Tag: Philadelphia

Passing Strange

On By kittycalashIn making things, material culture, Research
Inspiration: gown, 1740s (silk) remade 1775-1780. Colonial Williamsburg 2000-133

In representing Magdalen Devine at the Museum of the American Revolution’s Revolutionary Philadelphia event, I decided to make a brown silk gown. This is an easy and solid choice for nearly any (every) woman in any location in the Anglo-American colonies in the latter half of the eighteenth century. If you want another option, go blue. But the reason I chose brown is not just because it’s common, or because I have achieved a certain age, but because both Magdalen Devine and Anne Pearson, although members of the Church of England, were associated with prominent Quakers. 

Magdalen Devine, known to Elizabeth Drinker as “Dilly,” accompanied Drinker on trips to Bath at Bristol, Pennsylvania, where the two visited the waters. In what is now Bucks County, these baths were chalybeate or ferruginous, meaning they contained iron salts. These mineral baths,  initially described as “nasty,” were eventually sought for their medicinal uses. (There is a handy book on American spring resorts called They Took to the Waters: the Forgotten Mineral Spring Resorts of New Jersey and nearby Pennsylvania and Delaware.) 

Devine and Drinker visited Bath several times in July and August of 1771. Drinker seemed hesitant to take to the waters at first, and while it is not clear whether “Dilly” helped her overcome her nervousness, the two made multiple trips over the course of several weeks. Eventually, Drinker recorded sharing a bed with Devine, so the two must have achieved a level of comfort, if not friendly intimacy, with each other. (You can read the diary entries here.) 

A Lady, ca. 1747-1752 watercolor by Paul Sandby. Royal Collection Trust, RCN 914415

There is nothing in Drinker’s diary to suggest Devine’s appearance or clothing, which, although disappointing, is normal for a diary of the period. But this level of comfort suggests that Devine projected a pleasing, non-jarring appearance and blended in with Drinker and her family and friends fairly well. This could easily be achieved in a brown, grey, or other dull-colored gown. Any of these colors would have been appropriate for Devine, who by 1771 was likely in or approaching her 50s, having been married in Dublin in 1748. (Lest you think Dublin means Catholic, Devine was married at Saint Catherine’s Church, https://www.saintcatherines.ie/our-story, an Anglican church originally built in 1185 and rebuilt in 1769. The Catholic St. Catherine’s in Dublin was completed in 1858.)

Similarly, milliner and trader Anne Pearson is recorded visiting Dr. John Fothergill in London in February 1771. Fothergill wrote to James Pemberton of Philadelphia:         

“Dear Friend,

I have just got the enclosed in time to send by our valuable acquaintance Nancy Pearson, who has been so obliging as to see us as often as her business would permit. We were pleased with it as she acts the part of a mutual Friend; brings us an account of our esteemed Friends with you, and carries back all the intelligence she can get that may be acceptable to you.” Pemberton Papers, Etting Collection, II, 65, Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

I know this is Anne Pearson, because she wrote to William Logan of Pennsylvania describing her meeting with Dr. Fothergill. Anne was known as “Nancy” to her mother and family. “Nancy” is described in a footnote by editors as “A Quakeress, well esteemed in her ministry,” but I believe they have mistaken the meaning of “mutual Friend.” 

Hannah Lambert Cadwalader (Mrs. Thomas Cadwalader). Oil on canvas by Charles Willson Peale. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1983-90-2

Did Fothergill assume Anne was a Quaker because she came from Philadelphia? Or did she dress in a manner that suggested she was a Quaker? It would have been easy enough to achieve a level of “plain” dressing with a brown gown and simple accessories like a white handkerchief and apron, and a lappet cap or a relatively unadorned cap. Did Anne and Magdalen (Nancy and Dilly) dress in ways that made their Quaker customers feel at ease? It would be possible to dress both plain and well, with neatly made fine accessories that would appeal to the eyes and instincts of Quakers and Anglicans alike. Perhaps. While there is no way to know for certain, and two passages do not make data, they do suggest something about these businesswomen and their ability to move among and between distinct groups.

Looking for a Ship

On By kittycalashIn Events, History, Living History, Research
a table covered by a blanket with reproduction newspapers, a ledger book, and a leather bag
Collecting debts and packing up.

This past weekend (November 1-2) at the Museum of the American Revolution’s Revolutionary City (Pre-Occupied) event, I was pleased to represent Magdalen Devine, a feme sole trader in Philadelphia who ran a mercantile business between 1762 and 1775. Devine’s situation in 1775 reflects the tensions and uncertainties felt by many at the start of the American Revolution, and continues to resonate today.

a printed broadside advertising textiles for sale by Magdalen Devine in 1775
Broadside, Magdalen Devine, printed by John Dunlap, n.d. [1775] Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Ab[1780]-16

In 1775, Magdalen Devine, “being determined to leave off business,” advertised that she was selling “at Prime Cost, for CASH ONLY, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL, all her STOCK IN TRADE.” Devine first appeared in a Philadelphia newspaper ad in September 1762, selling imported goods with her brother, Frances Wade. By the following spring, the siblings had dissolved their partnership, and Magdalen had set up her own shop in Second Street between Market and Chestnut.

Devine’s ads reflected a keen sense of merchandising, including woodcuts illustrating printed and check fabrics and tightly wound fabric bolts. For more than a decade, Devine imported and sold goods on Second Street, eventually moving into a house she owned that was equipped with “two show windows with very large glass,” probably among the first instances of London-style shop windows in Philadelphia. 

Fire Insurance Survey, “A house belonging to Magdelane Devine.” Insurance Survey S01561

For more than a dozen years, Devine traveled between Philadelphia and London, selecting, importing, and selling “a large and neat assortment of European and India goods.” The chintzes, linens, cottons, and woolens that Devine imported represented the wide range of textiles available, many with specific applications from jean cloth for clothing enslaved workers, tickings for mattresses, and hair cloths for sieves along with the chintzes, taffeties, and superfines that dressed the city’s elite. 

By April 17, 1775, she had “determined to decline business, as she intends for England shortly” and published ads in the Philadelphia newspapers calling in debts. Although she initially gave debtors two months (until mid-June), in August she was still in the city and advertising her intention to put debts “into a lawyer’s hands” if not paid within two weeks. An August 30th paper reprinted her ad of August 1, suggesting that the debt collection was not going as she’d planned in April, and the weeks and months kept stretching ahead. The ad placed on August 30th suggests she planned to leave not later than September 15th.

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Unfortunately for Devine, mid-September saw a slowdown and stoppage of ships coming in and going out of Philadelphia. By September 18th, no ships were reported outward bound from the city. Magdalen Devine was stuck. 

A woman in a brown eighteenth-century dress with a straw hat and a white apron, standing in front of a painted door set into a brick wall.
“Magdalen Devine” dressed in brown silk with a new straw hat.

Did she get out on an early September ship bound for Cork or Dublin, and make her way from there to England? Perhaps, but it seems more likely that she miscalculated and was caught in the city as insurers, shippers, and sea captains struggled to make sense of the news from Boston, Providence, and London. Newspapers published English threats to burn all the port cities of the American colonies, and warships plying coastal waters from North Carolina to Maine surely made sailing seem unwise. 

Why did Magdalen Devine decide to close her business and leave Philadelphia for England? Just one year before, in 1774, she had acquired the shop with the “two show windows.” What made leaving a good idea? The threads are hard to find, let alone pull, but perhaps her childhood and young adulthood in Dublin suggested that the violence the British were willing to use against a rebellious colony. Famines and strikes in the 1740s prompted British reprisals against a country that served as a laboratory of colonialism.

a woman in a straw hat and short black cloak
With my ledger in hand– and a fabulous new hat.

In the absence of passenger lists, it is hard to know whether Devine made it back to England in 1775, or whether she had to wait until 1783. We know she made it to London, because her death is recorded there in late 1783. 

Resources on the English in Ireland 

http://www.sneydobone.com/webtree/history-ir.htm

https://www.tcd.ie/news_events/articles/2023/how-ireland-served-as-a-laboratory-for-the-british-empire/

https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/timeline-ireland-and-british-army

https://daily.jstor.org/britains-blueprint-for-colonialism-made-in-ireland/



A Blue Homespun Gown

On By kittycalashIn Clothing, making things

How long does fabric need to ‘season’ in your stash? 

I like to savor yardage for half a decade or so, as once I have fabric I really like, I never think I’m adept enough to use it. I need to build up more skills before I cut into that silk/wool/what-have-you.

So, five years ago or so, I bought some lovely blue homespun from a friend who had determined she would not manifest her plans for it. It’s the same Burnley & Trowbridge fabric that Mr. K’s 1824 coat was made from, just not washed, and thus retains a smoother texture.

There was not quite five yards, but that never matters. Josie and I argue about whether or not I can make what I have work, and while she always says no, I can usually get an English gown out of four and a quarter to four and a half yards if the fabric is wide enough.

It took long enough to make that the fabric became a bed for the cat.

I was interrupted in the process: I took two classes this semester, taught a workshop, went to a friend’s birthday party in Philadelphia, tried to buy a house, and endured the world. I was glad to get back to the work, though, since sewing is always satisfying. It’s “just” another English gown with a pleated back and stomacher, in classic blue. I wore it to the Makers’ Event at the Museum of the American Revolution in May, just days before my final papers were due.

To make it fully a colonial lady stereotype, I wore it with a blue petticoat. The petticoat was remade from the first gown I ever made. Not only did the gown no longer quite fit, it wasn’t made to the standards I live by now. The linen was far too nice to let sit, another Burnley & Trowbridge fabric from over a decade ago.

A Snuff-Coloured Cloak

On By kittycalashIn Clothing, making things

In August, the Museum of the American Revolution contacted me about making a snuff-colored cloak. Although many 18th-century women’s cloaks were red, some were not. Newspapers carry ads for stolen goods and runaways in brown camblet cloaks lined with baize; white silk cloaks; black silk cloaks; and cloth cloaks, which are probably “cloth colored” wool– what we would think of as drab or beige. The Museum referenced an ad from the Pennsylvania Gazette of April 30, 1777, May 7, 1777, and May 21, 1777. 

Run away from the subscriber, living in Evesham township, in the State of New Jersey, Burlington county, on the 20th of April. 1777, a certain Sarah McGee, Irish descent, born in Philadelphia; she is about 23 years of age, about 5 feet 7 inches high, very lusty made in proportion; she had on when she went away, a snuff coloured worsted long gown, a spotted calico petticoat, stays and a good white apron, a snuff colored cloak, faced with snuff coloured shalloon, a black silk bonnet, with a ribbon around the crown: She was seen with her mother, in Philadelphia, who lives in Shippen street, where it is supposed she is concealed. Whoever takes up said servant and brings her to her master, or puts her in confinement, so that her master gets her again, shall have the above reward, and reasonable charges, paid by Barzillai Coat
Pennsylvania Gazette, May 7, 1777. page 3

 “Run away from the subscriber, living in Evesham township, in the State of New Jersey, Burlington county, on the 20th of April. 1777, a certain Sarah McGee, Irish descent, born in Philadelphia; she is about 23 years of age, about 5 feet 7 inches high, very lusty made in proportion; she had on when she went away, a snuff coloured worsted long gown, a spotted calico petticoat, stays and a good white apron, a snuff colored cloak, faced with snuff coloured shalloon, a black silk bonnet, with a ribbon around the crown: She was seen with her mother, in Philadelphia, who lives in Shippen street, where it is supposed she is concealed. Whoever takes up said servant and brings her to her master, or puts her in confinement, so that her master gets her again, shall have the above reward, and reasonable charges, paid by Barzillai Coat”

I was not clever enough to latch onto the snuff-coloured shalloon facings, but I made up a hooded cloak with a snuff-coloured silk lining and dispatched it just before school started. (I doubt I could have achieved a happy color match in any modern “shalloon.”) I’d picked up the wool and silk in Natick, Massachusetts on a summer trip in 2018, and had planned — and put off– a snuff-coloured cloak of my own. Oh well. 

a hand drawn sketch of a cloak layout, showing an arc with measurements
Highly Scientific

As the semester drew to a close, the cloak started gnawing at me. That was really nice wool! And such a nice color! I really had wanted my own cloak. I succumbed to ordering some substitute wool, and over the winter break, made myself a cloak. They only a day or so, once you’ve done the math to chalk and cut the pieces. I have a handy diagram to help me figure it out, adapted from Sue Felshin’s classic post on cloaks. You don’t need much else. 

the pleated back of a cloak hood made of butterscotch colored woolThis wool is heavier than what I’ve used before, and I’m not fully enamored with the drape. Still, this will go a long way towards completing the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Quaker look when I wear it with the brown gown I made this past summer. I love my red cloak, but for a Philadelphia Quaker’s brown gown, a snuff-coloured cloak is a better match. 

The making is really simple. You do want to start with a well-made wool broadcloth or coating that will hold a cut edge– that eliminates a lot of hemming, and takes advantage of the natural characteristics of the wool just as 18th-century makers did. You don’t need a lot; I used 1.75 yards of 52-60” wool, which makes an acceptable length cloak even for me (I am 5’-10”). 

a snuff colored wool cloak on a female mannequin
The finished cloak (and a fancy petticoat)

The cloak neck edge is pleated to a neck size that suits you (annoying, I know, but that’s how this works). The hood is stitched up the center back (I used a butt stitch), with the last 6” or so pleated. This is the trickiest bit. Even strokes make a nice array, but the real trick is stitching the pleats flat so that they hold the shape. Sometimes it turns out better than others; heavier weight wool will be harder to wrangle, as this was. 

a tan and beige cloak hood seen from inside, piecing seams visible
Piecing is period, and appropriate for the inside of hood.

I ended up piecing the silk for the hood lining (piecing is period) and I’m pleased with how that turned out. I barely had the patience to do it, but the result was pleasing and I saved silk, so there’s that. For ties, I used some silk satin ribbon purchased for some other, now-forgotten project. I tend to save materials, thinking I’m not “good enough” to use them– that is, not skilled enough. Well, if not now, when? The cloak and its ribbon ties mean much more worn than that they will stashed in storage. Eat the cake. Buy the shoes. Make the dress, the cloak, the apron, the ruffles. Make whatever brings you joy.