Straw Mattress

I've wanted to try a historic mattress for a few years, and finally had the chance to experiment this last summer. The results were mixed, but I'm glad I had the chance to try it.

Starting from my previous research, I had hoped to fill the mattress with some wool fleece seconds, but was unable to local any local sources for wool (much less at an affordable price). I realized straw was going to be the only option--which was unfortunate, since straw mattresses in my reading have largely been hard base layers for supporting a softer horsehair or wool/flock mattress. I decided the closest I could get at this point was a less-than-board-stiff straw mattress, with my wool sleeping mat (ie, four layers of HBC blanketing sewn together into a 3/4" thick piece) as a thin substitute for a wool mattress above the straw.

The Workwoman's Guide doesn't give straw mattress instructions, as the author states that such items are only made commercially--though she mentions that they are sewn on frames and the straw is packed tight. I took the Guide's general mattress instructions along with an 1859 'how to' story from Godey's as my plan for sewing the mattress (even though these call for horsehair/wool and cotton respectively).

I cut out two rectangular pieces of ticking, 2.5" longer per side than my desired mattress size, and a strip 2 nails (4.5") wide for the sides. I sewed one side of the the strip all around one of the rectangles, and the other side around the other rectangle, leaving a section about 12" open at the end. I then proceeded to stuff ~25 pounds of straw into the mattress, pulling handfuls off of a straw bale. When the mattress was full but seemingly not compacted, I whip-stitched the open seam closed.

One ticking mattress.

 The end result looks like a giant, heavy, striped pillow. I had intended to do the tying, hoping that would keep the straw better in place, but gave up when I couldn't locate my trapunto needle. Despite the sides being only 4" tall after seam allowances (and me trying not to over-stuff the ticking), the mattress ranged up to 10" or so in thickness, and I don't have any needles that could hope to pierce that. My backup plan (shaking the mattress well, then sleeping on it at one event to flatten it out) didn't exactly go to plan. 

To imitate the layers of a historic mattress system, I used this straw mattress as the lowest layer. Over it was the aforementioned wool pad, with the lower sheet tucked around both. The upper sheet went above this, followed by two wool blankets, a wool/cotton coverlet (a special run from Family Heirloom Weavers that I found at The Button Baron). I used a small feather pillow with a homemade cotton case, and (despite it being May/August), threw my heavy wool broadcloth cloak over the lot.

Finished with seven layers of wool and two of linen.
The 8th layer of wool made all the difference.

I ended up using this mattress for a total of 5 nights over the summer. It was distinctly more comfortable than sleeping directly on the ground with only blankets (+/- a pile of petticoats), but less comfortable than literally any other surface I've tried sleeping on.

Reclining on the mattress is fine, but trying to actually sleep revealed a wildly uneven straw distribution: it sloped from head to foot, with several hard mounds that no amount of fluffing/shaking/beating/etc could even out. I frequently felt I was sliding off of the mattress, and even when I managed to get into a 'stable' position, I'd find a hard lump somewhere on the mattress (generally digging into my side). The last day I slept on this mattress, I woke up with a really sore shoulder that severely curtailed my activities for the day (in fairness, the condition started several days prior, it just got a whole lot worse after two nights camping).

The thing that really worked about this set-up was the insulation. Even when it was pouring rain, the straw+wool sleeping surface kept me warm and dry. It also meant that when I eventually did fall asleep, I wasn't waking up periodically from the cold (once I'd figured out to add a cloak over my blankets).

From the proportion of the straw bale used, I estimate that this mattress clocked in at 20-30lbs. Moving it felt like more. The size and lack of hand-holds made it obnoxious to carry further than a few feet, and painful to grip. It also developed a distinct musty smell after 3 months, especially during the 3 weeks it was set up in a tent in a field and not shoved in my storage closet. The mattress also took up half my car's cargo space, which isn't ideal for reenactment scenarios where I need to be setting up a camp for 1-2 days, then taking everything home again.

My current verdict is that the experience of sleeping on this mattress was not worth the hassle of carting it around and setting it up. Also, my days of curling up with some blankets directly on the ground are over. I wouldn't be adverse to trying another historical mattress in the future, but to do so I will need to source better filling, and use better approximations of all the layers. I think a second proper mattress, stuffed with cotton or wool, over this straw one would have made a notable difference. If I was remaking this particular mattress as a bottom layer, I would focus on breaking up the straw more as I stuffed the mattress; getting the straw distributed more evenly; and sewing it all into place. 

Woven garters

I intended these woven garters for 16th century use, though the pattern's actually taken from a later (albeit undated, American) antique band in Handwoven Tape. Two-tone checkerboard pattern, repeated once for a total of 24 warps. I used leftover wool yarn out of my stash, and hand-plied the finer green yarn to make it the same diameter as the white.

I put off posting these because I'm not really satisfied with the result. The tension was never quite where I wanted it, so I got less draw in, and wound up with wider garters than I can tie easily. And I made a mistake in the warp measurement, leaving the second garter almost 8" shorter than the calculated length, and making it very difficult to tie.

There's always some use for woven bands, so this project isn't a complete waste, but I really do need to get some workable garters for my pre-19th century attire.

Original: 1850s Pelerine

More inspirational outerwear. I really like the simple lines of this pelerine (though I'd describe it as more of a mantel), but also the delicacy of the trim.

 

Pelerine, c.1850s, at LACMA.

October Mending

This month saw a fair amount of activity. Getting ready for Ft. Nisqually's candlelight tours, I ended up re-fitting my blue wool extensively. It was too tight through the bodice and upper sleeves, so I:

1. Took the skirt off the bodice.
2. Removed most of the waist piping.
3. Removed the sleeves and jockeys.
   
4. Opened the side seams of the bodice.
5. Spent way too long agonizing about the fit.
   
6. Pieced in new material at the bodice sides.
   
7. Pieced the waist piping and reattached it.
8. Added a watch pocket during step 7.
   
9. Removed the skirt from the scrap waistband.
10. Ran new gathering threads where they had broken on the skirt.
11. Gauged the skirt directly to the bodice this time.
12. Adjusted the seams on the sleeves.
13. Opened the seams on the jockeys.
14. Re-attached the sleeves, jockeys, and piping to the armhole.
15. Basted along the center front to try and keep the lining from peeking out.
    

After all this, naturally, the sleeves decided to work their way loose. Again. It took two nights this time, which is an improvement over the usual rate of tearing out part of both sleeves every time I wear this dress.

I also managed to fix a section of stroked gathering which had worked out on my diagonal-tuck petticoat.

Egg Sauce for Roast Chicken (1856)

From Modern American Cookery (1856):

Egg Sauce for Roast Chickens

Melt butter thick and fine, chop two or three hard boiled eggs fine, put them in a basin, pour the butter over them, and have good gravy in the dish. 

Lest this appear too easy (though it was), there's actually instructions for melting the butter:

To Melt Butter 

Mix a quarter of a pound of butter with a large teaspoonful of flour, place it in a saucepan with four tablespoonfuls of good milk, boil it quick, and shake it continually till the butter is melted.

Not a bad little sauce.

I basically did what the instructions said: I boiled 2 eggs, peeled them, and mashed up the yolks with a fork; then melted a stick of butter with a teaspoon of all-purpose flour in a saucepan (on medium), added 4 Tablespoons of milk, brought up to a boil; and finally poured the melted butter over the egg yolks. I omitted the gravy, as I didn't have any on hand, and I did take of the liberty of adding a dash of salt and back pepper (since without the salt, the sauce is incredibly insipid).

Re-reading, I'm not convinced that I should have used only the yellow yolks rather than the whole (though the texture might be a bit lumpier in that case).

The sauce mostly just tasted like butter. It reminded me of parsley-butter sauce (which I apparently never wrote up, so I'm linking this similar sauce), but with the advantage of not being seasonal. The sauce was pleasant enough over some chicken and mashed potatoes, and while it's certainly worth adding to my repertoire, it's not a show-stopper. It's fine for personal use, though I'll probably try work-shopping it a bit before serving it to others.

To Preserve Roses or Any Other Flowers (1656)

 

From A Book of Fruits & Flowers:

To Preserve Roses or any other Flowers 

Take one pound of Roses, three pound of Sugar, one pint of Rose water, or more, make your Syrup first, and let it stand till it be cold, then take your Rose leaves, having first clipt of all the white, put them into the cold Syrupe, then cover them and set them on a soft fire, that they may but simper for two or three hours, then while they are hot put them into pots or glasses for your use.

In choosing this receipt for my excess marigolds, I accidentally conflated it with the preceding "A Conserve of Roses", which indicates that the method works for any flower conserve, such as violets, cowslips, marigolds, sage, and something I've never heard of which looks like "seavoise." However, this one claims to be good for "any other flowers" so I figure it's a fair play.

At any rate, the main difference between the two recipes is that the "preserve" receipt involves making a syrup, while the "conserve" has the liquid added first to the flowers, followed by dry sugar.

 

Ingredients

To make on a 1/8 scale, I started with 2 oz of marigold flowers, 6 oz granulated sugar, and 1 fl oz of plain water (having run out of rosewater momentarily). The differentiation between roses/rose leaves [petals?] in the instructions led to me weighing the whole flowers, but then removing and using only the petals. I think it can be read either way (use 2oz of petals, or use the petals off of 2 oz of flowers), and thus is open to experiment. 

 

Probably my most successful attempt at boiling sugar...

I combined the water and sugar in a saucepan on "medium" (on a burner that runs hot), and boiled a syrup for some 15 minutes. Meanwhile, I removed the petals from the flowers. After letting the syrup cool about 20 minutes, I stirred in the petals, and set it all to simmer on med-low for about 3 hours. This produced a reddish, viscous syrup that I poured into a pipkin for storage.

Thick texture, weird taste, did not immediately balance my humors.

The preserves taste... not great and honestly less sweet than I'd expect for something well over 75% sugar by weight. So far as I can tell, marigold's use in the 17th-18th centuries is largely medicinal, so perhaps taste isn't a high consideration. I think next time, I'll just keep the flowers for dye, or maybe distill some marigold water and see if it really does cure headaches.

Original: Late 1850s Wedding Dress

In honor of Candlelight Tours (this year being the 1857 wedding scenario):

Wedding Dress, c.1856-9, The Met.