High Style in Rural New Hampshire, c1835

Susan reporting,

This week I'm visiting Colonial Williamsburg to attend the Costume Society of America's annual meeting. If any of you are attending as well, I hope you'll say hi.

I saw this portrait yesterday in CW's DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum, and felt she definitely deserved a post. Loretta has written many posts (and books!) that feature the exaggerated fashions of the 1830s - an era of big hair, bigger skirts, and the biggest sleeves. You can see examples here, here, and here, all from trend-setting English magazines of the time.

But American women have always possessed a stylish flair and a gift for making European fashions their own. Fashion magazines and trends traveled across the Atlantic as swiftly as clipper ships could bring them. The young woman in this portrait isn't from Paris or London, but from Milton Mills, New Hampshire, a village on the Salmon River bordering Maine.

Martha Spinney Simes (1808-c1883) was in her early twenties when this portrait was painted. She's shown sitting on an elegant (if a bit strangely proportioned) red sofa - the matching portrait of her husband has him sitting on a similar sofa or chair, facing her - that serves to enhance the emerald green of her dress. Her hair is pinned into the most fashionable of glossy knots and twists, with a short braid over one side of her forehead ending in a corkscrew curl.

And her jewelry! Martha has clearly embraced the idea of "more is more." In addition to two cuff bracelets and multiple rings, she wears an elaborate double-strand of glossy black beads, perhaps jet, and what is likely a cameo brooch. Her drop earrings are the real stars, however, over-sized gold drops with pale blue stones (opals, chalcedony, or agate?) that frame her face and help to balance her hair.

What I like best about this portrait is how all this finery doesn't overshadow Martha. Unlike the fashion plates and many European portraits of the time, she doesn't simper or glance sideways. Instead her expression seems forthright, direct, and intelligent, with just a hint of a smile. She's fabulous, and she knows it. And who's going to argue?

Portrait of Martha Spinney Simes (Mrs. Bray Underwood Simes), artist unknown, c1835, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

A Lace-Trimmed Shirt for a Cherished Baby, c1760-1784

Susan reporting,

Baby clothes hold a special place in costume collections. Except perhaps for wedding dresses, there's no other category of clothing that carries so much emotion. Infant clothes in the past were often made by the mother-to-be or other family members, and each stitch was lavished with love as well as hopes and dreams and probably a prayer or two for the new arrival. Because of their small size, baby clothes were also a splendid opportunity to display superior stitching and the finest of linens, and maybe even a bit of delicate needle-lace.

Too small to be recut or remodeled in a thrifty makeover, they survive as cherished mementos, a tiny little garment carefully tucked away in a drawer or chest. Too often, however, baby clothes are also sorrowful keepsakes from a time of staggeringly high rates of infant mortality, and represent a final link in linen and lace between a grieving mother and her lost child.

The exact reasons for why this particular shirt was preserved have been forgotten; according to the family's history, the shirt was associated with Jane Hodge Nichols, born around 1784 and later wife of Thomas Nichols of Maine. Little Jane was fortunate indeed to wear this shirt, which is rich in costly detail. This was likely a shirt for special occasions, not for everyday wear, and it's small (I'd guess about a modern size 6 month.) The plain-woven linen is extremely fine, the neck and sleeves are edged with bobbin lace, and there are insertions of dainty needle-lace at the tops of the shoulders. The pleats on the sleeves are almost unimaginably narrow, and the entire shirt represents a superior level of needlework. (As always, click on the image to enlarge.)

Most notable are the sleeve buttons (like modern cuff-links), an unusual feature in baby shirts. These are solid gold, with a hexagonal shape and engraved designs. The style of the buttons is earlier than the shirt itself, and it's possible that they were a family heirloom from a previous generation, and passed down along with the shirt. Beautiful and valuable, they must have brought good luck to tiny Jane: she lived until 1861.

Many thanks to Neal Hurst, Associate Curator of Costume and Textile, Colonial Williamsburg, for showing this shirt (plus many other costume goodies!) to me during a visit last month.

Infant's shirt with lace trim, maker unknown, c1760-1784, America, New England, (probably) Maine. Collection of Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.
Photographs ©2017 Susan Holloway Scott.

An Elegant Woman's Jacket, c1780, from Printed Cotton from India, c1750

Susan reporting,

I'm deep in the middle of final copy edits, so this will be a quick - but very beautiful! - post.

This woman's jacket is from the splendid new exhibition that opened last week in the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum of Colonial Williamsburg. Printed Fashions: Textiles for Clothing and Home features stunning examples from the late 17thc to the early 19thc, all drawn from Colonial Williamsburg's own collections. I'll be writing another post about the exhibition soon, but for now this will serve as a sample of the glories currently on display.

The jacket was made in Europe c1750 from a textile imported from India - a mordant-painted and resist dyed cotton - and lined in linen. Jackets like this would have been worn over a linen shift and a contrasting petticoat, and would likely have been accessorized with a triangular kerchief around the neck, with white ruffles pinned to the bottoms of the sleeves.

According to the placard:

This charming jacket is constructed from an earlier India chintz textile, clear evidence that the chintz was sufficiently prized to warrant restyling years later. The center-front closure suggests a date in the late 1770s or early 1780s. Fitted jackets worn with separate skirts called petticoats were practical and comfortable for work and informal occasions. They were more economical than full-length gowns because they did not require additional yards of fabric.

More to come....

Jacket, maker unknown, Europe, c1780; textile, India, c1750. Colonial Williamsburg. Photo ©2017 Susan Holloway Scott.

A Well-Loved Georgian Doll and Her Wardrobe, c.1790

Isabella reporting,

Modern girls may believe that Barbie has the ultimate fashion wardrobe, but the long-ago owner of this 18thc wooden doll in the collection of Colonial Williamsburg would have argued otherwise - and she'd win.

Standing about 16" tall, this wooden doll is a true Georgian beauty, with brown glass eyes, a rosy painted complexion, and a curled hair wig. She has a cone-shaped figure that reflected the fashionable silhouette created for real women by stays. Her shoulders, elbows, legs, and hips are all jointed, which must have made her a costly toy indeed. (For comparison to other dolls of about the same era, see here, here, and here.)

This lady also has an enviable wardrobe that's entirely handsewn, shown here in her own storage drawer. Included are stylish gowns, stays, petticoats, shifts, nightgowns, a cloak, and a wealth of accessories that include caps, shoes, stockings, pockets, and handkerchiefs. Miraculously, only one piece is missing after more than two centuries, a fingerless mitt that has left the survivor without a mate.

While many surviving 18thc dolls (called pandoras) were meant to show the latest fashions in miniature in the shops of mantua-makers, this one was definitely a plaything. She was passed down through the daughters of a single family, and when she arrived in Colonial Williamsburg, she was accompanied by family letters that gave her an exceptional provenance. Most likely her original owner was Mary Anne Wainman (1784-1846), who might have played with the doll at her family's home, Carr Head, in the parish of Kildwick, West Riding, Yorkshire.

Many thanks to Linda Baumgarten, Jan Gilliam, and Christina Westenberger for "opening the drawers" of the collection for me, and for their assistance with this post.

Doll and original clothing, Great Britain, most likely England, c1790. Collection, Colonial Williamsburg. Photographs by Susan Holloway Scott with permission of The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

A Much-Loved Family Dollhouse from 1820

Isabella reporting,

Years ago when my daughter was younger, my husband and I conspired to make the ultimate (at least that year!) Christmas present for her: a big wooden dollhouse with a swinging door across the front, wallpaper in every room and clapboarding on the outside, a shingled roof, and a chimney covered with tiny bricks. We had a blast making it, but from Christmas morning onward we realized the house would become a never-ending work in progress, with my daughter frequently "redecorating" with new furnishings, rugs, tiny pets, and even the occasional new doll-resident. Although she's outgrown the house now, it still occupies a place of pride in our living room, waiting until one day she'll take it to share with her own children.

That's probably why I am so drawn to this doll house, right, in the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg. The house was originally made for a pair of twin sisters from a prosperous Philadelphia family, Elizabeth Clifford Morris Canby (1813-1892) and Sarah Wistar Morris (1813-1826)), and was given to them some time around their seventh birthday in 1820. It remained in the family for over 150 years, until it was finally given to Colonial Williamsburg in the 1981. The numerous generations of girls that played with it are reflected in its somewhat unwieldy name: the Morris-Canby-Rumford Dollhouse.

Although this dollhouse is far from the most lavish in the CW collection, it was clearly cherished and clearly played with, and the rooms reflect changing tastes and styles as well as those of the young owners. While some of the furnishing are original, there were additions made all the way through the mid-20thc.

But my favorite addition to this dollhouse was made by Samuel Canby Rumford (1876-1950), grandson of original owner Elizabeth. While he made several pieces of miniature furniture for the house in the 1930s, the most impressive is the the tall chest-on-chest in the corner of the bedroom, above left.

Crafted from the thin wood of a cigar box, the chest is something of a double family heirloom: it's a tiny version of a full-sized mahogany chest-on-chest that had descended in the family since the 18thc. That original chest, left, was the work of celebrated cabinet-maker Thomas Affleck in 1775 as a wedding gift from father to daughter. It, too, was acquired by Colonial Williamsburg from the family, and it now stands (quite wonderfully) in the next gallery from the dollhouse with the miniature replica.

Upper left: Detail, Bedroom, Morris-Canby-Rumford Dollhouse, 1820, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Photograph ©2015 Susan Holloway Scott.
Right: Morris-Canby-Rumford Dollhouse, 1820, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Photograph courtesy Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.
Lower left: Chest-on-Chest, by Thomas Affleck, Philadelphia, 1775, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Photograph ©2015 Susan Holloway Scott.

An 1807 Family Portrait for Mother's Day

Isabella reporting,

With Mother's Day coming up this weekend, I'm sharing one of my favorite portraits from the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg. I love how The Smith Family shows the mother, Rachel King Smith (1774-1823), as the center of both the picture, and their extended family. She looks like an energetic, fun mother, too. How many other 19th c. mothers are depicted so informally, with a child perched on her shoulders?

But what makes this picture extra special is that it's believed to have been painted by her husband, Captain James Smith (1762-1818), a Scottish sea captain who had sailed to India and southeast Asia. From this painting, he clearly loved his wife. According to the painting's placard, the family faced considerable challenges - only five of their nine children survived to adulthood, and there were financial woes as well – which must have made him appreciate her all the more.

Family tradition credits Captain James Smith with having painted this group portrait of his extended family. He included himself, in profile at the upper right. In 1790, the sea captain and merchant settled in Dumfries, Prince William County, Virginia, where he and his family occupied a 600-acre estate called Cedar Grove. A decline in the local shipping industry forced Smith into bankruptcy and relocation. In the fall of 1806, he opened a mercantile store in Richmond, and his family joined him there the following spring. The portrait is thought to have been painted around the time of their reunion.

Happy Mother's Day!

Above: The Smith Family, by Captain James Smith (possibly). Probably Richmond, VA, c. 1807. Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg.

Indispensable Objects for Dressing a Wig, c.1750-80

Susan reporting,

Sometimes everyday objects from the past are instantly recognizable to modern eyes, while others are completely mystifying. I'm guessing that for most of us today, the two objects above would fall into the mystifying category. Both appeared as part of the talk "Fashionable Fittings for Hair Care and More" from the Head for Fashion conference this past weekend, Colonial Williamsburg; they were displayed by Amanda Keller, assistant curator of historic interiors & household accessories, Colonial Williamsburg.

If you'd worn a wig in late 18th c. England or North America, you would likely have recognized at least one of these peculiar-looking objects. They're both forms of dispensing powder to a dressed wig or hair. (For more about 18th c. hair powder, see here.) The gentleman in the print, lower left, is on the receiving end of a similar device, and looks none to happy about it, either.

The object, lower left, is a wig bellows. The accordion-like section is made of leather. At the larger end is a turned wooden cover that was removed to fill the bellows. At the smaller end is a metal cap with a fine mesh screen. While the leather of the bellows has now stiffened with age, it once must have given a quite satisfying whoosh of fine powder, a snowy dusting that would have been the finishing touch to the coiffed head of a well-dressed gentleman or lady.

The second object, above right, is a wig carrot, named for its resemblance to the vegetable.  It, too,
was used for dusting a wig with powder, but through a slightly different technique. Like the bellows, the end has a fine metal screen with a cap that unscrews for filling with powder. The carrot, however, relies on the lung power of the hairdresser, who would blow through the narrow tip to scatter a find spray of the powder through the other end. The carrot is made of turned wood, while its tip is made of horn.

While I'm sure an 18th c. hairdresser would be able to identify modern curling irons and hair rollers – both are similar in shape to their Georgian counterparts – imagine how amazed (and delighted) he would be by a blow-dryer. All the power of the wind in your hand!

Above: Wig Bellows & Wig Carrot, mid 18th c. England. Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg.
Below: The Englishman in Paris, by Jno. Collet, 1770. Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University.

Watermelon Season

Isabella reporting,

Not everything in the collections of Colonial Williamsburg relates to 18^th c. America.  The Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg also houses the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum, which features  all manner of delightful pieces from the 18^th-21^st c. (including this early 20^th c. carousel cat from an earlier blog post) by artists and craftspeople working outside the mainstream of academic art.

This gargantuan wooden watermelon with a grapevine stem and its own handcart is one of my favorites in the entire collection, and it seems appropriate for the first sultry week of July. Carved around 1960 as an advertising sign, the watermelon’s history from its exhibition placard is worth repeating:

“Miles Carpenter (1889-1985) was born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where he and his brothers grew up working in a family-owned sawmill. By 1910, he had married and moved his family to Waverly, Virginia, where he set up a sawmill of his own. Millwork slowed with the onset of World War II, prompting Carpenter to begin making decorative carvings out of bits of leftover wood. By 1942, however, the pace of his primary business had resumed, and not until 1955 did he again find to time to whittle and paint.

To supplement his sawmill income, Carpenter peddled garden produce from a roadside stand using this watermelon as an advertisement. In 1972, a former curator of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum spied the amusing melon when passing through Waverly, and eventually the oversized fruit was acquired for the museum. Carpenter enjoyed describing the incredulous reactions of passing motorists who had mistaken his carving for a work of nature.”

I bet those passing motorists were disappointed, too.

Above: Watermelon, by Miles Burkholder Carpenter, Waverly, VA, 1960. Oil on elm wood with natural grapevine stem. Art Museum of Colonial Williamsburg.