he wished his deputy to cut a good figure. +</p> + +<p> +From the <i>New York Gazette</i> of May 9, 1737, we learn of a thief’s stealing +“one gray Hair Wig, not the worse for wearing, one Pale Hair Wig, not worn five +times, marked V. S. E., one brown Natural wig, One old wig of goat’s hair put +in buckle.” Buckle meant to curl, and derivatively a wig was in buckle when it +was rolled for curling. Roulettes or bilbouquettes for buckling a wig were +little rollers of pipe clay. The hair was twisted up in them, and papers bound +over them to fix them in place. The roulettes could be put in buckle hot, or +they could be rolled cold and the whole wig heated. The latter was not favored; +it damaged the wig. Moreover, a careless barber had often roasted a forgotten +wig which he had put in buckle and in an oven. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>New York Gazette</i> of May 12, 1750, had this alluring advertisement:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“This is to acquaint the Public, that there is lately arrived from London the +Wonder of the World, <i>an Honest</i> Barber and Peruke Maker, who might have +worked for the King, if his Majesty would have employed him: It was not for the +want of Money he came here, for he had enough of that at Home, nor for the want +of Business, that he advertises himself, BUT to acquaint the Gentlemen and +Ladies, that <i>Such a Person is now in Town</i>, living near <i>Rosemary +Lane</i> where Gentlemen and Ladies may be supplied with Goods as follows, +viz.: Tyes, Full-Bottoms, Majors, Spencers, Fox-Tails, Ramalies, Tacks, cut and +bob Perukes: Also Ladies Tatematongues and Towers after the Manner that is now +wore at Court. <i>By their Humble and Obedient Servant</i>,<br/> +<br/> +“JOHN STILL.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Reverend_Dr._Barnard"></a> +<img src="images/378.jpg" alt="Reverend Dr. Barnard." /> +<p class="caption">Reverend Dr. Barnard. +</p></div> + +<p> +“Perukes,” says Malcolm, in his <i>Manners and Customs</i>, “were an highly +important article in 1734.” Those of right gray human hair were four guineas +each; light grizzle ties, three guineas; and other colors in proportion, to +twenty-five shillings. Right gray human hair cue perukes, from two guineas to +fifteen shillings each, was the price of dark ones; and right gray bob perukes, +two guineas and a half to fifteen shillings, the price of dark bobs. Those +mixed with horsehair were much lower. +</p> + +<p> +Prices were a bit higher in America. It was held that better wigs were made in +England than in America or France; so the letter-books and agent’s-lists of +American merchants are filled with orders for English wigs. +</p> + +<p> +Imperative orders for the earliest and extremest new fashions stood from year +to year on the lists of fashionable London wig-makers; and these constant +orders came from Virginia gentlemen and Massachusetts magistrates,—not a few, +too, from the parsons,—scantly paid as they were. The smaller bob-wigs and +tie-wigs were precisely the same in both countries, and I am sure were no later +in assumption in America than was necessitated by the weeks occupied in coming +across seas. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the seventeenth century all classes of men in American towns wore +wigs. Negro slaves flaunted white horsehair wigs, goat’s-hair bob-wigs, natural +wigs, all the plainer wigs, and all the more costly sorts when these were half +worn and secondhand. Soldiers wore wigs; and in the <i>Massachusetts +Gazette</i> of the year 1774 a runaway negro is described as wearing a curl of +hair tied around his head to imitate a scratch wig; with his woolly crown this +dangling curl must have been the height of absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +It is not surprising to find in the formal life of the English court the poor +little tormented, sickly, sad child of Queen Anne wearing, before he was seven +years old, a large full-bottomed wig; but it is curious to see the portraits of +American children rigged up in wigs (I have half a dozen such), and to find +likewise an American gentleman (and not one of wealth either) paying £;9 +apiece for wigs for three little sons of seven, nine, and eleven years of age. +This lavish parent was Enoch Freeman, who lived in Portland, Maine, in 1754. +</p> + +<p> +Wigs were objects of much and constant solicitude and care; their dressing was +costly, and they wore out readily. Barbers cared for them by the month or year, +visiting from house to house. Ten pounds a year was not a large sum to be paid +for the care of a single wig. Men of dignity and careful dress had barbers’ +bills of large amount, such men as Governor John Hancock, Governor Hutchinson, +and Governor Belcher. On Saturday afternoons the barbers’ boys were seen flying +through the narrow streets, wig-box in hand, hurrying to deliver all the +dressed wigs ere sunset came. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt the constant wearing of such hot, heavy head-covering made the hair +thin and the head bald; thus wigs became a necessity. Men had their heads very +closely covered of old, and caught cold at a breath. Pepys took cold throwing +off his hat while at dinner. If the wig were removed even within doors a close +cap or hood at once took its place, or, as I tell elsewhere, a turban of some +rich stuff. In America, in the Southern states, where people were poor and +plantations scattered, all men did not wear wigs. A writer in the <i>London +Magazine</i> in 1745 tells of this country carelessness of dress. He says that +except some of the “very Elevated Sort” few wore perukes; so that at first +sight “all looked as if about to go to bed,” for all wore caps. Common people +wore woollen caps; richer ones donned caps of white cotton or Holland linen. +These were worn even when riding fifty miles from home. He adds, “It may be +cooler for aught I know; but methinks ’tis very ridiculous.” So wonted were his +eyes to perukes, that his only thought of caps was that they were “ridiculous.” +Nevertheless, when a shipload of servants, bond-servants who might be stolen +when in drink, or lured under false pretences, might be convicts, or honest +workmen,—when these transports were set up in respectability,—scores of new +wigs of varying degrees of dignity came across seas with them. Many an old +caxon or “gossoon”—a wig worn yellow with age—ended its days on the pate of a +redemptioner, who thereby acquired dignity and was more likely to be bought as +a schoolmaster. Truly our ancestors were not squeamish, and it is well they +were not, else they would have squeamed from morning till night at the sights, +and sounds, and things, and dirt around them. But these be parlous words; they +had the senses and feelings of their day—suited to the surroundings of their +day. In one thing they can be envied. Knowing not of germs and microbes, +dreaming not of antiseptics and fumigation, they could be happy in blissful +unconsciousness of menacing environment—a blessing wholly denied to us. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Andrew_Ellicott."></a> +<img src="images/381.jpg" alt="Andrew Ellicott." /> +<p class="caption">Andrew Ellicott. +</p></div> + +<p> +When James Murray came from Scotland in 1735 he went up the Cape Fear River in +North Carolina to the struggling settlements of Brunswick. The stock of wigs +which he brought as one of the commodities of his trade had absolutely no +market. In 1751 he wrote thus to his London wig-maker:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“We deal so much in caps in this country that we are almost as careless of the +outside as of the inside of our heads. I have had but one wig since the last I +had of you, and yours has outworn it. Now I am near out, and you may make me a +new grisel Bob.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Nevertheless, in 1769, when he was roughly handled in Boston on account of his +Tory utterances, his head, though he was but fifty-six, was bald from +wig-wearing. His spirited recital runs thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The crowd intending sport, remained. As I was pressing out, my Wig was pulled +off and a pate shaved by Time and the barber was left exposed. This was thought +a signal and prelude to further insult; which would probably have taken place +but for hindering the cause. Going along in this plight, surrounded by the +crowd, in the dark, a friend hold of either arm supporting me, while somebody +behind kept nibbling at my sides and endeavouring of treading the reforming +justice out of me by the multitude. My wig dishevelled, was borne on a staff +behind. My friends and supporters offered to house me, but I insisted on going +home in the present trim, and was landed in safety.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Patriotic Boston barbers found much satisfaction in ill treating the wigs of +their Tory customers and patrons. William Pyncheon, a Salem Tory, wrote a few +years later:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The tailors and barbers, in their squinting and fleering at our clothes, and +especially our wiggs, begin to border on malevolence. Had not the caul of my +wigg been of uncommon stuff and workmanship, I think my barber would have had +it in pieces: his dressing it greatly resembles the farmer dressing his flax, +the latter of the two being the gentlest in his motions.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Worcester Tories, among them Timothy Paine, had their wigs pulled off in +public. Mr. Paine at once gave his dishonored wig to one of his negro slaves, +and never after resumed wig-wearing. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE BEARD</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Though yours be sorely lugged and torn<br/> +It does your Visage more adorn<br/> +Than if ’twere prun’d, and starch’d, and launder’d<br/> +And cut square by the Russian standard.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Hudibras,” SAMUEL BUTLER.<br/> +<br/> +<br/> +<i>“Now of beards there be such company<br/> +And fashions such a throng<br/> +That it is very hard to handle a beard<br/> +Tho’ it be never so long.<br/> +<br/> +“’Tis a pretty sight and a grave delight<br/> +That adorns both young and old<br/> +A well thatch’t face is a comely grace<br/> +And a shelter from the cold”</i><br/> +<br/> +—“Le Prince d’Amour,” 1660. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE BEARD</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="90" height="93" src="images/initialm.jpg" alt="M" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +en’s hair on their heads hath ever been at odds with that on their face. If the +head were well covered and the hair long, then the face was smooth shaven. +William the Conqueror had short hair and a beard, then came a long-haired king, +then a cropped one; Edward IV’s subjects had long hair and closely cut beards. +Henry VII fiercely forbade beards. The great sovereign Henry VIII ordered short +hair like the French, and wore a beard. Through Elizabeth’s day and that of +James the beard continued. Not until great perukes overshadowed the whole face +did the beard disappear. It vanished for a century as if men were beardless; +but after men began to wear short hair in the early years of the nineteenth +century, bearded men appeared. A few German mystics who had come to America +full-bearded were stared at like the elephant, and a sight of them was recorded +in a diary as a great event. +</p> + +<p> +There is no doubt that, to the general reader, the ordinary thought of the +Puritan is with a beard, a face and figure much like the Hogarth illustrations +of Hudibras—one of the “Presbyterian true Blue,” “the stubborn crew of Errant +Saints,”—without the grotesquery of face and feature, perhaps, but certainly +with all the plainness and gracelessness of dress and the commonplace beard. +The wording of Hudibras also figures the popular conception:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“His tawny Beard was th’ equal Grace<br/> +Both of his Wisdom and his Face:<br/> + * * * * *<br/> +“His Doublet was of sturdy Buff<br/> +And tho’ not Sword, was Cudgel-Proof.<br/> +His Breeches were of rugged Woolen<br/> +And had been at the Siege of Bullen.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="HerbertWestphalingBishopofHereford"></a> +<img src="images/385.jpg" alt="Herbert Westphaling, Bishop of Hereford." /> +<p class="caption">Herbert Westphaling, Bishop of Hereford. +</p></div> + +<p> +In truth this is well enough as far as it runs and for one suit of clothing; +but this was by no means a universal dress, nor was it a universal beard. +Indeed beards were fearfully and wonderfully varied. +</p> + +<p> +That humorous old rhymester, Taylor, the “Water Poet,” may be quoted at length +on the vanity thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“And Some, to set their Love’s-Desire on Edge<br/> +Are cut and prun’d, like to a Quickset Hedge.<br/> +Some like a Spade, some like a Forke, some square,<br/> +Some round, some mow’d like stubble, some starke bare;<br/> +Some sharpe, Stilletto-fashion, Dagger-like,<br/> +That may with Whispering a Man’s Eyes unpike;<br/> +Some with the Hammer-cut, or Roman T.<br/> +Their Beards extravagant, reform’d must be.<br/> +Some with the Quadrate, some Triangle fashion;<br/> +Some circular, some ovall in translation;<br/> +Some Perpendicular in Longitude,<br/> +Some like a Thicket for their Crassitude,<br/> +That Heights, Depths, Breadths, Triform, Square, Ovall, Round<br/> +And Rules Geometrical in Beards are found.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Taylor’s own beard was screw-shaped. I fancy he invented it. +</p> + +<p> +The Anglo-Saxon beard was parted, and this double form remained for a long +time. Sometimes there were two twists or two long forks. +</p> + +<p> +A curious pointed beard, a beard in two curls, is shown <a +href="#JamesDouglasEarlofMorton">here</a>, on James Douglas, Earl of Morton. A +still more strangely kept one, pointed in the middle of the chin, and kept in +two rolls which roll toward the front, is upon the aged herald, <a +href="#The_Herald_Vandum.">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +Richard II had a mean beard,—two little tufts on the chin known as “the +mouse-eaten beard, here a tuft, there a tuft.” The round beard “like a half a +Holland cheese” is always seen in the depictions of Falstaff; “a great round +beard” we know he had. This was easily trimmed, but others took so much time +and attention that pasteboard boxes were made to tie over them at night, that +they might be unrumpled in the morning. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_Herald_Vandum."></a> +<img src="images/387.jpg" alt="The Herald Vandum." /> +<p class="caption">The Herald Vandum. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the reign of Elizabeth and of James I a beard and whiskers or mustache were +universally worn. In the time of Charles I the general effect of beard and +mustache was triangular, with the mouth in the centre, as in the portrait of +Waller <a href="#Sir_William_Waller.">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +A beard of some form was certainly universal in 1620. Often it was the orderly +natural growth shown on Winthrop’s face; a smaller tuft on the chin with a +mustache also was much worn. Many ministers in America had this chin-tuft. +Among them were John Eliot and John Davenport. The Stuarts wore a pointed +beard, carefully trimmed, and a mustache; but the natural beard seems to have +disappeared with the ruff. Charles II clung for a time to a mustache; his +portrait by Mary Beale has one; but with the great development of the periwig +came a smooth face. This continued until the nineteenth century brought a +fashion of bearded men again; a fashion which was so abhorred, so reviled, so +openly warred with that I know of the bequest of a large estate with the +absolute and irrevocable condition that the inheritor should never wear a beard +of any form. +</p> + +<p> +The hammer cut was of the reign of Charles I. It was T-shaped. In the play, +<i>The Queen of Corinth</i>, 1647, are the lines:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> + “He strokes his beard<br/> +Which now he puts in the posture of a T,<br/> +The Roman T. Your T-beard is in fashion.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The spade beard is shown <a href="#Scotch_Beard.">here</a>. It was called the +“broad pendant,” and was held to make a man look like a warrior. The sugar-loaf +beard was the natural form much worn by Puritans; by natural I mean not twisted +into any “strange antic forms.” The swallow-tail cut (about 1600) is more +unusual, but was occasionally seen. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The stiletto-beard<br/> +It makes me afeard<br/> + It is so sharp beneath.<br/> +For he that doth place<br/> +A dagger in his face<br/> + What wears he in his sheath?” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +An unusually fine stiletto beard is on the chin of John Endicott (<a +href="#Governor_John_Endicott">here</a>). It was distinctly a soldier’s beard. +Endicott was major-general of the colonial forces and a severe disciplinarian. +Shakespere, in <i>Henry V</i>, speaks of “a beard of the General’s cut.” It was +worn by the Earl of Southampton (see <a href="#Earl_of_Southampton.">here</a>), +and perhaps Endicott favored it on that account. The pique-devant beard or +“pick-a-devant beard, O Fine Fashion,” was much worn. A good moderate example +may be seen upon Cousin Kilvert, with doublet and band, in the print <a +href="#Alderman_Abell_and_Richard_Kilvert">here</a>. An extreme type was the +beard of Robert Greene, the Elizabethan dramatist, “A jolly long red peake like +the spire of a steeple, which he wore continually, whereat a man might hang a +jewell; it was so sharp and pendent.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Scotch_Beard."></a> +<img src="images/389.jpg" alt="Scotch Beard." /> +<p class="caption">Scotch Beard. +</p></div> + +<p> +The word “peak” was constantly used for a beard, and also the words “spike” and +“spear.” A barber is represented in an old play as asking whether his customer +will “have his peak cut short and sharp; or amiable like an inamorato, or broad +pendant like a spade; to be terrible like a warrior and a soldado; to have his +appendices primed, or his mustachios fostered to turn about his eares like ye +branches of a vine.” +</p> + +<p> +A broad square-cut beard spreading at the ends like an open fan is the +“cathedral beard” of Randle Holme, “so called because grave men of the church +did wear it.” It is often seen in portraits. One of these is shown <a +href="#Dr._William_Slater._Cathedral_Beard.">here</a>. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Dr._William_Slater._Cathedral_Beard."></a> +<img src="images/390.jpg" alt="Dr. William Slater. Cathedral Beard." /> +<p class="caption">Dr. William Slater. Cathedral Beard. +</p></div> + +<p> +In the <i>Life of Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas</i>, 1731, she writes of her +grandfather, a Turkey-merchant:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“He was very nice in the Mode of his Age—his Valet being some hours every +morning in <i>Starching</i> his <i>Beard</i> and Curling his Whiskers during +which Time a Gentleman whom he maintained as Companion always read to him upon +some useful subject.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +So we may believe they really “starched” their beards, stiffened them with some +dressing. Taylor, the “Water Poet” (1640), says of beards:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Some seem as they were starched stiff and fine<br/> +Like to the Bristles of some Angry Swine.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Dr._John_Dee._1600."></a> +<img src="images/390a.jpg" alt="Dr. John Dee. 1600." /> +<p class="caption">Dr. John Dee. 1600. +</p></div> + +<p> +Dr. Dee’s extraordinary beard I can but regard as an affectation of +singularity, assumed doubtless to attract attention, and to be a sign of +unusual parts. Aubrey, his friend, calls him “a very handsome man; of very +fair, clear, sanguine complexion, with a long beard as white as milke. He was +tall and slender. He wore a gowne like an artist’s gowne; with hanging sleeves +and a slitt. A mighty good man he was.” The word “artist” then meant artisan; +and in this reference means a smock like a workman’s. +</p> + +<p> +A name seen often in Winthrop’s letters is that of Sir Kenelm Digby. He was an +intimate correspondent of John Winthrop the second, and it would not be strange +if he did many errands for Winthrop in England besides purchasing drugs. His +portrait, and a lugubrious one it is, is one of the few of his day which shows +an untrimmed beard. Aubrey says of him that after the death of his wife he wore +“a long mourning cloak, a high cornered hatt, his beard unshorn, look’t like a +hermit; as signs of sorrow for his beloved wife. He had something of the +sweetness of his mother’s face.” This sweetness is, however, not to be +perceived in his unattractive portrait. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>PATTENS, CLOGS, AND GOLOE-SHOES</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“Q. Why is a Wife like a Patten? A. Both are Clogs.”</i><br/> +<br/> +—Old Riddle. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>PATTENS, CLOGS, AND GOLOE-SHOES</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="88" src="images/initialw.jpg" alt="W" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +hen this old pigskin trunk was new, the men who fought in the Revolution were +young. Here is the date, “1756,” and the initials in brass-headed nails, +“J.E.H.” It was a bride’s trunk, the trunk of Elizabeth, who married John; and +it was marked after the manner of marking the belongings of married folk in her +day. It is curious in shape, spreading out wide at the top; for it was made to +fit a special place in an old coach. I have told the story of that ancient +coach in my <i>Old Narragansett</i>: the tale of the ignoble end of its days, +the account of its fall from transportation of this happy bride and bridegroom, +through years of stately use and formal dignity to more years of happy +desuetude as a children’s cubby-house; and finally its ignominy as a +roosting-place, and hiding-place, and laying-place, and setting-place of +misinformed and misguided hens. Under the coachman’s seat, where the two-score +dark-blue Staffordshire pie-plates were found on the day of the annihilation of +the coach, was the true resting-place of this trunk. It was a hidden spot, for +the trunk was small, and was intended to hold only treasures. It holds them +still, though they are not the silver-plate, the round watches, the narrow +laces, and the precious camel’s-hair scarf. It now holds treasured relics of +the olden time; trifles, but not unconsidered ones; much esteemed trifles are +they, albeit not in form or shape or manner of being fit to rest in parlor +cabinets or on tables, but valued, nevertheless, valued for that most +intangible of qualities—association. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Iron_and_Leather_Pattens._1760."></a> +<img src="images/394.jpg" alt="Iron and Leather Pattens. 1760." /> +<p class="caption">Iron and Leather Pattens. 1760. +</p></div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="OakIronandLeatherClogs1790"></a> +<img src="images/395.jpg" alt="Oak, Iron, and Leather Clogs. 1790." /> +<p class="caption">Oak, Iron, and Leather Clogs. 1790. +</p></div> + +<p> +Here is one little “antick.” It is an ample bag with the neat double +drawing-strings of our youth; a bag, nay, a pocket. It once hung by the side of +some one of my forbears, perhaps Elizabeth of the brass-nailed initials. It was +a much-esteemed pocket, though it is only of figured cotton or chiney; but +those stuffs were much sought after when this old trunk was new. The pocket has +served during recent years as a cover for two articles of footwear which many +“of the younger sort” to-day have never seen—they are pattens. “Clumsy, ugly +pattens” we find them frequently stigmatized in the severe words of the early +years of the nineteenth century, but there is nothing ugly or clumsy about this +pair. The sole is of some black, polished wood—it is heavy enough for ebony; +the straps are of strong leather neatly stitched; the buckles are polished +brass, and brass nails fasten the leather to the wooden soles. These soles are +cut up high in a ridge to fit under the instep of a high-heeled shoe; for it +was a very little lady who wore these pattens,—Elizabeth,—and her little feet +always stood in the highest heels. She was active, kindly, and bountiful. She +lived to great age, and she could and did walk many miles a day until the last +year of her life. She is recalled as wearing a great scarlet cloak with a black +silk quilted hood on cold winter days, when she visited her neighbors with +kindly words, and housewifely, homely gifts, conveyed in an ample basket. The +cloak was made precisely like the scarlet cloak shown <a +href="#Scarlet_Broadcloth_Hooded_Cloak.">here</a>, and had a like hood. She was +brown-eyed, and her dark hair was never gray even in extreme old age; nor was +the hair of her granddaughter, another Elizabeth, my grandmother. Trim and +erect of figure, and precise and neat of dress, wearing, on account of this +neatness, shorter petticoats, when walking, than was the mode of her day, and +also through this neatness clinging to the very last to these cleanly, useful, +quaint pattens. Her black hood, frilled white cap, short, quilted petticoat, +high-heeled shoes, and the shining ebony and brass pattens, and over all the +great, full scarlet cloak,—all these made her an unusual and striking figure +against the Wayland landscape, the snowy fields and great sombre pine trees of +Heard’s Island, as she trod trimly, in short pattened steps that crackled the +kittly-benders in the shadowed roads, or sunk softly in the shallow mud of the +sunny lanes on a snow-melting day in late winter. Would I could paint the +picture as I see it! +</p> + +<p> +These pattens in the old trunk are prettier than most pattens which have been +preserved. In general, they are rather shabby things. I have another pair—more +commonplace, which chance to exist; they were not saved purposely. They are +pictured <a href="#Iron_and_Leather_Pattens._1760.">here</a>. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="English_Clogs."></a> +<img src="images/397.jpg" alt="English Clogs." /> +<p class="caption">English Clogs. +</p></div> + +<p> +There is a most ungallant old riddle, “Why is a wife like a patten?” The answer +reads, “Because both are clogs.” A very courteous bishop was once asked this +uncivil query, and he answered without a moment’s hesitation, “Because both +elevate the soul (sole).” Pattens may be clogs, yet there is a difference. +After much consultation of various authorities, and much discussion in the +columns of various querying journals, I make this decision and definition. +Pattens are thick, wooden soles roughly shaped in the outline of the human foot +(in the shoemaker’s notion of that member), mounted on a round or oval ring of +iron, fixed by two or three pins to the sole, in such a way that when the +patten is worn the sole of the wearer’s foot is about two inches above the +ground. A heel-piece with buckles and straps, strings or buttons and leather +loops, and a strap over the toe, retain the patten in place upon the foot when +the wearer trips along. (See <a +href="#Iron_and_Leather_Pattens._1760.">here</a>.) Clogs serve the same +purpose, but are simply wooden soles tipped and shod with iron. These also have +heel-pieces and straps of various materials—from the heavy serviceable leather +shown in the clogs <a href="#OakIronandLeatherClogs1790">here</a> and <a +href="#English_Clogs.">here</a> to the fine brocade clogs made and worn by two +brides and pictured <a href="#BridesClogsofBrocadeandSoleLeather">here</a>. +Dainty brass tips and colored morocco straps made a really refined pair of +clogs. Poplar wood was deemed the best wood for pattens and clogs. Sometimes +the wooden sole was thin, and was cut at the line under the instep in two +pieces and hinged. These hinges were held to facilitate walking. Children also +wore clogs. (See <a href="#ChildrensClogs1730">here</a>.) Clogs, as worn by +English and American folk, did not raise the wearer as high above the mud and +mire as did pattens, but I have seen Turkish clogs that were ten inches high. +Chopines were worn by Englishwomen to make them look taller. Three are shown <a +href="#ChopinesSeventeenthCentury">here</a>. Lady Falkland was short and stout, +and wore them for years to increase her apparent height; so she states in her +memoirs. +</p> + +<p> +It is a curious philological study that, while the words “clogs” and “pattens” +for a time were constantly heard, the third name which has survived till to-day +is the oldest of all—“galoshes.” Under the many spellings, galoe-shoes, +goloshes, gallage, galoche, and gallosh, it has come down to us from the Middle +Ages. It is spelt galoches in <i>Piers Plowman</i>. In a <i>Compotus</i>—or +household account of the Countess of Derby in 1388 are entries of botews +(boots), souters (slippers), and “one pair of galoches, 14 d.” Clogs, or +galoches, were known in the days of the Saxons, when they were termed “wife’s +shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +A “galage” was a shoe “which has nothing on the feet but a latchet”; it was +simply a clog. In February, 1687, Judge Sewall notes, “Send my mothers Shoes +&; Golowshoes to carry to her.” In 1736 Peter Faneuil sent to England for +“Galoushoes” for his sister. Another foot-covering for slippery, icy walking is +named by Judge Sewall. He wrote on January 19, 1717, “Great rain and very +Slippery; was fain to wear Frosts.” These frosts were what had been called on +horses, “frost nails,” or calks. They were simply spiked soles to help the +wearer to walk on ice. A pair may be seen at the Deerfield Memorial Hall. +Another pair is of half-soles with sharp ridges of iron, set, one the length of +the half-sole, the other across it. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="ChopinesSeventeenthCentury"></a> +<img src="images/399.jpg" alt="Chopines, Seventeenth Century. In the Ashmolean +Museum." /> +<p class="caption">Chopines, Seventeenth Century. In the Ashmolean Museum. +</p></div> + +<p> +For a time clogs seem to have been in constant use in America; frail morocco +slippers and thin prunella and callimanco shoes made them necessary, as did +also the unpaved streets. Heavy-soled shoes were unknown for women’s wear. +Women walked but short distances. In the country they always rode. We find even +Quaker women warned in 1720 not to wear “Shoes of light Colours bound with +Differing Colours, and heels White or Red, with White bands, and fine Coloured +Clogs and Strings, and Scarlet and Purple Stockings and Petticoats made Short +to expose them”—a rather startling description of footwear. Again, in 1726, in +Burlington, New Jersey, Friends were asked to be “careful to avoid wearing of +Stript Shoos, or Red and White Heel’d Shoos, or Clogs, or Shoos trimmed with +Gawdy Colours.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="BridesClogsofBrocadeandSoleLeather"></a> +<img src="images/400.jpg" alt="Brides’ Clogs of Brocade and Sole Leather." /> +<p class="caption">Brides’ Clogs of Brocade and Sole Leather. +</p></div> + +<p> +Ann Warder, an English Quaker, was in Philadelphia, 1786 to 1789, and kept an +entertaining journal, from which I make this quotation:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Got B. Parker to go out shopping with me. On our way happened of Uncle Head, +to whom I complained bitterly of the dirty streets, declaring if I could +purchase a pair of pattens, the singularity I would not mind. Uncle soon found +me up an apartment, out of which I took a pair and trotted along quite +Comfortable, crossing some streets with the greatest ease, which the idea of +had troubled me. My little companion was so pleased, that she wished some also, +and kept them on her feet to learn to walk in them most of the remainder of the +day.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Fairholt, in his book upon costume, says, “Pattens date their origin to the +reign of Anne.” Like many other dates and statements given by this author, this +is wholly wrong. In <i>Purchas’, his Pilgrimage</i>, 1613, is this sentence, +“Clogges or Pattens to keep them out of the dust they may not burden themselves +with,” showing that the name and thing was the same then as to-day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="ClogsofPennsylvaniaDutch"></a> +<img src="images/401.jpg" alt="Clogs of “Pennsylvania Dutch.”" /> +<p class="caption">Clogs of “Pennsylvania Dutch.” +</p></div> + +<p> +Charles Dibdin has a song entitled, <i>The Origin of the Patten</i>. Fair Patty +went out in the mud and the mire, and her thin shoes speedily were wet. Then +she became hoarse and could not sing, while her lover longed for the sweet +sound of her voice. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“My anvil glow’d, my hammer rang,<br/> +Till I had form’d from out the fire<br/> +To bear her feet above the mire,<br/> +A platform for my blue-eyed Patty.<br/> +Again was heard each tuneful close,<br/> +My fair one in the patten rose,<br/> + Which takes its name from blue-eyed Patty.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +This fanciful derivation of the word was not an original thought of Dibdin. Gay +wrote in his Trivia, 1715:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The patten now supports each frugal dame<br/> +That from the blue-eyed Patty takes the name.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In reality, patten is derived from the French word <i>patin</i>, which has a +varied meaning of the sole of a shoe or a skate. +</p> + +<p> +Pattens were noisy, awkward wear. A writer of the day of their universality +wrote, “Those ugly, noisy, ferruginous, ancle-twisting, foot-cutting, clinking +things called women’s pattens.” Notices were set in church porches enjoining +the removal of women’s pattens, which, of course, should never have been worn +into church during service-time. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="ChildrensClogs1730"></a> +<img src="images/402.jpg" alt="Children’s Clogs. 1730." /> +<p class="caption">Children’s Clogs. 1730. +</p></div> + +<p> +It may have disappeared today, but four years ago, on the door of Walpole St. +Peters, near Wisbeck, England, hung a board which read, “People who enter this +church are requested to take off their pattens.” A friend in Northamptonshire, +England, writes me that pattens are still seen on muddy days in remote English +villages in that shire. +</p> + +<p> +Men wore pattens in early days. And men did and do wear clogs in English +mill-towns. +</p> + +<p> +There were also horse pattens or horse clogs which horses wore through deep, +muddy roads; I have an interesting photograph of a pair found in Northampton. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>BATTS AND BROAGS, BOOTS AND SHOES</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p> +<i>“By my Faith! Master Inkpen, thou hast put thy foot in it! Tis a pretty +subject and a strange one, and a vast one, but we’ll leave it never a sole to +stand on. The proverb hath ‘There’s naught like leather,’ but my Lady answers +‘Save silk:’”</i><br/> +<br/> +—Old Play. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>BATTS AND BROAGS, BOOTS AND SHOES</h3> + +<p> +<span class="figleft"> + +<img width="87" height="87" src="images/initialo.jpg" alt="O" /></span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + +ne of the first sumptuary laws in New England declared that men of mean estate +should not walk abroad in immoderate great boots. It was a natural prohibition +where all extravagance in dress was reprehended and restrained. The “great +boots” which had been so vast in the reign of James I seemed to be spreading +still wider in the reign of Charles. I have an old “Discourse” on leather dated +1629, which states fully the condition of things. Its various headings read, +“The general Use of Leather;” “The general Abuse thereof;” “The good which may +arise from the Reformation;” “The several Statutes made in that behalf by our +ancient Kings;” and lastly a “Petition to the High Court of Parliament.” It is +all most informing; for instance, in the trades that might want work were it +not for leather are named not only “shoemakers, cordwainers, curriers, etc.,” +but many now obsolete. The list reads:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“Book binders.<br/> +Budget makers.<br/> +Saddlers.<br/> +Trunk makers.<br/> +Upholsterers.<br/> +Belt makers.<br/> +Case makers.<br/> +Box makers.<br/> +Wool-card makers.<br/> +Cabinet makers.<br/> +Shuttle makers.<br/> +Bottle and Jack makers.<br/> +Hawks-hood makers.<br/> +Gridlers.<br/> +Scabbard-makers.<br/> +Glovers.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Unwillingly the author added “those <i>upstart trades</i>—Coach Makers, and +Harness Makers for Coach Horses.” It was really feared, by this sensible +gentleman-writer—and many others—that if many carriages and coaches were used, +shoemakers would suffer because so few shoes would be worn out. +</p> + +<p> +From the statutes which are rehearsed we learn that the footwear of the day was +“boots, shoes, buskins, startups, slippers, or pantofles.” Stubbes said:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“They have korked shooes puisnets pantoffles, some of black velvet, some of +white some of green, some of yellow, some of Spanish leather, some of English +leather stitched with Silke and embroidered with Gold &; Silver all over +the foot.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +A very interesting book has been published by the British Cordwainers’ Guild, +giving a succession of fine illustrations of the footwear of different times +and nations. Among them are some handsome English slippers, shoes, jack-boots, +etc. We have also in our museums, historical collections, and private families +many fine examples; but the difficulty is in the assigning of correct dates. +Family tradition is absolutely wide of the truth—its fabulous dates are often a +century away from the proper year. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="The_Copley_Family_Picture."></a> +<img src="images/406.jpg" alt="The Copley Family Picture." /> +<p class="caption">The Copley Family Picture. +</p></div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Wedding_Slippers_and_Brocade._1712."></a> +<img src="images/407.jpg" alt="Wedding Slippers and Brocade. 1712." /> +<p class="caption">Wedding Slippers and Brocade. 1712. +</p></div> + +<p> +Buskins to the knee were worn even by royalty; Queen Elizabeth’s still exist. +Buskins were in wear when the colonies were settled. Richard Sawyer, of +Windsor, Connecticut, had cloth buskins in 1648; and a hundred years later +runaway servants wore them. One redemptioner is described as running off in +“sliders and buskins.” American buskins were a foot-covering consisting of a +strong leather sole with cloth uppers and leggins to the knees, which were +fastened with lacings. Startups were similar, but heavier. In Thynne’s +<i>Debate between Pride and Lowliness</i>, the dress of a countryman is +described. It runs thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“A payre of startups had he on his feete<br/> + That lased were up to the small of the legge.<br/> + Homelie they are, and easier than meete;<br/> + And in their soles full many a wooden pegge.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Thomas Johnson of Wethersfield, Connecticut, died in 1840. He owned “1 Perre of +Startups.” +</p> + +<p> +Slippers were worn even in the fifteenth century. In the <i>Paston Letters</i>, +in a letter dated February 23, 1479, is this sentence, “In the whych lettre was +VIII d with the whych I shulde bye a peyr of slyppers.” Even for those days +eightpence must have been a small price for slippers. In 1686, Judge Samuel +Sewall wrote to a member of the Hall family thanking him for “The Kind Loving +Token—the East Indian Slippers for my wife.” Other colonial letters refer to +Oriental slippers; and I am sure that Turkish slippers are worn by Lady Temple +in her childish portrait, painted in company with her brother. Slip-shoes were +evidently slippers—the word is used by Sewall; and slap-shoes are named by +Randle Holme. Pantofles were also slippers, being apparently rather handsomer +footwear than ordinary slippers or slip-shoes. They are in general specified as +embroidered. Evelyn tells of the fine pantofles of the Pope embroidered with +jewels on the instep. +</p> + +<p> +So great was the use and abuse of leather that a petition was made to +Parliament in 1629 to attempt to restrict the making of great boots. One +sentence runs:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“The wearing of Boots is not the Abuse; but the generality of wearing and the +manner of cutting Boots out with huge slovenly unmannerly immoderate tops. What +over lavish spending is there in Boots and Shoes. To either of which is now +added a French proud Superfluity of Leather.<br/> +<br/> +“For the general Walking in Boots it is a Pride taken up by the Courtier and is +descended to the Clown. The Merchant and Mechanic walk in Boots. Many of our +Clergy either in neat Boots or Shoes and Galloshoes. University Scholars +maintain the Fashion likewise. Some Citizens out of a Scorn not to be Gentile +go every day booted. Attorneys, Lawyers, Clerks, Serving Men, All Sorts of Men +delight in this Wasteful Wantonness.<br/> +<br/> +“Wasteful I may well call it. One pair of boots eats up the leather of six +reasonable pair of men’s shoes.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Jack-boots._Owned_by_Lord_Fairfax_of_Virginia."></a> +<img src="images/409.jpg" alt="Jack-boots. Owned by Lord Fairfax of Virginia." +/> +<p class="caption">Jack-boots. Owned by Lord Fairfax of Virginia. +</p></div> + +<p> +Monstrous boots seem to have been the one frivolity in dress which the Puritans +could not give up. In the reign of Charles I boots were superb. The tops were +flaring, lined within with lace or embroidered or fringed; thus when turned +down they were richly ornamental. Fringes of leather, silk, or cloth edged some +boot-tops on the outside; the leather itself was carved and gilded. The +soldiers and officers of Cromwell’s army sometimes gave up laces and fringes, +but not the boot-tops. The Earl of Essex, his general, had cloth fringes on his +boots. (See his portrait facing <a href="#ROBERT_DEVEREUX">here</a>; also the +portrait of Lord Fairfax <a +href="#TherightHonourableFerdinandLordFairfax">here</a>.) In the court of +Charles II and Louis XIV of France the boot-tops spread to absurd +inconvenience. The toes of these boots were very square, as were the toes of +men’s and women’s shoes. Children’s shoes were of similar form. The singular +shoes worn by John Quincy and Robert Gibbes are precisely right-angled. It was +a sneer at the Puritans that they wore pointed toes. The shoe-ties, roses, and +buckles varied; but the square toes lingered, though they were singularly +inelegant. On the feet of George I (see portrait <a href="#George_I.">here</a>) +the square-toed shoes are ugly indeed. +</p> + +<p> +James I scornfully repelled shoe-roses when brought to him for his wear; asking +if they wished to “make a ruffle-footed dove” of him. But soon he wore the +largest rosettes in court. Peacham tells that some cost as much as £;30 a +pair, being then, of course, of rare lace. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Joshua_Warner."></a> +<img src="images/411.jpg" alt="Joshua Warner." /> +<p class="caption">Joshua Warner. +</p></div> + +<p> +<i>Friar Bacon’s Brazen Head Prophecie</i>, set into a “Plaie” or Rhyme, has +these verses (1604): +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Then Handkerchers were wrought<br/> + With Names and true Love Knots;<br/> +And not a wench was taught<br/> + A false Stitch in her spots;<br/> +When Roses in the Gardaines grew<br/> +And not in Ribons on a Shoe.<br/> +<br/> +“<i>Now</i> Sempsters few are taught<br/> + The true Stitch in their Spots;<br/> +And Names are sildome wrought<br/> + Within the true love knots;<br/> +And Ribon Roses takes such Place<br/> +That Garden Roses want their Grace.” +</p> + +<p> +Shoes of buff leather, slashed, were the very height of the fashion in the +first years of the seventeenth century. They can be seen on the feet of Will +Sommers in his portrait. Through the slashes showed bright the scarlet or green +stockings of cloth or yarn. Bright-colored shoe-strings gave additional +gaudiness. Green shoe-strings, spangled, gilded shoe-strings, shoes of +“dry-neat-leather tied with red ribbons,” “russet boots,” “white silken shoe +strings,”—all were worn. +</p> + +<p> +Red heels appear about 1710. In Hogarth’s original paintings they are seen. +Women wore them extensively in America. +</p> + +<p> +The jack-boots of Stuart days seem absolutely imperishable. They are of black, +jacked leather like the leather bottles and black-jacks from which Englishmen +drank their ale. So closely are they alike that I do not wonder a French +traveller wrote home that Englishmen drank from their boots. These jack-boots +were as solid and unpliable as iron, square-toed and clumsy of shape. A pair in +perfect preservation which belonged to Lord Fairfax in Virginia is portrayed <a +href="#Jack-boots._Owned_by_Lord_Fairfax_of_Virginia.">here</a>. Had all +colonial gentlemen worn jack-boots, the bootmakers and shoemakers would have +been ruined, for a pair would last a lifetime. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Shoe_and_Knee_Buckles."></a> +<img src="images/413.jpg" alt="Shoe and Knee Buckles." /> +<p class="caption">Shoe and Knee Buckles. +</p></div> + +<p> +In 1767 we find William Cabell of Virginia paying these prices for his finery:— +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em;"> +<tr><td></td><td>£</td><td>s.</td><td>d.</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Pair single channelled boots with straps</td><td> 1</td><td> 2</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Pair Strong Buckskin Breeches</td><td>1</td><td> 10</td></tr> +<tr><td>2 Pairs Fashionable Chain Silver Spurs </td><td> 2</td><td> 10</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Pair Silver Buttons </td><td></td><td> 6</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 fine Magazine Blue Cloth Housing laced</td><td></td><td>12</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 Strong Double Bridle</td><td></td><td>4</td><td> 6</td></tr> +<tr><td>6 Pair Men’s fine Silk Hose</td><td> 4 </td><td> 4</td></tr> +<tr><td>Buttons &; trimmings for a coat</td><td> 5</td><td> 2</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +New England dandies wore, as did Monsieur A-la-mode:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “A pair of smart pumps made up of grain’d leather,<br/> + So thin he can’t venture to tread on a feather.” +</p> + +<p> +Buckles were made of pinchbeck, an alloy of four parts of copper and one part +of zinc, invented by Christopher Pinchbeck, a London watchmaker of the +eighteenth century. Buckles were also “plaited” and double “plaited” with gold +and silver (which was the general spelling of plated). Plated buckles were cast +in pinchbeck, with a pattern on the surface. A silver coating was laid over +this. These buckles were set with marcasite, garnet, and paste jewels; +sometimes they were of gold with real diamonds. But much imitation jewellery +was worn by all people even of great wealth. Perhaps imitation is an incorrect +word. The old paste jewels made no assertion of being diamonds. Steel cut in +facets and combined with gold, made beautiful buckles. A number of rich shoe +and garter buckles, owned in Salem, are shown <a +href="#Shoe_and_Knee_Buckles.">here</a>. +</p> + +<p> +These old buckles were handsome, costly, dignified; they were becoming; they +were elegant. Nevertheless, the fashionable world tired of its expensive and +appropriate buckles; they suddenly were deemed inconveniently large, and plain +shoe-strings took their place. This caused great commotion and ruin among the +buckle-makers, who, with the fatuity of other tradespeople—the wig-makers, the +hair-powder makers—in like calamitous changes of fashion, petitioned the Prince +of Wales, in 1791, to do something to revive their vanishing trade. But it was +like placing King Canute against the advancing waves of the sea. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Wedding_Slippers."></a> +<img src="images/415.jpg" alt="Wedding Slippers." /> +<p class="caption">Wedding Slippers. +</p></div> + +<p> +When the Revolutionists in France set about altering and simplifying costume, +they did away with shoe-buckles, and fastened their shoes with plain strings. +Minister Roland, one day in 1793, was about to present himself to Louis XVI +while he was wearing shoes with strings. The old Master of Ceremonies, +scandalized at having to introduce a person in such a state of undress, looked +despairingly at Dumouriez, who was present. Dumouriez replied with an equally +hopeless gesture, and the words, “Hélas! oui, monsieur, tout est perdu.” +</p> + +<p> +President Jefferson, with his hateful French notions, made himself especially +obnoxious to conservative American folk by giving up shoe-buckles. I read in +the <i>New York Evening Post</i> that when he received the noisy bawling band +of admirers who brought into the White House the Mammoth Cheese (one of the +most vulgar exhibitions ever seen in this country), he was “dressed in his suit +of customary black, with shoes that laced tight round the ankle and closed with +a neat leathern string.” +</p> + +<p> +When shoe-strings were established and trousers were becoming popular, there +seemed to be a time of indecision as to the dress of the legs below the short +pantaloons and above the stringed shoes. That point of indefiniteness was +filled promptly with top-boots. First, black tops appeared; then came tops of +fancy leather, of which yellow was the favorite. Gilt tassels swung pleasingly +from the colored tops. Silken tassels—home made—were worn. I have a letter from +a young American macaroni to his sweetheart in which he thanks her for her +“heart-filling boot-tossels”—which seems to me a very cleverly flattering +adjective. He adds: “Did those rosy fingers twist the silken strands, and knot +them with thought of the wearer? I wish you was loveing enough to tye some +threads of your golden hair into the tossells, but I swear I cannot find never +a one.” The conjunction of two negatives in this manner was common usage a +hundred years ago; while “you was” may be found in the writings of our greatest +authors of that date. +</p> + +<p> +In one attribute, women’s footwear never varied in the two centuries of this +book’s recording. It was always thin-soled and of light material; never +adequate for much “walking abroad” or for any wet weather. In fact, women have +never worn heavy walking-boots until our own day. Whether high-heeled or +no-heeled they were always thin. +</p> + +<p> +The curious “needle-pointed” slippers which are pictured <a +href="#Wedding_Slippers_and_Brocade._1712.">here</a> were the bridal slippers +at the wedding of Cornelia de Peyster, who married Oliver Teller in 1712. +Several articles of her dress still exist; and the background of the slippers +is a breadth of the superb yellow and silver brocade wedding gown worn at the +same time. +</p> + +<p> +When we have the tiny pages of the few newspapers to turn to, we learn a little +of women’s shoes. There were advertisements in 1740 of “mourning shoes,” “fine +silk shoes,” “flowered russet shoes,” “white callimanco shoes,” “black shammy +shoes,” “girls’ flowered russet shoes,” “shoes of black velvet, white damask, +red morocco, and red everlasting.” “Damask worsted shoes in red, blue, green, +pink color and white,” in 1751. There were satinet patterns for ladies’ shoes +embroidered with flowers in the vamp. The heels were “high, cross-cut, common, +court, and wurtemburgh.” Some shoes were white with russet bands. “French fall” +shoes were worn both by women and men for many years. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="Mrs._Abigail_Bromfield_Rogers."></a> +<img src="images/418.jpg" alt="Mrs. Abigail Bromfield Rogers." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Abigail Bromfield Rogers. +</p></div> + +<p> +<a href="#Wedding_Slippers.">Here</a> is a pair of beautiful brocade wedding +shoes. The heels are not high. Another pair was made of the silken stuff of the +beautiful sacque worn by Mrs. Carroll. These have high heels running down to a +very small heel-base. In the works of Hogarth we may find many examples of +women’s shoes. In all the old shoes I have seen, made about the time of the +American Revolution, the maker’s name is within and this legend, “Rips mended +free.” Many heels were much higher and smaller than any given in this book. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="MrsCarrollsSlippers"></a> +<img src="images/419.jpg" alt="Mrs. Carroll’s Slippers." /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Carroll’s Slippers. +</p></div> + +<p> +It is astonishing to read the advocacy and eulogy given by sensible gentlemen +to these extreme heels. Watson, the writer of the <i>Annals of +Philadelphia</i>, extolled their virtues—that they threw the weight of the +wearer on the ball of the foot and spread it out for a good support. He +deplores the flat feet of 1830. +</p> + +<p> +In 1790 heels disappeared; sandal-shapes were the mode. The quarters were made +low, and instead of a buckle was a tiny bow or a pleated ribbon edging. In 1791 +“the exact size” of the shoe of the Duchess of York was published—a fashionable +fad which our modern sensation hunters have not bethought themselves of. It was +5 3/4 inches in length; the breadth of sole, 1 3/4 inches. It was a colored +print, and shows that the lady’s shoe was of green silk spotted with gold +stars, and bound with scarlet silk. The sole is thicker at the back, forming a +slight uplift which was not strictly a heel. Of course, this was a tiny foot, +but we do not know the height of the duchess. +</p> + +<p> +I have seen the remains of a charming pair of court shoes worn in France by a +pretty Boston girl. These had been embroidered with paste jewels, “diamonds”; +while to my surprise the back seam of both shoes was outlined with paste +emeralds. I find that this was the mode of the court of Marie Antoinette. The +queen and her ladies wore these in real jewels, and in affectation wore no +jewels elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +In Mrs. Gaskell’s <i>My Lady Ludlow</i> we are told that my lady would not +sanction the mode of the beginning of the century which “made all the fine +ladies take to making shoes.” Mrs. Blundell, in one of her novels, sets her +heroine (about 1805) at shoe-making. The shoes of that day were very thin of +material, very simple of shape, were heelless, and in many cases closely +approached a sandal. A pair worn by my great-aunt at that date is shown on this +page. American women certainly had tiny feet. This aunt was above the average +height, but her shoes are no larger than the number known to-day as “Ones”—a +size about large enough for a girl ten years old. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> + +<a name="White_Kid_Slippers._1815."></a> +<img src="images/421.jpg" alt="White Kid Slippers. 1815." /> +<p class="caption">White Kid Slippers. 1815. +</p></div> + +<p> +It was not long after English girls were making shoes that Yankee girls were +shaping and binding them in New England. I have seen several old letters which +gave rules for shaping and directions for sewing party-shoes of thin light kid +and silk. It is not probable that any heavy materials were ever made up by +women at home. Sandals also were worn, and made by girls for their own wear +from bits of morocco and kid. +</p> + +<p> +In the early years of the century the thin, silk hose and low slippers of the +French fashions proved almost unendurable in our northern winters. One wearer +of the time writes, “Many a time have I walked Broadway when the pavement sent +almost a death chill to my heart.” The Indians then furnished an article of +dress which must have been grateful indeed, pretty moccasins edged with fur, to +be worn over the thin slippers. +</p> + +<p> +An old lady recalled with precision that the first boots for women’s wear came +in fashion in 1828; they were laced at the side. Garters and boots both had +fringes at the top. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10115 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |