Welcome Little Stranger, 1770

Isabella reporting,

While Loretta and I were off on our mini-breaks, we wallowed happily in Royal Baby madness like the rest of the world.  With our nerdy historical bent, this of course also led us to think of historical babies.

These little pincushions would have been made for new mothers in the 18th-19th centuries. Some historians believe that they would have served as a kind of birth announcement as well, to be hung on a door when the baby was born. More likely the pincushions were a thoughtful gift in a time when even baby clothes and diapers were fastened with straight pins, and pins were never far from reach. A few that survive were clearly well-used, while other examples were preserved as pristine little tokens.

In a way, these are pincushions times two. Not only could they serve for storing pins, but the decorative messages are made of pins, pushed deep into the cushion so the heads form the letters and design. The one, above, also features pins as a kind of fringed border. The background was often white silk, or fine linen or cotton, and a misplaced pin could not be moved without the hole showing in the fragile fabric. Like so much handwork of the time, patience and skill were required for a handsome result. (Please click on the images to enlarge for details.)

I've always found the messages in these little cushions quite touching. Today's parents can choose to know the gender of their new babies, but for 18th c. parents the new baby would be a complete surprise - truly a "little stranger." Later 19th c. layette pincushions are embroidered with more complex sayings and poems ("Bless the Babe and Save the Mother" is the sternly direct message on one from 1862.) One of my favorites from 1838 features a short poem.  It's sentimental, yes, but even the most no-nonsense modern parent can't argue with the good wishes:

   Angels guard thee, lovely blossom
   Hover round and shield from ill
   Crown thy parents' largest wishes
   And their fondest hopes fulfil.

Top: Layette pincushion, cotton with cotton fringe & pins. English, 1784. Victoria & Albert Museum.
Bottom: Pin cushion, silk, thread, pins. American, 1770. Winterthur Museum.

English Plagiarists 1836

Loretta reports:

The early 19th century saw little regard for an author’s rights to his property.  Plagiarism was rampant.  In 1844, Dickens filed suit against the publishers  of a pirated edition of A Christmas Carol.  The judge found in his favor, but he ended up having to pay his own costs, amounting to £700.  This was an English publisher, and not the first to deprive him of the fruits of his labors.  Previously, on the other side of the pond, the Americans stole, too—and were deeply offended when he mentioned it during his American tour.

Piracy, however, worked both ways, as this excerpt from the American magazine, The Knickerbocker, indicates.

Read online here

 —The Knickerbocker, Vol.8, 1836

Illustration: The Moment of Imagination, 1785, courtesy Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA

Gone Fishin'

Loretta & Isabella reporting,

Everybody else seems to be going on vacation, so we are, too. We're taking a week off from blogging, tweeting, pinning, & general social networking.

See you back here next week!

Keeping Cool (or Not) in Colonial Williamsburg

Isabella reporting,

Like much of the east, Williamsburg, VA suffered through record a record heat wave last week, with temperatures in the upper nineties and humidity to match. Yet Tidewater Virginia was a hot place in the 18th c., too, and the interpreters and historic tradespeople of Colonial Williamsburg were determined to continue on as they would have 250 years ago. The single most important secret weapon against the heat: linen, the best possible fiber for keeping cool(er). As always, click on the images to enlarge them.

Some people I've identified, but there are others, alas, whose names I didn't get. If you know the anonymous ones, please let me know & I'll happily add their names.

Journeyman blacksmith Christopher Henkels, top left, swore that the heat of the summer sun was much worse than standing near his fire to work. I'll take his word for that - but he was dressed for the heat with the neck of his line shirt open and the sleeves rolled as high as possible.

These two summer interns, right, in the Margaret Hunter millinery shop are ready to ply their trade in crisp linen and cotton, with silver thimbles on their fingers. Lauren Greene, left, wears a purple and white striped cotton English gown, with a diamond-patterned cotton petticoat, linen cap, apron, and neckerchief. Molly McPherson, right, also wears a linen apron and cap with her short gown of printed cotton, and a cotton neckerchief.

Melissa Blank, lower left, is an apprentice cook in the Governor's Palace kitchen. Open-hearth cooking is hot work, but the royal governor expected a fine midday dinner to impress his guests, regardless of the weather. Melissa is dressed the way most 18th c. working women would met the challenge of the heat: she's wearing her linen stays over her linen shift, with a linen petticoat and cap. In addition to being cool, linen has natural fire-retardant properties (if a spark lands on linen, it smolders rather than bursting into flame, or worse, melting onto the skin like modern petroleum-based fibers) that make it the perfect fiber for working around a fire.

But in the 18th c., just as now, there are plenty of people who resolutely ignored the heat, and dress exactly as they would for any other day. These three men, lower right, were on their way to a program at the Governor's Palace; my guess is that they represent a wealthy gentleman (perhaps even the royal governor himself) in silk coat, waistcoat, and breeches; his secretary in somber dark green; and his enslaved servant in silver-laced livery that's probably wool. Their black hats are either wool, or beaver - hardly summer-weight! - and the two gentlemen area also wearing full wigs. The saving grace would have been the long linen shirts that all three were wearing next to the skin beneath all that stylish magnificence.

Breakfast Links: Week of July 15, 2013

The heat wave continues, and our Breakfast Links are hot as well – our fav links of the week to other web sites, blogs, images, and articles, gathered from around the Twitterverse.
• Shameless 1790s gossip from the Adams family about the Vassall family, with added sex and gambling.
• Sailors' favorites: naval war kitties in hammocks, World War II.
• Breathtaking historical food artistry - molded puddings jellies, and pastries.
• A literally hot gentleman: Man Against a Background of Flames, attributed to painter Isaac Oliver, c. 1600.
• Irony par excellence: lining of bishop's miter is cut out of pages with medieval love poetry.
• What would a Regency lady put on her sunburn?
• Dress right for safety in the shipyard, WWII.
• Lemon meringue pie, first created by 19th c. Philadelphia pastry shop proprietress Mrs. Elizabeth Goodfellow.
• Medieval representations of the births of royal babies and other celebrated infants.
• Exquisite costumes of The Ballets Russes.
• Alice Austen's intimate & creative images of life in New York more than a century ago.
• The phantom of a great fire in Bryant Park, New York, 1858.
• What do the British and Irish Lions have to do with a ghost in 18th c. Donegal?
• Lady Margaret Douglas, niece of Henry VIII and a survivor of four Tudor courts.
• A short history of swan-herding.
• Library porn: truly breathtaking libraries from around the world.
• An exotic piece of lost 18th c. London: William Bullock's Egyptian Hall.
• Eighteenth century receipt for making gooseberry vinegar.
• It's July, 1813, and Lord Byron is displeased.
• Zootsuits in Chicago, 1946.
• Truly novel bookstores.
• An Indian court-martial in 1819 for letting a Rajah escape.
• Buying a stocked country store in 1836.
• American in Paris Thomas Jefferson describes the storming of the Bastille, 1789.
• A wealthy grain dealer breaks ranks and builds his hulking mansion far north of Millionaire's Row, New Yor, in 1875.
• The London Painters-Stainers Company and the house-painter.
• Baddeley Brothers, a rare survivor among printers in London still producing engraving, die-stamping, embossing, & debossing.
• Dr. Benjamin Rush attends a Jewish wedding in 1787, and finds it all fascinating.
Hungry for more? Follow us on Twitter @2nerdyhistgirls and receive fresh updates daily!