Order!

Francis Wheatley, 1747-1801, British, Soldier with Country Women Selling Ribbons, near a Military Camp, 1788, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Francis Wheatley, 1747-1801, British, Soldier with Country Women Selling Ribbons, near a Military Camp, 1788, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

You know you’re taking something seriously when you’re willing to pay for the privilege of reading a primary source. The microfilm I ordered from the Phillips Library arrived a week or so ago and I managed to snatch an hour or so between meetings to read and print some of the most interesting pages. I get a week or so more before the reader at work goes to storage, and then I’ll have to go haunt another library.

This is the kind of stuff I will happily read at bedtime, though it should also be noted that I will read regimental record books at bedtime, or runaway ads, so we may not share tastes in literature.

I was willing to pay for the film because I wanted to read the books in full to get a better sense of the context in which Bridget Connor was operating. (Delightedly, I realized last night as I fell asleep, of course there’s no death record for her in Massachusetts. She was expelled from camp at Newburgh, so why would she walk all the way back to Massachusetts? Why not set up a new life in New York? A whole new place to look for her!)

Beyond Bridget, there’s a wealth of detail in the Stephen Abbott Orderly Books.

Thomas Sandby, 1721-1798, British, Encampment at Maestricht, 1747, Pen in black ink, over graphite with gray wash on medium, moderately textured, beige, laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Thomas Sandby, 1721-1798, British, Encampment at Maestricht, 1747, Pen in black ink, over graphite with gray wash on medium, moderately textured, beige, laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

“Regl Orders 5th June 1782
the Regiment will make Every preparation
to March on Fryday the Soldiers are to
Clean there arms to Morrow and pack up
there Clothing.. The Commedants of Com
apanies are Directed to Send the tent poles
which are Finished to Morrow by 12 oClock
to the Landing where the tent Lay the Guard
with the tents will pitch a No of tents Suff
iciant to Cover the Straw and what ever Bag
gae is Brought previous to the march”

This helps us get a picture of the camp, and from the order about the tent poles, I think we may gather that there were plenty of tent poles NOT expected to be finished. (My colleagues enjoyed that part when I read it aloud at work.)

Regimnl Orders June 6th 1782
the Regiment will turn out to Morrow Morning
at the Beating of the Revelee and to March
By Six oClock they are to pack there cloth
ing and kook there provisions this Evening
when they have arivd on the Ground for Encam
ping the officer commanding on the Spot
will order a partry if Forty men from the Reg
iment a Capt and two Sub’s to Command them
to Return to the Encampment in order to asist
in Bringin on the Baggage the Soldiers
are to Carry there kittles in there hands and
are to Leave there arms and pakes &c at the
New Encampment any Soldier who is found
Plundering another pack is to be tyd up and
punished with out Trial..

Carry their kettles in their hands, their provisions cooked the night before. Now, wouldn’t that change an encampment’s appearance? Let alone tied up plunderers…

The Society of Friends

Courtesy Newport Historical Society
Courtesy Newport Historical Society

Last Friday, I joined my friends in Newport for a program at the Newport Historical Society.

We stood in the Seventh Day Baptist Meeting House behind the NHS’s headquarters building and read excerpts of letters from the Williams Collection.

This is a simple, elegant concept for a program, and works incredibly well if the correspondence have the gift for expression that these people did. Even quotidian details–the price someone wants to get for their dining set, the likelihood of moving one’s mother, who must be carried ‘as carefully as a box of China’–take on humor when read aloud.

Courtesy Newport Historical Society
Courtesy Newport Historical Society

The best letter might well have been the last one, read by Sew 18th  Century. The latest of the selection, the writer described a visit to Newport around 1844, arriving at the dock to the bustle of wagons, walking streets and finding a barber who knew the old fish hawker, the enormous jaw bone of a whale on a street corner, and even lifting the latch to walk inside the Seventh Day Baptist Meeting House where we were standing.

It was a lovely way to end the program, resonant with details the audience could connect with.

My dress turned out all right, and I managed to get it on and keep it on, which seemed a small miracle requiring only two pins.

When I tried it on at home, the front panel didn’t wrinkle, so I think I pulled it too tightly around me on Friday. I kept my bonnet on because I didn’t have time to make a new cap, so made do with the housekeeper’s cap from last fall. The chemisette was made by Cassidy, and saved me from the migratory ‘charms’ of a kerchief. The ‘shawl’ was a gift  Christmas from my mother, who rightly saw it as a scarf, but those who wish to keep warm do not quibble when they cannot find exactly what they want. Before I wear the dress again, I have to attend to interior seams of the skirt and scoot the cuffs down to lengthen the sleeves. Four yards of 48-inch wide silk was just enough, but needs a little tweaking when you’re a tall as I am.

Criss Cross

Dolly Eyland, by Alexander Keith, 1808. (c) The New Art Gallery Walsall; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Dolly Eyland, by Alexander Keith, 1808. (c) The New Art Gallery Walsall; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

I like Dolly. The colors, the textures, the style of her gown, shawl and cap all please me. She’s rocking some serious class for a woman headed towards a certain age. And she’s wearing a cross-front gown, which is what I settled on for my Quaker costume. 

Taffeta dress, ca.1800-1810, Originally found on Villa Rosemaine site, where it does not appear now.

The trouble with making a gown based on an artistic sketch in a book is that you don’t have the most complete sense of what that garment looks like, or how it goes together.

Not to worry, I went ahead anyway, because this is as close to Everest as I will ever get.

But I wanted comparable garments to help guide me. Ages ago I found the gown at left on a French costume site. That’s helpful, in that it explains the trickiness of assembling and wearing this style of garment. Three pieces coming together in the front may be one piece too many. 

In making up my pattern, I used the pattern for the Spencer as a starting place because I knew that the set of the sleeves and arm scye were what I wanted. No reason to re-invent that process!

That left me with the luxury of concentrating on the neckline.

That took a few goes with the tracing paper and muslin:  I did lose count after a while. There may have been tears, there definitely was swearing. Mr S at one point made jokes about this process appearing on the Discovery Channel’s “How it’s Made” as “the Quaker dress.” He’s really very patient, and I do understand the selective deafness he’s had to develop as a defense against the dark arts of sewing historic clothing.

Thank you, Cassidy, for the chemisette!

Eventually, I had a decent lining and even some silk bodice fronts. I fiddled with the fronts, and settled on gathers instead of pleats, but couldn’t quite figure out where the casing went. Some days I can process drawings into objects, some days I can’t. I’d just about reached the point of cutting it all up into the gown I always make when I discovered that the excellent women of the 19th US had patterned the gown from the drawing, too. (If you don’t already use this site, I highly recommend it. Excellent work.) Those pattern pieces look like my pattern pieces, so I decided it was worth carrying on with what I have.

The Difference is…

I make this look good.

Robe à la Polonaise ca. 1775 British silk Length at CB: 56 in. (142.2 cm) Purchase, Judith and Gerson Leiber Fund, 1981 MMA 1981.314.1

Scrolling through Pinterest lately, I was struck by how different two presentations can make one gown look.

Above, a lovely Ikat-type silk gown with en fourreau back and trim, center front closing and probably a little closer to 1778 or 1780 than 1775.

It’s presented on a mannequin that supports the gown for photography and allows us to see it clearly, from the trim at the neck to the pleats down the back and the pleasant fullness of the skirt.

The gown is shown, we get the details.

And then, in another image, another view.

Robe à la Polonaise ca. 1775 British silk Length at CB: 56 in. Purchase, Judith and Gerson Leiber Fund, 1981 MMA 1981.314.1

In this image, the gown (and its companion) have been styled and accessorized, fichus, hats, ribbons, sashes. The skirt is more fully and completely supported, showing off the silk to even better effect. We lose the trim and pleating details, but the gown is much more attractive in this view.

This is not meant to criticize the images or the handling of the costumes, but to point out that you have to look past the plain record shots in museum databases, and see the gown as it would have been worn. Working with database images, and re-creating garments from those images, requires a leap of imagination.

The more you look (at database photos, exhibition photos, extant garments, fashion plates, other re-creations) the better you will be able to imagine the garment as it might have been, and to make it yourself.

To be fair, original garments cannot always be mounted in stylish and appropriate fashion, but they can still tell us something. The more you look, the more you’ll see.