Friday Video: A Victorian Christmas & Victorian Dolls

Loretta reports:

Looking for some holiday-type historical footage for the Friday video, I came upon these stereoscopic images of staged, late-Victorian Christmas celebrations. Many of the images seem a little eerie to me. But then, Victorian images often are. In this case, too, the strange “animation,” combined with the stereoscopic effect, heightens the sensation.

But I was struck by the little girls cradling their dolls, an image that remains familiar and sweet.



Then I remembered the photos of Victorian toys—mainly dolls and doll furniture—I took in September at the Provincetown Museum, which is part of the Pilgrim Monument.* I could picture little girls on Christmas morning, lovingly holding these dolls when they were new.


*No, I didn’t climb to the top of the monument. There’s quite a lovely panoramic view on the website.

 

Video: 3D Stereoscopic Photographs of Christmas in the Victorian Era (1889-1902)


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The Littlest Camp Followers, c1775

Susan reporting,

One of the things I appreciate most about the still-new Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia is the way the artifacts, videos, and exhibits are so much more inclusive than many more traditional exhibitions devoted to the Revolution and life in 18thc America. The stories told by the MoAR feature the familiar heroic actors like George Washington, but there are also many other individuals - including Native Americans, African Americans, and women - whose contributions and sacrifices have been too often overlooked, forgotten, or purposefully ignored.

This tiny earthenware lamb (only a few inches long) represents a group that was very much involved in the war, yet seldom mentioned: the children of soldiers. Along with their mothers and soldier-fathers, these children - often born during a campaign - were a familiar feature of 18thc armies. While the term "camp follower" conjured up titillating images like this, the reality was that the majority of the women traveling with the army were married to enlisted men; these women were often employed in laundering, food preparation, and tending the sick and wounded. Their children, of course, had little choice in the matter; they simply "followed the drum" because they followed their fathers.

Children appear in contemporary paintings of military scenes like the one shown here. The reality was likely much more rough-and-tumble, and combined with the real possibilities of danger, disease, and death, yet their presence at the time was unquestioned in a way that seems unfathomable to us today.

The lamb toy was excavated from a British Revolutionary War campsite near New York City, a British stronghold through much of the war. Made in England of white salt-glazed stoneware, the lamb could have crossed the Atlantic on board a troop ship with its owner, or been purchased in a New York shop.

The name of the lamb's young owner isn't known, nor are the circumstances of how it was lost or left behind at the camp. Lost toys are nothing new, nor, sadly, are children in the middle of wars. Still, I hope that both that long-ago child and his or her parents returned safely from the war, even if the lamb remained behind as a poignant reminder of a child in the middle of an adult conflict.

Thanks to Philip Mead, Chief Historian of the Museum of the American Revolution, for suggesting this post.

Left: Toy Lamb, England, 1750-1800, on loan from the New-York Historical Society to the Museum of the American Revolution. 
Right: British Infantrymen of a Royal Regiment in an Encampment, painter unknown, c1760, National Army Museum.

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.

Theodore Roosevelt, the Bears, & the Oaks

Loretta reports:

During my recent visit to the Historic Paine Estate’s Holiday Open House,

I came upon a small room filled with teddy bears. Of course I wondered what this had to do with the Paine family—or was it simply holiday décor?

A little of both, it turns out.

The name “teddy bear” derives from an incident involving Theodore Roosevelt and a bear he refused to shoot.

But what did Theodore Roosevelt have to do with the Paines?

The clue lies in this wedding invitation (recently discovered, if I remember correctly*). It’s tricky trying to take photos of objects under glass, and we had a very sunny day. But the invitation reads:

“Mrs. and Mrs. George C. Lee request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their daughter, Wednesday, October Twenty-seventh at Twelve o’clock, Unitarian Church, Brookline.”

Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s Daughter was Alice Hathaway Lee. The Timothy Bigelow Chapter of the DAR, whose chapter house this is, did some research and learned that she was a great-great-great-granddaughter of Judge Timothy Paine. This is an invitation to her wedding to Theodore Roosevelt in 1880. Sadly, she died on Valentine’s Day 1884, two days after giving birth to the formidable Alice Lee Roosevelt.

I thought the teddy bear display was a charming way to celebrate the holiday as well as the Roosevelt-Paine connection—just one example of the discoveries and intriguing network of history related to this lovely old house.

*You can find out more here about the intriguing bits of history that turn up in the Oaks.

Please click on images to enlarge.

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.

A Beautiful Georgian Doll, 1740-1760

Isabella reporting,

I'll admit it: I love old dolls. Yes, they're glimpses into the everyday past as well as fashion, and often beautifully crafted, but what I like best is knowing that they were the confidantes of some long-ago little girl (or girls.)

Dolls were partners in games and theatrics, allies in wars with obstreperous brothers, and comforting friends to keep away monsters in the dark at night. Although they were outgrown and put aside, they're still survivors, and all those whispered secrets and pretend experiences imbue them with a special aura ordinary antiques just don't have. They're powerful with little-girl magic.

Yeah, a little woo-woo, I know. But when I saw (or met?) this elegant doll in the study drawers of Colonial Williamsburg's costume and textile department earlier this summer, I couldn't help but imagine the special place she must have held in at least one girl's imagination. She must have been an expensive plaything for a privileged girl, and she has miraculously kept her elaborate wardrobe over the centuries, down to her tiny brocade shoes, lower left.  (Click on the photos to enlarge them for details.)

Here's the CW's catalogue description:

"This large doll is beautifully carved, gessoed, and painted, and represents the best of doll production in the eighteenth century. The doll retains her original clothing, complete with the underwear out, fastened in place with sixteen period straight pins with wrapped heads, just as a grown woman would fasten her clothing. The doll's first layer is a white linen shift with knee-length skirt, underarm gussets and a low neckline trimmed with a ruffled that showed above the gown. 

"A pair of stays is worn over the shift, closely fitting the doll's fashionably shaped torso, with its small waist, bosom flattened and pushed upwards, shoulders placed well back, and flat shoulder blades - a shape resulting from girls wearing stays since childhood. A quilted petticoat, pleated to a tape waistband and backed with striped worsted, is tied over the shift and stays. The silk gown has a bodice opened at the front to show off the stomacher (in this instance made as one with the stays). Cuffs have removable white sleeve ruffles at the elbows. The skirt is opened at the front to reveal the petticoat. The doll wears knitted stockings that reach above the knees, held in place by ribbon garters tied around the upper leg. Accessories include a silk apron (possibly a later addition), square handkerchief, kid mitts, and a white linen ruffled cap."

It's an impressive wardrobe. I only wish she could talk....

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.

Above: Doll and original clothing, Great Britain or Europe, 1740-1760, Collection, Colonial Williamsburg. Photographs by Susan Holloway Scott with permission of The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

A Surprising Pair of Pistols

Painted Finch

Loretta reports:

Isabella and I have shown you a number of clockwork devices from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries.  (See blogs here and here for examples & links).

This is a particular favorite of mine.  It inspired one of the stories in Royally Ever After.

Image: Plate 53 of Birds of America by John James Audubon depicting Painted Finch (1827-1838), courtesy Wikipedia [edited].

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The Story of a Victorian Dollhouse

Loretta reports:

Some weeks ago I posted about the dollhouses at the 1809 Hedge House.  Shortly thereafter the Executive Director of the Plymouth Antiquarian Society kindly sent me additional information,* from which I’ll quote at length, since the story is a window into the past.

The Brewster Dollhouse “was actually made in part from pieces of an old tea crate – there are remnants of painted Chinese characters on the back, and the original lining paper is still visible, though covered with fragments of several layers of later dollhouse decoration” (as seen in the Cutrona Studios photo).

Flora Louisa Brewster received the ‘Baby House’ on her 6th birthday on January 15, 1855. “Although it was not professionally made, the dollhouse was carefully crafted like a large piece of case furniture. It provided 3 floors of doll’s living space, an attic, and two drawers for storage, and featured glass windows on the sides." The maker was 80-year-old George Humphrey.

~~~
Flora Louisa Brewster, the fifth surviving child in her family, shared this dollhouse with seven of her siblings:
Mary Thomas, the eldest
Elizabeth Emeline, the second in age
Ada Augusta, the third daughter living
Emma Eudora, fourth daughter living
Eva Octavia, sixth daughter living, eighth in reality
Ernest Elisha Wrestling, ninth child
& James

Each of the Brewster children added some furnishings to the house. Some of their individual items are still on display:
Mary Thomas added the mahogany bedstead and dressing case, and an iron waiting man.
Elizabeth Emeline added a brass pudding pan, a brass candlestick, a mahogany dining table, and a small red tin trunk.
Ada Augusta added two mahogany chairs, a center table, a bureau, a chair made by a German, and a churn.
Emma Eudora added a dining room table, a psyche glass, and a kitchen chair made by a German.
Flora added a doll’s photograph album, a kitchen chair made by a German, two marble statuettes, and a chamber set.
Eva Octavia added two parlor chairs, a leather valise, and an iron kettle.
Ernest Elisha Wrestling added a china dog, a donkey with panniers, and a mouse.
& James kept a dissecting map, 2 sets of ten pins, a parlor football, and a pair of parlor skates.
~~~

Fashion dolls from long ago

Loretta reports:

Since a doll plays an important role in Silk is for Seduction,  I was excited to find this pair in the Victoria & Albert Museum. 

Lord and Lady Clapham date to the much earlier time period of Susan’s historical novels, rather than my books—which makes them all the more wondrous.  Not only have they survived more than 300 years, but they’ve still got their clothes, even their underwear!  Equally thrilling to a Nerdy History Girl, they’re believed to have belonged to descendants of Samuel Pepys.

You can find detailed descriptions of the dolls here and here at the V&A site, as well as more photographs of their attire, including closeups of their little bodies and even their stockings & garters.

They are jointed, and obviously were meant to be dressed and undressed, which makes it even more amazing that they’re in such splendid condition.  Think of all those old Barbies one comes across at yard sales.  No, better yet, think what happens to Barbies once a little girl gets her hands on them.

More children’s treasures at the V&A include this 1835 doll, and this one from a slightly earlier period.

Susan has posted here & here about 18th C dolls.

And if you’re curious about the dollhouse in my story, check out my post on the Shire Library Dollhouses book.

The Perfect Eighteenth Century Doll

Susan reporting:

With Christmas fast approaching and girls fine-tuning their wish lists for Santa, I thought I'd bring you a doll that must have brightened the eyes of her long-ago little mistress.

Known as "Miss Barwick" in honor of the West Yorkshire family that owned her for several generations, this elegant lady (left and below right) was carved from wood around 1760. She stands 24 inches tall on jointed legs in blue silk stockings and tiny leather shoes. Her gesso-covered head is artfully painted, her black enamel eyes sparkle, and her fair curls (a bit tangled, but what lady's would be after 250 years?) are genuine human hair.

She's still quite the fashion plate, too. She wears her original gown of blue silk brocade with a quilted, boned linen bodice, and a long hooded cloak of gold silk, all in the latest Georgian fashion.

But what truly marks Miss Barwick as A Lady is that she has her own sedan chair. Though the carrying rails are missing, the rest of the chair's appointments are there: brocade cushions for comfort and curtains for privacy, and studded trim for extra style points. And to let everyone in the street know that this chair belongs to her, the door is embossed with an ornate initial "B." Just as today's fashion doll has her pink Jaguar convertible, 18th c. counterpart had her sedan chair, and we're sure the fabulous Miss Barwick steeped from her chair to attend countless imaginary balls and frolics that would make even Barbie jealous.

These days, Miss Barwick has retired from society, and resides at the Ilkley Toy Museum in West Yorkshire. But there are other 18th c.-style dolls at play for the holidays. In the Margaret Hunter Shop of Colonial Williamsburg, the miniature millinery shop is once again on display for the Yuletide season (left), complete with the replica Georgian fashion dolls (or "babies") minding the store. The tiny milliner is trying to tempt her customer with everything from hoops to a calash bonnet, and has even served tea to help coax the sale. If you've visited the shop, you'll recognize how closely the miniature inventory follows the full-size one – and also how much fun playing with dolls can be, whatever the age or era.

Many thanks to Chris Woodyard for introducing us to Miss Barwick!


Top left: Miss Barwick and her sedan chair, photograph by Christie's Auction House.
Right: Miss Barwick, photograph by Ilkley Toy Museum.
Lower left: The Doll's Millinery Shop, photograph by the Margaret Hunter Shop, Colonial Williamsburg.

Update: Eighteenth Century Children's Pull-Carriage

Susan reports:

Last month, I posted here about an 18th c. children's pull-carriage that Loretta and I had seen in Colonial Williamsburg. The carriage is a reproduction, made several years ago by CW craftsmen, and is a favorite with visiting children.

Several of our readers asked if it was an exact replica of an original, and offered 18th-19th c. illustrations as possibilities. (My favorite was this one by Gillray, and thanks again to Michael Robinson for the link.) I didn't know; as much as I scribble in my little pocket notebook, it doesn't have all the answers.

But on my most recent visit to CW, I did remember to ask the experts in the stables. Their reply: this splendid yellow children's pull-carriage is a composite of several original 18th c. sources, a design very much in the spirit of existing models, if not an exact copy, and made with 18th c.-style tools and materials. And yes, I still believe that any child, whether living right now or two hundred years ago, would be absolutely thrilled to have one.

What Every 18th c. Aristocratic Child Is Whining For This Spring

Susan reports:

There's nothing children like more than tooling around in their own set of wheels. Just as today's kids have their miniature cars (can you believe that that American-made classic, the Cozy Coupe, is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year?), so the lucky children of affluent parents in 18th c. England and America had their own tiny carriages, too.

This splendid toy chariot, made by the carriage builder of Colonial Williamsburg, is a replica of an 18th c. riding toy. It features a padded leather seat and the same turning mechanism being used for full-size carriages. The bench-style seat is slung on leather straps for an easy, rocking motion that's similar to the springs used in coaches. The red-painted wheels were high-fashion, and on the side of the seat is painted a pineapple, the same kind of family emblem that would have decorated carriage doors. This little chariot would not have been pulled by an animal, but by other children, and the handle is covered with leather for a good grip.

To be sure, this was not a common plaything. Ordinary folk didn't own carriages or coaches, and their children didn't have miniature chariots, either. But for the fortunate children who did, riding toys like this must have been a blast.

Because the chariot is a replica and not an antique, it's been road-tested by countless children visiting CW. You can see the chips in the paint and the wear on the wheels; in fact, when we took this photograph, the chariot was in the stables, waiting for a seasonal tune-up. But by spring, I'm sure it was back out on the grass, ready for another year of pushing, pulling, and squabbling over who gets to ride and who has to pull. Somethings never do change, do they?