That’s last Saturday, outside the Old State House, for the “People of 1763” event. Sew 18th Century and I provided a material culture/ladies’ clothing presentation in the Hands on History room. The guys drilled outside, had their photos taken, and represented the militia. The Bostonian Society had over 1200 people in the museum last Saturday, which is a pretty respectable number for a small place. It can also leave you feeling somewhat overrun. (All my photos turned out fuzzy: all I had was a shaky hand and my phone. Chalk it up to needing more sleep.)
This coming Saturday is What Cheer Day at the John Brown House Museum, and my sewing and research and house prep continues, if not apace, at a steady pace. Mannequins have been put away, furniture moved, and the accents practiced. By the time we were trying to say, “These are not the droids you’re looking for” with 18th century Maine vowels, we knew it was time to go home. Why this and not “I’ll put the kettle on to boil,” I do not know.
It’s still hard for me to get a handle on my character, and not so much her background as her attitude. I’m not very good at being servile or lady-like, which is why, if I’m still working for the Browns, I must be a relative of some kind.
My husband’s dead; he died in 1788, not long after the Browns moved into their new house; wounded in the Revolution, he never quite recovered and despite the best ministrations of Dr Bowen, Mr S succumbed at last. My son, now 18, was born not long after Mr S returned from the war (Mr S enlisted ‘for 3 years or the war’). Curiously, the chaplain of his regiment is also the pastor at the Congregational church in Providence.
I am a nearly non-observant Anglican, but I recognize Reverend Hitchcock, and know the work he has done in support of free public education. Mr Brown and his brother disagree on many things, but they have at least agreed upon the importance of free public education. My son and I can read, but if Tom had been better educated, perhaps he would not have gone away to sea.
Next I have to think about my cousin from Newport, and the Brown women, and what I think about them.
And there’s still the small matter of sewing two hems, three buttons and three button loops and hoping the whole business will fit properly. At least my friend finished my cap for me. I get just so far, and then I hate caps.