February Mending

I think the stocking was a end that didn't get woven in.
The apron has a different two inches break loose each month.

 

 

Lots of little projects this month, mostly in my 1850s kit. I finally reattached the hook-and-eye tape that's been coming off my brown calico since sometime last year. I also worked on the gathering for my corded petticoat, repaired another 2" of gathering that came off my pink apron, and closed a small ladder that opened in my light blue wool stockings.

 

All mended. For now.

CSM Knit Rose

It's still winter, and the flowers aren' t growing. I suppose it's time to make some.

One knit rose.

I used Violante Fioravanti's CSM Rose pattern, using the option for 5 petals of 12 stitches each. To make life harder on myself, instead of installing the 60-cylinder, I knit the project flat on 60 needles on the 80-cylinder. The yarn is Knit Picks' palette, left-over from stockings. 

The green base ended up being larger than the petals (? both were knit on 60), so I decided to double it up and make some petals, which I think make a nice touch.

Petticoat Quantities, c.1838-1865

This developed as both a side-project off of my research on flounced petticoats, and of a long-running project I've had to document the use of corsets and petticoats among the poor. I'm mostly looking at sources for pre-hoop petticoat arrangements, approximately 1850-1856, with the earliest source being the 1838 Workwoman's Guide. A few relevant passages featuring hoops, c.1856-1864, are also included.

Petticoat, c.1850s, in The Met.

General Remarks on Petticoat Layers

The clearest reference I know of for the number of petticoats worn is in Hints On Dress (1854), which advises wearing two petticoats only, in materials suited to the weather. The author mentions ladies wearing 3-4 petticoats to achieve their desired silhouette, though the author advises a 2.5 petticoat approach with a horsehair bustle/apron when additional loft is needed.

Harper's jokes in 1856 about women wearing ten layers including the dress, lace petticoat, hoop petticoat, cotton petticoat, corded petticoat, moreen petticoat, etc. This is definitely exaggerated for comic effect, though most of the garments named are attested elsewhere--they're just not worn at the same time.

In this anecdote from 1850, a woman wearing four petticoats is perceived as being pregnant, when she is actually trying to prevent her clothing from being stolen. To me, this implies that the norm was less than four petticoats, or else it would not have looked odd to the narrator.

A pickpocketing victim (the wife of a pawnbroker) described her pocket arrangement, which includes a pocket in her under petticoat, accessed through slits in her gown and over petticoat. 

Meigs' A Practical Treatise on the Diseases of Children (1858) describes the standard dress for children (which he deems insufficient) as including a flannel petticoat and one muslin petticoat.

Mrs. Weaver's instructions for a crochet petticoat (1862) advises that little girls wear them under hoops for warmth--along with the "usual" flannel. 

 

Late in the hoop period (1864), diminishing skirt fullness is supported by a single white petticoat worn over the crinoline, or a horsehair petticoat with a starched one above it.  

 

Clothing Allowances and Packing for Travel

British workhouse inmates at Gorey Union c.1842 are allowed 1 flannel petticoat and 1 cotton or linsey-woolsey petticoat as part of a whole suit of clothes. This outfit, intended to last for 11 months, includes one of each article of clothing, plus an extra pair of stockings.

In the same source, workhouse women and girls in Nottingham are also allowed 1 flannel petticoat and 1 woolsey petticoat as part of a single outfit. At Rathkeale Union, the budget also allows each woman 1 flannel and 1 woolsey petticoat. In this list, girls only have the flannel petticoat named, but this may be because their budget line is abbreviated in other ways relative to the adults (unlike the women, the girls' list has no shoes, caps or aprons). In the Clifton workhouse, women and girls are both allowed two petticoats; in Killmallock the two petticoats are specified to be flannel and linsey.

At a rather higher class, Miss Leslie's (1852) advice for sea-travel refers to both upper petticoats (of linen, worsted [wool], or silk) and wadded petticoats (silk). She does not give numbers for each, but her phrasing implies singular, at least while aboard the ship.

 

The Emigrant in Australia (1852) advises packing for 4 months without reliable laundry facilities. It gives "two flannel petticoats" (and no others) in the minimum supply list for female passengers; the middling example has two flannel petticoats and four other petticoats. To me, this suggests the wearing of one flannel petticoat at a time is possible for the destitute, but that 1 flannel petticoat along with 1-2 other petticoats at a time is assumed of the the middling emigrant, though this is speculative. Alternatively, the poorest woman could be wearing her two flannel petticoats at the same time, however that would mean having no changes for 4 months.

Real Life in India (1847) distinguishes between cambric slips, petticoats, and flannel petticoats, recommending that a lady pack for her trip 24, 36, and 4 respectively. The duration of the trip is not specified, but the packing list calls for 48 chemises (as well as 6 evening gowns of various types, if you were wondering about class), which suggests to me both an expectation of 6-7 weeks between laundry opportunities, and that the wearer is a relatively well-dressed individual. The distinction between cambric and plain petticoats might be related to activity or to different layers, with the different quantities allowing fresh (clean and pressed) petticoats to be substituted as needed. Proportionately, this wardrobe has 6 cambric slips and 9 petticoats per flannel petticoat. I'd guess that the lady is likely wearing at least two petticoats at a time, possibly 3 depending on the activity and weather.

 

At the opposite end of the social spectrum, a group of workhouse orphans traveling from England to Bermuda c.1851 had 3 flannel petticoats and 2 upper petticoats allotted to each girl (for scale, each had 6 shifts and 4 frocks). The terminology of "upper" and the ratio suggest to me that one flannel petticoat and one upper petticoat are worn at a time, with the flannel petticoats being changed more often. 

 

An 1853 charity school dress code allows each girl a white flannel under petticoat and calico upper petticoat. The pupils are poor residents of Marylebone (London), aged 10-14, primarily being trained for domestic service. Upon leaving the school at age 15, each girl is allowed to take her best gown and upper petticoat, a new flannel petticoat, two new shifts, two new pairs of black stockings, and a pair of new shoes.

Similarly, a clothing allowance for female prisoners in the UK in 1841 includes both a "petticoat" and an "upper petticoat" in the Kirkdale and Preston gaols. At nearby Salford, only one linsey petticoat is mentioned, though as it is in conjunction with a jacket and waistcoat of the same (and no dress/gown), this might indicate the skirt of a three-piece outfit rather than an undergarment. At Lancaster Gaol, a woolen petticoat and an under petticoat are issued. Leicester's list has "two petticoats." At Louth, one petticoat is supplied (worn under a gown). Cold Bath Fields has one flannel petticoat issued per prisoner.

Lower-paid female servants are advised to purchase 4 petticoats per year (and 3 gowns), while more highly paid servants with a 150% higher budget are advised to either purchase 6 petticoats total, or to buy 4 that are more expensive.  

The Careful Nursemaid (1844) advises girls going into domestic service to plan sufficient clothing to last between washing days; this includes two changes of linen per week, as well as "two flannel petticoats and two colored upper petticoats."

 

Instructions for Making Different Kinds of Petticoats

I'm including these sources because they flesh out the distinction between flannel and upper petticoats, and offer some insight into what kinds of petticoats were being made.

The Workwoman's Guide (1838) only has flannel petticoat instructions (in adult sizes). 

Plain Needlework (1852) likewise only gives cutting instructions for flannel petticoats. Which isn't conclusive, but I find it interesting.

 

Miss Leslie gives instructions for how to make a wadded or quilted petticoat out of old silk dress-skirts, and how to stitch flannel petticoats. She also has sewing and washing tips for brown holland petticoats and for making stiffeners and scallops on white petticoats.

 

Another example of the upper/flannel dichotomy occurs in this list of garments made at a needlework school. I like that they include the yardages used per garment, which works out to 2 panels for the flannel and 3 panels for the upper petticoats, each approximately 45" long when cut. An instruction book for such schools names the materials and amount of fabric to use for both flannel petticoats and upper petticoats.

 

The Common Things of Everyday Life (1857) advocates for wearing flannel near the skin, and gives instructions for flannel petticoats. The only other references to petticoats are for how to starch a 'supportive petticoat' (apparently with hoops) and how to pack a trunk (in which "petticoats that can bear weight" are listed separately from 'flannels").

These doll instructions (1860) include a flannel petticoat, hoop petticoat, and white petticoat.

Petticoats in Fiction & Miscellaneous Notes

Flannel petticoats appear multiple times in the 1836 central criminal court findings.

Not so helpful on the number's front, there's an amusing passage from Arthur's Magazine (1857) complaining about hoops and dress reformers alike: it gives preference to crinoline petticoats as being more graceful than hoops, while corded petticoats take second place: 

 

The always amusing Why Do the Servants of the Nineteenth Century Dress as They Do? (1859) complains about servants wearing corded petticoats, white petticoats with trimming, and hooped petticoats, instead of more practical dark petticoats without hoops. Three of these dark petticoats are sufficient to last one girl the whole winter. In one anecdote, a servant girl wears three starched petticoats over hoops, which prevents her from getting through doorways easily. 

 

In  "The Cage at Cranford" (1864, set 1856) Mary is judged by the Cranford laundresses for having two corded petticoats (deemed excessive).

 

In another short story, a lady wears her silk petticoat directly under her dress, with a flannel petticoat below the silk one.

In a third parable,  a wealthy lady rewards two poor orphans with sufficient flannel and stuff to make each of them a petticoat and a dress.

I'm not sure how to interpret this story, but it uses "corded petticoats" as a topic of conversation among sensible women with domestic knowledge (in contrast to elegant ignorance and accomplishments).

 

 

Conclusion

 

Depending on the year and occasion, the number and type of petticoats worn seems to vary between two and four, with two apparently being both the bare minimum and the most common number. Some English jails allow prisoners only a single petticoat, but otherwise two petticoats seems to be the accepted minimum, even for servants and for destitute women and girls in prison, workhouses, or charity schools. 

 

The most common arrangement seems to be a flannel petticoat worn below, with an upper petticoat of cotton, linsey or silk above it. The specific materials and colors vary with the season and the wearer's occupation: warmer fabrics in winter, lighter ones in summer; dark petticoats for work, exercise, or poor weather; finer white cotton or silk under fancy dresses. Ideally, servants should not be wearing fine white cotton petticoats with adornment (though that doesn't stop them from wanting to dress nicely).

Waffles, 1846

A bonus to the Historical Food Fortnightly breakfast challenge: Miss B's Waffles (without yeast) from Miss Beecher's Domestic Receipt Book (New York, 1846, 3rd edition 1856).

Waffles with cinnamon and sugar.

We made a full batch on this one: first stirring together the quart of flour (all-purpose), 1 tsp salt, and 1 cup sugar (granulated--and meant to be a teacup of ~6 oz, though I think I got closer to 8oz). My friend beat 5 eggs well, while I warmed the quart of sour milk with 2 Tbsp butter on the stove to melt the latter. We used milk that was approaching its 'use by' date, and then added a splash of vinegar to make it 'sour.' We mixed the milk and eggs, pouring the milk slowly to avoid curdling the egg, and then stirred in the dry ingredients to make the batter. All the while the waffle iron was heating on the wood-burning stove.

When the iron seemed hot (not that the fire was cooperating), we buttered it well, dissolved a teaspoon of baking soda (for the saleratus) in some water, and folded that into the batter, and promptly started cooking. Two ladles full of batter neatly filled the iron, without running over. The whole batch of batter thoroughly filled the conical mixing bowl, and made about 10 waffles. It took more than 3 hours to cook them all, because the fire was quite slow, especially to start. In accordance with other recipes my friend found, we sprinkled the waffles with cinnamon and sugar before serving.

We made this recipe in order to try (for a second time) using my friend's new-to-her early 20th century waffle iron, which is a cast-iron stove-top model with wooden handles very like those used in the 1850s. This recipe was selected because it actually contains sugar and doesn't rely on yeast for leavening, which was necessary to suit our modern palates and to get the project done while the museum was open.  

The eggs were from my friend's heritage breed chickens, which is about as close as we can get to authentic on that ingredient; everything else was purchased.

The resulting waffles were slightly eggier than modern recipes, but tasted good. The consensus was that they tasted "like waffles but slightly like French toast." They were a lot lighter than our last attempt at period waffles, and a bit less dry than most of the modern American waffles I've had. All of the waffles were eaten, and everyone voluntarily took seconds, which is always a good sign.

HFF 6.2: Breakfast

 

The Challenge: Breakfast. Make a food suitable for breakfast. 

The Recipe: Potatoes à la Maitre d'Hotel  From The American Matron. 

 

                      "A good breakfast dish", and said to be popular in London.

The Date/Year and Region: 1851, Boston 

How Did You Make It: On a wood-burning stove! Which actually ended up being the hardest part, because it was a wet day, and our clammy wood was burning erratically. 

 

I started by peeling 5 russet potatoes, with help from a friend. We set the potatoes on to boil, and (as the fire was very slow), left them on the back of the stove for over an hour, moving them up as the other dishes eventually finished. When the potatoes were soft, they returned to the back of the stove until closer to serving time.

 

Maybe an hour before serving time, we took the potatoes off the stove and I sliced them into rounds (<1/4" thick). I also chopped a generous double-handful of parsley. When a front burner was free and the fire finally going strong, I melted 1.5 Tbsp butter and browned it, then sprinkled on 1 Tbsp flour, stirring constantly to make a brown roux. When this was a nice color, I added 1 cup of broth [cheated and used a beef bouillon cube in water], which promptly started boiling. We gave it a minute to boil while I stirred, which I kept doing as my friend put in the potatoes and parsley, with a generous dash of salt and pepper [~1-2tsp salt, ~1/4-1/2 tsp pepper]. The sauce continued to boil this whole time, and had by then reduced sufficiently, that we pulled it off the heat and let it start to cool. We omitted the egg because the sauce was already quite thick, and there wasn't enough of it to mix the egg in around the potatoes.

Time to Complete: Under 4 hours based on our start and end times. Hard to say exactly how long. It'd estimate 10 minutes to peel the potatoes and getting them in water (less today, since I had help). They boiled while I worked on other projects, and then maybe 20-30 to make the roux and sauce, and stew the potatoes (once the fire was behaving).  It worked fine to cook the potatoes well in advance and let them sit in their water on the back of the stove until we were ready.

Total Cost: $2 or less

How Successful Was It?: Quite. It's tasty, and was popular with the all the volunteers. Despite having a large spread of dishes, all of the potatoes were eaten. I thought the dish tasted very rich and buttery (especially relative to how much butter actually went into it), but the most common comment was that it tasted like scalloped potatoes.

I think the recipe worked well as we made it, and I'm not in a hurry in to change anything. No potato or parsley amounts were given, and the butter was quite subjective. While our quantities worked, I suspect that fewer potatoes per unit liquid would make it easier to add the egg, and also more necessary to use the egg for thickening. It's also possible that the wide dish we used made the liquid cook down faster, as it increased the surface area.

How Accurate Is It?: I omitted the egg at the suggestion of my mentor, as noted. There was so little liquid in the dish relative to the potatoes, that we thought it'd end up as scrambled egg rather than thickening the sauce (which was already a nice consistency just from natural reduction and the potatoes). As noted before, most of the quantities were guesses, but they seemed to work.

Potatoes a la Maitre d'Hotel, or stove-top scalloped potatoes.

An American Breakfast, 1865

I came across this description while research a cooking challenge:

 "Breakfast in America is peculiarly a family meal. At this more than any other there is an unrestrained enjoyment of the home circle The breakfast party is almost unknown among us being confined to a very limited circle of the fashionable class not that we are less socially inclined than the English but that the busy active life of this new country forbids the devoting the early hours of the day to merely social enjoyment It is usually a hearty meal consisting of coffee, meats, fish, toast, a variety of hot cakes, and in the Southern States, hominy, and rice cooked in various ways, and several kinds of hot bread..."

           -—Breakfast, Dinner, and Tea: Viewed Classically, Poetically, and Practically (1865)

Book Review: Ladies in Waiting

A book review in honor of Jane Boleyn, Viscountess Rochford, who was executed 481 years ago today, and has been treated shabbily ever since.

Ladies in Waiting: Women Who Served in the Tudor Court by Victoria Evans is a fairly light and easy introduction to the households of Henry VIII's queens. The period covered is 1501-1547, beginning with Catherine of Aragon's arrival in England. This 193-page book is divided in 14 chapters, with a short introduction and epilogue. The first section (4 chapters, 70 pages) lays the groundwork for how Tudor royal apartments were arranged and staffed; the remainder of the book (10 chapters, 123 pages) looks more closely at each queen's household. Three chapters each are allowed to Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, in order to discuss how their households changed over time: before marriage,  as queen, and while out of Henry's favor. The other four queens each get one chapter.

The information presented in this book was mostly not new to me, which was a little disappointing. It draws a lot on secondary sources I was already familiar with, notably biographies of the queens and of their attendants--including Jane Dormer, Jane Parker, and Mary Boleyn. The material I was most excited to find were longer quotations from the Lisle letters than I've read elsewhere. The bibliography is helpfully divided into primary and secondary sources.

I found the writing style a little choppy, particularly in the transitions between paragraphs. The paragraphs themselves are mostly quite short, and the pages are double spaced, so the text reads quickly and doesn't feel dense. The author does adhere closely to the subject headings and chapter divisions, so even without a strong narrative structure, the current topic always remains clear.

I think I would have liked this book more if I wasn't expecting it to be something else (a dense history book focused more on the maids of honor and ladies in waiting than on the queens themselves). As it is, I think this book would be a good choice for introducing someone to the workings of the royal court and to research based on primary sources.

Score: 3.5 stars. The material's pretty solid, but the narrative is a little rough.

Accuracy: Good. Primary and reputable secondary sources are cited and quoted.

Strongest Impression: It's a good introduction to the subject, but there's not much new material if you're already familiar with the biographies of Henry VIII's queens. Highly recommended for a quick review on the royal households. If you're looking for serious academic writing or new research, this probably isn't the book for you.

Revisiting Loaf Cake

Also for yesterday's tea, I once again tried making Elizabeth Loaf Cake from The American Matron: or Practical and Scientific Cookery (1851).

Previously, I made a full batch, using sour dough starter for the fresh yeast. This time, I used active dry yeast proofed in water, and made a half batch:

2 tsp active dry yeast in 1/4 cup (1/2 gill) water 
1.5 lbs flour
10 oz  sugar
10 oz  butter
2 large eggs
12 oz currants (substituted zante currants)
1/2 tsp cloves
1 tsp nutmeg
1 cup milk

I let the yeast proof; mixed the flour, sugar, and spice together; melted the butter; combined the yeast, butter, milk, and (beaten) eggs with the dry ingredients, and finally stirred in the currants. I set the batter/dough to rise for 1 hour, then baked at 325F for 1:45. I used a glass loaf pan lined in parchment paper.

The cake did not come out of the oven looking very pretty. The batter had quite filled the pans, and I really should have divided it into two, as well as giving it a slightly longer rise time. As a single loaf, this cake was dense, and not quite baked through the center. The ends, however, did bake fully and were well-received for both the texture and flavor.

Next time I try this cake, I'll probably divide this same amount of batter between two pans (or 3-4 if making a full batch, though this half-sized filled my largest mixing bowl). This will hopefully help with the baking time issue. Id' also like to see how it goes with a longer rise (2 hours?). Otherwise, the spice proportion and amount of currants worked really well. I'd just like to get it a bit prettier and a little less dense.

Pickles Revisited (Beeton's Universal Pickle, 1861)

 I finally opened the pickles I made summer-before-last using Beeton's Universal Pickle receipt.

 

 

 

Pickled cucumber and radish pods

As expected from the pickling experience, these ended up very sour, but also strangely compelling. Both the radish pods and cucumbers were well-received, especially with a chaser of bread-and-butter. It being February, the pickles made both a badly-needed vegetable addition to the table and an excellent opportunity to talk about the seasonality of foodstuffs in the mid-19th century. All of the fruit and vegetable material on our table were preserved in some form (such as the dried currants in the cake), or else capable of being stored over the winter (carrots, potatoes, and onions in the pasties). 

A Winter Tea Spread, 1857 (ish) Style

I provided the tea, cake, hard cheese, and pickles. My companion made the pasties, the Dutch cheese, bread, and also shaped the butter (with clever use of a cookie-stamp and a crumpet ring for want of a butter mold).

HFF 6.1: Keep It Simple

And we're back for round 6!

The Challenge: Keep it Simple: Ease back into the new season with something simple: few ingredients, straightforward instructions, easy to clean up, or whatever makes a dish "simple" for you. 

The Recipe: Welch [sic] Rarebit from Mrs. Putnam's Receipt Book and Young Housekeeper's Assistant. I previously made three versions of Welsh Rarebit from Soyer, but decided to try a new one because I like bread and cheese, and wanted to see how a different receipt would play out.

WELCH RAREBIT. Cut a pound of cheese in slices a quarter of an inch thick, put a piece of butter the size of an egg in a small frying pan, lay in the cheese, cook it about five minutes, add two eggs well beaten, a dessert spoonful of mixed mustard, a little pepper, stir it up, have ready some slices of buttered toast, turn the cheese over it, and send it to the table very hot. It is also very good cooked without the eggs.

[Fun fact: the spelling error is corrected in the 1869 and later editions of Mrs. Putnam's book. I haven't found an earlier printing of the revised 1858 text, so I'm not sure when the error was caught.]

The Date/Year and Region: 1849, Boston

How Did You Make It: On a quarter scale, I melted ~4oz of cheddar cheese in ~1.5Tbsp of butter, then added ~1/2 tsp of yellow mustard, and a dash of black pepper. While this was melting, I toasted a half-dozen slices of baguette in the oven; when the bread was toasted, I buttered it and then poured the cheese over the bread.

Time to Complete: 15 minutes

Total Cost: $3

How Successful Was It?: Quick and tasty. The mustard flavor came through, which added a fun complexity to the delicious standard "bread and cheese" flavor. The cheese texture was perfectly smooth when the bread was done, and unfortunately started clumping once I took it off the heat (to keep it from burning while buttering the toast). The butter on the toast was unnecessary, as there was a ton of melted butter in the cheese. The amount of mustard used was quite suitable, and I think I guesses right on the proportion of cheese to bread (another slice wouldn't have been amiss, but no more than that).

How Accurate Is It?: I used the given variant without eggs, because the scaled down version would need 1/2 egg. Mrs. Putnam doesn't specify bread or cheese varieties, so I opted for a baguette (French, but also the tastiest bread option at the store) and cheddar (because all of the other British-origin cheese varieties had additional flavors in them). Soyer's receipt had specified Gloucester cheese for Welsh rarebit, but I couldn't find one without chives in it. For the 'mixed' mustard, I used yellow mustard out of the bottle.

Melting the cheese in butter on the stovetop.

Welsh Rarebit: melted cheese over bread.

Original: Banyan, 1840s

Banyan, c. 1840s, from The Met..

 This month's antique garment of choice is an 1840s man's banyan (see also dressing gown, smoking jacket...there's a lot of terms for the group of loose, casual garments worn at home). The mannequin's a bit creepy, but I love the print, the matching trousers, and the excellent tassel on the smoking cap.