Revisiting a Special 18thc Wedding Dress

Isabella reporting,

While I was in Boston last week, I visited the Bostonian Society at the Old State House to see an old friend - if an 18thc wedding dress can be considered a friend! I've previously written two other blog posts (here and here, with many more photos) about this extraordinary wedding dress, embroidered by Boston bride Elizabeth Bull Price in the 1730s.

At that time, I'd only seen the dress flat on its back in its storage box. Now, thanks to the generosity of an anonymous donor, the dress has been conserved for exhibition and a custom mannequin and display case provided, and it can currently be seen in the Council Chamber of the Old State House. In that historic and very male space, the dress is a decidedly feminine interloper, standing there across from the life-sized portrait of King Charles I.

But history affected the women of Boston as well as the men, and Elizabeth Bull Price (1717-1780) saw the small colonial town of her childhood grow into one of the most important cities of a new country. Her dress is a reminder that while the heated politics of 18thc. Massachusetts may dominate the history books, men and women were still falling in love and marrying, with all the usual dreams for shared and happy futures.

With the dress on the mannequin, it's now possible to see Elizabeth's skillful embroidery, right, from all sides; the back, above left, is particularly striking. (It was a very sunny morning, so my apologies for the slanting sunlight in these photos.) Although nearly 300 years old, the colored silk threads are vibrant, the floral designs elaborate and lively. It's also easier to see the alterations that transformed the 1730s dress into an 1830s one, to be worn by a later Price family member. This is the version of the dress that survives today.

That young woman was tiny. According to the measurements of the mannequin, she was about 5'2", and her corseted figure would today wear a J.Crew size 000. The now-unknown 19thc seamstress who updated the dress fortunately was respectful of Elizabeth's handiwork, and it's fascinating to see how she made deep pleats in the skirts to avoid cutting. Alas, the bodice and the puffy sleeves are decidedly 1830s additions, but I'm guessing that the little embroidered "wings" , lower left, over the puffed sleeves are the sleeve flounces from the original dress.

The dress is on display until early November, to be followed by the dress's original petticoat - also beautifully embroidered. If you're on the Freedom Trail, it's well worth a visit. For more about Elizabeth Bull Price and more photos, see here for an excellent article by Tricia Gilrein, Collections Manager and Exhibitions Coordinator of the Bostonian Society.

All photographs ©2015 Susan Holloway Scott.

A "Lady with a Scarf," c. 1820, Inspiring Sailors – and Perhaps Nathaniel Hawthorne

Isabella reporting,

Museums are like icebergs - very often what's on display for the world to admire is only a tiny fraction of what is actually in the collection, hidden away in storage rooms and warehouses.

This week I again visited one of my favorite historical spots in Boston, The Bostonian Society, located in the Old State House Museum. I was there at the invitation of Patricia Gilrein, Collections Manager, who brought out exquisite baby clothes from the exceptional 18th c. needle of Elizabeth Bull Price (I've already shared her wedding gown and neckerchief) that will soon merit blog posts of their own.

But I also had the chance to follow Patricia off into one of the Society's storage areas, and that's where I encountered this winsome young lady. Although she's posed like a figurehead, ready to lead a ship across the seas, she likely never saw a drop of saltwater. Instead she served as a shop display piece, a model to show off the skills of her maker: Isaac Fowle, an expert carver working from 1807-1832. His shop was at 53 Prince Street in Boston, and the business was continued by his two sons, John D. Fowle and William Henry Fowle, until 1869.

At 74" tall, the figure is larger than life. She's carved from pine, and she's painted white, perhaps to make her look more like a classical statue carved of stone. Unlike the seductive mermaids and idealized goddesses that were favorites of both 19th c. carvers and sailors, this figure looks more like a portrait of a real young woman.  Perhaps she was Isaac Fowle's own wife, sweetheart, or daughter, or a young woman who worked in one of the other shops on Prince Street.

Whoever she might have been, Fowle chose to show her fashionably dressed in a button-front gown, short boots, and lace-trimmed petticoats, and the way the fabric pulls slightly across the front of her bodice (and scandal! no corset!) must have made plenty of sailors sigh.  I love all the little details - the trim and border of her dress, her skirts rippling in the wind, even the brooch at her collar and the bracelet on her wrist – that make her seem almost alive.

But there's a chance she might have inspired more than shipowners and randy sailors. Tradition says this figure was seen by Massachusetts author Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), and that she was the inspiration for his fanciful short story "Drowne's Wooden Image" from Mosses from an Old Manse and Other Tales (1846). You can read it online here (it's a very short story), and judge for yourself.

Many thanks to Patricia Gilrein for introducing me to this delightful lady! 

Lady with a Scarf, by Isaac Fowle, c 1820. The Bostonian Society. Photographs copyright 2014 Susan Holloway Scott.

Elizabeth Bull's Embroidered Neckerchief, c. 1735

Isabella reporting,

Earlier this summer I visited The Bostonian Society in Boston, MA to view a very special 18th c. embroidered wedding dress; my posts on the dress and the bride who made and wore it are here and here.

But that wasn't all I saw that day. Patricia Gilrein, collections manager and exhibitions coordinator at the Bostonian Society, had another example of Elizabeth Bull Price's embroidery to show me. Carefully laid in white preservation paper was this exquisite triangular neckerchief, or scarf, stitched about the same time as the wedding dress, in 1730s New England.

Made of fine green silk imported from China and embroidered with silk and metallic threads from Europe, this was another masterpiece of needlework art: the designs are perfectly composed and balanced, the colors still rich and well-chosen, and the embroidery itself is breathtaking. I was especially impressed with the serpentine border, a true test of any embroiderer's skill. The kerchief would have been worn around the shoulders of a gown with the narrow ends in front (much how women often wear triangular shawls today), and pinned in place to the bodice. It must have made quite an impression when it was new, with the metallic threads bright and sparkling by candlelight.

There's no question that time has taken its toll. The fine green silk cloth has deteriorated around the threads, with small holes and spots of wear that make the piece fragile, and the gold and silver threads have tarnished over time. But the quality of one woman's imagination, talent, and skill remains undiminished, and it's easy to imagine Elizabeth sitting beside a window for light, taking great pleasure in choosing her threads and patterns.

Many thanks to Patricia Gilrein, Kimberly Alexander, and the staff of the Bostonian Society for sharing their treasures with me.

Above: Neckerchief made by Elizabeth Bull Price. Collection of The Bostonian Society. Photographs copyright 2014 Susan Holloway Scott.

More about the 1734 Wedding Dress, and the Bride who Embroidered and Wore It

Isabella reporting,

As I wrote this blog post on Elizabeth Bull's embroidered wedding dress from The Bostonian Society earlier this week, I realized I'd need a second post as well to share all the interesting things I'd learned about the dress - as well as a mystery about it, too. Since so many of you wished to know more about Elizabeth herself,and what happened to her (and the dress) after her marriage, I'm including that, too.

Although the dress has been updated and refashioned several times in its history - it currently reflects the styles of the 1830s - there's a hint that perhaps it might have been changed even before it was first worn. Preserved along with the dress is an item referred to as the "practice bodice," left, a fitted back section of a dress bodice, that is currently on display at the Old State House in Boston.

The bodice is actually only the back-half of a bodice, as you can see in the photo right. It's made from the same celadon China silk as the dress itself, and not only were the same silk threads used to embroider it, but the design and craftsmanship are every bit as elegant and skilled as that used on the dress itself. Note, too, the inked designs towards the bottom that were never completed. (There's also an extra small scrap of embroidery pinned near to the neckline.)

While no one knows for sure, historians have decided that this was a trial run for Elizabeth's embroidery, a test piece before she began on the actual dress. As anyone who has embroidered with silk, on silk, will know, it's not easy, and, once stitched, it's also very difficult to pick out to correct or change a design. Given that Elizabeth was only fifteen or so at the time, perhaps her mother or embroidery instructor suggested this step to help build her confidence.

Or...perhaps this once was the actual back of the dress. Certainly there's nothing "trial" about the design or the stitchery. But once that embroidery was complete, there'd be no possibility of making adjustments in the vertical pleats that shape the back of the bodice. What if in the years in which she worked on the dress, she grew in size to the point that the narrow back no longer fit and needed to be replaced, and a newer section was inserted?

Or...perhaps Elizabeth changed her mind regarding the dress's style. She was obviously fashion-conscious, and cost was not an issue to her. A new style in women's gowns was appearing from Paris during the time she was working on her dress. The robe à la Française, or sack gown, replaced the earlier fitted back with a series of open pleats that flowed gracefully down from the shoulders into the skirt. (Here's an example from 1730-40, and here's a replica of a similar dress being made by the mantua-makers of Colonial Williamsburg that shows the pleats more clearly.) Could it be that Elizabeth wished to follow this new style, and discarded the original, now-old-fashioned back?

These possibilities are only musings of my own; novelists can let their imagination ramble, while professional historians can't. No one knows for certain, and neither the back of the dress as it stands nor the practice bodice offer many clues. But it's a tantalizing mystery, isn't it?

What happened to the Elizabeth and her wedding dress? In 1734, she married an Englishman, the Reverend Roger Price, a commissary of the Church of England; he was twenty years older than she, and it was a marriage joining prestige and fortune. Soon afterwards, the couple moved from Boston to a substantial house in rural Hopkinton, where Rev. Price started a new church. Elizabeth continued to wear her wedding dress as her "best" dress, as was customary for 18th c. brides, and was known to charm the friends and parishioners of her sometimes prickly husband. Elizabeth gave birth to eleven children between 1735-1753, five of which survived to adulthood - a sadly average figure for the time.

In 1754, the couple sailed to London, leaving their considerable property in Massachusetts behind. They never returned. They were considered Loyalists, and during the Revolution, they lost their property and assets. In 1783, her oldest son and daughter returned to the Massachusetts, and successfully recovered most of the family property. Elizabeth herself died in 1780, aged 72.

I find it fascinating that despite so much political upheaval, Elizabeth's family kept the dress, as well as other examples of her needlework (look for another blog or two in the future!) I like to think they did so not only as mementos of a well-loved mother, but also in recognition of her skill and artistry, talents that were clearly so much a part of her.

And the dress? Family legend has it that the dress traveled to London with Elizabeth in 1754, and that in time it was remodeled and worn by her oldest daughter to the court of George III.

As before, many thanks to Patricia Gilrein, Kimberly Alexander, and the staff of The Bostonian Society for so generously sharing Elizabeth's dress with me.

All photographs courtesy The Bostonian Society.

A Very Special Embroidered Wedding Dress, 1734

Isabella reporting,

Wedding dresses are special clothing, ceremonial garments to be worn only once, yet infused with a lifetime of dreams and wishes.

Last week I had the opportunity to see a wedding dress that was even more special than most. Not only was it a rarity for its age and provenance – nearly three hundred years old, and made in Boston more than a generation before the American Revolution – but for the magic of its very creation. The bride herself embroidered the swirling leaves and flowers, turning her wedding dress into a brilliant masterpiece of needlework.

The bride, Elizabeth Bull, was born in Boston in 1716. While we often tend to think of New England in the early 18th c. as a primitive colony in the wilderness, Boston was a sophisticated town, connected to all the world's seaports by its ships. As the only daughter of a wealthy merchant, Elizabeth was not only taught fine needlework, but had access to silk threads from the best shops in London and silk cloth from China. She also had the time to devote to perfecting her skill, as well as a genuine talent for color and design.

She began the embroidery for this gown when she was still a schoolgirl, around the age of fifteen, and was still working on it when, in 1734, she met the man she would eventually marry, the Reverend Roger Price. When they wed the following year, the embroidery was not finished, nor is it finished today - inked outlines of flowers on the petticoat, left, show that Elizabeth had planned to make the design even more elaborate.

While in many photographs the dress appears off-white, the Chinese silk is in fact an elegant shade of pale celadon green that must have glowed by candlelight. (My camera exaggerated the green in the detail photographs, left - the original color seems to be difficult to capture on film.) The embroidery is in every shade imaginable, the colors of the silk thread still rich and vibrant.

Like many 18th c. dresses (such as this one here and here), Elizabeth's was remodeled and updated at least twice. It's impossible to know exactly how it looked in 1735; in its current state, it reflects the short, puffed sleeves and bell-shaped skirt of the 1830s, with additional fabric and netting trim. The original embroidered petticoat that would once have shown beneath an 18th c. style open skirt was relegated to being an under-petticoat to support the rest of the dress. In the late 19th c., the dress was likely worn as a Colonial Revival costume, and as late as the 1920s it was still being worn, lower right, for photographs for lady's magazines as a relic of the past.

The dress now has a treasured place in the collections of The Bostonian Society, whose conservators have carefully preserved and stabilized it for the future. There's no doubt that the dress has suffered over the centuries, with scattered stains and wear to mark its long life, and it's now so fragile that it can only be on public display once a year (or until funds are raised for a state-of-the-preservation-art display case.) But thanks to historian Kimberly Alexander and Patricia Gilrein, Collections Manager and Exhibitions Coordinator of The Bostonian Society, the dress was brought out from its large, white conservation box and swaths of acid-free tissue for me to see.

And yes, I gasped. The artistry of the embroidered designs, the choice of colors and textures, the consummate skill of the needlework, are all undeniable. But I wasn't prepared for the impact of Elizabeth herself, her presence so palpable in every stitch that she might have been in the room with us. Like every artist, she'd put part of herself into her work - and how very fortunate we are to be able to appreciate her masterpiece today.

Many thanks to Patricia Gilrein, Kimberly Alexander, and the staff of The Bostonian Society for their warm welcome, knowledge, and generosity!

See another blog about this dress - and its mysterious "practice bodice" - here.

Detail photographs by Susan Holloway Scott. 
All other photographs courtesy of The Bostonian Society.