Tag Archives: living history

The Warren Commission

06 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by in 1830s, Clothing, Events, History, Museums

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Mrs Russell Warren, oil on canvas by Henry Cheever Pratt ca 1824. RIHS 1917.8.2

Mrs Russell Warren, oil on canvas by Henry Cheever Pratt ca 1824. RIHS 1917.8.2

In addition to the Pabodie Project due in November, I recently committed to appearing at the Providence Arcade on October 14 as Mrs Russell Warren at the party celebrating the launch of the Russell Warren project. As you might have gathered, she’s the architect’s wife, a role I know something about having observed the species in its native habitat for the better part of my life.

This look seemed achievable, once a few compromises were made. To begin with, I scrapped the notion of replicating a silk taffeta gown: too dear for so short a time. I felt some comfort in  this decision as I think the sleeves indicate a rather later date than 1824, and I am, in fact, striving for an Arcade-opening-appropriate dress suitable for about 1826.

So, what to do? Well, thank goodness men like to shoot at plywood and win feathers. My plan is to wear the brown striped gown with the existing belt and accessorize with a new antique lace pelerine-collar type device, I also  plan [hope to] make a new extreme jellyfish cap and possibly a new bonnet.

I have the supplies. Do I have the time and will power? Stay tuned for the next installment of, “Yes, I may be overbooked.”

Would I Lye to You?

03 Monday Oct 2016

Posted by in History, Living History, Making Things, Research

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Now, really, would I lye to you?

img_7993Some people will tell you I overextend myself, and while those people may be correct, my enthusiasms compel me to do more, try more, travel more, and to that end I found myself preparing for an event by turning my 1962 Ossining kitchen into an experimental laboratory.

I was taken by Hannah Glasse’s receipt for cleaning pewter, copper, and tin in her section for The Scullion, so of course I had to try it. It’s simple enough: boil wood ash with unslaked lime for half an hour, let cool, and pour off the clear liquid. Easy-peasy, until you realize you have forgotten your high school chemistry, the Young Giant is not at home, and google searches for lime turn up too wholesome uses and unsavory quantities.

Happily, a more scientific brain than my own pointed out potash/pearl ash/potassium carbonate, which Amazon can provide in small quantities. Wood ash proved a little more challenging. Happily for me, I am one of those East Coast foodie fools with a backyard grill and a fondness for hardwood charcoal, so an overdue chore later, I had an enamel kettle of ash.

I did do a little sifting
to end up with finer ash

The receipt calls for “a pail” of wood ash to a “half- pail” unslak’d lime, boiled in four pails of soft water. Since “pails” is a general sort of term, I decided to use the quantity of wood ash I scavenged as the approximate measure of a pail, figuring that proportions mattered more than actual grams or liters. I have resigned myself to the fact that this is more art than science. Four pails of soft water included the remains of a few gallons of water stockpiled for hurricane preparedness years ago, bolstered with water from the tap.

Pail, schmail.

Pail, schmail.

Fortunately, art did not turn into science gone wrong. The boiling was rather placid, considering, and dissolved the fine ash and the potash. I filtered the liquid mixture through a screen (ok, the spatter screen for my frying pan) to ensure that when I poured off the clear, it would be as clear as possible.

Boiling. Not to stinky
sacrificed to a good cause

By the time it had cooled, I had fished out appropriate containers into which I could “pour off the clear.” This recipe, seat-of-the-pants as it is, makes a fair quantity, a mason jar of which I have left with the Drunk Tailor so that he might better clean his officer’s pewter and copper, because, yes! This does work to brighten silver and copper. Tune in next time for details on getting shiny.

Front and a center: A liquor for cleaning pewter, etc.

Front and a center: A liquor for cleaning pewter, etc.

A Tisket, A Tasket: What Basket?

17 Saturday Sep 2016

Posted by in History, Living History, material culture, Reenacting

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Nancy had a great question: What did middle class ladies use to carry their shopping?

But here’s the thing: they didn’t carry the shopping, because they didn’t do the shopping– not the big shopping, anyway.

La Pourvoyeuse, oil on canvas by Jean-Simeon Chardin, 1739. Louvre Museum.

La Pourvoyeuse, oil on canvas by Jean-Simeon Chardin, 1739. Louvre Museum.

La Pourvoyeuse by Chardin shows a woman returning from market in 1739. No basket. A bundle or bag with a fowl in it, head down. Unwrapped loaves of bread. But clearly a servant.

From waste books, it’s pretty clear that people are sending their “boys” and “girls” (servants or slaves) to fetch liquor. That will come home in bottles, like the ones at the feet of La Pourvoyeuse. And I think it comes home just in their hands, but perhaps- and more likely not– in a basket. A floppy basket, usually for floppy birds.

Balthazar Nebot, active 1730–1762, Spanish, active in Britain (from 1729), Fishmonger's stall, 1737, Oil on copper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Balthazar Nebot, active 1730–1762, Spanish, active in Britain (from 1729), Fishmonger’s stall, 1737, Oil on copper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Baskets have come up before. So this is part of a larger argument. Mostly, we see servants marketing. Middle class ladies certainly shop– what is the class level of this woman (above)?— but so many things can be delivered, or are peddled door-to-door, and servants are so common, that I think we don’t yet fully understand shopping in the 18th century.

After the meteoric rise of consumerism, after department stores, yes: shopping is more like what we do. But in the pre-ice box and pre-packaged era, meat cannot be bought and frozen, and milk will not last all that long. Things were brought home one at a time, or a few at a time, many times a week. And middle class ladies bought small things– ribbons, almanacks, shoes– and bring them home in their pockets, just in their hands, or, I would guess, wrapped in a bundle of paper (a pair of shoes) or in a band box (a bonnet) if the things are not delivered.

A long winded way to say, I don’t know: but I’m pretty sure middle class ladies sent their servants out frequently so the ladies didn’t carry baskets and the servants used bags, aprons, and their hands.

Mop It Up

10 Saturday Sep 2016

Posted by in Events, History, Living History, Reenacting

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"Useful occupations: Women's work, sewing, spinning, washing, ironing etc," illustration from Basedow's 'Elementary Work', 1770. Etching by Daniel Chodowiecki — at LACMA

“Useful occupations: Women’s work, sewing, spinning, washing, ironing etc,” illustration from Basedow’s ‘Elementary Work’, 1770. Etching by Daniel Chodowiecki — at LACMA

Mrs. Boice is at it again, folks: you can register now for a workshop in just a few weeks where you can learn more than you thought you’d ever want to know about getting ready for winter, laundry, caps, games, and dancing. Thought honestly, I think you can never know too much about these things, which is why I keep trying!

Yes, it’s what I think about: how did women prepare houses for winter? How did they get things clean? It was a lot of hard work, and is often underrepresented in historic sites both domestic and military.

You can learn more about the weekend online or download the detailed flier.

Filthy Friday: Rolling with a Purpose

09 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by in Clothing, Laundry, Living History, Reenacting

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“It looks like you rolled in dirt,” I said to the Young Giant when he dumped a gritty mess on my lap.
“I did,” he said, “but it was rolling with a purpose. We dug a fire pit, and then I had to keep the fire going. So I was on my belly in the dirt.”

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This was followed by, “Mom, you need to mend my shirt.” But first, I needed to wash that shirt.

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I’d like to wash that shirt right out of my hair, but there it is: it’s got to be attended to.

I did what mending I could before I washed it, since some areas seemed more likely to disintegrate further in the wash.

That’s clean linen verus dirty linen, the 18th century wrestling match. Patch secured, I very nearly packed this into a priority mailing container for delivery to the esteeméd Red Shoes Laundry, but I took a deep breath, and put the lobster pot back in the cupboard. (Yes, I considered boiling this on my stove top on a 95° day. Wouldn’t you?)

Instead, I trekked down to the cool of the basement and ran the water as hot as it gets and added Oxiclean (used by some of the finest weavers I know when they encounter dyes less fast than anticipated.)

The first tub achieved a kind of colloidal slurry of mud and sweat and soap. Delicious. Five rinses and an overnight soak later, dirty shirt became just a shirt again.

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I took advantage of the clear weather to dry this outside on the grass, hoping the later sunlight would aid in whitening.

Wondering about that patch? Wonder no more, compare:

It’s another one of those “is it done? it’s perfect” situations. I’d love to wash my clothes with historically correct methods, but for now, the shirt’s clean enough for final mends and wearing in October. The winter should give me time to figure out stove top washing.