An Enterprising Mantua-Maker Saves her Apprentice, 1711

Isabella/Susan* reporting:

The following tale of an ingenious, avenging London mantua-maker (dressmaker) saving her young apprentice from a false seducer is from The Spectator (1711), an influential daily publication founded by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele. Most likely these events are pure fiction, not fact, and the "author", the felicitously named Alice Threadneedle, is also likely male. But it could have happened....

   It is the ordinary Practice and Business of Life with a Set of idle Fellows about this Town, to write Letters, send Messages, and form Appointments with little raw unthinking Girls, and leave them after Possession of them, without any Mercy, to Shame, Infamy, Poverty, and Disease. Were you to read the nauseous Impertinences which are written on these Occasions, and to see the silly Creatures sighing over them, it could not but be Matter of Mirth as well as Pity. 

   A little Prentice Girl of mine has been for some time applied to by an Irish Fellow, who dresses very fine, and struts in a laced Coat, and is the Admiration of Seamstresses who are under Age in Town. Ever sine I have had some Knowledge of the Matter, I have debarred my Prentice from Pen, Ink and Paper. But the other Day he bespoke some Cravats of me: I went out of the Shop and left his Mistress to put them into a Band-box in order to be sent to him when his Man called. When I came into the Shop again, I took occasion to send her away, and found in the Bottom of the Box written these Words, "Why would you ruin a harmless Creature that loves you?" then in the Lid, "There is no resisting." I searched a little farther, and found in the rim of the Box, "At Eleven of clock at Night come in an Hackney-Coach at the End of our Street." 

   This was enough to alarm me; I sent away the things, and took my Measures accordingly. An Hour or two before the appointed Time I examined my young Lady, and found her Trunk stuffed with impertinent Letters, and an old Scroll of Parchment in Latin, which her Lover had sent her as a Settlement of Fifty Pounds a Year. Among other things, there was also the best Lace I had in my Shop to make him a Present for Cravats. I was very glad of this last Circumstance, because I could very conscientiously swear against him that he had enticed my Servant away, and was her Accomplice in robbing me: I procured a Warrant against him accordingly. 

   Every thing was now prepared, and the tender Hour of Love approaching, I, who had acted for myself in my Youth the same senseless Part, knew how to manage accordingly. Therefore after having locked up my Maid, and not being so much unlike her in Height and Shape, as not to pass for her, I delivered the Bundle designed to be carried off to her Lover's Man, who came with the Signal to receive them. Thus I followed after to the Coach, where when I saw his Master take them in, I cryed out, "Thieves! Thieves!" and the Constable with his Attendants seized my expecting Lover. I kept myself unobserved till I saw the Crowd sufficiently encreased, and then appeared to declare the Goods to be mine; and had the Satisfaction to see my Man of Mode put into the Round-House, with the stolen Wares by him, to be produced in Evidence against him the next Morning. 

   I have been contented to save my Prentice, and take a Year's Rent of this mortified Lover, not to appear further in the Matter. This was some Penance; but, Sir, is this enough for a Villany of much more pernicious Consequence than the Trifles for which he was to have been indicted? Should not all Men of any Parts or Honour, put things upon so right a Foot, as that such a Rascal should not laugh at the Imputation of what he was really guilty, and dread being accused of that for which he was arrested?....

Above: The pretty mantua maker, published by M. Darly, London, 1772. Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University.

* Why two names? Here's the answer.

Who's Wearing the Ducal Breeches in 1775?

Isabella/Susan* reporting:

Satirical cartoons of the late 18th-early 19th c are seldom subtle (like these examples here and here), which makes this pair all the more interesting. Published in 1775 by Matthew Darly, the prints are not labeled with the subject's names, and modern historians are reluctant to give them a definite identity. Still, 18th c viewers would have instantly known who they represent, and it's an easy guess for us, too: Jane Gordon, Duchess of Gordon, and her husband, Alexander Gordon, 4th Duke of Gordon.

Jane Gordon (1748-1812) was one of the most discussed ladies of her generation. Georgian ladies were supposed to be decorative; Jane was a celebrated beauty, but she was also clever, savvy, out-spoken, and witty. Not only did she handle her husband's business affairs, but as a confidant of William Pitt the Younger, she was actively involved in politics as a noted Tory hostess. Many accused her of having far more influence than was suitable for a woman. Her personality and pro-Bonaparte sympathies eventually led to the end of her marriage and her social position with it.

In the drawing, above, called The Breeches in the Fiera Maschereta (Italian for "fine masquerade"), a woman with a duchess's plumes has hidden herself entirely in an enormous pair of men's breeches.  (If you're having trouble visualizing the front of the breeches, see this photo of an 18th c style pair.) Twentieth century wives with strong personalities were often described as "wearing the pants in the family," which could also sum up this drawing. But in a time when no woman wore breeches (or pants), there's a sharper edge to the humor. By meddling in men's affairs, the duchess is an unnatural woman - and one who strives to assume a male identity by assuming the ultimate male garment as a masquerade.

The companion drawing, right. is no more flattering to His Grace. Alexander Gordon (1743-1827) was an  energetic Scottish nobleman, popular with his tenants, but his marriage to Jane was widely regarded as a bitter, tumultuous disaster. Despite having a sizable family, the two eventually lived separate lives. Those who disliked his duchess and disapproved of the influence she maintained faulted the duke for not making her act in a more traditional wifely manner (though it was doubtful any man could have made Jane obey.)

In The Petticoat, at the Fieri Maschareta, a man is shown "masquerading" in a voluminous woman's petticoat, his gloved hand protruding from the pocket slits and the waist strings tied around his neck.  On his head is a ducal coronet, and the face that peeks out has an exaggerated version of the duke's profile. Garbed like this, he is not simply hiding behind his wife's skirts, but overwhelmed and emasculated as well - which is likely the way his overbearing wife's behavior was viewed.  Despite this caricature, however, the duke was behaving in an entirely male, ducal way. While his duchess ruled London society, he remained at Gordon Castle with his mistress nearby, siring four illegitimate children with her.

Above: The Breeches in the Fiera Maschereta & The Petticoat, at the Fieri Maschareta, published by Matthew Darly, London, 1775. The British Museum.  Many thanks to our blogly friend Heather Carroll for reminding us of this print!


*Why two names? The explanation is here.

Breakfast Links: Week of April 9, 2012

Served up fresh for weekend delight: our favorite links of the week to other blogs, web sites, video clips, and articles, collected from around the Twitterverse - and while I could have done an entire listing of only Titanic-related links, I promise I didn't.
• The first Sartorialist: the 1906 street style photography of Edward Linley Sambourne.
• Poor Chole! How to reject a girl, 1788.
• A glimpse of author Harper Lee's reclusive life from her sister.
• Unprincipled octogenarian Scottish noble Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, executed this week in 1747 for his role in Jacobite rebellions.
• So many New York connections to the Titanic, and more here, too.
• "'The Irish glover!' cried Mr. Hill, with a Look of Terror" - the truth about 18th c chicken skin gloves.
• Why some American Civil War soldiers glowed in the dark.
• Did a concoction made from fiddlehead ferns kill 19th c botanist Constantine Rafinesque?
• What happens when a big lorry drives through a small 16th c archway.
• Fantastic food for jubilees and other royal occasions.
• Unknown no more: identifying a Civil War soldier.
• The beautiful carved swags on early 19th c houses in Salem, MA.
• Vintage LOL cats.
• When things were still made in the US: business stationary featuring architectural vignettes.
• "Footprints in the cheese": a strange tale of theft, 1770.
• The squirrel: a symbol of saving, spite, and. . .Satan.
• The young Shakespeare among the inns & playhouses of Elizabethan London.
• Death-defying feats: a day at 19th c Cremorne.
• Items from Emily Dickinson Museum at Amherst College, including Emily's poems & lock of her hair.
• The splendid fashions of 1912, or what you might have worn on board the Titanic. More here.
• In the days before CNN, important news - like the assassination of President Lincoln - came in newspaper extra.
• Important invention: the refrigerator, patented in 1803 by Thomas Moore. Early customer: Thomas Jefferson.
• A memorable tale of true love: one of the most poignant stories from the Titanic, and the monument to it.

Worth's Magnificent Gilded Age Fashion Now Online

Isabella/Susan* reporting:

The Museum of the City of New York has just given us Nerdy History Girls (as well as all other lovers of history, fashion, impeccable stitching, Gilded Age New York City, Edwardian London, and fin-de-siecle Paris and all-around gorgeous clothes) a most splendid gift: they're presenting their incredible collection of couture clothes by master designers Charles Frederick Worth (1826-1925) and Mainboucher (1891-1976) in an online exhibition. No matter where in the world you live, if you have internet access, you can visit Worth/Mainboucher: Demystifying the Haute Couture – and wow, do I hope you do!

Hands down, this is the very best presentation of historical fashion that I've yet seen online. The clothes are beautifully photographed, most with multiple views. Click on the close-up feature (that little magnifying glass), and you can view each piece in astonishing detail, with every exquisite stitch and seam distinct. Ever garment has an accompanying short history, plus actual garment measurements and technical details outlining fabric content.

While those of you who enjoy sleek 20th c. elegance will relish the Mainboucher section of the site - he dressed such style-setters as the Duchess of Windsor, Babe Paley, and C.Z. Guest - my own taste runs more to the lavish, often fanciful, 19th c creations of Worth. For nearly seventy-five years, Worth's Parisian atelier was a mecca for wealthy fashion-conscious ladies from Europe and America, and his one-of-a-kind gowns exemplify the luxuriant excess of Gilded Age New York in the time of the Astors and Vanderbilts.

The ice-blue ball gown c 1886, left, includes many of the features that make Worth gowns so special. Masterful draping, an eye-catching combination of fabrics (including uncut velvet, satin, chiffon, glass beads, lace, & silk plush!) that create an interplay of textures, and dramatic asymmetry all help create a gown that would make the wearer stand out even in the most crowded ball. (Here's the link to the page for the complete description and more photos - and don't forget that magnifying glass feature!)

But modern 19th c ladies required fashion beyond the opera house and ballroom. Once owned by a princess, the c 1890 coat, right, was designed for ice skating. Rich brown wool duvetyn is trimmed with mink, and lined with blood-red silk that would have showed through the back vent as the skater glided by. Wouldn't you love to add this to your own wardrobe for blustery days? (Here's the link to the coat's page.)

Photographs courtesy The Museum of the City of New York.
*Wondering why I now have two names? Here's the scoop.

Pseudonyms; or How Susan is Becoming Isabella

Susan/Isabella reporting:

Pseudonyms, or pen names, have a long history in publishing, especially for women. In the past, women writers often assumed a male name to give their books credibility with editors and readers skeptical of a female pen: Currer Bell (Charlotte Bronte), George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen). I can think of only one case when a woman writer with a male-sounding first name switched to one that was more feminine: Howard Allen O'Brien publishes as Anne Rice.

Sometimes women writers choose a pen name to separate themselves from their husbands and families, and sometimes, too,  a pen name works because it's shorter and easier to remember than the real name: the single-named Colette (Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette.) Modern writers often choose a second name to signal readers that they're writing a different kind of book Nora Roberts writes traditional romance/women's fiction; as J.D. Robb, she writes futuristic suspense. I'm sure you can think of more examples - once you start, it's hard to stop.

All of which is a roundabout way of explaining that this summer I'll be launching an exciting new series of historical romances under a new name: Isabella Bradford. Scheduled for release at the end of July, When You Wish Upon a Duke is the first of three books (published by Ballantine/Random House) following the romantic escapades of the irrepressible Wylder sisters – escapades that make them the talk of Georgian London, and a passionate challenge to the trio of dukes who fall in love with them. You won't have long to wait for the next book in the series, either.  When the Duchess Says Yes will be released in late September, and When the Duke Found Love in late November.

I'll be writing more here on the blog about the historical background to the books over the coming months (as well as launching an Isabella Bradford website), but in the meantime, I'll be adding Isabella's name to my posts here as well. A bit awkward, I know, but then we Geminis are accustomed to having multiple identities.

What about my historical novels written as Susan Holloway Scott? For now, I'm taking a short break from historical fiction to focus on Isabella Bradford. But don't be surprised if some historical story suddenly bubbles up from my imagination and research to become a new book.

Breakfast Links: Week of April 2, 2012

Happy Easter, happy Passover, happy spring! Served up fresh for your holiday weekend: our favorite links of the week to other blogs, web sites, video clips, pictures, and articles, collected from around the Twitterverse.
• The lost Hippodrome – a mammouth 1906 NYC theater – reportedly the largest in the world.
• "Minions": the complicated privy chamber of Henry VIII.
• Account of the Wonderful Centaur, 1751.
• "Rogues, a Study of Character"- collection c1860 of glass print photos of criminals & their crimes.
• A ballroom shepherdess? Charming fancy dress costume, c1883-87.
• Inspired by a royal bride (or not): The truth about 19th c Battenburg Cake.
• The Victorians and the Blow-Up Doll Femme de Voyage.
• Shakespeare and the Lost Years.
• What a library! Uses of tiered tables in the book rooms at Wimpole Hall.
• Avert your eyes, sensitive followers: A naughty Georgian print, featuring a little light spanking.
• Oh, why not? Architectural LOLcats.
• Enjoy three lovely straw hats (1890s, 1940s, & 1950s) that are perfect for Easter Sunday.
• When books mattered: Scribner's NYC bookstore was the Apple flagship of its day, a century ago.
• 17th c advice on how to train a horse to pick up a glove, count, and piss on demand.
• First-ever appearance of Peter Rabbit, in an illustrated letter from Beatrix Potter to a young boy.
• UK's first female doctor? Strange tale of a woman called "James" Barry, who lived life as a man.
• Mark Twain's obsession with Joan of Arc.
• Louis XIV: Patron, but no saint.
• Hear Mick Jagger sing about cereal, as mentioned by Don Draper on Mad Men. (video)
• Titanic: Twenty telling images.
• Ganseys for Dummies: exploding myths surrounding historic cable knits of the British Isles.
• Victorine Meurent, Manet's famous model - and an ambitious artist herself.
• Stupendous photos of the 1960s pre-Apollo astronauts. Did Geminis have the right stuff? Hell yeah!
• Women known as "fluffies" clean the London Underground at night in 1944. (video)
• Queen Victoria's wedding dress.
• Arbors for lovers and large gatherings in early American gardens.
• Victorian women & drugs.
• Grisly "hand of glory" discovered in the wall of a thatched cottage.